Getting Organized And What a Tarot Card Had to Say About It

I've always been proud to be known as someone who is organized, especially at work. I love working on spreadsheets, putting together lists, and presenting reports to leadership in a systematic, organized, and data-driven way.

At home, I've been known to alphabetize our spice rack. As it grew, I installed new shelves on the wall. I moved all the pepper-like spices onto their own shelf because that makes sense to me. I've also created a makeshift wine rack, with installation help from Henry, of course, and much to his chagrin, because I couldn't quite explain what I wanted it to look like. It was just something in my head, and I was getting frustrated. Why can't he read my mind? Doesn't he know how my brain works already? Writing this down now makes me chuckle. Why would he know what's in my brain? I don't even know what's going on in my own brain about 10% of the time, so why would he? My digital life is much the same way, organizing files and music libraries into genres, folders within folders, everything in its place.

Organization makes sense to me and, truth be told, I suppose it calms me down. I'm not organized in all aspects of my life, but I do strive toward it.

Lately, though, I feel like I am all over the place.

Running this art business of mine requires not only the art I produce but also the art of living harmoniously. The ecosystem I've built reflects my attempt at organization: a content calendar, shipping profiles, vendor-fair systems, Art Tips, blog posts like this one, and a monthly newsletter. On paper, it looks like someone who has it together.

The Star card I drew before the reading began.

But here's what the spreadsheet can't capture: the question I brought to a tarot reading at a vendor fair in late August. I asked whether my business would ever be financially stable enough for me to rely on, to truly sustain myself with it. Before the reading began, I drew The Star. Have faith the future is bright. Dreams come true. Positive changes that bring an end to challenging times. The light at the end of the tunnel. As the reading unfolded, it kept coming back to creativity as my guiding force. Not instead of structure, but through it. Because here's what I've come to understand: creativity doesn't just live in the art I make. It lives in how I organize a spice rack, how I built a wine rack out of nothing but a mental image I couldn't fully explain to Henry, and how I've structured an entire small business ecosystem from scratch.

That's what sets us apart, isn't it? The ability to find creativity in the mundane, in the systems, in the everyday acts of figuring things out. It's deeply human. And it's something I want to hold onto, especially as I lean more on tools like AI to help me work smarter. The goal was never to hand over the thinking or the art-making. It's to free up space for more of it.

I've been told I need to show my process, not just the product mockups I've made. At vendor fairs, that's always been easier. I can talk about how a design came about and the story behind it, because every design and creation I make carries a story drawn from my life: a memory, a moment, or something I've experienced. On social media, that story has to fit inside 15 seconds, and I'm still figuring out how to share it effectively.

What kind of content makes a stranger trust you? I don't have a clean answer yet. But I think it starts with exactly this: showing up honestly, even when the thought isn't fully formed, even when you're still in the middle of figuring it out. It's the difference between simply being alive and feeling fully engaged in your life.

Maybe that's what organization really is: not having everything in its place, but knowing you're still trying to find it. My journey in a nutshell.

What about you? Where are you in your own journey? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.