Do I need to Believe?

When I was at a certain age, I had a discussion with my Dad about Santa. I love

Christmas, always have. I had, in fact, been arguing for a full year with my brother

about the existence of Santa. I believed, he didn’t. He is two years younger than me.

This may make me sound a bit naive. I’d like to think I have a healthy amount of

scepticism now I’m an adult. I don’t believe in Big Foot – even though my man

routinely watches that American show where they find footprints and wander about in

remote undergrowth until…they find nothing else and for some reason just have to

go home again. I don’t believe in the Loch Ness Monster, either, although I kind of

want to. It’s an amazing, eerie place, Loch Ness. There really should be a creature

living down there. But I’ve been to the Visitor Centre, where they systematically take

you through 500 years of research and amazing science to conclusively prove there

isn’t a monster…and then herd you into a gift shop full of Nessie toys, sweets, cards

and jewellery. Hmm.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it, about our modern world. We want to believe in stories,

and magic, and higher power. But we also don’t want to be fooled, or foolish. We

don’t want to be the kind of people who end up on Dr. Phil, having sent a million quid

to a man we’ve never seen. Scams are out there, and we don’t want to be

vulnerable. We don’t want to be manipulated – and in an internet powered universe

full of fake news, faux outrage and spin, it’s hard to believe anything anymore.

I once had a sound bath. I booked it accidentally and wasn’t expecting it. (I know) It

was an incredible experience; I would recommend it. But through the whole thing, it

was as if I had split in two. On one level – physically and emotionally, I was

immersed in the whole thing. I felt incredible release; I think I spent the entire hour

crying. On another level, though, my brain was saying ‘You must know this is all

nonsense’. As much as I was embracing it, I was also pushing it away.

So, there is kind of a path to be trod. Clearly, I believe in Tarot cards; I have a pack,

they are definitely real. And I believe that they are a tremendously helpful tool in

terms of self-awareness, talking therapy and changing perspective. I’ve done enough

readings to be unable to deny the impact they can have on people, the discussions

they can facilitate and the way that can lighten the load. I’m not sure I believe in their

supernatural power, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, or being able to predict

the future.

And yet…and yet…We can predict the future, can’t we? Weather forecasts, for

example. Meteorology isn’t regarded as anything ‘woo’, but highly scientific collection

of data regarding current conditions, combined with technology and computer-based

models to produce the best forecast. The final stage is still performed by humans,

albeit ones highly skilled in pattern recognition and enormously experienced in model

performance (and bias) It’s really an incredible feat, if you think about it, given the

chaotic state of all the different factors in play.

We can look at Tarot cards in the same way - as visual representations of

generations of storytelling. A way of making sense of the chaos of our inner world

and the human experience in the representation of archetypes that are universal

(according to Jung). Tarot readings are models into which you can introduce your

data, all the stored wisdom of you, the influences and pressures around you, and

then we can recognise and explore the patterns that emerge.

When I choose cards, I try to get myself into a peaceful, calm state of mind. I do like

to light candles, make sure things are clean and clear (including my head). But I’ve

also read cards at noisy birthday parties and crowded events. I always have the

cards face-down, fanned out, and I run my hand along them, without touching the

surface. I stop when I feel the ‘pull’ of a certain card. I can’t rationalise this, or find a

scientific explanation. But I do always feel it.

My nearest and dearest don’t think I’m sceptical enough. They have gently

suggested that I don’t see the people as clearly and accurately as they do. But I

worked with children all my life, and you can’t do that well unless you’re prepared to

try really hard to find the best in people. Carl Rogers says people need unqualified

positive regard as one of the three core conditions for change. People reach for the

light if they can.

Incidentally, what my Dad told me about Santa was that if you don’t believe,

Christmas can be a fantastic family holiday, full of celebration and presents and

decorations. But if you believe, it’s a magical time. Sometimes we can be more

connected to things we don’t fully understand and can’t fully explain. And we get to

choose which version we’d prefer.

Blessed be,

Janie