Promises are made to be broken (kinda)
January 2025 Collective Offering
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Hello to my lil digital coven,
I want to start by saying thank you.
If, in the last 12 months, you've booked a Tarot reading with me or you’ve opened and read these emails, or you’ve given them the occasional like/comment/share… then THANK YOU.
This little venture may not be rip-roaring enough to be my main source of income, but it has definitely turned into my main source of finding meaning in this uncertain place of existence. It has also become my main way of offering a tiny, creative piece of myself out into the world… And that you, tiny little coven, choose to receive or seek out these offerings means the world to me.
Here’s to more connection over the cards next year.
Ilayda x
Wtf are the cards saying?
I promised myself that in 2024 I wouldn’t get bogged down by numbers and goals, but the thing is, when you’re trying to get on the property ladder or train yourself into running 5km after years of inactivity – numbers and goals end up mattering.
I promised myself I wouldn’t get caught up in the intricacies of my day job - that I’d save my energy for more meaningful pursuits. Yet, by the last quarter of the year, I found myself deeply involved: working longer hours, frustrated over things I knew I couldn’t control.
I promised to myself that day-job career progression wasn’t a priority, because I would focus on progressing my creative side hustles. But sometimes day-job career progression is the easiest, simplest way to make extra money – which, as previously mentioned, really matters if you’re trying to buy a cute little shoebox flat in London. Suddenly ‘career ladder progression’ HAD to be on my radar.
I promised I would find a new voice agent, and despite my meticulous workshopping, planning, research and reaching out – I simply did not.
I promised that I would move more and get fitter, so I could feel good in my body rather than feel good about how I looked in pictures. But I still spiralled when I discovered that a pair of my old jeans were too small – even though I was probably healthier than ever.
I promised I would make an effort to have a positive impact in the world – yet after donating a few times to Medical Aid for Palestinians and attending some anti-war protests, I found myself floundering, not sure of what more I could do in the face of seemingly endless horrors.
I promised myself I would detach my self-worth from my creative endeavours. But when I agreed to play the lead in a tiny, no budget indie feature film, I found myself wondering if said film could win some accolades or recognition that could bolster my creative career, or at the very least, impress my parents.
These are just SOME of the promises I broke in 2024.
Am I sharing them to get sympathy? Do I derive pleasure from showing the world my ass? Nah. I’m sharing these broken promises, because even though they seem to tell a story of backslides and low-key failures, they also contain a helluva plot twist: I had a fucking good year.
I went on regular ‘runs’ around my local park with a friend as we attempted ‘Couch to 5k’, and we laughed ourselves stupid when I turned up one rainy morning with my phone in a sandwich bag, to keep it dry.
I went on a zillion flat viewings and learned a lot about holding myself with confidence in the face of dismissive, smirking, duplicitous estate agents.
I realised that I’ve got good managerial instincts in my day job and if I wanted to take on more leadership, then in the right context, I could come to enjoy it.
I felt my throat constrict with emotion at humanity’s potential for good, as my voice joined thousands of others marching through the streets of London and shouting the words “In our thousands, in our millions, we are all Palestinians.”
And every time the director of the indie film yelled “Action!”, I felt child-ilayda vibrate with glee as she realised that a version of a lifelong dream (to play the lead in a feature film) was coming true.
The point I’m making is that nothing, not even my broken promises, are black and white. If anything, my broken promises speak to the contradictions and messiness of the world we live in; they are a testament to the complexity of my story, my humanness.
Like the Fool, I leapt into many things - sometimes unprepared, sometimes unsure if I’d land. Like the Queen of Pentacles, I found value in nurturing what I already had, tending to my work and relationships, even when they didn’t exactly match the vision I’d first imagined. And like Judgement often alludes to, I began to understand that forgiveness – both towards others and myself – isn’t an option but a necessity of life.
Every promise I broke tells a story of negotiation, of weighing one version of myself against another. And each time I made a choice that felt contradictory or imperfect, I was actually creating space for compassion and grace (Judgement).
So, what if the promises we make ourselves weren’t directives but invitations? Invitations to experiment, to dream, to aim for something better without guaranteeing its arrival? (The Fool) The truth is, it’s not the breaking of promises that holds weight, but the way we meet ourselves afterwards. Do we show understanding or judgement, curiosity or condemnation? This is where the deeper work lies: not in rigidly sticking to a plan, but in learning to love whatever version of us that shows up, in all our trying, stumbling, uncertain glory.
It’s easy to set intentions in a vacuum — to picture the ideal version of yourself moving through an ideal year. But life, with all its messy entanglements and shifting priorities, is rarely a vacuum. What if, as 2024 turns into 2025, we replaced ‘what we want to achieve’ with ‘how we want to show up’?
How do we regard ourselves? How do we create meaning out of chaos or obscurity? How do we offer connection for our communities, solidarity and support for those suffering, curiosity toward strangers? How do we cultivate stability? How do we leave room for the unexpected and unknown? How do we hold space for our own contradictions?
The answers will be different for each and every one of us, depending on what our personal circumstances and preferences are. But for now, let the cards provide these final prompts, to help us on our way:
The Fool invites us to leap into showing up, again and again, even when we don’t know what the outcome will be… even when we could fall flat on our faces.
The Queen of Pentacles tells us that showing up can be as simple as tending to our physical, emotional, spiritual gardens - not to achieve perfection, but for sustenance and joy.
And Judgement advises that life, like all good stories, requires dips in the plot, subtle shifts, and dramatic changes. It reminds us that a story rarely ends when a chapter does. It asks us to remember that something, somehow will come next, and when it does, our job is simply to meet it as authentically and openly as we can.
UPDATES
January/February Availability for 1-1 Tarot Readings
New Year readings are available, and I’d love to connect with you over the cards again. Book your readings here.
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