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There’s something about The Star Tarot Card that just screams authenticity. When I look at it, I see someone completely unfiltered, completely themselves. In the Fifth Spirit deck, it’s this naked individual by a pond, baring themselves to the world without shame. The Rider Waite Smith version has that same energy. The figure isn’t hiding, not performing, not seeking approval. They’re just being. It’s vulnerable, raw, and brave as hell.
It always makes me think of the Garden of Eden, that state of being stripped back before shame crept in. The Star invites us into that same space. It’s about loving yourself as you are, outside of achievements, titles, relationships, or context. That’s a daunting aspiration, honestly. Because it’s easy to love yourself when things are going well, but loving yourself when everything’s been stripped away? That’s harder. That’s what makes The Star powerful. It follows The Tower, the chaos, the collapse, the part of the story where everything falls apart. When you’ve been torn open like that, all you’ve got left is you.
The Star and the Art of Being Bare
Naked and Unashamed
The Star is an invitation to exist without the masks. When I pull it, I feel both inspired and challenged. It’s like the card is asking, can you really love yourself without all the context? Without the validation, the roles, the armour? For me, that’s uncomfortable. Loving yourself as you are, not for what you’ve achieved or who you’re helping or what you produce, can feel alien.
In the Wayhome Tarot, The Star is this guiding light cutting through a dark forest, reflected in water. It’s a promise and a challenge all at once. It says there’s a way through, but you’ll have to walk it as yourself, not as the version you’ve built to survive. It’s that raw invitation to be naked, unashamed, and honest about who you are, even if that means you’re still figuring it out.
Finding Yourself After the Fall
I always think of Slavoj Žižek’s idea of the event, something that happens which changes everything. The Tower is the event. The Star is what comes after. It’s the quiet aftermath where you take a breath and realise, this is me. This is who’s left. It’s not the version of you that the world demanded, it’s the one who survived.
My Breakdown, My Rebuilding
The Moment I Realised I Was Masking
A few years ago, I hit a wall. I was in a job that drained the life out of me. I didn’t understand why I was so burnt out all the time. I’d always thought I was adaptable, that I could handle change, that everyone found it this hard. Then therapy and occupational health conversations helped me realise, no, not everyone feels this way. I was masking, constantly.
That realisation hit like a Tower moment. Recognising that I’m autistic shifted everything. I saw how much I’d built my life around pleasing people, seeking validation, trying to be easy to work with, easy to like. I poured everything into what I did, and yeah, I was good at it, but at a cost. That’s the thing about The Tower, it collapses what’s unsustainable. My body and mind gave out before I did.
Rebuilding From the Rawness
After that breakdown, I couldn’t go back to what I was doing before. So I didn’t. I built something new, and in the process, I started rebuilding myself. Creating Tarot with Gord has been part of that healing. It’s been about learning to lean into who I am instead of trying to adapt to a world that isn’t built for me. The Star, to me, is that moment of clarity, when you see yourself clearly after the dust settles.
And it’s not just autism. It’s gender too. For years, I thought there was something wrong with me because I never felt like a man. The moment I realised I’m non binary, it felt like another Tower collapsing, but in the best way. It stripped something back and showed me what was underneath. It was uncomfortable, but freeing. Like finally exhaling after holding your breath your entire life.
The Star’s Invitation to Authenticity
Losing the Self That Was Never You
The Star asks you to let go of the versions of yourself that were built for survival. That’s not easy. Sometimes it’s terrifying. But every time something breaks, something truer has the chance to emerge. The Wayhome Tarot’s imagery, that small light at the end of the tunnel, feels like that reminder. You might be walking through the dark, but your light is enough. You are enough.
When people talk about losing themselves in something, a project, a passion, a moment, I think that’s when they’re closest to authenticity. Because you’re not losing your real self, you’re losing the mask. That’s what The Star is about. Losing what’s false so you can return to what’s real.
The Daily Practice of Being Real
Authenticity isn’t a finish line. It’s a daily practice. Some days you’ll feel radiant and self assured, others you’ll slip back into old patterns. That’s okay. The Star doesn’t demand perfection. It asks for presence. To notice when you start performing again, to breathe, and to come back to yourself.
Being authentic doesn’t mean oversharing or performing vulnerability. It’s about being aligned. About not pretending. About saying, this is me, even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.
Love What Remains
When everything’s stripped away, the job titles, the achievements, the expectations, you’re left with yourself. The Star asks, can you love that person? Can you look at who you are without the filters and still say, yes, this is enough? That’s the invitation.
The Star reminds us that authenticity isn’t a performance or an aesthetic. It’s survival. It’s healing. It’s how we find hope again after everything’s fallen apart. When you can stand there, bare and unashamed, pouring your light into the world, that’s when you’re living The Star.
And if you’re not there yet? That’s okay. The Star isn’t a demand. It’s a promise. The light is still there, waiting for you to see it.
If The Star is calling to you, maybe it’s time to explore what that light means for you. Book a tarot reading with me and let’s look at where your own authenticity is trying to break through. Or if you just need to reconnect with yourself, take a moment tonight to sit quietly, pull a card, and ask, what would it mean to show up as me? The journey starts from there.
