Every tarot reader has favorites. Not necessarily the “best” cards, the luckiest cards, or the cards most likely to announce that a mysterious millionaire is about to arrive with flowers and excellent dental insurance. I mean the cards that make you pause when they appearthe ones whose artwork, symbolism, and emotional atmosphere feel strangely familiar.
My favorite tarot cards are not all cheerful. Some bring hope, while others arrive carrying a lantern, a skeleton, or the unmistakable message that my current plan has the structural integrity of a wet paper bag. What they share is depth. Each one creates a conversation rather than delivering a simple prediction.
Historically, tarot began in 15th-century Italy as a card game rather than a fortune-telling system. A modern tarot deck generally contains 78 cards: 22 Major Arcana cards and 56 Minor Arcana cards divided among four suits. Over the centuries, artists, occultists, readers, and collectors transformed those cards into a rich visual language for storytelling and reflection.
The deck that most strongly influences my interpretations is the Rider-Waite-Smith tradition. Published in the early 20th century, it paired Arthur Edward Waite’s symbolic direction with Pamela Colman Smith’s unforgettable illustrations. Smith’s scenes helped popularize fully illustrated Minor Arcana cards, making everyday situations as visually expressive as the grand archetypes of the Major Arcana.
Why Certain Tarot Cards Become Personal Favorites
A favorite tarot card is rarely chosen by textbook meaning alone. Artwork matters. Timing matters. Memory matters. A card may become special because it repeatedly appeared during an important transition, because its imagery resembles part of your personality, or because it once gave you the exact question you needed to ask.
I do not treat tarot as a machine that prints guaranteed facts about the future. I use it more like an illustrated conversation starter. The cards help me slow down, examine a situation, notice emotional patterns, and consider choices I may have ignored. Intentional self-reflection can support greater self-awareness, but it works best when curiosity does not turn into rumination or harsh self-judgment.
My 10 Favorite Tarot Cards
1. The Fool: My Favorite Reminder to Begin
The Fool is traditionally numbered zero, which feels appropriate. Zero is not quite nothing; it is the open space before something takes shape. In the familiar Rider-Waite-Smith image, a traveler stands near the edge of a cliff, carrying a small bundle while a dog jumps nearby. The scene contains optimism, innocence, risk, and just enough danger to keep things interesting.
I like The Fool because it does not require a flawless plan. It asks for willingness. This card often appears when preparation has quietly become procrastinationwhen I have created three spreadsheets, watched seven tutorials, reorganized my desk, and still have not begun.
The Fool does not say, “Leap without thinking.” To me, it says, “You will never eliminate every uncertainty.” Its practical lesson is to prepare responsibly, accept that mistakes are possible, and take the first honest step anyway.
2. The High Priestess: The Power of Not Reacting Immediately
The High Priestess sits between two pillars, representing opposing forces and the threshold between visible knowledge and hidden understanding. She is associated with intuition, inner awareness, patience, dreams, and information that has not fully surfaced.
I appreciate this card because modern life rewards instant reactions. We are encouraged to reply, post, decide, explain, and defend ourselves before we have finished processing what happened. The High Priestess is having none of that. She sits quietly, notices everything, and probably has her phone on “Do Not Disturb.”
When she appears, I ask what I already sense but have not admitted. Sometimes the answer is profound. Sometimes it is simply, “You are exhausted, and this is not the ideal moment to make a dramatic decision.” Either way, her wisdom comes from listening before acting.
3. The Empress: Abundance That Must Be Cultivated
The Empress is surrounded by natural beauty, grain, flowing water, and signs of fertility. Although she can relate to pregnancy or motherhood in certain readings, I interpret her more broadly as creative growth, nourishment, sensuality, comfort, and the ability to help life flourish.
This is one of my favorite tarot cards because it makes abundance feel practical. A garden becomes abundant because someone plants, waters, protects, waits, and occasionally has an argument with a squirrel. Creativity works the same way. Inspiration matters, but regular care is what produces something real.
The Empress reminds me to nurture ideas instead of merely collecting them. She also asks whether I am caring for my body, surroundings, and relationships. Her version of success is not endless productivity. It is sustainable growth with enough beauty and pleasure to make the effort worthwhile.
4. Strength: Courage Without the Performance
Strength commonly shows a person calmly interacting with a lion. The card is not about defeating the animal through violence. It suggests patience, emotional regulation, compassion, confidence, and the ability to work with powerful instincts rather than pretending they do not exist.
I love this card because it challenges the loud version of courage. Strength does not always look like a heroic speech delivered while dramatic music plays. Sometimes it looks like apologizing. Sometimes it means setting a boundary without turning the conversation into a courtroom drama. Sometimes it is getting out of bed and doing the next manageable thing.
The lion does not disappear. Fear, anger, desire, and frustration remain present. The lesson is to approach those forces with steadiness. Real strength is not the absence of intense emotion; it is the ability to choose what happens next.
5. The Hermit: Solitude With a Purpose
The Hermit stands alone, holding a lantern. He represents introspection, deliberate solitude, wisdom, and the search for guidance that cannot be found in noise. Unlike isolation caused by fear or rejection, Hermit energy is intentional. It creates distance so that understanding can catch up.
This card became a favorite because I used to assume that every problem required more information. I would read another article, ask another person, compare another opinion, and eventually create a committee meeting inside my own head. The Hermit suggests that the next useful answer may arrive only after the committee goes home.
I read this card as permission to step back without disappearing forever. The lantern illuminates only part of the path, which is wonderfully realistic. We rarely need to see the entire journey. We need enough light for the next few steps.
6. Death: The Most Misunderstood Card in the Deck
Death is the card that makes beginners stare at the table as if the deck has just threatened them personally. In most reflective readings, however, it points toward endings, release, transformation, and the closing of a cycle rather than literal physical death.
I like Death because it is honest. It does not decorate an ending with motivational stickers. Something has completed its role. A habit, identity, relationship dynamic, job, expectation, or old version of the self may no longer belong in the next chapter.
The card can feel uncomfortable because people often want transformation without loss. We would prefer to become completely new while keeping every familiar attachment, which is roughly like renovating a house without moving any furniture or producing dust.
Death teaches that making space is part of growth. The card is not cheerful, but it is rarely empty. Dawn appears in the background of many versions, suggesting that an ending can also clear the horizon.
7. The Star: Hope After the Noise
The Star follows The Tower in the traditional Major Arcana sequence. After disruption comes a quiet landscape, clear water, open sky, and a figure pouring water onto the earth and into a pool. The image suggests renewal, healing, sincerity, inspiration, and hope restored after difficulty.
This is perhaps the most emotionally comforting card in my tarot deck. Its hope is not loud or unrealistic. The Star does not promise that every problem will disappear by Tuesday. Instead, it suggests that clarity and trust can return gradually.
I especially value The Star during periods when progress is difficult to measure. Healing often happens in tiny increments: one better decision, one honest conversation, one peaceful morning, one moment when the future no longer feels completely closed.
The Star reminds me that optimism does not have to deny pain. The most believable hope often appears after we have seen what went wrong and still choose to continue.
8. The Sun: Joy That Does Not Need an Explanation
The Sun is filled with warmth, vitality, openness, playfulness, confidence, and clarity. In the Rider-Waite-Smith image, a child rides beneath a brilliant sun with sunflowers rising behind a wall. There is almost no mystery about the atmosphere. The card looks delighted to exist.
I like The Sun because tarot discussions can become extremely serious. We analyze shadows, inherited patterns, spiritual lessons, hidden motives, and whether Mercury is personally responsible for a printer malfunction. The Sun interrupts all of that and asks whether we are allowing ourselves to enjoy anything.
For me, this card represents honest happiness rather than forced positivity. It can indicate success, visibility, creative energy, or the relief of understanding something clearly. Its deeper lesson is that joy deserves attention too. Not every good moment needs to be dissected, optimized, or converted into a five-year plan.
9. The World: Completion Without Complacency
The World is the final numbered card of the Major Arcana. It commonly symbolizes completion, integration, accomplishment, fulfillment, and the closing of a meaningful cycle. The central figure appears within a wreath, surrounded by four symbolic beings.
I love The World because it represents completion without suggesting that life is permanently finished. One journey ends, but another can begin. The difference is that the traveler now carries experience, perspective, and proof that a difficult process can actually be completed.
This card also corrects my habit of immediately chasing the next goal. When The World appears, I try to acknowledge what has been achieved before opening another list. Celebration is not laziness. It is part of integrating the lesson.
The World asks a satisfying question: Can you recognize that you have arrived somewhere important, even if you know you will not remain there forever?
10. Nine of Pentacles: The Luxury of Self-Trust
My list would feel incomplete without at least one Minor Arcana card. The Nine of Pentacles shows a well-dressed figure standing in a cultivated garden, often with a bird resting on one hand. It is associated with independence, earned comfort, discipline, refinement, and enjoying the results of sustained effort.
I prefer this card to flashy images of overnight success. The garden clearly took time. The abundance feels maintained rather than accidental. It represents the stage when skill, patience, and repeated choices begin to create freedom.
The Nine of Pentacles also reminds me that independence is not the same as emotional isolation. It means building enough inner and practical stability that relationships become choices rather than rescue missions.
And yes, the card contains elegant clothing, grapes, and a fancy bird. Apparently spiritual maturity may include excellent landscaping. I support this interpretation enthusiastically.
What These Favorite Tarot Cards Have in Common
Looking at the list, I notice that my favorite cards form a loose story. The Fool begins. The High Priestess listens. The Empress nurtures. Strength regulates. The Hermit searches. Death releases. The Star heals. The Sun celebrates. The World completes. The Nine of Pentacles enjoys what patient effort has created.
None of these cards offers permanent comfort. Even the happiest card can reveal an area where joy is being postponed or visibility feels frightening. Meanwhile, a card with a skeleton can bring welcome confirmation that an exhausting chapter is finally closing.
That flexibility is what keeps tarot interesting. A card’s meaning depends on the question, surrounding cards, artwork, reading method, and the reader’s relationship with its symbols. Traditional meanings provide a foundation, but experience gives those meanings texture.
My Personal Experiences With These 10 Tarot Cards
My relationship with these cards developed slowly. At first, I approached tarot like a student preparing for an exam. I memorized keywords, compared guidebooks, and worried that every interpretation had one correct answer hiding somewhere in the back of the deck. My readings were technically organized and emotionally about as lively as an appliance manual.
The Fool was one of the first cards that broke that habit. I drew it repeatedly while considering a creative project I kept postponing. Each appearance felt increasingly sarcastic. I had enough information. I had enough equipment. I had even selected a font. What I had not done was begin. Once I took one small step, the card stopped appearing so frequently. Whether that was chance or excellent comic timing, the message worked.
The High Priestess taught me a different lesson. During a confusing situation, I kept pulling cards because I wanted a definite answer. The more cards I drew, the less clear the reading became. Eventually, the High Priestess appeared, and I interpreted her as an instruction to stop asking. After a few quiet days, information emerged naturally. That experience changed my practice: I now believe restraint can be part of a good tarot reading.
The Empress often appears when I have been treating my body like an inconvenient delivery vehicle for my brain. She reminds me to eat properly, sleep, go outside, and make my environment more pleasant. Her advice is rarely glamorous, but a surprising number of personal crises become less dramatic after water, food, rest, and a room that no longer looks as if a laundry basket exploded.
Strength has been most useful during tense conversations. Rather than asking how to “win,” I use the card to consider how I can remain calm without becoming passive. It reminds me that a gentle response can still contain a firm boundary. This has saved me from sending several messages that would have been emotionally satisfying for eight minutes and inconvenient for approximately six months.
The Hermit became important during periods when outside advice was abundant but contradictory. Everyone had a recommendation, and many people delivered theirs with the confidence of someone who would not personally experience the consequences. The Hermit helped me separate useful guidance from noise. I still seek expertise, but I also leave space to determine which path fits my values.
Death appeared often during a major transition. At first, I disliked seeing it. Eventually, I realized that I was trying to preserve an identity that no longer matched my life. The card did not tell me exactly what to become. It simply made the cost of remaining unchanged harder to ignore. Once I accepted the ending, the transition became sad but less confusing.
The Star arrived afterward, and its timing made the traditional sequence feel personal. Nothing changed instantly. There was no cinematic sunrise accompanied by a choir. I simply began noticing small signs of renewal: better concentration, new ideas, and genuine curiosity about the future. The Star taught me to respect quiet improvement.
The Sun and The World have encouraged me to celebrate more deliberately. I once completed an exhausting project and immediately opened a document for the next one. Pulling The World that evening felt like being politely told to close the laptop. I took a break, acknowledged the achievement, and discovered that satisfaction is much easier to experience when you stop sprinting past it.
Finally, the Nine of Pentacles has become a long-term symbol of the life I want to build: stable, creative, independent, peaceful, and spacious enough to enjoy. I am still working on the garden and have not acquired the fancy bird. Nevertheless, the card reminds me that freedom is often created through ordinary habits repeated long before the results look impressive.
These experiences are why the cards feel personal. Their value did not come from predicting dramatic events. It came from helping me name what was already developing, ask better questions, and make more deliberate choices. Over time, the deck became less like an oracle delivering orders and more like a visual journal that answers every question with another, usually more useful, question.
Final Thoughts
The cards I like most in my tarot deck are not simply the cards with the happiest meanings. They are the cards that make me more observant, honest, patient, and willing to change. Some encourage action. Others recommend rest, release, celebration, or silence.
Your own list may look completely different. You may love The Tower because it clears false structures, the Queen of Swords because she values truth, or the Two of Cups because you are more romantic than I am willing to admit before coffee. The important part is noticing why certain images continue to call your attention.
A favorite tarot card can become a mirror, a creative prompt, a meditation image, or a reminder of a lesson learned at exactly the right time. The deck does not need to control the future to deepen the presentand for me, that is more than enough magic.
