As I approach the latter half of my 60s, I am winding down my decades-long career in teaching. I have taught at the university level, in the community, as an unofficial tutor and mentor. While there are things I’m looking forward to in retirement, I have to say, it feels like I’m losing my identity. Can the cards tell me how to sit with this unknowing as I walk this new straight and crooked path?—River Walker
Cards: Four of Swords (reversed), Queen of Wands, Page of Cups (reversed), Wheel of Fortune
Dear River Walker, there are jobs, and there are vocations. As a lifelong teacher, I’m sure you know the difference, but to readers who may not, a vocation is that divine calling, the knowledge that you were put on this earth to do this type of work, and you do so. It is a spiritual occupation in the sense that it fills the spirit and its influence ripples across your life, regardless if you’re making money off of it.
Teaching can be an incredibly difficult job that requires so much time and energy—often unpaid—and has an incredibly high rate of burnout. The fact that you taught across decades in different environments suggests to me that teaching is your vocation. It is what you were put on this earth to do.
And you’ll probably continue on teaching in some capacity for the rest of your life because, frankly, I doubt you could quit if you tried. Be it giving a lecture to an auditorium for 500 or telling the barista about Heraclitus, you’re probably hard-wired to share knowledge wherever you go.
You will always be a teacher somehow, but, now it’s time to figure out who you are outside of that title. I’ve often written about the Four of Swords being a removal of the ego, of taking yourself out of a situation, but for this reading, I want to focus on the historical image of the card.The Four of Swords often depicts a knight lying in a sarcophagus. This is a reference to the (supposedly real) practice of medieval knights creating a sarcophagus for themselves before leaving for battle. If they made it home, they were to lay in that coffin and ask for forgiveness for slaughtering whoever it was they were fighting. It is a place of honest reflection.
I am not suggesting that you have sins to atone for, but I do think you need space to do nothing for a while in order to reflect on your life as a teacher. Are there things you are proud of? Are there any regrets you have? Can you offer yourself forgiveness for mistakes that you made? Can you offer forgiveness to those who may have hindered your career? (Surely, a professional nemesis popped up somewhere along the way.)
If teaching is your vocation, it wouldn’t be surprising if you feel that you still need to do more. But what would that look like? Is that what’s best for you now? If not, what are the emotional or mental debts you have to take care of in order to feel at peace with your retirement?
Really sit and think about these things. Process your long career. Lay that body down. It might take a while but don’t rush it.
And after you’ve given so much thought to your past as a teacher, think about what you want to learn, and how to become a student again.
With the Queen of Wands and the Page of Cups, it might do you well to get back into a mentor/mentee relationship but this time with you as the novice. The Queen of Wands is fiery with their passion, warm and creative, protective yet doesn’t coddle. They are someone who can guide you as you start your new path, whatever it is.
It wouldn’t surprise me if this Queen is part of the creative arts, so perhaps they’ll teach you how to write that memoir, or learn jazz piano, or introduce you to acting. As the Page of Cups, you know what it is that you want to do. It’s the passion project you’ve been putting off for years, the funny little thought experiment you think about before drifting off to sleep. It’s something that “fills your cup.” Whatever it is, jump in, and a teacher will appear.
Finally, The Wheel of Fortune reminds us that endings are just a matter of perspective. Our little wheel spins and spins, taking us around over and over until we stop once and for all. It is a reminder that even though you’re letting go of your identity as a career educator, you will still exist. You were spinning before your career, and you’ll keep going even after retirement.
We can tell ourselves stories about how the world works, about our understanding of ourselves, but those narratives can change. In fact, everything in our life can change. The Wheel of Fortune reminds us that nothing stays fixed—we’re in motion from our first breath until our last and, depending on your belief system, possibly stay in motion until we draw our next first breath.
I know it sounds hokey and cliché to say that you should embrace “the next chapter of your life,” but, really, that is the way through. As you reflect on your old life, imagine the possibilities of the new. What would it be like to be at the beginning of something? What would it be like to be a student again after spending so many years as a master? Is there a joy that could come with that? Excitement? Frustration? Fun?
Beginnings can be terrifying, but a certain freedom comes with newness. It’s the beginner’s mind, the foolish joy, the “fuck it, why not?” feeling free of caution. It’s saying “yes” before you develop the good sense to say “no.” It can be a wonderful place to be and an incredible reminder that we may not know the ending of our story after all.
Enjoy your next go-around, my dear.
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This article appears in Apr 3-9, 2025.