My first deck of angel cards came wrapped in candy cane striped Christmas paper in 2010. For simplicity sake, “Charise, Aunt Cathy” was written in black sharpie ink on top. I distinctly remember laughing at this, recognizing my family’s need for efficiently, but also thinking how odd that Aunt Cathy was the one to do this, considering she is the detailed traditionalist one of us all.
I unwrapped my gift and uncovered (what would years later be referred to as) “The Original Deck”. Noting my hesitancy, a smile draws on Aunt Cathy’s face. She carefully picks up the deck from my grip and says “Now. Let me show ya. This is how ya do it.”
As my brother and uncle wrestled each other in the living room, and my grandma shouted to my grandpa over the beeping of the oven, and my cousin aggressively attempted to piece together a gift requiring some crappy assembly nonsense, my aunt held the deck of cards in her hands, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. I observed her concentration. It was pure. The chaos ensued, but she held on. “Connect with your guides,” she whispered to me, eyes remaining gently closed. She sprawled the deck of cards over her chest, and said “Now is the time to set your intention. Ask your guides for the answers, you know, the ones ya need.”
Then, her eyes opened. Her gaze moved to the deck. She brought the cards back together in her hands. She shuffled. She laughed. She shuffled some more. As she did this, I asked, “Is there a ‘death’ card? Am I going to get the ‘death’ card?” Aunt Cathy, in all her delicacy and grace, scoffed. “Uh, no. This is done in the light.” When she felt called to stop shuffling the deck, she took in another noticeable deep breath, and drew out three cards, face-down.
“These represent past, present, and future. But like, immediate past and future. Like, three to six months.”
And she flipped her cards.
Regretfully, I don’t remember her reading. But I do remember my mother hovering over my aunt, saying “Oooooh, that’s good.” Knowing them, it probably had something to do with career change or relationship validation. But after we read the beautifully delicate card descriptions in the tiny book, Aunt Cathy shot me that smile once more, and said “K. Now it’s your turn.”
My heart RACED, because I knew what question I needed answered. I wondered what would come from this. Would I cry? Would I find out that there really was a ‘death’ card after all?
I did the whole thing. I connected with my guides. I asked them my question. I remember silently telling my angels, Don’t go easy on me. Tell me exactly what I need to hear. Spoiler: They told me exactly what I needed to hear.
My past and present results were whatever. I don’t even remember. But the card I do remember? My future card. FREEDOM.
How could the cards know that I had prayed for this moments earlier, as I flailed around on the treadmill that morning, begging to be free from everything? My long-distance boyfriend, my life in Tallahassee, my family’s expectations, my own expectations. This desire became so great that at night, I would dream of learning how to fly. My subconscious disregarded my innate fears of heights and pushed me to learn how to control my own ability of flight. I desperately wanted to pack up everything and start over. The cards validated those feelings, and they validated what would be a core value of mine in the coming months.
I’ve chosen to introduce angel cards to RTU in this anecdotal form because this is how they’re intended to be experienced (via connectivity through personal experience). In the next two installments, I will go in depth and discuss how to use angel cards as a tool to tap into higher messages from the universe. Stick around, frands.