Tarot — A Whisper Through the Veil

A whisper in the shadows, a promise tearing softly through the silence. Tarot is not just a deck of pretty cards – it’s a doorway. A doorway into the unknown, where archetypes and symbols hide in plain sight and reveal themselves only when they feel like it. Look closely enough, and you might even hear them laugh.

The history of tarot? A tangled mess of facts, myths, and half-truths. Sure, the cards appeared in medieval Europe as a noble pastime called taroki. A game. How terribly mundane. And yet, once alchemists and magicians got their hands on them, the tone shifted. The cards began to whisper of something else – something older, stranger, too alive to ever be dismissed as “just a game.”

Some claim their roots reach back to ancient temples, where priests tried to chat with the gods. Others speak of secret knowledge, cosmic blueprints hidden in the images. Dramatic? Absolutely. But that’s the beauty of tarot: it refuses to be nailed down. It thrives in mystery, always slipping just beyond certainty.

And honestly – does it matter whether they come from Egypt, from the cellar of a drunk magician, or a print shop in Italy? They’re here. They breathe. They move. They mirror your soul back to you with a raw honesty that can feel almost… impolite. Over centuries, tarot shed its role as a simple pastime and grew into a language. A strange, poetic tongue, one that shifts depending on who holds the cards. Each shuffle is a conversation with the unknown. Sometimes, the unknown happens to be your own heart.


My Path into Tarot

I was ten years old when it started. Ten — old enough to sense that the world was not what it seemed, young enough to still admit it out loud. I always knew there was more than just the visible, the ordinary. Something hummed beneath the surface. So I went looking for it.

The first deck I touched wasn’t mine at all — it belonged to my grandfather. A strange inheritance for a child, perhaps, but those cards found their way into my hands as if they’d been waiting. I didn’t know what they meant, not really. I flipped them over, studied the symbols, read the tiny booklet that came with them… and then I started to lay them out. Something stirred. Something whispered.

But “being different” has a price. It’s thrilling, yes, but it can also be unbearably lonely. And in that loneliness, I sought the company of the cards again. Years later, after I had first learned their shapes and voices, they began to speak to me once more. And in the darkest of times, I realized I needed them more than ever.

While others were busy with friends, nights out, the casual noise of life, I walked a different path. Bars and chatter never held my attention. Instead, I sank into candlelight, into the strange rhythm of cards spread across a table, into the soft swing of a pendulum. Where others ordered another drink, I asked questions in silence — and the cards answered. They were, in truth, my closest companions. My best friends.

Now, many years later, that hasn’t changed. My bond with the cards has only grown, rooted itself like something alive. Tarot is still my refuge, my compass, my way of conversing with the unseen. And now… it can be yours too.

If you carry questions — big, small, or utterly bizarre — bring them. I welcome them all. No question is too heavy, no thought too strange. In fact, the stranger, the better. Tarot doesn’t shy away, and neither do I.

And for those who feel the same calling I once did, who long not only to receive the wisdom of the cards but to speak their language themselves… I am creating a course. A clear, structured path into the mysteries, where I’ll share with you everything I’ve uncovered through years of practice. Simple enough to guide you, deep enough to change you.

So whether you seek answers or knowledge, guidance or initiation — the cards are waiting.
See you soon, my precious moggles.

Oshin