The Star

A day of recovery — your heart lightens without anything dramatic happening.

A matter that's weighed on you for days eases, your body feels comfortable for the first time in a while, or a small, offhand compliment is today's theme. A small good thing in the morning tends to carry into the afternoon, so today it's right to go with the flow rather than push.

This evening, write down “three things that were okay today.” This card's recovery continues when you record it.

On a good-mood day, it's easy to make big promises. Double-check today's “Sure, let's do it” tomorrow.

A day when “it won't work anyway” keeps the whole day pinned down.

It looks like giving up before starting, brushing off good news with “so what,” or, conversely, skipping any checking with a groundless “it'll be fine.” Today's problem isn't what happens but the eyes you see it with.

Today, see one very small thing through to the end. Washing the dishes, a walk, one email. Finishing something changes how you see.

On a tired day, don't say “this is just how I am.” Those words copy today into tomorrow.

A time when you come to trust people again after being hurt.

A heart hardened by a breakup or betrayal softens and you open up to someone new, or, if you're dating, past fights are sincerely reconciled. It's a time when the feeling “it's comfortable being next to this person” becomes the foundation of the relationship more than a grand confession.

Tell the new person (or your current partner) one thing you learned from a past relationship. When you can talk about the wound, the recovery is complete.

In a season of recovery, your heart opens to anyone warm. Give yourself a month to tell gratitude apart from love.

A state of shutting your heart because a wound hasn't healed, or of idealizing someone with groundless expectations.

It looks like pushing away new connections with “people are all the same,” or, conversely, drawing an entire future from one thing the other person says and setting yourself up for disappointment. If you're dating, putting off problems with “they'll change someday” is the face of this period.

Write down what you expect from your partner, and mark the ones they've “actually done.” If nothing is marked, it's not hope but imagination.

Cynicism is the scab over a wound. Don't pick it off — but don't mistake the scab for skin.

A time of opening your heart to people again — by giving and receiving help.

Having come through a draining period, your relationships with friends and coworkers recover, and a small kindness from someone feels big. It's a time when standing in “the giving position” — volunteering, sharing, mentoring — revives both your relationships and yourself.

Within this week, personally say thank you to someone who helped you. This card's relationships start again from those words.

In a season of recovery, you trust people easily. Open your heart, but go slowly with money and secrets for now.

A time of isolating yourself through cynicism about people, or of being disappointed after placing too much hope in relationships.

It looks like cutting off groups with “everyone's just in it for themselves,” or, conversely, staking everything on a new group or new coworkers and crumbling at a small disappointment. Wearing yourself out alone because you can't ask for help comes from the same root.

Write down three people who “would probably help if I asked.” If you can't come up with three, the problem isn't your relationships but your cynicism.

If you get rid of expectations to avoid disappointment, the relationships go too. Expectations are for lowering, not eliminating.

A season of recovery when warmth returns to married life.

After a big conflict, crisis, or loss, the couple come to see each other anew; if marriage is ahead, wounds from past relationships heal and a quiet conviction arrives that “this is worth trying with this person.” It's also a time when problems with children, health, or the home begin to resolve.

Together, choose one thing you'd “like to do again” and set a date. The place you first went, the trip you never took. Recovery becomes real through a plan.

In a season of recovery, don't bring up past wrongs again. Press on a healed wound to check it, and it opens again.

A state of having lost hope in the marriage, or of putting off problems with groundless expectations.

It looks like having given up trying with “this marriage is already over,” or, conversely, pushing present problems into the future with “once the kids are older, once we move, once we have more breathing room.” If you're not married yet, this is a time of painting your partner better than they are and missing the signals.

Write down “what this marriage needs in order to get better,” and mark the ones “I can do.” If there's not a single mark, that's not a plan but a postponement.

If “someday” is the marriage's only plan, it isn't a plan.

A time when your finances begin to recover after a loss.

It isn't big money, but debt shrinks, income stabilizes, and you start looking again at the bank account you'd been avoiding. Money in this period starts from the feeling “I can plan again,” and putting money toward savings, insurance, and learning for the future suits it.

If recovery has begun, open a “future account,” even for a very small amount, and set up an automatic transfer. The name gives it more power than the amount.

The optimism of recovery pushes up spending with “it's fine now.” Confirm your recovery by your habits, not your balance.

A state of giving up hope about money and letting go of managing it, or of spending without a plan on groundless optimism.

It looks like stopping saving because “there's no point saving anyway,” or, conversely, leaving debts and spending unchecked with “it'll get better soon.” Being drawn to lottery tickets, high-return ads, and “one big hit” is also a signal of this period.

Add up this month's “money spent on hope” (lottery tickets, uncertain investments, things you'll use someday). Also work out how much it would be if that money were in a future account.

Money waiting for “one big hit” usually goes out in “one big hit.” Hope is something you build with structure.

A stage where, after a failure, the team and the business can see a direction again.

After a collapsed project a new vision emerges, a worn-out team's morale recovers, and the current favors investing in long-term plans (research, brand, talent). It's a time when a leader who speaks again of “why we do this work,” rather than of immediate revenue, draws the team together.

In front of the team, share three things you learned from the failed project. When you can say what you learned, the team is ready to take on the next job.

In a period when vision revives, the numbers get neglected. Look at direction and cash flow in the same meeting.

A time when the team has fallen into cynicism, or is charging ahead without validation on groundless optimism.

It looks like “it won't change anything anyway” being the mood of meetings, or, conversely, spending budget on “it feels like it'll work” without market validation. An organization where the leader's optimism and the team's cynicism exist at the same time is this card reversed.

Write two columns: “what we believe” and “what's been confirmed.” If only the left column is full, that's the problem.

Throw a big vision at a cynical team and they get more cynical. Create one small success first.