What If I Don't Know? (Spoiler - It's Fine)

You Pull a Card, and It Makes No Sense

You're sitting in front of someone. You've shuffled, pulled the cards, laid out the spread.

They're looking at you.

And you're looking at ... that one card.

The one that doesn't fit.

It just sits there.

Silent. Staring.

And in your head, a very loud voice whispers: "Psst. This is the part where you know what everything means."

But what if you don't know?

Where I Started

I've been working with the Tarot for over ten years now. I started in my late twenties - not from a place of spirituality, but from creative curiosity. At the time, I was using the cards to inspire characters and story ideas in my writing. After a while, that shifted into using Tarot as a self-reflection tool (though I still use it for writing too - those creative roots run deep).

Only recently did I start opening up about Tarot with people I know, and even more recently, reading for friends. And the main thing that held me back for so long?

Imposter syndrome.

(That and the fact that the children already think I'm a witch, but that's a story for another day).

What if I pulled a card and didn't know what it meant? What if I froze? What if they realized I was just a person holding a deck of paper and ink?

What Helped

I was listening to an early episode of the Biddy Tarot Podcast - I think it was episode 3 with Mary Greer - and something they said struck me hard.

"It's not the reader's job to have all the answers. It's the reader's job to ask the questions."

That flipped a switch for me.

In early childhood education there's a phrase that gets thrown around a lot: "Be the guide on the side, not the sage on the stage." And here it was, in different clothing. Honestly, why didn't I think of this before?

I'd always approached Tarot as a tool for reflection - not fortune-telling, not cosmic downloads, not magic. Just a way to say: "What if I looked at this differently?" So, why was I putting pressure on myself to be the All-Knowing Oracle?

What I Do Now

If I pull a card and it doesn't immediately "click", I say exactly that.

"I'm not sure. Let's sit with it."

Then I might:

• Talk through both the inspiration and challenge sides of the card.

• Pull a clarifier (but only once or twice - I'm not trying to chase the answer through the deck).

• Or just ... leave it.

Because maybe the message isn't for me to know.

Maybe the person I'm reading for knows. Or maybe they don't - yet. Some things land days later, in a quiet moment, when no one's watching.

The Cards Don't Always Talk to YOU (Rude, I Know)

I'm learning that it's okay to say, "I don't know."

Because the message might not be ready. Because the meaning might be layered. Because not every moment needs an answer.

And because - let's be honest - some days the cards just shrug and hand you a mystery. It's fine. You're allowed to hold it lightly.

She knows.

But The Cat Understands, Obviously

Sometimes I get stuck mid-reading and Marta looks at me like, "You pathetic human. It's clear. How can you not see it?" Then she strolls onto the balcony to commune with the stars. Or the tomato plants.

Either way, she's not telling me. But whatever, Marta. Keep your secrets.

It's Fine

So if you don't know what a card means, say so. Ask a better question. Or ask none at all.

You're not doing it wrong.

You're just not pretending to know things you don't. It's not magic. It's just life.