Lately, I’ve been diving deep into my relationship with The Fool, guided by Rachel Pollack’s The New Tarot Handbook: Master the Meaning of the Cards. As someone who’s always felt an affinity for the archetypes within the tarot, The Fool stands out for me as a figure of pure potential and adventure. There’s something both exhilarating and unsettling about that first step into the unknown, and it feels like a reflection of where I’ve been and where I’m headed.

As part of my journey, I’ve been working through Pollack’s exercises, and the first one I tackled posed six questions about how The Fool has shown up in my life. For each question, I drew a corresponding card, and the experience has been both illuminating and humbling. It’s a curious thing, using tarot not just for divination but as a mirror for self-reflection—seeing how these archetypal energies play out in my life in ways I hadn’t fully grasped before.

The first question was a big one: “How have I been a fool in my life?” For this, I drew the Ace of Wands. I immediately saw the connection. If I’ve been a fool, it’s been in the way I leap headfirst into new creative ventures, following sparks of inspiration without always worrying about where they’ll lead. The Ace of Wands is all about that raw, untamed energy of new beginnings, and I’ve embraced that more times than I can count. Whether it’s a writing project, a new blog community, or an unexpected spiritual path, I’ve always said yes to the adventure. It’s been my way of embracing The Fool’s openness to life.

The second question asked, “How has this helped me?”—a question that made me pause. I drew the Five of Swords here, which traditionally speaks to conflict and tough choices. I initially struggled with this one, but upon reflection, I realised that The Fool has helped me avoid unnecessary conflict by knowing when to walk away. In situations where others might cling to the need to win, I’ve been able to let go and move on. The Fool teaches detachment, and that’s served me well, especially in moments where staying in the fight would have been more damaging than walking away.

But, as with all archetypes, The Fool has a shadow side. “How has being a fool hurt me?” brought out the Death card. Now, Death isn’t a card to fear; it represents transformation and the inevitable endings that come with life. However, being a fool has hurt me when I’ve ignored the signs of necessary endings, clinging to situations far past their expiration dates. It’s that tricky balance between embracing The Fool’s carefree spirit and knowing when it’s time to let go and transform. Being too naive, too resistant to closure, can leave you blindsided when things do inevitably change.

The fourth question—“Where in my life do I need to be more foolish?”—brought forth the Seven of Pentacles, a card about patience and long-term investments. I took this as a sign to loosen up in areas where I’ve been too methodical or overly cautious. The Fool’s energy isn’t always about rushing in headfirst—it’s about trusting the process. Sometimes, it’s about taking risks in the areas where I’ve been carefully tending my garden, letting go of the need to control the outcome, and trusting that life will unfold in its own time.

The most sobering question, “Where will The Fool not serve me?” gave me the Two of Swords, a card of indecision and stalemate. Here, I was reminded that The Fool’s boundless energy and impulsiveness won’t help me when it’s time to make tough decisions. Sometimes, you can’t leap without looking. Sometimes, you have to sit with the discomfort of not knowing, weigh your options, and make a conscious choice. The Fool may want to keep moving, but there are moments when stillness and reflection are what’s needed most.

Finally, “What gift does The Fool bring me?” delivered the Knight of Swords. This card speaks of bold, determined action, and I realised that The Fool’s gift to me is clarity in motion. When I fully embrace life’s possibilities, The Fool gives me the courage to act with purpose. It’s not about wandering aimlessly—it’s about knowing when to charge forward, sword in hand, ready to pursue the vision that’s emerged from all that openness.

Reflecting on this exercise, I see how deeply intertwined The Fool is with my journey. I’ve long been drawn to the spirit of beginnings—there’s something about stepping into the unknown with trust and openness that speaks to my soul. As I continue to explore tarot and Jungian depth psychology, I see that this isn’t just a casual curiosity. It’s the foundation of my work as a coach, a facilitator, and a storyteller. I’m learning to let go of fears and doubts, to embrace my creativity and intuition, and to trust the process of life.

If anything, The Fool reminds me that life is an adventure. Each step is a leap into the unknown, but it’s the willingness to leap that brings growth, transformation, and—most importantly—joy.