
How to Get Started With Astrology & Tarot (Even If You're a Skeptic)
I grew up in a world where "the occult" was a binary: either you followed God, or you were messing with something dangerous. No middle ground, and definitely no seat at the table for a birth chart.
For years, I watched my ex-wife surround herself with crystals, astrology, the whole bit—and I'll be honest, it made me uncomfortable. Not just because of my evangelical upbringing. My brain is wired for logic. I like systems. I like the why. And astrology looked like a collection of vague guesses and expensive rocks.
Then life fell apart.
The $15 Reading That Changed Everything
After my divorce, I was adrift. The maps I'd used to navigate my life—my marriage, my faith structure—weren't working anymore. One night, scrolling TikTok, I found an astrologer. On a whim, I paid $15 for a basic chart reading. I thought she'd just tell me I'm a "typical Aquarius" and move on.
She didn't. She read me to filth.
She talked about placements I'd never heard of. But more importantly, she gave me a language for grief I hadn't been able to process. That's when I understood: astrology isn't about your sun sign. It's a massive, ancient system of symbolism—and symbolism is just pattern recognition with better branding.
What Astrology Actually Does
Here's the problem with self-reflection: when you ask yourself "where did I go wrong?", your brain goes defensive. It's hard to be objective when you're staring directly at yourself.
The sky is a different story. That's a puzzle.
I started using astrology as external scaffolding—a way to hold my life at arm's length so I could finally look at it clearly. Not "the stars made me do it." More like: the symbolism of the planets gave me a structure to organize what I was already experiencing.
A practical example: In Hellenistic astrology, Saturn is the planet of discipline, hard limits, and earned lessons. Saturn rules my 7th house—the house of relationships. When I traced Saturn's transits against my marriage timeline, the pattern was striking. Every time Saturn moved into a new position, it marked a real transition in my relationship, almost to the day. When Saturn entered my 8th house, my marriage ended.
I didn't blame a planet. I used a planet as a lens.
How to Actually Start (Without Getting Lost)
Most beginners quit because they try to learn everything at once. Don't do that. Here's the short version of what actually works:
1. Get your birth chart. Pull it free from astro.com. You'll need your birth date, time, and location. The time matters—it sets your rising sign and house placements.
2. Commit to one system. Don't bounce between modern, Vedic, and Hellenistic. Pick one and go deep. I studied Hellenistic Astrology through Chris Brennan and The Astrology Podcast. By committing to a single rigorous system, the whole thing became logical and consistent instead of a grab-bag of vibes.
3. Start with three placements. Sun (identity), Moon (emotional processing), and Rising (how you move through the world). Master those before you touch anything else.
4. Kill the superstition. You don't have to be gifted your first deck. You don't need to shuffle three times with your left hand. If a ritual helps you feel grounded, use it. If it's just gatekeeping, throw it out.
5. Leave the guilt at the door. I still go to an Episcopal church every Sunday. My faith is central to my life. The Wise Men followed the stars. God, as far as I can tell, is a fan of symbols—the Bible is packed with them. Astrology is just another tool for reading the universe God built.
You Don't Have to Believe in Magic
You don't have to believe the stars are magic to find value in them. You just have to be willing to treat your own life like a puzzle worth solving.
The personal story, the patterns, the timing—it's all data. Astrology gives you a framework to organize it. Use it the same way you'd use a therapist's reframe or a good book: as a mirror, not a verdict.
Sometimes, to see what's happening in your own heart, you have to look somewhere outside yourself first.