I knew I was obsessed when I was reading on the beach, & suddenly a youth clad in motley (well, yellow t-shirt, red shorts, multi-coloured dreadlocks with beads & feathers) leapt off the groyne, followed by his little yappy dog, just like the Fool setting out ...
... when, an hour later, he returned on his jog along the beach, but this time carrying a long bar weight in each hand & almost skipping - wow, he had become The World after his journey!
... when, at a friend's church Christening I counted 10 tall candles at the front & thought: "Yes, all this over-laden ritual has really got a bit 10 of Wands" ...
... when the processional canopy at the final elaborate Benediction celebration was the 4 of Wands ...
... when a flame-haired, orange-clad woman, complete with cat, who boldly started chatting to me in a park, was my visitation from the Queen of Wands ...
... when a guy struggling to unlock the till in my corner shop early one morning was 4 of Pents ...
... when the alcoholic / junkie beggars, 1 with crutches, outside the church were 5 of Pents ...
... when a rainbow in the sky over a picnicking family in the grounds of a country mansion were 10 of Cups ...
& so it goes on & on.
But then, Tarot DOES portray all the vicissitudes of Life, so why am I amazed at how one's whole day / life can be seen as a series of Tarot card vignettes?
(Maybe I'm not obsessed at all - just finally 'getting it'!)