There was a time in my life when I was completely against tarot.
Then life happened.
Breakups.
Losses.
Death.
Quitting smoking.
Everything added up to what I would call my Tower moments.
I wasn’t looking for tarot.
I was looking for understanding.
Even though I had been against it for most of my life, my intuition kept pulling me toward it.
So I listened.
Before I ever bought a deck, I made my own tarot cards.
Eventually, I bought a deck and started learning for myself.
The more I learned, the more I felt my intuition returning.
My spark was returning.
The High Priestess kept showing up.
The readers saw it.
I felt it.
Around that same time, I started painting the tarot.
The first painting was The Tower.
Then came Eight of Pentacles.
Then Ace of Wands.
Then The Magician.
Every painting seemed to come when it was supposed to.
Then something changed.
Reader after reader kept telling me I was stepping into my King of Swords energy.
Not long after that, I started pulling the King of Swords myself.
The feeling was undeniable.
I felt like I was standing in my power.
So I drew the King of Swords.
I thought the hard part was over.
It wasn’t.
I had the blueprint.
I just couldn’t see the colors.
That probably sounds strange unless you know how I create.
I paint what I see in my mind’s eye.
The image comes first.
Then I paint what I see.
This time…
There was nothing.
The drawing was finished.
The vision wasn’t.
I honestly thought I had hit an artist’s block.
So I set the drawing aside.
Then something happened that made me question everything.
I kept painting.
Judgment came.
Then Ace of Cups.
Then Ace of Pentacles.
Every one of those paintings flowed.
The vision was there.
The colors were there.
The creativity was there.
Everything except the King of Swords.
It was the only painting that stayed silent.
Eventually, I came back to it.
This time…
I could finally see it.
The colors were there.
The vision was there.
The painting that had been waiting finally revealed itself.
Then I looked back at the order of the paintings.
And something hit me.
It looked like a reading.
The Tower.
My old foundation collapsed.
Everything I thought was stable was shaken.
Eight of Pentacles.
There was only one thing left to do.
Keep working.
Keep rebuilding.
One brick at a time.
Ace of Wands.
The fire came back.
Not all at once.
Just enough to create again.
Just enough to believe again.
The Magician.
The realization that everything I needed to create the next chapter of my life was already in my hands.
Not someday.
Not after I became someone else.
Right then.
Then came the King of Swords…
…and I couldn’t paint him.
Looking back, maybe that was part of the reading too.
Maybe I wasn’t ready to fully step into that energy yet.
Then came Judgment.
A wake-up call.
A chance to answer the call of the person I was becoming instead of the person I had been.
Then came the Ace of Cups.
Healing.
Learning to let love flow again.
Not just toward other people…
…but toward myself.
Then the Ace of Pentacles.
A new foundation.
Something real.
Something I could actually build on.
Only after all of that…
…did the King of Swords reveal himself.
When I look at these paintings today, I don’t just see a tarot series.
I see the story of my life.
I thought I was painting tarot cards.
Looking back…
I think I was painting the reading I was living.
Whether you see that as intuition, coincidence, spirituality, psychology, or simply the creative process…
I’ll leave that up to you.
I only know what happened.
My name is Kinfolk Wellin’, and I thank you for your time and support.
Peace.
Oh yeah…
Who loves you, baby?
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