Everyday Woo (Volume 15)
Am I cool enough to be offering spiritual guidance? Plus, an English major's analysis of iconic duos in the tarot deck and some practices to try with your own cards.
Everyday Woo is a place for the woo curious to learn a little more about tarot and spirituality in a not-too-serious way. Here’s what I’m thinking about this week…
✨ Imposter Syndrome in Spiritual Spaces: Thoughts on Coolness and Authenticity
You know that scene in Mean Girls where Janis Ian and Damien are giving Cady the rundown of different cliques in their high school and where they sit in the lunchroom?
Every person at North Shore High neatly fits into one of the categories on Janis’s beautifully-drawn map: the jocks, the band geeks, the cheerleaders…the list goes on.
If I was to be placed on Janis’s map according to who I was in middle school, I think I’d be in the “somehow looks like a 40-year-old accountant at 13” group.
I’m not going to lie. I was very, very uncool in middle school. According to my small-town Missouri peers, I had several strikes against me: I didn’t have the right clothes (my mom said Limited Too was more like Too Expensive), I had dreadful hair that I permed so that it didn’t resemble overcooked pasta, and I wasn’t good at sports (I quit basketball in fifth grade after almost puking during wind sprints).
In fact, I clearly remember the ~cutest boy~ in our grade mirthlessly mocking me in gym class when I couldn’t kick a soccer ball between the orange cones with the grace and ease of the more popular girls by saying, “I thought you were supposed to be smart or something.” I AM smart, Evan. And you now have a receding hairline and are no longer the cutest boy. SO THERE.
I would love to say that high school and even college were easier for me: that I found my people and never looked back. But y’all, it took longer than that. I was a late, late bloomer.
I don’t think I really started feeling comfortable with who I am until I was closer to 30. And even now, at 33, I still struggle with feeling, well, uncool. Like I’m still standing there in the gym at South Callaway Middle School with overly-hairsprayed hair, off-brand tennis shoes and sweaty armpits, listening to an asshole tell me that I suck.
Lately, I’ve been observing when and how that feeling emerges, and I’ve noticed that it shows up quite often when I put myself out there in the woo world. Even though I have a sorta-official looking website, write this newsletter and run an Instagram account where I share my thoughts, very, very often, I wonder, “Am I cool enough to do this?”
A lot of this feeling is immersed in the intersection between what social media and societal stereotypes tell us a spiritual person should look like. And I don’t exactly check all of the boxes.
There’s a certain type of what I’ll term “spiritual influencer.” She’s usually a white, cisgendered woman. Likely attractive in a conventional sense. Often from a naturally beautiful location, like California or somewhere else equally “vibey.” She wears clothes from the adult versions of Limited Too: Anthropologie, Free People, Revolve. And she shares spiritual guidance with the kind of ease that only comes from folks who’ve always been told that they have something important to say.
Me? I grew up in a small town in the armpit of Missouri. I don’t eat açai bowls. I drink Starbucks sometimes. I wear thrifted clothes that, more often than not, have cat hair on them somewhere. How aesthetic. I am not your manic pixie dream witch.
This isn’t meant to throw shade on anyone who fits one or more of those criteria. I mean, I definitely do. As a white, able-bodied, cisgendered woman, I am acutely aware of how much easier it is for me to create a tarot Instagram without being questioned than someone else who doesn’t have those same markers of privilege.
But despite knowing this, I still struggle to feel like my experience is valid. I never feel like I know enough, have practiced long enough, or am cool enough to share my views in the realm of spirituality. I see other people posting beautifully-crafted videos, exquisite photos, and deep, meaningful guidance, and I wonder, “is what I have to say that important?”
The root of my issue isn’t whether I’m cool enough or not. Or even if I have something worth saying. It’s a matter of confronting a sort of spiritual imposter syndrome.
I’m learning to discern when this icky feeling is showing up to guide me towards more authenticity and when it serves as a reminder to not to see myself as less than because I don’t fit into the boxes society has created.
It’s important to interrogate how, when and why we are taking up space, even online. What is your motivation for sharing? Is it to feed the algorithm, or is it borne out of a genuine desire to share? But once you’re clear on that, the sky is really the limit. There isn’t a coolness two-factor authentication you have to pass before you’re worthy of sharing your spiritual growth and thinking with others.
And truthfully? No two people share the same perspective. If we all try to make our voices sound the same, we’ve lost the very essence of our spiritual journeys. How can we return home to our authentic selves if we’re too busy trying to adhere to the expectations of others?
I don’t think we can ever outrun imposter syndrome. It’s a fickle beast that’s much like some of my ex-boyfriends: it resurfaces unexpectedly and kind of pisses me off (shout out to all of my exes reading this). But we can experience the thought, thank it for clueing us in to a tender spot, and replace it with something better.
Enter: affirmations!
We can’t affirm away everything (see: systemic issues), but for temporary feelings of inadequacy, they can be helpful. Here are a few to try:
Affirmations to stave off imposter syndrome
My experience is valid and worth sharing.
I am worthy of this gift.
I belong in this space.
My impact isn’t measured in numbers.
Someone really needs to hear what I have to say.
My ideas are my unique take on the world.
Personally, I think social media isn’t the best fit for most spiritual thoughts. That’s pretty much why I started this newsletter. I don’t have to offer a burnt offering to the Algorithm Gods in order to connect with others (I guess that offering would be one Valenica-filtered flatlay): you chose to let me into your inbox! Which feels like the adult equivalent to being invited to sit at someone’s lunch table. So thanks for that. :)
✨ A Homecoming for the Heart
It’s February. The month that commercialism has declared to be all about Nat King Cole’s favorite word to spell: L-O-V-E.
It’s easy to get swept up in the Hallmark-branded commercialism of the month and to take “treat yoself” real, real seriously in the form of chocolates, luxurious cashmere, or french fries from McDonald’s (just me?), but I’d like to offer up a different way to show yourself some love.
My latest offering, the heart // lines reading, is a way to drop back into the heart of any situation you’re dealing with. I’m limiting spaces for this written reading because each will include a personal, short poem, and those take time for me to craft.
Interested in booking one? Click below and send yourself some love in February.
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