You've made it this far, sky dancer. Trust the mystery.
Spokes turning; we are riding the wheel. 2026: we are deep into you and your chaos. Our collective tarot card of the year is the Wheel of Fortune and we asked the Little Red Tarot community what the card of the year means to you. Here's what you said.
Jupiter is the laughter that surprises us... It wants to pull us away from the sludge of seriousness and remind us of the positive potentialities of life.
I'm thinking of the difference between reacting and responding.
The Wheel of Fortune is often misunderstood as chaos. It isn’t. Chaos implies randomness. The Wheel is patterned. Cyclical. Relentless, yes, but not cruel. There is peace in assuming the wisdom of perpetual movements. We, as well as nature, as well as everything that is, one and the same thing all of the above, is light in motion.
Read the full post from Kuba here.
I have found that baby hare energy of adaptivity to changing seasons resonates a ton with major life lessons that 2026 has already been throwing at me with much enthusiasm... I wonder if the baby hare's eyes are twinkling towards me with that kind of big energy or if I just need to flow more and resist less. The fluidity of this card feels really good. And when I think of it in relation to the violence in the world, the change and movement gives me some hope.
The Wheel of Fortune, and the idea of "fate" have been sticky for me in the past. Because I don't believe in the existence of a concrete, prescribed, predestined path. But we can reframe the wheel, and fate, as in finding the spaces and rhythms in which you can access flow. The card now means to me: leaning into, allowing, accepting. Working with and not against. Yourself, and circumstance. I crave fluidity when fear freezes and being solid and unchanging like rock might feel safer. We want to be strong, solid. But the real strength is in gracefully navigating a dynamic and ever-changing landscape. Outside and in. Allowing huge feelings and passions to move us forward and into ourselves, closer, to move bravely and with the strength and flexibility of water. To be able to fall apart and come back together. With ease and peace.
let go, dear one, and do not run
incantation for the turn of the wheel
I welcome the turn
with arms aloft
heart beating and wildness soft
however it comes
the power thrums
let go, dear one,
and do not run
I accept the turn
with legs that steady
sure-footed, wise and always ready
the spokes grind slowly
the change sounds holy
give in, this time,
embrace the climb
I embody the turn
with fizzing blood
persistent veins that pool and flood
hold on, but not too tight,
prepare to leap, to take up flight
What does the wheel mean to you? What’s your relationship to change: are you centred in the middle, spinning with the edges of it, or holding it like spokes? What cycles are ending, what’s in transition, what tipping points have been reached? Do you believe in luck, in fate, in chance? What is descending, and what is emerging?
