Living the Cards - Inner Light Tarot by Lisa

Stonehenge and The Moon: Walking the Path Between Mystery and Meaning

May 8, 2026 by Lisa

After months of planning, I was finally here, walking among the stones at Stonehenge.

It felt surreal standing beside stones that had remained in place for thousands of years. There is something difficult to explain about being there in person. The scale, the silence, the mystery…all of it creates a feeling that is both grounding and deeply reflective.

The Symbolism of The Moon

As part of my daily tarot practice, I often pull a card for reflection and insight. In the days leading up to the trip, I pulled The Moon on three separate occasions. I didn’t see it as a prediction, but I sensed there was something in the symbolism I had not fully understood yet.

Once I arrived at Stonehenge, the connection felt immediate. Built around celestial cycles and seasonal shifts, the monument carries the same emotional atmosphere as The Moon itself: uncertainty, transition, intuition, and moving forward without full clarity.

An Ancient Awareness of Cycles

All of the stones felt powerful in their own way, but I found myself especially drawn to one particular trilithon. According to the tour guide, it aligns with the Altar Stone during the winter solstice. The entire monument was carefully aligned with celestial events, marking both the summer and winter solstices. Many archaeologists now believe the winter solstice may have held even greater significance for the people who gathered there.

That connection stayed with me because the winter solstice reflects many of the same themes found within The Moon card:

Darkness before the return of light
Transition and renewal
Liminality and the unknown
Trusting cycles during uncertain times

Mystery Without Certainty

I sat quietly near the stone for a while, simply taking in the experience. As I often do, I laid my tarot cards out on the ground beside me. I pulled a few cards, but more than anything, I wanted to absorb the moment.

What struck me most was how much Stonehenge itself mirrors the emotional landscape of The Moon card. Archaeologists understand pieces of its purpose, but no single explanation fully defines it. Some believe it was ceremonial. Others see it as astronomical, agricultural, or connected to burial and ancestor rituals. What we do know is that it was intentional, deeply meaningful, and designed to connect people to something larger than themselves.

The Moon card asks for a similar kind of trust. It reminds us that we do not always have full clarity and that sometimes wisdom comes not from certainty, but from continuing forward anyway.

Ancient Ritual and Modern Reflection

Humans have always searched for meaning in uncertain times. Long before modern spiritual practices, people gathered in places like Stonehenge to observe cycles, honor transitions, and connect with the Divine. Thousands of years later, many of us are still doing the same thing in our own ways.

For me, tarot is not about having every answer. It is about reflection, symbolism, intuition, and learning to navigate uncertainty with greater awareness. Standing among the stones, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I felt connected not only to the past, but to something both deeply human and deeply spiritual. The stones may belong to the ancient past, but the search for meaning continues within us today.

Stonehenge: April 27, 2026

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The Hermit and the Lighthouse: Finding Light in the Darkness

March 16, 2026 by Lisa

During a recent vacation in San Diego, I pulled The Hermit as my daily tarot card — two days in a row and three times in one week! At first, the message puzzled me. The Hermit traditionally speaks of solitude, contemplation, and withdrawal from the busy world. Yet here I was on vacation, exploring a vibrant coastal city, certainly not retreating into isolation.

Later that day, I found myself visiting the Old Point Loma Lighthouse at Cabrillo National Monument with a friend. Suddenly, The Hermit made perfect sense. Standing on the windswept cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the symbolism became unmistakable.

The lighthouse keeper was, in many ways, a living reflection of The Hermit - tending the light, keeping watch through the night, and quietly guiding others through darkness.

The Lantern and the Lighthouse Beam

In the traditional Rider–Waite–Smith tarot deck, The Hermit holds a lantern containing a six-pointed star. The lantern does not illuminate the entire landscape. Instead, it lights only a small portion of the path ahead. When you think about it, a lighthouse works in much the same way. It does not light the entire ocean. Instead, it sends out a focused beam across the darkness, just enough to guide ships away from danger and toward safe passage.

What a beautiful metaphor for the wisdom we can offer others. Insight rarely arrives all at once with every answer neatly in place. More often, it appears as a small light that reveals the next step. Indeed, The Hermit does not promise certainty for the entire journey, only clarity for the moment directly in front of us.

The Keeper’s Vigil

While walking the lighthouse grounds, I noticed a sign whose message felt deeply connected to the meaning of The Hermit.

"Throughout much of history, the soul of lighthouses has been the keepers whose dedication and attention to detail kept the lights shining night after night."

For more than a century, lighthouse keepers carried out a quiet but vital task. They cleaned lenses, maintained the lamp, monitored weather conditions, and ensured the light never went out. Their work required ^*discipline, patience, and unwavering attention.

In many ways, the development of spiritual wisdom follows the same principle.

The Hermit’s wisdom develops slowly through observation, reflection, and inner work. Intuition and insight grow in much the same way. These gifts remain within us, but without attention and nurturing they can easily fade into the background. Like the lighthouse, these gifts must be tended with patience and thoughtful intention.

A Lighthouse is Built to Serve Others

As I walked further through the museum, another sign caught my attention. It quoted the playwright George Bernard Shaw:

"I can think of no other edifice constructed by man as altruistic as a lighthouse. They were built only to serve."

This observation captures the deeper spirit of The Hermit. A lighthouse does not demand recognition or reward. Its sole purpose is to guide strangers safely through dangerous waters. The Hermit carries a similar role in the tarot. At its highest expression, The Hermit becomes the teacher, guide, or mentor who illuminates the path for others. The wisdom gained through solitude eventually becomes something that can be shared. The Hermit withdraws not to escape humanity, but to better serve it.

For this reason, drawing The Hermit can be understood as a gift, an invitation to pause, reflect, and deepen our understanding of the path we are walking. In that quiet space, insight begins to take shape. And when the time is right, that inner light can become a source of guidance for others.

Taking a Deeper Look

As I continued walking the lighthouse grounds, I began to notice more parallels between The Hermit and the quiet work of a lighthouse keeper. One by one, deeper layers of symbolism began to reveal themselves.

Life on the Edge

Lighthouses are built at the boundaries of the world. They stand on cliffs and rocky shores where the land meets the sea , places where navigation becomes uncertain and danger increases.

It is at this threshold that wisdom becomes necessary.

The Hermit appears in tarot readings during moments of transition, when the path forward is not yet fully visible. Like the lighthouse on a stormy coastline, The Hermit shines when clarity is most needed.

Waiting for Those Who Seek the Light

One of the most powerful lessons of the lighthouse is that it does not seek out the ships.

It simply shines.

The responsibility lies with the sailor to notice the light and adjust course accordingly. The Hermit offers guidance in the same way. Wisdom cannot be forced upon someone. It must be sought, recognized, and embraced by those who are ready for it.

Like the lighthouse, The Hermit waits quietly, lantern raised, for those who are seeking the light.

Climbing the Spiral

Like many lighthouses, the Point Loma lighthouse has a spiral staircase that leads upward to the lantern room. Spirals have long been recognized as symbols of transformation and growth, representing an inward journey toward deeper understanding.

Climbing a lighthouse tower is not unlike The Hermit’s path. Step by step, we move away from the noise of everyday life and toward a broader perspective. When we reach the top, the view expands dramatically. What once seemed chaotic or overwhelming suddenly becomes clearer from a higher vantage point. The Hermit’s wisdom often comes from this shift in perspective.

Becoming the Lighthouse

When we pull The Hermit card in tarot, we often assume the message is to withdraw from the world. Sometimes that is true. But the lighthouse offers another interpretation.

At times we search for light to guide our way. At other times we are called to tend our inner light that can illuminate the path for others.

The Hermit reminds us that wisdom gained through reflection can become a guiding light for others. We do not need to chase people or force answers upon them. We simply hold the lantern high and let the light shine.

And somewhere out in the darkness, someone searching for direction may see it.

^*A Deeper Tarot Connection

In tarot symbolism, this dedication also echoes the Eight of Pentacles, a card associated with steady effort, mastery, and the quiet commitment required to refine one’s craft. Astrologically, the Eight of Pentacles corresponds to the first decan of Virgo, ruled by the Sun (hello lighthouse!). Virgo is also the zodiac sign traditionally associated with The Hermit.

The connection feels almost poetic. Just as the craftsman in the Eight of Pentacles carefully shapes each coin, the lighthouse keeper tended the lamp night after night, polishing lenses and maintaining the mechanisms that allowed the light to shine. Wisdom, like a lighthouse beam, does not sustain itself. It requires patient, devoted work.

Beyond the Cards: Listening to the Land in Sedona

November 7, 2025 by Lisa

Tarot cards resting on Sedona’s red rocks beneath a bright blue sky, symbolizing the connection between tarot, nature, and spiritual awareness. — Click to view full size image.

I recently took a short trip to Sedona, Arizona, my first visit to this remarkable area. I’d heard about its spiritual energy for years and couldn’t wait to experience it for myself. As with all my travels, I brought a few of my tarot decks along. I never travel without them…partly because I do daily readings for myself and partly because I love exposing my cards to the energy of new places.

That morning, I found myself at Boynton Canyon, one of Sedona’s well-known vortex sites, seeking a message from my spirit guides and hoping to deepen my intuitive connection. The red rocks were warm beneath my legs, sun-soaked and ancient. I shuffled each deck and pulled a card from each one, laying them across the stones.

One by one: The Magician, King of Pentacles, Six of Cups, and Nine of Cups.

I gazed at the cards, turning inward, waiting for their story to unfold. Around me, Sedona’s wind whispered through the towering formations, the gentle breeze offering its own kind of prayer. I had come here to listen - to the cards, to the quiet, to something ancient and sacred.

The Spread of Earth and Sky

Tarot spread at Boynton Canyon. The Magician, 6 of Cups, King of Pentacles, 9 of Cups — Click to view full size image.

Each card reflected the sunlight, resting upon the earth, tuning in to the energy of the land.

The Magician came first, one of my favorite cards in the deck. A reminder of our ability to manifest, to create, to remember that everything we need is already within reach. The King of Pentacles grounded the moment, echoing Sedona’s strength and stability, the power of rooted presence.

Then came the Six and Nine of Cups, softening the message with emotion and memory. The Six invited reflection, a return to innocence and joy. My younger self would have been in awe of these red rock cathedrals - pure magic. The Nine radiated gratitude, that deep inner “yes” that confirmed I was exactly where I needed to be.

In that moment, I felt harmony all around me, a deep peace, a wave of gratitude, a knowing that I was part of something that defied explanation.

The Gift of Perspective

View from the Boynton Canyon vortex in Sedona, AZ. — Click to view full size image.

I lingered there, taking in the cards, the sunlight, the texture of the rock beneath them. Then, almost instinctively, I looked up.

The landscape stretched endlessly before me, red cliffs glowing against an intense deep blue sky. And in that instant, it became clear: the message wasn’t only in the cards. It was everywhere.

The Magician was in the way sunlight brought out the layers of color in the rocks, a living display of creation itself. The sky above felt like the perfect complement, the yin to the earth’s yang. The King of Pentacles lived in the steady patience of the land, the grounding beneath my feet. The Cups flowed through my heart with joy, reminding me to trust my inner light.

For that brief moment, the cards, the land, and I were part of the same energy, a single current of awareness and consciousness.

Seeing Beyond the Spread

Red rock formations in the Boynton Canyon vortex in Sedona, AZ. — Click to view full size image.

When I finally gathered the cards, my heart felt lighter. I was humbled and grateful to have been part of that moment. I sensed my spirit guides beside me…and perhaps, the echoes of the land’s first guardians reminding me of the sacredness of all things.

I realized then that tarot isn’t only about asking questions. It’s about learning how to listen. To trust presence, gratitude, creation, and connection, the very elements the land had been reflecting back to me all along.

Sometimes, the reading doesn’t end when you pull the last card. It continues in the wind, in the light, in the quiet recognition that life itself is speaking.

Every rock, every ray of sunlight, every breath can become part of the reading.

Through the Veil: The Five of Cups and Samhain’s Call to Remember

November 3, 2025 by Lisa

As the Sun slips into Scorpio, the air itself seems to deepen. Shadows lengthen, leaves fall like whispers, and the veil between worlds thins. This is the realm of the Five of Cups. Here in the first decan of Scorpio (0°–10°), ruled by Mars, and aligned with the sacred season of Samhain, Halloween, and Día de los Muertos.

This is the landscape of emotional reckoning, where grief, love, and transformation intertwine.

Mars in Scorpio: The Courage to Feel Deeply

Mars, the ruler of Scorpio’s first decan, lends this card a fierce emotional intensity. This isn’t gentle sadness; it’s the raw, red truth of loss that refuses to be ignored. The figure in the Five of Cups stands cloaked in black, mourning what has spilled, yet unaware of what still remains. Mars gives us the drive, not to escape those feelings, but to face them. To descend, eyes open, into the underworld of the heart.

In Scorpio’s realm, grief isn’t an ending, it’s transformation. Every tear shed is a step toward rebirth.

The Number Five: Disruption and Awakening

The number five marks a turning point in the tarot. If the fours bring stability, the fives bring movement - often uncomfortable, always transformative. It’s the moment the universe shakes us awake and says, something must change.

In the Five of Cups, disruption happens in the emotional realm. We can’t cling to what was. The spilled cups remind us that attachments, like leaves, must fall away so new growth can take root. Five energy demands motion, and Scorpio insists that the only way forward is through.

Just as Samhain stands halfway between the equinox and solstice, the crossroads of light and dark, the number five represents that same liminal threshold. It is the midpoint of the minor arcana’s cycle, where life pivots toward renewal.

Samhain, Halloween, and Día de los Muertos: Sacred Mourning

The Five of Cups mirrors the emotional current of late October and early November, a season devoted to honoring the dead and acknowledging impermanence. Across cultures, this is a time to remember ancestors, light candles for those we’ve lost, and celebrate the love that remains.

Samhain, the Celtic New Year, marks the end of the harvest and the descent into winter. It’s the soul’s reckoning, a time to release the old and make space for what’s next.
Halloween, in its modern form, still carries echoes of that threshold between worlds where the living and the dead, fear and joy, dance together in disguise.
Día de los Muertos transforms grief into color and celebration. The marigolds, candles, and sugar skulls remind us that death isn’t the opposite of life, it’s part of its rhythm.

The Five of Cups stands at this same altar, inviting us to honor our own emotional dead - dreams that didn’t bloom, relationships that ended, versions of ourselves we’ve outgrown. Each loss becomes an offering to transformation.

From Mourning to Meaning

Look closely at the card: not all is lost. Behind the cloaked figure, two cups still stand as symbols of connection, resilience, and hope. This is the heart of Scorpio’s magic: even in the ashes, something endures.

Mars’ fire here is not destruction for its own sake; it’s purification. Like the Samhain bonfires that burned away the remnants of the old year, the Five of Cups helps us release emotional debris so we can move forward lighter, clearer, and more alive.

The Emotional Alchemy of the Fives

In the great wheel of the Minor Arcana, every Five brings tension, but they also bring growth:

The Five of Wands tests our will.
The Five of Swords tests our integrity.
The Five of Pentacles tests our faith.
The Five of Cups tests our heart.

Each challenges us to evolve beyond comfort. The Five of Cups, especially, teaches that healing doesn’t mean forgetting, it means allowing grief to deepen our capacity for love.

Reflection: What Are You Ready to Release?

As the days grow shorter and the veil thins, ask yourself:

What am I mourning?
What can I honor, even as I let it go?
Where does love still stand, waiting to be seen?

This is the medicine of the Five of Cups, to look loss in the eye, honor its lesson, and step forward changed. Like the season of Scorpio itself, it is both ending and beginning, grief and gratitude, descent and renewal.

The Five, Six, and Seven of Cups: The Waters of Transformation

November 1, 2025 by Lisa

Three chalices under a Scorpio night sky - one overturned, one glowing, one misted symbolizing the 5, 6 & 7 of Cups. When we talk about Scorpio, we often think of transformation, mystery, and emotional intensity, but beneath those waters lies a story of evolution. The cups of Scorpio trace a journey through the dark waters of the heart: from grief to memory to choice and discernment.

The sign of Scorpio rules this trio, but each card expresses a different planetary influence:

5 of Cups – Mars in Scorpio: raw emotion, loss, confrontation
6 of Cups – Sun in Scorpio: illumination, renewal, reconnections
7 of Cups – Venus in Scorpio: temptation, vision, discernment

Together, they form a sacred arc of transformation, a descent, a remembering, and a reawakening.

Five of Cups: Grief as a Path to Transformation

Mars rules the first decan of Scorpio, and with Mars comes confrontation. The Five of Cups shows us what happens when the heart can no longer contain its sorrow. Something has been lost, and we are left standing in the wreckage, staring at what has spilled.

But Scorpio teaches that nothing truly ends. In the alchemy of the soul, even grief becomes compost for new growth. The Five of Cups invites us to turn toward what remains, the two upright cups behind us…and to honor our pain without becoming it.

This is the emotional purge before rebirth. The tears cleanse. The fire of Mars burns away illusion. Here we turn inward and must begin to understand what we truly value.

0°–10° Scorpio
Ruled by Mars
Also known as the Lord of Loss of Pleasure

Reflection: What are you ready to release? And more importantly, what still deserves your love or attention?

Six of Cups: The Light of Remembering

The second decan of Scorpio is ruled by the Sun, a symbol of clarity, healing, and illumination. If the Five taught us to grieve, the Six of Cups teaches us to remember, not with regret, but with affection. Some memories still hold light.

This card carries nostalgia and innocence, but not in the naive sense. It is a mature kind of sweetness, the joy that returns after grief, the tenderness that arises once the heart has mended enough to love again.

In this decan, Scorpio’s depth becomes regenerative. We learn to trust again, to let memory become medicine rather than poison. Just as the Sun in Scorpio transforms shadow into revelation, this card reminds us to honor the people, moments, and places that shaped us.

10°–20° Scorpio
Ruled by the Sun
Also known as the Lord of Pleasure

Reflection: What memory or connection still holds healing for you? Where can love be restored, not by reliving the past, but by reclaiming its wisdom?

Seven of Cups: The Illusion of Choice

By the time we reach the Seven of Cups, Venus takes the stage, and with her comes desire - beautiful, dangerous, intoxicating. The imagery of this card overflows with dreams, temptations, and possibilities. Each cup holds a vision: some divine, some deceptive. This is Scorpio’s most seductive phase, where imagination blurs with fantasy, and we are asked to choose what’s real.

Here we stand after the emotional cleansing of the earlier cups, gazing upon the many forms that rebirth can take. But not every cup holds truth. Some offer illusion while others hold genuine transformation. Venus in Scorpio seduces and challenges, asking: What do you truly want? What will you commit to becoming?

20°–30° Scorpio
Ruled by Venus
Also known as the Lord of Illusionary Success

Reflection: Which of your dreams call you toward your higher self, and which are illusions with no substance?

The Scorpio Arc: From Depth to Discernment

The Five, Six, and Seven of Cups reveal Scorpio’s most intimate truth: transformation is not a single act of letting go, but a continuous spiral of becoming. We descend through loss, rediscover light in memory, and rise again through desire, each phase reshaping us in its own way. In Scorpio’s waters, emotion is not weakness but wisdom and deeper understanding. Trust what rises from within and allow it to guide your transformation.

For more on the decans and the astrology of tarot, check out:

Tarot and Astrology: Enhance Your Readings with the Wisdom of the Zodiac by Corrine Kenner
36 Secrets: A Decanic Journey through the Minor Arcana of the Tarot by T. Susan Chang

Chart for the decans of Scorpio for 5, 6, 7 of cups

Click to view full size image.

Scorpio and the Death Card: Transformation, Power, and Rebirth

October 18, 2025 by Lisa

Scorpion dissolving into butterflies against the night sky As a Scorpio, imagine my surprise and dismay when I discovered that my associated tarot card is the Death card! After all, the Death card is associated with… well, death. It’s the one card that can make people flinch when it appears in a reading.

But as I soon learned, the Death card isn’t really about death at all. While it can, in some cases, point to a literal loss, that’s rare. Its deeper message is one of transformation, release, and renewal.

Like Scorpio itself, the Death card speaks to the beauty of letting go, the power of surrender, and the quiet magic that happens when something old dissolves so something new can take its place.

The Death Card’s Scorpio Wisdom

As we move through Scorpio season, nature itself becomes our greatest teacher. Leaves fall. Shadows lengthen. What once bloomed begins to fade.

Both Scorpio and the Death card speak the language of depth, mystery, and rebirth. Scorpio, ruled by Pluto, the planet of transformation, reminds us that true power isn’t control, but surrender.

In tarot, Death (XIII) mirrors the same rhythm: the sacred shedding that makes way for something truer, wilder, and freer.

Scorpio’s mantra is “I transform.”

The Beauty of Endings

Endings often arrive wrapped in discomfort: the job that no longer fits, the friendship that drifts, the beliefs that no longer feel like home. We resist them because we equate endings with failure. But in truth, every ending is a sacred composting, a natural alchemy that breaks down the old to nourish the new.

Just as autumn leaves feed the soil, the Death card invites us to let the past become nourishment for our next growth. It asks a simple but uncomfortable question: What are you still holding onto?

Maybe it’s a relationship that’s turned toxic, a job that drains your spirit, or someone who makes you feel small, but you stay in these situations because of obligation, habit, or fear of the unknown. What once felt supportive may now be suffocating. By allowing something that no longer serves your highest good to naturally fall away, you create sacred space for something better to take its place.

This is Scorpio’s wisdom: transformation through truth. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is to let go and trust that what’s meant for you will rise from the ashes.

Reflection Prompts

Light a candle, pull the Death card from your deck, and journal on these:

What am I being asked to release right now, even if it feels uncomfortable?
What part of me is ready to be reborn?
Where am I still resisting change—and why?
What would it mean to trust the process of transformation?

Becoming Through Surrender

The Death card is not a symbol of loss, it’s an emblem of liberation. Scorpio teaches us that to transform is to live courageously. To let something die is not failure; it’s faith in the unseen, and in your own resilience to rise again.

This Scorpio season, may you honor your own shedding. May you find beauty in what’s fading. And may you trust that what’s ending now is only clearing space for your next beginning.

Ashes to Descent: A Scorpio Season Tarot Spread

Scorpio’s modern ruler, Pluto, reminds us that transformation is not just about endings, it’s about descent and return. Like the Death card, Pluto invites us into the underworld of our own soul to uncover truth, power, and renewal.

This 3-card spread mirrors that sacred journey.

Card 1: The Descent (Scorpio) - What am I being called to face or release?
This card represents your moment of surrender, the recognition that something must end, evolve, or be left behind. It reveals the patterns, attachments, or emotions you’re ready to shed.

Card 2: The Underworld (Pluto) - What transformation is taking place beneath the surface?
Here lies the alchemy of change, the hidden process that’s shaping you in ways you can’t yet see. This card speaks to your inner metamorphosis, where endings turn to compost for your becoming.

Card 3: The Ascent (Phoenix) - What wisdom or power is ready to rise within me?
The final card reveals what’s emerging, the renewed form of your strength, truth, or purpose. This is your resurrection moment, the light that returns after the darkness.

Click to view full size image.