Jupiter Day | Thursday Deep Dive | Walking Away to Return

A tarot reading on the quiet, holy unraveling of what no longer fits.

The Hanged Man, Reversed – The discomfort of knowing, but not yet moving

We begin here: suspended between insight and action. The Hanged Man reversed is not the peaceful surrender of its upright form. This is the moment when the pause starts to pinch. When what was once a sacred stillness now feels like avoidance.

This card comes when we’ve already seen the truth—we’re just not moving on it. Maybe because we’re afraid. Maybe because we’re still trying to find the “right” way out. Maybe because we don’t want to admit that the thing we waited for… isn’t coming back.

There’s frustration here. Not with others, not with life. With the self. The part of us that knows, but doesn’t yet trust what comes next. The message isn’t punishment. It’s this:
You don’t need more insight. You need to honour what you already see.

Eight of Cups – The soul has already left the room

If the Hanged Man reversed is the discomfort of staying too long, the Eight of Cups is the grief of finally turning to go.

This card doesn’t come when things are catastrophic. It comes when something has quietly expired. Something you tried to love, tried to build, tried to sustain—but deep down, you know it isn’t feeding you anymore. Not in the way you need.

The walk away is rarely loud. More often it’s a slow pulling back. A quiet shift in weight. You begin to feel the distance, even before you take the first step. This card says:
You already left emotionally. Now it’s time to catch up physically, spiritually, energetically.

It’s not abandonment. It’s devotion—to the part of you that’s still growing.

Queen of Pentacles – The part of you that holds everything together

And here’s what makes it so hard. This card arrived like a mirror, like a sigh.

The Queen of Pentacles is the one who holds the home, the schedule, the nourishment, the whole damn system. She’s competent. Caring. Constant. She’s the version of you who has figured out how to make it work—even when it’s breaking her a little.

To walk away from this doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you stop carrying more than your share. It means asking, for the first time in a long time:
What would it mean to be cared for, too?

This card says the weight isn’t noble if it’s killing your joy. Let yourself set it down.

Three of Pentacles – When building together starts to feel like building alone

This is the card that quietly cracked things open. The Three of Pentacles is meant to be about collaboration, recognition, shared effort. But in this reading, it showed the gap.

You’ve been trying. You’ve been showing up. You’ve likely been holding the blueprint, the bricks, and the mortar. And part of you is wondering:
Why does this feel like I’m still the only one holding the vision?

There’s a specific kind of loneliness that happens when you’re working with others, but not seen by them. When your contributions are taken for granted. When your efforts are invisible until you disappear.

This card invites the question:
Is this really shared work—or just shared proximity?

The Chariot, Reversed – Fragmented will, forward motion blocked

And here is where it all converges.

The Chariot reversed is the burnout that comes from trying to move in too many directions at once. When part of you wants to press on, another part is dragging its feet, and still another is whispering, why are we doing this at all?

This card isn’t failure. It’s misalignment. The body saying no even when the mind is saying just keep going. It asks you to pause—not in avoidance, but in clarity. It says:
If you don’t know where you’re going, you’re not ready to push forward yet. But you are ready to choose.

It’s not about acceleration. It’s about reclaiming your direction.

Together, the message is this:

You’ve already outgrown something. You’ve been lingering in a version of your life, your work, your identity that used to fit—and now doesn’t.

The knowing is here.
The grief is here.
The tension is here.

But so is the light.

You’re not walking away from everything.
You’re walking away from what you thought you had to be, in order to return to what you truly are.

This is not collapse.
It’s reformation.
A quiet unbinding. A sacred redirection. A deep breath before the next becoming.

---

If this reading resonated—if you felt seen, softened, or even just slightly more aligned—I want to say thank you for being here. This space is growing in quiet, beautiful ways, and I’m so grateful you’re part of it.

I’ll be introducing a deeper tier of Invisible Strings soon, a way to go further into these threads together. It won’t be flashy—just more space for the real work. More intimate reflections. More room to breathe.

If that sounds like something your heart is craving, I’d love for you to be part of it. More soon.