If Gilmore Girls Characters Were Tarot Cards, We Know Exactly Which Ones They'd Be

Rory starts her journey as this cherub-faced innocent, a "Mary" wandering the halls of Chilton with equal parts naivete and enthusiasm for her lifelong goal of becoming Christiane Amanpour. Through trials and tribulations, and lots of screw ups and wins, she ends the (original) series a smartly dressed Pantene model — those bangs! — ready to hit the campaign trail with Senator Barack Obama. She had her fanny pack and her tiny, tiny sweaters, and she was ready to take on the world, having somehow found the chutzpah to even turn down the right-on-schedule yet publicly humiliating marriage proposal of Heir Huntzberger.

Was there ever a more hermitty hermit than Luke Danes? He's a solitary figure, following the illumination of his own lantern, and doing his own thing. At his best, Luke is thoughtful and independent, free of the need of validation from anybody else. At his worst, he's impossible to please and isolated. Even though he loves Lorelai, he postpones the wedding, keeps her totally cut off from April, and can never really get over the fact that she maintained a relationship with Christopher — you know, the father of her kid. All that aside, though, Luke's kind of the poster boy for the inner journey. And for that, we love him.

No matter how you feel about Luke and Lorelai's fated union, you have to admit that Max was good for her while they were together. Mr. Medina is the truest teacher, seeking greater meaning in life and shining his hot-ass benevolence and loyalty on all who know him. While Max also totally embodies the less positive attributes of the Hierophant: he's kinda traditional and a little self-important at times (we get it, you read Proust, congratulations). We love him and sit at his feet to learn anyway. He's thoughtful, curious, and he will send your ass a thousand yellow daisies.

Mitchum is a powerful force, and after you experience him, nothing is ever the same again. When we see the Death card, it often means that we have to let something go in order to move on. When Rory encounters Mitchum, he forces her to let go of her dream of being a journalist (that bloated jerk). But the truth is, when he crushes her dreams, he inevitably helps her to let go of something far more powerful: her need for approval. After the whole estrangement thing, Rory comes back to Yale with a vengeance and doubles down on her dreams. She rocks it. Without Mitchum smashing her precious little world first, she might never have gotten to that place. So, thanks Mitchum, for literally making us question everything we've ever done so we can come out on top of our game. Now f*ck off.

Digger, Digger, Digger. He sure looks like fun at first. He takes Lorelai to that weird Japanese restaurant with the private room. He has an apartment full of glass and metal and a dog that doesn't know how to dog. He has questionable facial hair and a seventy-five inch television in the guest bedroom. But then we get to know him and we realise that he's a fucking mess, a lost little boy who's leading us down the wrong path. He shows up at Lorelai's Inn (during their opening weekend) and just sits in the lobby, waiting for her to get back together with him! Jason! Has that ever worked?! He operates from a place of fear and narcissism, so fight the urge to take his talking apartment key and get out while you can.