Tiny Tarot Story
Read a short story inspired by the Devil.
They were best friends first, Liz and Lena second. They met as freshmen in a seminar for juniors. Liz and Lena each believed the other one was the smarter one, funnier one, cuter one. This assessment made them uncomfortable. For Liz and Lena wanted to be what the other one was, have what the other one had, and would not rest until she did.
✨
In college they trailed each other like shadows. Out-studying, out-performing. When a guy flirted with Liz, Lena would pursue him immediately. When Lena joined a club, Liz would too. Neither could say who was to blame for the dynamic. But they wouldn’t stop until the other one did first.
✨
After college Lena moved to a new city to do marketing for a company that sold dog food to millennials. There was no one watching over her shoulder, waiting for her to fail. And so she made friends, almost moved on. But it was almost lonely without Liz to remind her she was lacking. At night she called Liz and said she missed her. Liz rarely picked up. Then she took the bus up to Boston and revealed that she, too, had gotten a job in the city. They could go back to how it was.
✨
It was fun, at first, but it was never good. When Lena was around Liz, she felt like she was at the end of a race, and the prize upon crossing the finish line was a slap. She was tired of running but didn’t want to finish, either, because it would sting. She knew it had to end—this wasn’t how friendship was supposed to make you feel. Like the worst part of you had been given a body of its own. One of them had to stop it. But it kept them running, it kept them achieving. They were so busy looking at each other that they didn’t pay attention to where they were headed. It was nowhere good.
See this post on Instagram.
The Devil Reflections
Musings
Before reading, grab a tarot book, or Google the Devil card.
Chances are, the words you’ll encounter have to with addiction, entanglement, unhealthy relationship dynamics, power plays, temptation, bondage through materialism, hedonism, obsession, violence, and indulgence. I’ll add a few of my own descriptions—and feel free to hold on to any images the Devil springs for you: Speeding on highways, letting life pass you by, cruelty for the fun of it, cruelty by carelessness, eating ortolan, not helping others because you’re preoccupied by your phone (sorry), limiting your scope to what’s right in front of you.
To put it simply: The entries on the Devil aren’t about shadowy and seductive figures playing the fiddle at crossroads, or fauns with mischievous smiles and hell-flames rising around them as Wagner blared.
They are about you.
The art of tarot is learning to read subtleties, using intuition to fill in what the cards aren’t saying outright. But the Devil is not a subtle card. While Pamela Colman Smith’s imagery renders the Devil in all his brawny glory, the Devil himself is not externalized in tarot. The “Devil” comes through our behaviors. The call is coming from inside the house. The Devil is found within.
I chose the Devil to unpack this week because I’ve been thinking about the ways I invite my particular Devil into my life, over and over. Yes, my Devil. We all get our own. Yippee!
Stop imagining the Devil as the guy on the card or the guy in your head from Sunday school or the guy from Adam Sandler’s masterpiece Little Nicky. You know what your Devil looks like; you’ve seen him before in the mirror, or in photographs taken on Friday nights at 3 a.m. with your arm slung over the shoulder of a stranger, your eyes red from flash. Your Devil’s different than mine; he’s different from your best friend’s or your neighbors. We all contend with the Devil—we all contend with ourselves.
This week, for the tarot challenge I’m running over on Instagram, I pulled the Devil in response to the question: “What tools do I have at my disposal?” Here I was, hoping for the Six of Wands—the classic victory card. Instead I got one of self-indulgence, of being unable to rise above impulses.
Pulling the card sort of felt like the reflection in the mirror winking at me, as if to say, “I’m watching you. Every time you watch TV instead of work, I’m watching you. Every time you put off writing ‘that book,’ I’m watching you. Every time you sulk off for a while, stew in your self-righteous juices, I’m watching you.” I think the card was saying, “Get it together. You’re not serving yourself by running away from your calling, and hanging out with your little playmate.”
All those times I’m thinking I’m being so sneaky. Those long afternoons working from home in sweatpants, my posture sloping a centimeter closer to the ground. The afternoons lost to complaints. The moods ruined simply because being right seemed more important than being free. All of the acidic moments in which I wasn’t proud of myself. That’s my Devil.
Unfortunately—and I’m not proud of this, either—the Devil and I have had some exhilarating times together. The perfectly placed insults. The escapades that will not be written, here, but one day might be unfurled with a smile over a beer. The closest people in my life are also well-acquainted with their Devils, have made memories with them. Sometimes they walked hand-in-hand with them for entire eras. We call this process gaining self-awareness. We call this knowledge.
Why is it that sometimes I’m wistful, reminiscing about my darkest moments? The long, glum phases where I was looking for fulfillment under rocks and finding only moss. The weeks where I said only yes, over and over and over, even when I meant no. What a fool I was; what a saint. I didn’t even know I was in a tunnel until I left it. The tunnel brought me here.
Ultimately, the brilliance of this card is that it doesn’t let us get away with hanging out with our worst selves in a hotboxed basement. It’s a wake-up call. It’s easy to say, “The Devil made me do it.” Harder to say, “I let myself.” The Devil card arrives to hold us accountable.
The Devil himself arrives to invite us to dance. Just remember: You’ve danced with him before. Decide, before you take his hand: How will this dance serve me? And can I find a better partner, somewhere out there? You already know the answer—but no matter what you choose, forgive yourself.
Journaling Prompts
When has the Devil appeared in your life? What form does he take?
Recall a situation in which you felt limited and entrapped. How did you free yourself?
It’s 11:40 p.m. You’re trying to fall asleep. What are the thoughts running through your head? Or, you’re standing in a mirror, staring at yourself. What are the thoughts running through your head? Now come up with thoughts to counter every negative one.
If the Devil offered you a deal, what would be your terms? What do you want so badly that you might enter into such an agreement—and what does that say about your values or wants at the moment?
Start a Story of Your Own
Write a story of your own inspired by the dynamics present in the Devil card, starting with this sentence. If you email me your story, I’ll share it in the next newsletter.
“Get in,” he said. “And just a warning. I drive fast.”
Extra Credit
Watch a few movies or shows featuring the Devil. Pick your favorite version, and ask yourself why.
Read The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue—trust me!
What is a better, more accurate name for the Devil card? Rename it.