The Two Cards That Dragged Me Back Home

I pulled two cards for myself the other day.

The Hermit. The Ace of Pentacles.

 

On the surface? They've got no business being in the same sentence. One is a crusty old man alone on a mountain with a lantern. The other is a disembodied hand dangling a gold coin out of the clouds like

here, have a snack.

 

But together, they said something I needed to hear so badly it almost embarrassed me.

Come home. Then plant something.

 

Let me back up.

 

The Hermit is one of my favorite cards and also one of the most misread cards in the entire deck. People see that old man standing alone up there and they think: isolated. Sad. Disconnected.

 

I see the opposite.

 

He's not hiding. He's not lost. He went up there on purpose — to get quiet enough to hear his own damn self think.

 

He's not searching for the light.

 

He's carrying it.

 

When I sat with that card, I felt called out. Not in a catastrophic way. In that quiet, uncomfortable way where you go

oh.

Yeah. That's me.

 

Because somewhere between building this business, showing up for TikTok Lives, writing content, managing the animals, and trying to keep all the plates spinning — I had slowly, sneakily started looking out instead of in.

 

Waiting for the sign. Waiting for the response. Waiting for someone else to validate that I was on the right track.

 

Fifty years of reading tarot and I still fell for it. We all do.

 

The Hermit didn't show up to give me a new direction.

 

He showed up to remind me that I already know which way to go. I just stopped asking myself.

 

Then a few days later, the Ace of Pentacles.

 

Most people look at that card and see the coin. The shiny golden coin, yes, we all see it.

 

I always look at what's underneath it. The garden. The pathway. The archway at the edge of the frame that looks like it leads somewhere worth going.

 

The Ace of Pentacles is not a "you made it" card.

 

It's a "here's a seed, now what are you going to do with it" card.

 

Which means: potential. Beginning. That gorgeous, terrifying moment before anything has grown yet.

 

I've started journaling again. Pulling cards for myself again — actually for myself, not just for content. Getting back into the spiritual practices that built this whole life.

 

Nothing dramatic has changed on the outside.

 

But I feel like myself again. Which, when you've drifted, is the only miracle that actually matters.

 

Here's what these two cards said to me, together, and I'm passing it straight to you:

 

You don't have to become someone new.

 

Sometimes you just have to remember who you already are — and then take one small step from that place.

 

The Hermit: Come home to yourself.

The Ace of Pentacles: Now plant a seed.

 

That's it. That's the whole message. You don't need a master plan. You don't need to have it figured out. You just need to come back to your own center and do one thing from there.

 

The rest unfolds from that.

 

 

I love you. I really, really do love you.

 

— Granny D