17. The Star
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Welcome to Soulchology’s worksheets, your starter-kit into an intuitive self-enquiry using tarot and astrology. I write these in my usual dry humour, which reflects the tone of my sessions too, because learning is intense enough without stripping it of humanity. A little wit makes the wisdom easier to digest!
Anyway, while full sessions include numerology, Lenormand, and therapeutic layers, these worksheets are your solo starter kit designed to get you going without frying your nervous system.
Grab your deck, take a breath and don’t overthink it. No altar required. You can read these on your lap, mid-commute, or in bed with questionable lighting. If you know current transits, great, add them in. If not, the cards still work because they’re generous like that.
And, if you shuffle really fast, they love to fling out like you’re live in an episode of Ghosts and Trevor is standing next to you.
Each sheet prompts you to connect the cards with your real life, that is, not your aspirational, one-day-when-I-journal-daily life. Pay attention to the artwork, colours, symbols, and emotional tone because tarot is layered, not linear. Study only what leaps out, don’t go looking for clues.
This isn’t about mystical perfection, it’s about noticing yourself. Your thoughts, your choices, your patterns. If you’re new to tarot and feeling twitchy about it, you might want to read my piece on Substack that gently dismantles the pressure.
My advice is to pull (or fling) your card at the end of the day, not first thing. That way, you’re reflecting and not pre-loading your brain with vague forecasts. It’s a faster way to build intuitive confidence and a more honest way to learn what the cards actually mean to you.
i. The Nutshell
Upright
The Star shows up quite literally as star-aligned aftercare. It’s the balm after the burn, the inhale after the scream, the moment you realise you’re still standing, barefoot in the debris, looking up and noticing… stars. I don’t mean the metaphorical ones from hitting your head - I mean actual hope.
This card doesn’t wave a magic wand but it does want to tell you that not everything needs zapping anyway. It signals restoration, clarity, and the gentle rehydration of the spirit after your ego has been fire-roasted by The Tower. You’re not quite starting over just yet, but you are considering your options. The Star speaks to that quiet return of faith in yourself, the world, or at least your capacity to feel a little less cynical by Tuesday.
You’re reconnecting with your core that’s not cluttered by roles, rules or reputation. The nudity in the card represents authenticity without attempts to hide. Healing here doesn’t mean erasing the past; it means not dragging it like a wheel-less suitcase, and The Star is offering you the coordinates back to yourself.
Keywords: Renewal, hope, spiritual clarity, inner alignment, healing
Translation: You’ve been through it. Now here comes the brightness of not being in bedlam
Reversed
The Star in reverse feels like trying to navigate with a flickering candle in a blackout - the light of hope is there but it’s unreliable and every step feels like guessing in the dark. You're not lost exactly, but you're definitely not moving with confidence. It signals disconnection from purpose, peace and your own inner compass. You may feel like hope is a currency you can’t afford, or that the well is empty no matter how many affirmations you pour into it.
This reversal might be asking you if you’re looking for your light in the wrong place. Likely in an Instagram reel or in someone else’s opinion. The Star reversed invites a quiet recalibration. Leave the hunt for epiphanies until later, tend to small, daily reconnections now. Clean your space. Drink even more water. Go outside and remember you’re on a spinning rock in space.
Alternatively, it might signal a recovery that’s already begun be that as subtle as it may. The phoenix is having a slow rise, transforming old wounds into wisdom and know’s that Rome wasn’t built in a day. Trust in that.
Keywords: Discouragement, disconnection, inner doubt, slow healing
Translation: You haven’t lost the light, it’s just behind a cloud. Stay with it.
ii. Illus-traits
A quick symbolic breakdown of The Star in the Rider-Waite-Smith deck. Think of it as your post-apocalyptic spa treatment, or devine rehydration that follows ego collapse. This card hums with subtlety and luminosity.
Seven White Stars and One Big One – High definition alignment radiating spiritual insight and a nod to the chakras.
Naked Figure – Unfiltered. Nothing to hide. Raw authenticity.
Two Jugs of Water – Replenishment in Stereo. One jug feeds the earth for practical healing whilst the other returns water to the pool symbolising emotional integration.
One Foot in the Water, One on Land – Balanced Downloading. Grounded in reality but still tuned into the divine frequency.
The Greenery – Hope Has Roots. There’s a discreet little bush with a bird perched on it, sometimes seen as the ibis of Thoth, god of wisdom. This tiny flourish reminds us that life returns quietly, first as thought, then as choice, then as growth.
The Blue Sky – Peace Without Fireworks. The calm after the Tower-storm, this is what healing sounds like: silence, stars and your own breath returning.
iii. Influences
Planetary
The Star is ruled by Aquarius - the sign of cool detachment and future-facing rebellion, with its modern ruler, Uranus, the planetary curveball. If The Tower is the lightning strike, The Star is the moment you realise it cleared space for your solar panels, meanwhile Uranus is downloading paradigm shifts. Under this influence, hope isn’t naive, it’s visionary. Where are you being asked to trust the behind-the-scenes foundations before you can see the structure?
Natal House(s)
The Star resonates with the Eleventh House of collective vision, networks and the Big Picture. Alongside it is the Twelfth House of healing, dreams and transcendence. This means you’re you're contributing to a wider mosaic and this card is magnetising you to ‘your people’, purpose or perspective that reminds you there’s more to life than the current pandemonium.
Astrological Sign(s)
Aquarius is the zodiac’s architect of the future and sometimes mistaken for aloofness when it's really just playing 5D chess with The Celestial Order. The Star channels Aquarius’ cool clarity and refusal to settle for small thinking. It asks: what would recovery look like if it was designed with your whole future in mind?
Numerologically
Card 17 reduces to 8, the number of mastery, regeneration and cyclical strength. Think resilience that grows from being knocked down seven times and rising the eighth with a clearer heart. The 17 points to divine guidance and inspiration, while 8 reminds you to ground it. Think how unstoppable you’d become if you trusted both your scars and your potential?
Element
As an Air card, The Star works through insight, vision and communication, not emotion or instinct. This is intellectual healing, the kind that arrives with space, silence and a better question. It clears the fog with truth rather than sentimentality. Where can you invite in a breath of fresh perspective, even if it’s not what you wanted to hear?
iv. A Day in the Life of The Star
Well That Escalated Quickly
You're squinting into the void wondering if the universe ghosted you after the wreckage. The Tower tore everything down and now The Star shows up like some celestial intern muttering something about “hope” when what you want is a fire exit. You’re not feeling any grand epiphany, just the ache of survival. You’re patched together with parcel tape and insomnia, watching your old life smoulder from a distance. The Star feels like a cruel joke - too quiet and too late. You're exhausted by the idea of healing and throwing darts at the word. Hope feels like betrayal, you don’t feel saved and optimism tastes like cardboard.
Adjusting the Knobs
The sirens have stopped. The smoke’s thinned to a manageable haze. You’re sitting in the quiet surrounded by pieces of a life you’re no longer trying to glue back together. Not because you’ve given up but because you’re feeling open to the possibility that you don’t need the same shape you had before.The panic attacks have downgraded to philosophical sighs. You can hear the faint hum of your inner guidance system powering back online although there’s still some glitching but you’re trusting the flickers. Something is stabilising. You’re less asking for a sign and more recognising you are one.
Unsubscribed from Self-Sabotage
You’re gently swiping left on your old habits like last season’s fashion choices and inviting in updates that suit your new self. It’s still a bit messy with a few “What am I even doing?” moments, but you’re building a life that feels less exhausting, know that rest is not a moral failure and listening to your needs before they start screaming. You’ve got a new playlist that now includes some foot-tapping joy, honesty, and a little fluency for the days you just want to dance in your PJs.
Writing the TED Talk
You’re perched on the edge of a quiet sunrise, letting yourself come back to life bit by bit and smiling with compassionate triumph over the imperfect beauty of your own transformation. You’re still tender but now thriving like a cat who knocked over all the plants yet still earns your admiration. The old you thought peace was boring whilst the new you knows it’s a radical act of self-kindness. You’re crafting a new story woven with warm emotions that fuel your comeback - a gentle yet resilient reality unfolding on your terms, and of absolutely no one else’s business.
v. Working with these Energies
Living The Star with Bare Feet
The Star holds a frequency you almost forgot you could hear: ease, composure and that strange sense of being okay for no particular reason. This archetype is the soul's aftercare kit; ditching false hope for the guidance of what’s genuine and valuable to pursue.
Filter the Static
– What have you been calling “healing” that’s actually high-functioning avoidance?
– Where are you still chasing outcomes instead of listening inward?
– What truths have emerged now that the distractions are gone?Rehydrate your Soul
– Which parts of you have been dehydrated from over-performing resilience?
– What would real nourishment look like, not just for your body, but your beliefs?
– Where in your life do you need gentler conditions to grow?Rest the Armor
– What are you finally safe enough to feel?
– Where can softness replace vigilance?
– If survival is no longer the goal, what’s the new mission?Align with the Long View
– What does emotional, energetic and existential sustainability now look like for you?
– What future are you quietly committing to, even if you don’t know all the steps?
– What would your life look like if it was designed with your nervous system in mind?Keep the Channel Open
– What signs, synchronicities, or inner nudges are quietly guiding you now?
– How can you stay in dialogue with your intuition instead of outsourcing direction?
– What small ritual, act, or intention would help you stay aligned when doubt creeps in?
vi. Building Skills
Somatic Exercise: The Hardest Thing
The Star offers light after the wreckage by illuminating what’s been hiding in it. This is the universe patting the seat and asking you to sit down for a chat with the parts of yourself that feel unlovable, unwelcome or ‘too much’.
Step 1: Set the Stage
Find a quiet space where you can sit or lie down without distraction. Light a candle or turn off the overhead lighting.
Place one hand over your heart, and the other over your stomach. Close your eyes. Breathe slowly through the nose, and exhale longer than your inhale. Do this until your nervous system registers some degree of “I’m here. I’m safe.”
Step 2: Ask the Question
Silently or aloud, ask yourself: “What is the hardest thing for me to accept about myself right now?”
Don’t go digging. Wait. Let the answer emerge from sensation alone. It might feel like a weight, a tension, a heat, or a drop in the gut. Stay with it.
Step 3: Locate It
Notice where in your body this truth lives. Don’t analyse it. Just name it: “It’s in my chest / jaw / stomach / shoulders.”
Place both hands on that area. Breathe into it. No need to solve, or change. Simply stay. Two minutes. That’s all. Let your body learn: “I can be with this. I’m allowed to stay with myself, even here.”
Step 4: Anchor in Light
When the wave begins to settle, shift one hand back to your heart. Say (even if it feels ridiculous): “This is part of me. It’s not all of me. And I’m staying.”
Let the moment close as slowly as it opened. Re-enter the day softly. Drink some water. Put your feet on the ground. The Star heals by creating conditions where truth can coexist with tenderness.
vii. Embodiment
The Light Returns When You Stop Looking for a Shortcut
What shattered wasn’t meant to last. But you? You’re still here albeit it dusty and dented. The Star wants to usher you forward from the blast site to where the sky is just dark enough to see what’s guiding you. It’s gifting you the presence to remember how to trust yourself in the quiet and that truth can be heard through your body, senses and the stillness.
Smell:
What does restoration smell like? Maybe it’s rain on dry ground. Old stone after a storm. A whiff of lavender crushed between fingers. Breathe it in slowly - this is what it smells like to keep going, even with the hairline cracks.
Body:
Where is the ache softening? Your spine a little less guarded? Your jaw not quite as clenched? Rest your hand on the place that hurts and say: “I’m still here.” Let your nervous system recalibrate to safety, one quiet breath at a time.
Soundtrack:
Pick the track that doesn’t rush your process. The one that sounds like 3am and your own heartbeat. Let it score the moment gently and sit beside you. It’s volume is just loud enough to feel like a companion, not a sporting coach.
Action:
What’s one small move you can do that honours your regeneration aside from drinking more water? Can you get comfortable with saying no? Tend to yourself.
Nature cue:
Go and find water, anything; the ocean, a stream, a puddle, a sink. Touch it. Let it remind you that healing isn’t linear; it meanders, reflects, evaporates, returns. Like you. Still flowing, still part of the larger cycle.
Notice what’s quietly enduring:
The Star doesn’t rebuild the tower. It asks you what still shimmers underneath the collapse. What’s survived intact? A belief, a boundary, a part of yourself that somehow feels more true now? That’s where your next chapter starts.
viii. Your Impressions
Where The Tower was an alarm bell with no snooze button, The Star are the dawn birds you can hear outside the window, or the cool hand on your forehead, or the first deep breath after the storm. This card is the quiet certainty that you’re facing in the right direction.
Start by looking at the card. Where does your focus settle? The distant stars? The woman pouring water? The bare vulnerability of her stance? Nothing's collapsing. Nothing’s shouting. You’re allowed to rest now.
Notice what stirs in you. Is it discomfort with the stillness? A flicker of hope that almost feels suspicious? Maybe even grief for the time you spent wandering without this kind of understanding. Let it come. The Star waits.
Now check your body. Are your shoulders starting to lower? Is your breath a little deeper, even if you didn’t try? Maybe there's a quiet ache, like the tension in your nervous system finally has space to melt.
ix. Intuitive Meaning
This card marks the moment something shifts, and this time, you stay shifted. Consider what you're telling yourself now about who you are, who they were, what life is and what it might still be, and reflect on this:
When in the past did life fall apart, and somehow, hope crept back in when you weren’t looking?
Where are you mistaking numbness for stability, instead of opening to what could soothe you?
What is one honest truth about yourself that you're ready to carry into the future, even if it stings a little?
Applied insight with a three-card reading using The Star as your anchor:
What part of me is quietly trying to heal?
What do I need to trust even if I can’t prove it yet?
What new story is ready to be written in the space I’ve cleared?
Pull or shuffle-fling your cards. Look for the glimmers and subtle clues over grand answers. Let them show you where faith wants to grow again.
Write your own Keywords
Note three supportive words that reflect your personal experience of The Star that honour growth, softness and survival.
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x. Closing Reflection: Track Your Evolving Lens
Your relationship with each card will grow over time because it’s meant to shaped by your life. Consider the prompts below to revisit and reflect.
What I thought this card meant when I first pulled it: —————————————————
A recent experience that changed how I see it: —————————————————
How I feel about it now, in my body or life: —————————————————
What surprised me as this card kept showing up: —————————————————
One way this card is living in my life right now: —————————————————
If this card visited me today as a guide, what would it want me to remember? —————————————————
Revisit these after a week, a moon phase, or a meaningful moment. Let the card evolve as you do.
If you feel a quiet sense of recognition, curiosity and want to explore it, browse the sessions page for what feels right.