How Tarot Can Help You Make Better Life Decisions

Life is full of decisions. Some are small and simple, while others can feel heavy with uncertainty — changing career, ending or beginning relationships, moving somewhere new, or deciding which path truly aligns with who you are becoming.

During these moments, it’s natural to look for clarity. This is where tarot can become a powerful tool — not because it predicts the future with certainty, but because it helps illuminate the deeper patterns, emotions, and possibilities surrounding a situation.

I often think of tarot as a mirror of your inner world.

The cards reflect what may already be stirring beneath the surface — your hopes, fears, and untapped wisdom. When I sit with the cards, I often notice feelings or thoughts I didn’t fully recognise before.

It’s almost like they gently whisper, “Here’s what you’re really thinking. Here’s what matters most.” And sometimes, that whisper is enough to shift how I see a decision.

2023 — The Universal Year of The Chariot

Back in 2023 — the Universal Year of The Chariot — I pulled The Hanged Man as my yearly theme card. Needless to say, I felt a little frustrated. The card seemed to say, “Wait. Pause. Don’t act yet.”

Ironically, for a year symbolised by forward motion, my lesson was stillness. And true to the card’s wisdom, it became a year of pausing and shifting perspective.

Don’t get me wrong — I was still moving forward with my career. In fact, professional life was incredibly busy. There were projects to complete, responsibilities to manage, and the constant momentum that comes with trying to build and sustain meaningful work. From the outside, it probably looked like a year of steady progress.

But the busier things became, the more I found myself needing to pause. Sometimes it was simply to breathe, to step back for a moment, and remind myself to keep going. At other times, the pause felt deeper — a quiet moment of reflection where I questioned whether I was moving in the right direction or simply moving forward because life demanded it.

Then, toward the end of the year, my own Tower moment arrived.

A Ministry of Defence contract that had been an important part of my work ended suddenly, leaving me uncertain about what would come next. In that moment, the message of The Hanged Man made far more sense. The card hadn’t been asking me to stop progressing — it had been preparing me for a shift in perspective.

Looking back, it almost felt like The Hanged Man had given me a quiet warning at the beginning of the year — that at some point I would face a situation where I would need to step back and reconsider what truly mattered.

Surprisingly, when the contract ended, I felt relief rather than anxiety. Of course, there was uncertainty about what would come next, but beneath it, there was also a sense of lightness — as if a weight had been lifted.

That feeling led me to ask a difficult but important question: Did I really want to keep accepting contracts like this, or had I simply been continuing out of habit and obligation?

In that moment, The Hanged Man’s message became clearer. The pause wasn’t just about slowing down — it was about giving myself the space to reconsider the direction I was heading. It was a quiet invitation to reflect deeply — to examine my priorities, my values, and what kind of work truly mattered to me.

Over the next few days, I began to ask myself some important questions:

• What kind of projects truly energise me?
• What work aligns with my values?
• What kind of professional life do I want to build, not just chase?

Those questions didn’t bring immediate answers, but they opened a space for deeper reflection. Instead of rushing to replace what I had lost, I found myself thinking more carefully about the direction I wanted my work and life to take.

What I didn’t realise at the time was that The Hanged Man was only the beginning of a deeper conversation with the cards — one that would continue in the years that followed.

2024 — The Universal Year of Strength

Because, in 2024 — The Universal Year of Strength — I pulled The High Priestess as my next yearly theme card.

After the upheaval of the previous year, I had already begun to rethink the direction of my professional life. The pause that The Hanged Man invited had given me space to reconsider what truly mattered. But The High Priestess brought a different kind of lesson.

Rather than asking me to pause, she asked me to listen — to trust what I already know. The irony was that I didn’t feel like I knew anything at all.

After the uncertainty of the previous year, my mind was full of questions. I was still trying to understand what direction I wanted my work to take and what kind of professional life I truly wanted to build. The idea of trusting my inner knowing sounded wise in theory — but in reality, that inner voice felt very quiet.

Yet that, perhaps, was the lesson of The High Priestess. She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t push. Her wisdom appears slowly, often in silence, and only when we are willing to sit with our uncertainty long enough to hear it.

That year, however, I had an opportunity to work on a contract writing course workbooks for the Ministry of Defence. On the surface, it seemed like a practical step forward — steady work that allowed me to use my skills and continue building my professional experience.

Yet while I was working on the project, something interesting began to happen. I noticed that the part of the work I enjoyed most wasn’t the structure of the contract or the professional recognition that came with it. It was the writing itself.

I found real satisfaction in shaping the course materials — organising ideas, explaining concepts clearly, and creating something that could help others learn. The process felt natural, almost effortless at times, and it reminded me of something I had always known quietly in the background of my life: I had always loved writing.

It wasn’t simply a task within the project. It was the part that made me feel most engaged and most like myself. And as I spent time working on the course materials, that realisation became clearer: writing wasn’t just something I could do — it was something I genuinely wanted to build my career around.

Looking back now, I can see how closely this experience reflected the message of The High Priestess. She doesn’t force answers or rush decisions. Instead, she encourages you to observe, to listen, and to trust the quiet truths that reveal themselves over time.

That year taught me that sometimes clarity doesn’t arrive as a sudden revelation. Sometimes it appears gradually — through small moments of awareness that help you recognise what has been meaningful to you all along.

2025 — The Universal Year of The Hermit

Then came 2025 — The Universal Year of The Hermit — and quite fittingly, when I pulled The Hermit as my yearly theme card.

After two years of reflection, the appearance of The Hermit felt like a natural next step. If The Hanged Man asked me to pause and shift my perspective, and The High Priestess asked me to listen to my inner voice, then The Hermit seemed to ask something even deeper: What path am I willing to walk on my own?

The Hermit is often associated with solitude, but not in a lonely sense. Instead, it represents the courage to step away from outside expectations and search for your own truth. It is the quiet process of learning from your experiences and allowing those lessons to guide the direction of your life.

That year, I spent a lot of time alone, fully immersed in writing. I published two books on Amazon — not because I had a clear plan or knew exactly how I would build a career as a writer, but simply because I wanted to live my life as a writer and see what it felt like.

Through that process, clarity became undeniable: writing wasn’t just something I could do — it was the path I truly wanted to dedicate myself to.

The Hermit had guided me not toward external answers, but toward the quiet truth within. Stepping into solitude, observing my passions, and following what felt authentic allowed me to finally see the life I wanted to create.

Looking back over these three years, I can see how each Major Arcana card guided me in its own way:

• The Hanged Man (2023): pause and perspective
• The High Priestess (2024): inner listening and intuition
• The Hermit (2025): stepping into solitude and walking my own path

Together, these experiences taught me that navigating life’s choices isn’t about having all the answers or rushing toward certainty. It’s about pausing, reflecting, and tuning in to the wisdom we already carry within us.

Moments like this are why I sometimes think of the tarot deck as 78 life coaches. Each card carries its own voice, its own lesson, and its own way of guiding us through life’s experiences. Some cards encourage movement and bold action. Others remind us to slow down, reflect, or trust our inner wisdom.

Tarot doesn’t hand us the answers; it illuminates the wisdom we already hold within.

And that’s what I love about tarot. It invites perspective. Life can feel overwhelming when you’re stuck focusing on one choice or outcome. Pulling a card — or a spread — can encourage you to see a situation from different angles: the practical side, the emotional undercurrents, the lessons you might learn, and even possibilities you hadn’t considered. It reminds you that there’s rarely only one “right” answer. There are paths to explore, each carrying its own energy and opportunity.

I also find that tarot helps me tune into the energy of a decision. Some cards suggest patience is needed. Others hint at courage, release, or commitment. They don’t tell me what to do, but they do help me sense what a path might require from me — what I might need to embrace or let go of. That awareness often makes the choice feel less intimidating.

Most importantly, tarot has taught me to trust myself more. The cards ask questions rather than give commands. The meanings that resonate most are the ones I already knew deep down. Over time, working with tarot has strengthened my intuition and made me more confident in my own wisdom. Decisions that once felt heavy or confusing now feel like opportunities to engage with my life consciously.

At the end of the day, the cards don’t make the choices for us — we do. What tarot offer is clarity, reflection, and a deeper understanding of our inner world. And when we move forward from that place, our decisions feel more aligned, intentional, and true to who we are becoming.

2026 — The Universal Year of The Magician

For this year, 2026 — the Universal Year of The Magician — I pulled The Tower as my yearly theme card.

With the energy of The Magician guiding 2026, I can already feel the energy of personal power, creativity, and the possibilities waiting to be shaped. And with The Tower as my theme, I sense its quiet call — to rise stronger, rebuild with intention, and step into life with a renewed sense of clarity, purpose, and courage.

I won’t reveal all the details just yet, because this year is still unfolding. But if the past three years have taught me anything, it’s that each card arrives with a purpose — a lesson, a question, or a nudge toward growth. I know The Tower will challenge me, illuminate hidden truths, and invite transformation in ways I can’t fully see yet.

For now, I’m trusting the process, staying present, and remaining open. The most profound growth often happens in moments we haven’t yet imagined — and the journey itself is just as important as the destination.