by Veronica Genta

The house was, and still is, made of wood, coigüe and raulí, fine, living woods. The walls, the ceiling, the floor: everything creaks when you walk, as if it had a soul. In summer, when the temperature drops suddenly, the whole house sounds like an instrument, as if speaking to its surroundings. I remember my bed: a metal base with an old-fashioned wool mattress. When I lay down, the springs sank in, and I felt like the house was embracing me.

I have a very clear image: my mother and grandmother dressing me one cold morning, warming my clothes on the stove before putting them on me. Remembering that brings back feelings of care and warmth.

I had a friend in the neighborhood who had a room just for her. I shared mine with my siblings, the cat, and sometimes a cousin who came to visit.

Ace of Pentacles
*

Upon returning to Chile after four years in San Miguel de Allende, I remembered the worn-out shoes, food shared from a big pot, the long afternoons without toys but filled with laughter and made-up stories. And I asked myself: what is poverty really?

San Miguel has this polarity: on one side, luxurious houses I'd never set foot in before, and on the other, the humility and beauty of the simple people. When I returned home—my parents' home—and spent a winter there, I realized that the cold seeped in everywhere. Even if there was a heater, the cold still entered. And yet, the warmth of what I'd lived through also returned.

Five of Pentacles
*

On this last trip to Chile, I did tarot readings with very interesting women who made me deeply question money, success, and materiality. I went to their homes to read their cards:

Emperice
*

That night, I pulled out my tarot cards. Not to read the future, but to understand the present:

The first one drawn was the Ace of Pentacles: a golden seed, shining like a coin in the sun. The Tarot whispered to me:
"This is where it all begins. Not with what you have, but with what you can create. What do you want to sow in the real world?"

Then the Five of Pentacles appeared, and I felt a familiar emptiness. It was the card of exile, of scarcity, of coldness in the bones. But the inner voice returned:
"Does your worth depend on what you have or on what you are when you have nothing?"

Later, in other readings, major arcana appeared, such as the Empress, surrounded by flowers and fruits. It spoke to me of fertility, joy, and natural abundance. Then, the Emperor taught me to build, to organize, to protect what matters. And then came the Devil, with his gold chains, asking me if I was becoming a slave to excess or the fear of not having anything.

King of Pentacles
*

The Tarot became my mirror. It showed me that wealth is not measured in numbers, but in freedom. That money can be love in action, or accumulated fear. That human beings can feel abundant if they live in harmony with their soul. And that someone with everything can feel empty if they don't know what they're looking for.

I see this clearly in the people around me in Mexico: the lady at the store, the clothes seller on the corner, or the house cleaner. They always have a smile to give. If they don't respect you, they don't work for you. But if they value you, they give their all, whether you have money or not. They give away the money. And not only in Mexico. It's a Latin American perspective, freer, less rigid, closer to reality than to perfection. In the north—the United States, Canada—extreme effort and perfection are valued. Here, however, we learn to live with the unfinished, with the imperfect. We are more flexible.

In Greek mythology, Daedalus represents the King of Pentacles: the master builder. He had created a perfect labyrinth… but became trapped within it. The card speaks directly:
"Beware of building so much on the outside that you forget your inner world!"

Devil
*

Today, I still wonder about abundance. Is it having everything? Or is it being grateful for what already exists?

And when I see a woman looking at her bank account with guilt, or a man feeling like a failure for not making ends meet, or for not meeting his parents' expectations, I draw the Nine of Pentacles and say:
"Look at what you have achieved! You can celebrate without fear. Your value is not in the balance, but in the soul that built it."

Because in the end, the Tarot doesn't judge. It only honestly shows you where you stand; if you have your feet on the ground or only in the air of other people's desires.

Magician
*

Abundance isn't forced, it's allowed. Allow life to flow, let patterns change, let wealth take other forms. Let go of control, open yourself to transformation. Let abundance not be an external goal, but a flower that blooms from within. Like the Magician of the Tarot, who creates from what is at hand: his word, his intention, his will. He doesn't resist, he acts. He doesn't accumulate, he manifests. He doesn't doubt, he trusts.

Sometimes it sounds like a cliché, repeated everywhere. But living it, embodying it, is something else. The true practice lies in stopping repeating and starting to feel. That's where change begins.

Finance has been a paradigm in my life. I come from a poor family, with very few resources, barely enough to live on.

Tower
*

Since I lost my job, I feel like I'm going through a deeply symbolic phase, as if I were living between two major Tarot arcana. On the one hand, the Tower: everything I knew is crumbling, the mental, work, and emotional structures that once sustained me are falling apart. But in that fall, there is also truth, a revelation. And on the other hand, the Wheel of Fortune turns: it invites me to let go of control, to trust in the movement of life, to know that nothing is permanent and that every change can be a new door. Between the collapse and the turning, the space opens to rediscover my purpose, not as a distant goal, but as a more honest state of presence.

Jodorowsky emphasizes the idea that the Tarot must balance the material and the spiritual, that is, "the spiritualization of matter and the materialization of spirit." Money, then, is not an end in itself, but part of a flow that connects the tangible (work, well-being, resources) with the subtle (spirituality, inner value).

How are you manifesting what you feel internally in the material world?

Are you allowing your spirit to shape what you do, or is it the other way around: does the material dominate your interior?

Wheel of Fortune
*

And that's where I find myself: trying to reinvent myself, to recreate myself, to become an artist of the invisible. Very soon I will turn 50, and with that I feel the symbolic closing of one stage and the beginning of another. As in the World card, where everything I've experienced finds its place, I'm preparing to take a new step: one that is fuller, more conscious, freer. Not from a place of demand, but from integration.

The Tarot taught me—and continues to teach me—that true abundance is a balance
between sowing and letting go,
between working and resting,
between giving and receiving,
between matter and the spirit that inhabits it.

Today, every time a coin touches my hands, I imagine it as a small sun. It doesn't belong to me. I merely carry it along, gratefully, toward the next act of love, as if it were a sacred gesture that unites what I give with who I am.

World
*

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Veronica Genta, tarot reader and astrologer, with a strong background in theatre, has built a deep bond with the Mapuche culture of Chile, exploring their cosmovision through textile art, medicinal plants and traditional dances.

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