The Invisible Glimmers Oracle
There are absences that never fade.
Babies we never held, yet still carry everywhere.
Words we never spoke, because the world refused to hear them.
Between the world of the living and the realm of souls who never had the time,
there is a space.
A soft, fragile, persistent light.
Invisible Glimmers was born from that place.
A place where you don’t try to understand,
but learn to listen to what remains.
This oracle was created for them. For you.
To bring words where everything froze,
to breathe into the silence,
and to allow gentleness to finally exist alongside the pain.
Invisible Glimmers does not try to explain grief.
It listens to it.
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📌 This card (like the whole deck) is currently available in French only… for now.
But some silences break hearts in any language.
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The Gaze in the Mirror
Who am I, after this?
What this card reveals…
There comes a moment when your reflection no longer recognizes you.
You lean closer, and you don’t know if it’s still you.
You’ve changed. Without visible transformation, without a scar you can show.
And yet, you can feel it in your skin, in your back, in your breath.
You are a parent — but with empty arms.
You carry an absence, and it shapes you.
This card speaks of that fracture in identity:
that strange feeling of having become someone else…
without ever choosing to.
What this card whispers to you…
You haven’t vanished.
You are here. Whole. Alive.
And even if your gaze falters, even if you turn away at times,
you are worthy of love, of gentleness, of recognition.
You are still you — marked by a love without a face.
A gesture to accompany you…
Look at yourself in the mirror, softly.
Without trying to analyze, understand, or correct.
Choose one word.
Just one.
One that speaks to you, that supports you.
And let it float between you and your reflection.
Not to convince you — just to keep you company.
“You catch your reflection.
And for a second… you don’t recognize yourself.
Your face is there. Your features. Your eyes.
But something has shifted. Something slid out of place.
You are not exactly the same.
You are the one who crossed over.
The one who carried. The one who lost.
Sometimes the gaze avoids.
Sometimes it seeks, desperately.
A gaze that asks: ‘Who am I now?’
A mother without a child? A father in absence?
A body marked without a visible scar?
You don’t have the answers.
But that gaze — even blurred — is an act of courage.
A meeting with the one you’ve become.
And that is already a lot.”
What others have felt…
“I didn’t recognize myself. I felt like I’d aged ten years.”
“My face didn’t lie. Even when everyone said: ‘You look so strong.’”
“I didn’t want to wear makeup anymore. Or look at myself. As if my body had lost its right.”
“One day, I looked at myself in the mirror and said their name. I cried for the first time in weeks.”
If you’re supporting someone…
This card invites you to explore:
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Identity transformation after loss: “Am I still a parent?” “Am I still myself?”
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Dissociation from the body, from a face avoided.
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The mirror as a witness: reflection, photo, another’s gaze.
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Rebuilding inner image through symbolism, art, words, or ritual.
Questions to open…
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“When you look at yourself, do you see yourself — or do you turn away?”
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“What would your reflection say if you spoke to it today, without a mask?”