Personal Reflection

The Light That Remains

Reflection on Healing, Love, and the Battles We No Longer Need to Fight

Today's Cards: Five of Swords (Osiris) & The Sun (Ra)

Yesterday, my best friend and I participated as vendors at our hometown Pumpkin Market. There was something particularly meaningful about this event because we were showing up, unapologetically, as ourselves in the very community where we both grew up.

A place where questioning religious beliefs wasn't always welcomed. Where shame and judgment were sometimes used to discourage curiosity and independent thought. Where, even today, remnants of those attitudes still exist.

We had actually talked about this before the market. About what it meant to be in our hometown, openly sharing our spiritual practices and offering something that once might have brought us shame.

Neither of us knew just how meaningful that conversation would become.

Before the market, I had asked Spirit what the day would bring. I pulled the Wheel of Fortune, the Sun, and the Two of Cups. I interpreted them as a beautiful indication of joy, meaningful connections, and a successful day.

And that is exactly what the day brought.

I gave three heartfelt tarot readings, each beautiful in its own way. I reconnected with family, met new people, deepened friendships, and spent the day doing something I love alongside my best friend.

It was a wonderful day.

But toward the end of the market, two women approached our booth.

At first, I thought they were interested in my friend's ritual bags. Instead, they explained that they had noticed I was offering tarot readings and felt compelled to come speak with me.

One of the women shared that she had noticed my smile and sensed something loving and genuine about my spirit. She recognized my warmth before ever speaking to me.

Yet the conversation quickly turned toward their concerns about our spiritual beliefs and practices. They wanted us to understand why they believed what we were doing was wrong and expressed fear for us.

I listened. I asked questions. I shared how I use tarot, what my spiritual practice means to me, and why I believe intention matters.

At one point, I asked why they had felt so compelled to approach me. Were they questioning something within their own faith, or were they simply afraid for my soul?

I also asked how someone could recognize the goodness and light within me, yet believe that the practices through which I nurture that connection must somehow be wrong.

There was something both ironic and deeply sad about that contradiction.

I could recognize that their concerns were rooted in their understanding of faith, just as I could recognize that one woman's experiences with darker spiritual practices had shaped her perspective.

But understanding someone's fears does not mean I have to adopt them as my own.

Eventually, the conversation reached a point where it was no longer productive. I began to feel anxiety rising in my body, and I knew it was time to end the interaction.

Here's where something remarkable happened.

I realized that I was okay.

I was shaking a little. I needed a moment to ground myself again. But I wasn't overwhelmed by shame. I wasn't questioning my worth, my beliefs, or my connection to Spirit.

I didn't feel the need to prove myself.

Years ago, an encounter like this might have left me questioning everything. Yesterday, I was able to recognize the judgment without internalizing it.

In that moment, I recognized just how much healing had taken place within me. The wounds that once made me question myself no longer held the same power. I could feel the discomfort without losing the peace I had worked so hard to find.

Perhaps that's something we don't talk about enough when it comes to healing.

Healing doesn't mean we never feel uncomfortable, anxious, or triggered by our past. It doesn't mean those experiences disappear from our memories or that we become immune to the emotions they once created.

Sometimes healing simply means that when those familiar feelings arise, we recognize them for what they are. We give ourselves space to feel them without allowing them to define us or determine what happens next.

After the interaction I was able to return to what I love and offer another tarot reading.

Before the market ended, a new friend shared something that touched me deeply. He told me that I had helped him and his wife so much that they believed I was doing exactly what I was meant to do.

What a beautiful way to end the day.

What Does It Mean to Love?

There was one moment from the encounter that stayed with me.

As the women were leaving, one of them told us that she loved us.

I found myself reflecting on those words this morning.

Because I remember a time when I understood love very differently than I do today.

I was taught about love through religion, but it wasn't until I began questioning, reflecting, healing, and developing my own relationship with Spirit that I began to truly understand what living through love meant to me.

Love is not simply something we declare.

Love is something we practice.

That brought me back to a familiar passage from the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13:4–8 which states in part…

Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. Love rejoices with the truth. Love protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

I find it interesting that this scripture came to me today, because it expresses so much of what I believe about love.

We can tell someone we love them, but what are our actions communicating?

Are we approaching others with curiosity and compassion, or with the intention of correcting them?

Are we allowing people the freedom to discover their own truths, or are we asking them to abandon themselves to make us more comfortable?

I don't doubt that those women believed they were acting from a place of love.

But I have learned that good intentions do not automatically make our actions loving.

Learning the difference has been one of the most meaningful parts of my own spiritual journey.

The Five of Swords and The Sun

This morning, I asked Spirit a simple question:

What was yesterday supposed to show me?

I pulled the Five of Swords and The Sun.

Immediately, I noticed the Sun had appeared again.

Yesterday, the Sun spoke to me of happiness, connection, and fulfillment.

Today, alongside the Five of Swords, its message felt deeper.

The Five of Swords traditionally represents conflict, tension, and the desire to win, sometimes at the expense of peace or connection.

But that wasn't how I experienced its message today.

Instead, I saw the battles I no longer need to fight.

I don't need to convince someone else that my beliefs are valid.

I don't need to defend my worth against someone else's judgment.

I no longer need external validation to feel secure in who I am.

There was another beautiful layer to these cards.

The deck I used draws from deities, folklore, and stories from cultures around the world. The Five of Swords features Osiris, the Egyptian god associated with death, rebirth, and renewal. The Sun features Ra, the Egyptian sun god, representing light, vitality, and creation.

How fitting that these two figures would appear together.

Osiris reminds me of the transformation that comes through difficult experiences.

The parts of ourselves we must release, the wounds we work to heal, and the ways we emerge, changed by that process.

And Ra reminds me of the light that remains. 

The joy, the clarity, the peace, and the freedom that come from knowing ourselves.

I also found it interesting that both cards feature Egyptian gods, especially after yesterday's encounter about religion and spiritual beliefs.

It reminded me that even in the Bible, Egypt played an important role. Joseph took Mary and Jesus there to protect them from King Herod.

Here I was, being questioned about my spiritual beliefs, only to pull two cards representing gods from a culture that also played a part in the Christian story.

It made me think about how connected our spiritual histories really are, even when we are taught to see different beliefs as completely separate or even wrong.

Choosing What Remains

As I reflected on yesterday, I realized how easily I could have allowed one uncomfortable encounter to overshadow an otherwise beautiful experience.

But why would I give those few moments more power than everything else the day offered?

The meaningful readings. The laughter. The friendships. The family connections. The encouragement. The opportunity to share something I genuinely love.

And most importantly, the realization of how far I have come.

Yesterday reminded me that I can remain grounded in my beliefs without needing others to share them. I can approach disagreement with curiosity, maintain compassion, and still establish boundaries when those boundaries are needed.

I can honor someone else's right to believe differently without surrendering my own truth.

I can recognize that someone else's fear does not have to become mine.

Perhaps the greatest victory isn't winning the argument. Perhaps it's realizing there is no longer an argument you need to win.

The Sun appeared both days, reminding me of all the beautiful things that were present before, during, and after that uncomfortable encounter.

The light was never lost.

I simply had another opportunity to recognize just how brightly it shines.

A Moment for Reflection

Are there old wounds or judgments that once held power over you but no longer do?

Can you recognize how your responses have changed, even when familiar situations arise?

What experiences have helped you recognize just how far you've come on your own journey of healing and self-discovery?

Journal Prompt:

What is one battle I no longer need to fight, and what does releasing that battle allow me to welcome into my life?

💜✨️ May we continue to grow in understanding, practice the love we speak of, and find peace in the freedom to be authentically ourselves.

Rachel