AUTHOR’S NOTE: While all tarot reading for other people is advisory in nature, some professional diviners possess the qualifications and credentials to counsel their clients in a therapeutic way, while those who don’t should be careful to remain within the bounds of informal “consulting.” I may bring decades of life experience, philosophical study and tarot practice to the table, but I lack the official certification to perform anything clinical in nature so I keep it casual.

I’ve felt for years that giving actionable advice based on what I see in the cards is a risky business, even if I have reasonable confidence in the validity of the reading. I may detect things that I would never convey in absolute terms to the point that my sitters will act on the testimony without hesitation. Instead, I put on my “consultant’s hat” and tell them how they might make the most of any observations I’m willing to provide, always at their own discretion. I make sure they acknowledge ownership of the proposed outcome if they choose to pursue it.

I stop short of going the life-coach route because I’m suspicious of its popular cachet and its dubious reliance on empathy. At some point, “empowering” can too easily turn into “facilitating and hand-holding,” particularly when we establish a bond of trust with repeat clients. It can be tempting to shift into helping mode when it’s far safer to remain professionally unbiased in our discernment and our explanatory statements. “I just read the cards as they lie” is how I prefer to present my intentions going into a reading so there is no doubt about my role in the encounter.

That said, there are ways to dig deeper with querents via what I describe as “pointing them at the target and giving them the ammunition to find the range on their own.” I will make an assessment of a card and ask my sitters what they think of it, after which I may adjust my initial opinion according to what I hear and offer a revised interpretation. Sooner or later, as the dialogue progresses, we will converge on the “Aha! moment” regarding what the evidence means in both an objective and subjective sense, and then be able to move on to the next card.

My in-person readings are intended to be mutually stimulating, never dry, one-way dissertations, and if I must work remotely I try to make my written offerings just as conversational in tone. This is my main reason for arguing that tarot reading is best approached as a face-to-face activity. I want to look my clients in the eye across the table and read their reaction from that contact, I want to hear the telltale confirmation or refutation in their voice along with the visible feedback from any body language they exhibit. By “taking the pulse” of the session (and making sure that it has one) I can deliver the best experience possible.

Remaining alert for such nuances, I can easily judge whether sitters are uncomfortable, hesitant, skeptical or hopeful in their posture, permitting me to tailor the narrative to speak most effectively to their perceived state of mind. I’m perfectly willing to gently call them out if it looks like they are unjustly “stonewalling” me at every turn, just as I endeavor to encourage them if I think they’re getting close to seeing my point. It can require psychological persuasion, communication skill and divinatory acumen rolled into one, and it’s not something an educational pedigree or government license can bestow.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "Leveraging" is the act of pressing one's advantage in ways that optimize the benefit in practical terms; it's the concept behind the Biblical proverb of "moving mountains" with simple conviction and affirmation (aka "faith" but I don't subscribe to that concept, preferring to say that I'm a "man of certainty"). Here I will attempt to explain how it can be applied to our interaction with the elemental correspondences in tarot reading.

This act of will entails bringing just the right amount of force to bear on one's circumstances, in just the right place and at precisely the right moment, to achieve one's objective with the least amount of effort. Think of moving large objects with a fulcrum and lever, a form of "mechanical advantage." The premise of "psychological advantage" is often more apropos when it comes to tarot reading.

I've been thinking about those situations where we might gain the upper hand in our affairs by putting elemental correspondences to work for us, and came up with two main opportunities. The first involves an abundance (also known as a "preponderance") of one element among the cards of a spread and a consequent shortage of the rest, while the second assumes that a card that is sensitively placed in a spread (for example, as the outcome card or the "turning-point" card) will vault the energy of its associated element into high relief.

Suppose we have a five-card spread with four Fire cards and one Air card. The fundamental emphasis would be on action propelled by ambition and enthusiasm, while the elementally-friendly Air card could act as a "cheerleader." This is an "all systems go" scenario in that nothing stands in the way of closing in on the goal. But the hidden downside of zero Water and Earth cards is that the querent may be insensitive to the impact of his or her unbridled aspirations on the emotional and material insecurities of other people involved in the matter.

If Water dominates and there is no Fire, an excess of caution may prevent "pulling the trigger" on critical projects or initiatives, while an overload of Air with no Earth could translate into "all talk and no action," and too much Earth with no Water suggests a saturnine attitude with little patience for impractical feelings. In all cases, the nature of the dominant element "steals the show" with the element or elements that escape attention contributing nothing to the agenda other than serving as cautionary reminders that could be easily overlooked. The realization that they may in fact be "strengths in disguise" or "hidden weaknesses" often comes too late. How many times have we heard "I wish I had thought about that beforehand."

A high-ranking card of any element sitting in a place of prominence can push that element to the forefront even if it isn't otherwise prevalent in the spread. A powerful Fire trump card like Strength in the outcome position following several lackluster Water "pip" cards could be just the remedy for aimless dithering. The fiery Emperor would make all the subordinate Air pips stand at attention and salute. The World - a preeminent Earth trump - could pull a miscellany of other elemental cards into its orbit as contributing factors in the outcome. The watery High Priestess could calm the jitters of restless of Fire and Air pips, while airy Justice "reads the riot act" to wayward Earth pips.

"Leverage" is a valuable tool in telling querents how they might make the best use of the elemental energy present in a reading because it places emphasis where it can do the most good, or at least where it is most available for productive application. It adds another layer of discernment beneath the usual narrative focus on the inherent nature of the various cards, and offers an enveloping environment within which the detailed testimony of the spread can play out. Identifying a dominant theme can make the reader's insights more profound and the sitter's comprehension more assured.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All of the spirit-contact methods I'm aware of assume that we're going to encounter precisely the entity we're seeking (ancestor, god-form, elemental figure, spirit guide, etc.) whenever we ask. But I've never been convinced that disembodied beings are lurking at the threshold of the Astral Plane, just waiting for us to reach out, nor are they necessarily sympathetic.

Here I'm postulating that three spirits of diverse disposition will be "enlisted" for our rendezvous, one cooperative, one uncooperative and one impartial (maybe they're near the portal at the time and by chance there are three roles to be filled: "good cop," "bad cop," and "unbiased arbiter"). The one we engage will depend on the random spin of a board-game dial. For those who want to use a pendulum instead of a spinner, this pattern lends itself to that approach. (All images are from the Retro-Thoth Tarot, privately published.)
 

Begin by placing a board-game spinner at the center of the reading surface. (Invoke any psychic protection you normally use before continuing.)

Concentrate on what you want to know while shuffling a tarot deck (reversals are permitted), then deal three cards face-down above the spinner in any order, being careful to place them in a way that eliminates overlap by the pointer.

Next deal three cards below the spinner in the same manner, and two cards into the "Interlude" positions.

Spin the dial, continuing to concentrate, and turn the card it points to face-up. Find the card diametrically opposite that one and turn it face-up. This pair will represent the nature of the contact ("Spirit-end") and the contents of the message ("Seeker-end"); the latter always travels from Spirit to Seeker regardless of which way the arrow is pointing. If you want to create an expanded narrative, add two more cards to the "message" position (unless it has already confirmed a "disconnect" as in the example reading's "loss of signal").

When the pointer lands on one of the "Interlude" positions, it means that the contact has not yet been made. If it is a "Helpful Interlude," spin again for a connection. An "Unhelpful Interlude" advises stopping for now and trying again later. It may be useful to examine your state-of-mind before doing so, since you could have been confused or indisposed the first time around.

Close the psychic channel in your usual fashion.

Here is an example. The reversed Ace of Cups indicates that the spirit is intensely private and emotionally disinclined to cooperate, while the reversed 9 of Disks conveys mundane interference at the seeker's end (the dog is barking, the kids are screaming, motorcycles are drag-racing in the street, etc.). Had I been asking about an investment of some kind, I would have just been shouted down. If this were a real scenario, I would break the weak connection and come back at a quieter time.

Those of a certain age will remember Bullwinkle Moose exclaiming “Oh, my stars and garters!” whenever something surprised him, and I certainly resemble that remark (chronologically if not semantically since a certain rude three-letter acronym now replaces such quaint language).

AUTHOR’S NOTE: When I began my esoteric journey as an astrologer in 1970, I was trained to see the birth chart as a static “map” of sensitive points showing developmental potential that, for predictive purposes, must be triggered after birth by interaction between the initial placements and the constantly-moving spheres during their observable transits and symbolic progressions through the natal horoscope. The fact that the planets are “out there” at any given time with no demonstrable connection to the nativity means very little at a personal level except to those individuals and entities born at that precise instant. The superficiality of the modern approach to astrological forecasting that ignores this reality has been gnawing at me for years.

In these loopy times of over-hyped mystical excess, it’s impossible to go online without finding “pop” astrologers (who should know better) waxing lyrical about the current phase of the Moon, retrograde Mercury, planetary alignments or ingresses, eclipses and occultations, emerging sky patterns (transitory Grand Trines, Grand Crosses, etc.) and other celestial events they urge us to accept as important, with no acknowledgement that, from an analytical perspective, these are impersonal phenomena unless they energize populated degrees in an existing horoscope or contribute to the zodiacal architecture of an impending “birth event.” Just having retrograde Mars somewhere in the sky as I go about my business without a link to my natal configuration is not likely to make me more accident-prone unless I stumble upon one of its signature public calamities just as it makes its appearance (for example, the projected arrival of a natural disaster, substantiated by transiting Pluto or Uranus and perhaps in concert with a malignant fixed star).

Another fictitious assumption is that all transiting planets are equally potent when it comes to predicting events. The fastest-moving planets (the Moon, Mercury, Sun and Venus) transit natal horoscope features so rapidly (often within a day or less) that visible consequences of any magnitude seldom arise unless concurrent contact is made with other prominent chart factors (ideally, there should be a transiting complex or “aspect pattern” of some kind). The fact that the Sun and Moon are “lights” doesn’t make them any more persistent in their temporary influence, just more evident during their brief stay.

The only exception I can think of occurs when one of these rapid travelers, other than the Sun and Moon (which never go retrograde), makes a “station” in the sky for a few days (i.e. stops advancing clockwise or retreating counterclockwise) at a critical point as it transitions from direct to retrograde and vice versa. I would find transiting Mercury making a station on my natal 10th House Mars in Virgo conjunct the Midheaven to be intellectually stimulating for my professional intentions; that same station in the middle of nowhere and connected to nothing would be unremarkable.

Being able to read an astrological ephemeris and host a YouTube channel can be a dangerous combination when inexperienced followers are hanging on our every word. The fact that something “snaps into place” in the heavens doesn’t mean it’s automatically going to be significant for every last person on Earth (and we don’t have a birth-chart for the entire planet or even for human civilization at large that could show otherwise). Only mundane astrologers can be excused for thinking it might; the online purveyors of “daily horoscope” predictions don’t stand a chance of being relevant. I find myself contemplating the lyrics of the Ten Years After song I’d Love to Change the World: “Tell me where is sanity?”

Horary astrology is much less likely to be abused since its purpose is results-oriented by design and not nearly as impressionistic as other astrological methods of prediction. The chart displays the location and condition of the subject at the instant of its casting, and that situational snapshot is the sole focus of the astrologer’s attention. Astrologer John Frawley observed that a lost item is either where the chart says it is, or it isn’t; there is no room for negotiation. A client is unlikely to be thrilled if we tell them that we “almost found” their missing ring.

In my cartomantic practice I’ve discovered that the Lenormand oracle offers the most sensible approach to prediction. It doesn’t lend itself to personality profiling, nor to mind-reading or fanciful free-association from the rather plain images, and it has much in common with horary astrology in its entirely pragmatic techniques. This is divination plain-and-simple, with few imaginative bells-and-whistles and no socio-psychological embellishments, although “tarot transplants” may try to bring them over.

As for tarot-reading, the risk lies in inflated rhetoric that sounds convincing to an intuitive diviner but may have absolutely nothing to do with the querent’s situation. Interpreting the cards has justifiably been called an “irrational act” but that doesn’t mean it must be presented to sitters in an unconscionably crack-brained manner. It’s best to err on the side of caution when making claims about the possibility that a predicted event might actually occur. Philosophically, the trappings of occult symbolism need not get in the way of clear-eyed discernment. The Devil in a spread should not be any more intimidating as an expression of Capricorn’s sternness than retrograde Saturn transiting one’s natal Capricorn Sun. It’s all a matter of context and perspective, and there is very little left to speculation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: As I approach the end of my re-reading of Paul Fenton-Smith’s Tarot Master-Class, I came across his view of the four types of professional tarot reader: the Mystic who endeavors to channel guidance from a spiritual source; the Nurturer who “just wants to help” and the Pattern-Reader who adopts a more deductive style when examining the cards in a spread, presuming that there is a message hidden in their seemingly-random arrangement. He also describes the Bluntly Direct reader (my re-framing of his words) who is intent on speaking “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” as conveyed by the cards regardless of how discouraging it might be; I won’t evaluate that option because I don’t think it’s a helpful (or healthy) posture to take in most situations.

My edition of the book is fairly old now (it has since been republished with a different title), so it predates the modern concept of “empowerment” that currently defines the goal of the Nurturer. I’ve written about that elsewhere so I won’t go over it again. My focus here will be on the Pattern-Reader as distinct from the Mystic. Fenton-Smith notes that Pattern-Readers are “concerned with (the seeker’s) life as a puzzle and the picture they can see forming.” I could not have come up with a better description for my own mode of interpretation, although I always give a nod to the mystical side of things because I believe every reading has an intuitive (and perhaps even a “psychic”) side to it.

Because they are freighted with so much symbolic meaning, the cards lend themselves quite well to a narrative rendering of their encoded content, all we have to do is chain them together with a bit of creative flair that tailors them to the occasion. On top of this framework we can apply a more impressionistic “wash” of intuitive insight. In my own practice (which Fenton-Smith also elucidates) I often bring storytelling tropes like metaphor and analogy into the mix to create a bridge of shared cultural, social, historical and anecdotal knowledge and experience between myself and my client. This will frequently break down any barriers to mutual understanding.

I have no problem with the spiritual aspirations of the mystical crowd, although I do think they could be a little more critical – even skeptical – of their sources. Where I draw the line is at the unstructured use of free-association from the images to come up with notions that are totally at odds with the traditional wisdom that provides the experiential basis for tarot divination. I suspect that it derives from an aversion to studying tarot books (or perhaps any scholarly books).

This is not reading the cards, it is coercing them into visual vignettes that impose their partisan outlook on the querent’s circumstances, often under the guise of tapping into a pipeline of universal intelligence. (I cringe every time I see the opening statement “My guides told me . . . “) In the past I’ve called it “subjective navel-gazing” that is filtered through a private view of reality, and I’ve had no reason to change my opinion.

By way of contrast, treating the cards in a spread as an interlocking puzzle of logical associations allows us to create a more objective picture of their significance that can be offered for the querent’s enlightenment. It’s far easier from an interpretive standpoint to have something right in front of us to point to as we make our observations than to build imaginative “castles in the air” from our more visionary excursions.

As I see it, this is the essence of “pattern-reading:” to draw a compelling portrait of the situation from the evidence at hand without having to stray too far into the beguiling realm of mystical “woo.” While I love making clever references to less-obvious but still inspired relationships between the cards, I won’t substitute ad-hoc “reaching” for a thorough-going exploration of their more literal import. As Monty Python’s Graham Chapman (playing a stuffy Shakespearean actor) once quipped in a sketch about his theatrical style: “The words are there already, we just have to get them in the right order.”

There is certainly more to tarot reading than rote memorization, but I hear him loud-and-clear: there is a profoundly articulate script in place and anything outside of it amounts to ad-libbing. Few diviners come close to the genius of Robin Williams in that regard, nor would I expect them to measure up to his standard. It’s not about the reader anyway, it’s about the querent and the cards, and advice for our clients comes most trenchantly from deciphering the pattern on the table, not from the nimble, freestyle speculation of an overactive imagination that can resemble entertainment more than wise counsel.

While I pride myself on being an effective storyteller, I harbor no pretensions about also being a sage with all the answers on the tip of my tongue. Like poet John Masefield in his vivid Sea-Fever, when navigating these waters “all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,” affording me a glimpse over the horizon from the “crow’s nest.” But a short stack of tarot cards arranged in a revealing array will do in a pinch.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The concept of facing, gaze or regard has a long history of use with the Tarot de Marseille, although fans of more modern decks tend to disregard it.

Here is a spread that applies the facing and orientation of one of the 16 court cards to choose which of four 3-card sets becomes the reading scenario. It's important to select a deck in which the court cards exhibit a distinct regard that doesn't look straight out of the scene.

The standard RWS works well because all of the courts except the King of Swords can be assigned a zone of awareness, and the outward-facing King's raised sword in his right hand shows that his attention lies in that direction. (All images are from the Albano-Waite Tarot, copyright of US Games Systems Inc, Stamford, CT.)

Begin by removing the sixteen court cards from a tarot deck and shuffle them in a way that introduces random reversals. When done, pull one of them and place it face-down in the middle of the table as the "pointer" card (aka "gazer").

Return the remaining court cards to the deck and shuffle it thoroughly while concentrating on the question or topic (reversals are optional at this point). Deal twelve of them face-down in any order around the "gazer" in the pattern shown below, being careful to get the alignment right. The direction of gaze will be determined when the "gazer" is turned face up.

Reveal the center card and follow the gaze of the figure in its upright or reversed orientation to select three cards in the subgroup defined by its facing. Read these cards in a clockwise direction as a three-card arc. (The numbers on the cards show the proper sequence.)

Here is an example reading to illustrate the technique. I asked where I should look for inspiration in a matter of interest to me.

The reading suggests that misplaced ardor (Page of Wands reversed) will run into a double dose of indecision (Lovers reversed and 2 of Swords). The offering hand of the Ace of Pentacles reminds me of the old schoolyard threat to just "take my ball and go home." With the elemental antagonism between it and the two adjacent Air cards, I should probably not have bothered asking.

Although I didn't do so for the example pull, another option would be to also look at the three cards directly opposite the focus of the gaze to consider what is not being seen in the situation that may be more important than what is visible. I never use the "shadow card" in my work, but this approach suggests the risk of being "blindsided" and may be a useful addition to the reading. There is no harm in being forewarned of the possibility.

The four "arms" of the cross typically flow from left-to-right and then top-to-bottom. As I learned it, Card #1 at the left is commonly seen as the "positive" aspects of the matter while Card #2 at the right shows more "negative" factors. Card #3 at the top offers advice for the querent and Card #4 at the bottom reveals the outcome. The fifth card in the center can either be drawn randomly as an indication of more general or longer-range consequences, or calculated as the "quintessence" of the other four by summing their face values and reducing the total to a number that will identify an associated trump card as the high-level summary of the forecast.

The concept of "positive" and "negative" interpretation has become something of a sticking point for modern readers who aim to provide constructive guidance for their sitters. I've already changed the "crossing" card in the Celtic Cross spread to convey "major motivators" influencing the querent's circumstances (either obstacles or opportunities, and sometimes both in a single card), so I decided to bring the same approach to the French Cross using the correlation between the two horizontal cards.

Consequently, I now consider the left-hand position to represent an opening the seeker can exploit in addressing the matter, while the right-hand position is focused more on challenges that can also offer a motivating "window of opportunity." This creates a "best-case scenario" that still acknowledges the work that must be done to integrate these options into a seamless whole.

The top card I interpret as showing how the differences between Cards #1 and #2 can be reconciled, and the bottom card as the results of that reconciliation, keeping in mind the range of experience depicted by all four cards. This model taps into the same inspiration that underlies my recent "functional dimension" paradigm in spread design: Cards #1 and #2 comprise a stage-setting phase that shows what is "in play" in the matter; Card #3 introduces a catalyst that impels the double-ended potential toward enactment; and Card #4 indicates zeroing in on the pivotal "target" that is acquired by this interactive thrust.

The fifth card I choose to calculate as a numerical essence, but on the site where I studied the spread the author pulled the card randomly and calculated a sixth card to be placed outside the pattern. Personally, I like to see the "quintessence" in the thick of things since that's where it originates as a numerical (and therefore philosophical and archetypal) extension. Since it represents a broad overview of the situation, I've just decided that I will treat it as signifying "external factors" influencing the subject of the reading.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In a previous essay I described topical readings aimed at exploring "department-of-life" conditions (romance, career, finances, health, education, etc.) as often involving a "functional" dimension that presents the seeker an opportunity to pursue; a situation to understand; an agenda to advance; a decision to make; a problem to solve; a crisis or conflict to manage; etc. I've been thinking about how spread design can best accommodate these factors.

I believe the five-card line is the most efficient layout from which to derive a suitably comprehensive answer in all of these scenarios. For this example I've assigned spread positions as follows:

Card #1: What is the present situation?
Card #2: Why am I confronting it at this time?
Card #3: How can I attempt to deal with it?
Card #4: How will it respond?
Card #5: What will come of it?

I've separated the progression into three phases: the "Discovery Phase" (Cards #1 and #2), the "Interactive Phase" (Cards #3 and #4) and the "Resolution Phase" (Card #5). In the classic "Five W's" approach to situational analysis, the first two positions satisfy the "What and Why" parameters while the third one takes a detour into "How." The aspects of "Who, Where and When" remain off the table unless the context of the question or subject specifically embraces them (which would require a different architecture). The last two positions can be characterized as "Response and Result," although if I were Elmer Fudd riffing on the "Five W's" (or my three-year-old grandson) I would say "Wesponse and Wesult," slyly recapturing two of the W's.

Here is what the proposed spread looks like:

Below is an example reading using the Albano-Waite Tarot (copyright of US Games Systems Inc, Stamford, CT).

The "functional dimension" I was considering for the pull was an agenda I've wanted to advance for some time. The advice of the reading is that I really shouldn't stick my neck out at present. There seems to have been a good reason for the complacency and inertia that have held me back to date, and trying to climb out of my cocoon and make a move now would elicit some stiff resistance, sending me right back where I started. The 4 of Cups reversed emulates the Hanged Man "on a lower arc," making it clear that I should just back away from the unpleasantness of the Tower and sit tight for the time being; it seems symbolically appropriate that the upside-down and obviously empty fourth cup is being offered from the "future" direction. This is not the first (or even the tenth) time I've received similar advice regarding this issue, which I've been revisiting off-and-on for years. The low profile I've maintained appears to be the most suitable posture under the circumstances, although I do feel a bit stymied.

It happens more often than seems reasonable, especially if we assume that our attempts at divination are guided toward the truth: the cards in a spread will fail to come together in any kind of coherent narrative and instead present what a boss of mine once called a "mish-mash" - a scramble of conflicting testimony that doesn't answer the question unless we really work at it. (OK, I know that's how we normally earn our fee, but hear me out.)

Fenton-Smith's opinion is that this degree of inconsistency means the question asked of the cards was not the correct one, so they delivered a meaningless response that didn't coalesce. (His thought is that there is more going on behind the scenes than is consciously brought to the session by the querent, it just doesn't make itself known.)

The prime offender in this regard is the "yes-or-no" inquiry when it is approached using more than one card. Although it is typical to treat the message in the "outcome" card as the answer, the rest of the cards may emphatically disagree with that verdict. Because they are contributors to the energy of the reading and may legitimately skew the perspective, I believe their favorable or unfavorable polarity should not be totally disregarded, which can leave the reader with a grab-bag of incompatible insights. I usually go with the majority decision if it seems conclusive, but there is a better way to handle it.

The question that should be asked is not "Will I or won't I . . . ?" but "What will happen if I . . . ?" When that information is in hand, a more sharply-focused "yes-or-no" followup question can be posed to explore how satisfactory the resulting situation is likely to be. For example, "Your efforts should earn you the desired promotion, but a second look at it suggests that it won't be an ideal fit." This necessitates a two-tiered analysis.

In practice I would probably pull a short addendum to the original spread (say, one-to-three cards depending on the depth of the initial forecast) to shed some light on "the rest of the story" that goes slightly farther into the future. This is a move I frequently make when the "end of the matter" card in a Celtic Cross reading is ambiguous; rather than taking Waite's advice to cast another complete spread with the outcome card as the new Significator, I just stretch the outlook a bit since nothing says ten cards is a "magic" number.

It's an accepted truism that the vaguer the question asked, the more off-target the prediction is going to be. I don't find that flaw to be common in my own practice because I require no advance prompting or "tip-off" for question-specific readings, which already start out unstructured by design and are built up from scratch, while for open-ended readings I request no prior knowledge beyond the general topic of interest (such as an unstated opportunity to consider; a situation to understand; a decision to make; or a problem to solve).

In all cases I cast a wide net and then "dial in" the details as the reading progresses. In this way a few twists-and-turns in the narrative can be accommodated before a conclusion is reached, and the digression will often provide a more compelling picture of the querent's circumstances. This is standard procedure with the Lenormand Grand Tableau, but there is nothing to equal it in the realm of tarot reading (although Dr. James Wanless comes close in some of his Voyager Tarot study material, and the 21-card Romany spread makes an admirable run at it).

In such instances the reading will be more about how to navigate the environment surrounding the matter than about the incremental gains or losses that might be incurred. I see my role as providing the information for my clients to make informed choices and I have no intention of passing myself off as a fount of oracular wisdom dispensing love and light (or "free passes" à la the Law of Attraction).

The less involved I am in setting the stage with the sitter's acknowledged aspirations and ambitions, the more their subconscious awareness of likely future circumstances will shine through when they handle the cards. I may present myself as a "facilitator," but I'm not the tooth fairy. You want it, I can point you at it, but you must still chase it down and earn it. (I can hear John Houseman saying, with unshakable conviction, "the old-fashioned way.")

AUTHOR'S NOTE: From the day I first encountered it in 1972, I've followed Eden Gray's suggestion that we can disregard asking sitters (those who "sit" for a tarot reading) to tell us their specific question or concern prior to divining for them. I tell them to silently concentrate on what they want to know while shuffling the cards and, if they eventually feel comfortable about opening up, we can discuss it during and after the reading. This often requires interactively "peeling back the layers" of the plot to get at what matters most to the individual.

Over the years my rationale has solidified into an understanding that the cards will "speak their piece" no matter how much or how little I know in advance, so all I have to do is "read 'em as they lay," and this approach also dispels any concerns about my preconceptions or subjective bias seeping into the narrative, which is one of the downsides of having had extensive experience with reading on similar topics in the past. The "multiple phases" of the title can occur under different scenarios (at least three, and there may be more I haven't experienced).

The first one (and the inspiration for this essay) involves the type of reading my clients want. If they are seeking an answer to a specific question, I will proceed as described above and begin my interpretation in a general way by explaining what each card means in a traditional sense, and then invite dialogue with the sitter about what my observations might mean within the context of their present circumstances. This usually leads me into further elaboration that will move in a less structured, more impressionistic direction. The reading develops from literal and analytical to mystical and intuitive as its boundaries expand.

If they have no particular question in mind, just a "life-area" of interest such as a broad focus on romantic or career opportunities (a fact that will usually emerge when I ask them if they have a definite question), I will have them concentrate on that objective and I'll steer the reading toward it, once again prompting for validation or repudiation as we work our way through the spread. In this case the story takes on a more fluid dimension from the very start since not all potential meanings will fit comfortably within the working model, and I will have to adapt as I go along.

Should the querent want only an open-ended "general life-reading" (as in "What does next month look like for me?"), I will instruct them that a minimum of concentration is needed during the shuffle but a more rigorous in-process analysis will be necessary to form a meaningful picture of future conditions. This scenario is the most work for the reader because it requires diligently "turning over rocks to see what crawls out from underneath" and the client may be hard-pressed to arrive at the "Aha!" moment when it all makes sense. I once characterized my technique half-humorously as resembling a buzzard circling an expiring roadkill, waiting for its cue to swoop in. This approach will usually benefit from a larger spread like the Celtic Cross.

Another major instance of "shifting gears" occurs when my initial insights fail to register with the sitter in a coherent way. I developed this method of inquiry when working with the court cards, but it is applicable to any card with which the individual can't immediately connect.

For example, a practical interpretation of the cards (as in "This is likely to happen and here's how you can handle it") may draw a blank from the sitter, who can find no common ground between my statements and the reality they're facing. When that happens I move on to a more psychological slant on the subject.

The second stage of this evolution examines the attitudes and behaviors the seeker should either adopt or avoid in addressing the issue. Comments of this type will often strike a chord where a more pragmatic foretelling finds no traction in the querent's estimation of the affair. If I still don't score a hit, I will venture on.

The third mode of adaptation involves a more impersonal, universal or spiritual translation of the influences presented by the cards. This is most often equated with external forces entering the matter that can neither be avoided nor fully deflected, so they must be "worked through." I don't usually get this far in my analysis because one of the previous versions will have taken hold with the sitter. When I do, the reading becomes more philosophical than actionable, and must be deciphered into language the individual can process in constructive ways.

The final occurrence of "shifting gears" is one that takes into account the "complexion" of the entire spread. A straightforward take on the cards interprets them individually, in series and in combination for the purpose of drawing up a narrative that outlines their singular and interactive nature. This is what the average person considers to be a "tarot reading au naturel," and most readers don't look past this level

But there is another important factor that is worth contemplating: that of an abundance or absence of various types of energy within the spread, some of which may be complementary while others will be working at cross-purposes. This can appear in the form of elemental, numerical, hierarchical and oppositional (upright or reversed; positive or negative) preponderance or deficiency, with the former usually being more evident in a reading.

Symbolically speaking, If I have a spread that is full of relatively low-key, aimless cards that seem to be going nowhere but most of which are associated with the element of Fire, they will at least have the honesty to feel uncomfortable about their anemic progress, while if they are all Water cards they may simply wallow in it.

A surplus of low-numbered cards could convey "all talk and no action" while a host of high-numbered cards may well "run out of gas" before the end. Lots of trump cards can indicate a number of competing high-level agendas; an overage of court cards could spell disharmony, disagreements and jockeying for position; too many pip cards (and too few of the rest) might incur lack of direction, ambition or motivation.

A shortage of any energy is self-explanatory. No trump cards in a reading suggests that a big-picture or long-range perspective is missing, although there may be little need for one in the matter at hand. An absence of court cards could signify loneliness but also freedom from interference. Few low-numbered pips implies being clueless about where to start, while a dearth of high-numbered pips hints at being unable to find the finish line. Insufficient active, positive and assertive cards (Fire, Air and odd-numbered pips) could impart neglect of commitments and obligations, and scant passive, negative and receptive cards (Water, Earth and even-numbered pips) could mean having a "tin ear" when it comes to appeals for sympathy.

It has been argued that this investigative routine is unnecessary when we can cut right to the chase by simply asking what the sitter wants out of the reading. It's a fair question, but my personal response is "Where's the fun in that?" There could be something else bothering the client that they may be loath to admit to a complete stranger, and my preference is to offer them initial anonymity in this regard. The reading will almost always coax it out of them in due time, so I exercise patience as we close in on their underlying reasons for consulting the cards. Furthermore, something legitimate may surface that completely surprises them, capping what I think of as a "mutual voyage of discovery." My goal is to deliver an experience that is both enlightening and enjoyable for both of us.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: When it comes to designing line spreads for tarot reading, I typically employ an even number of cards only in situations that require a choice between two options, or when invoking the four classical elements represented by the suits. One thing I learned from Lenormand reading is that an odd-numbered line will always have a “hinge card” or turning-point in the middle that serves as a catalyst pointing toward the outcome. Three-card and five-card lines both serve the purpose quite well.

I think of the five-card line in terms of a wave: the matter begins, surges, crests, subsides and ends. The “crest of the wave” is where it is most amenable to being ridden toward a self-directed solution. Reversed orientation or an inconclusive “hinge” card can flatten the curve and make the “turn-around” less dramatic.

Here is a new spread to illustrate my point, followed by an example reading. I’m also toying with the idea of inverting the “wedge” for matters that have been trending poorly and rename the positions “How It Forms; How It Falters; How It Troughs or “bottoms out;” How It Rebounds; How It Recovers.” (All images are from the Chrysalis Tarot, copyright of US Games Systems Inc, Stamford, CT.*)

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The question involves a situation that has been dormant for some time, and every so often I do another reading to see whether (and how) it might progress in the future. (Note that in this deck the suit of Scrolls equates to Swords, Stones to Pentacles, Mirrors to Cups and Spirals to Wands.)

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The reversed 8 of Scrolls suggests that communication on the matter has been at a standstill, due mainly to prevailing circumstances such as inertia and inconvenience, not reluctance. (The Thoth title for this card is “Interference,” but here that influence is oblique.)

The Acrobat (Page of Stones) implies “stepping out” in a purposeful way.

The Page of Scrolls expresses an openness to conversation. It may be time to broach the subject when the Page of Stones finally bestirs himself and shows up. These cards are elementally uncongenial, so there could be some miscommunication or misapprehension of intent with which to contend.

The 7 of Mirrors in this deck conveys “discernment, false reality and free will; the time draws neigh to weigh options and make your choice.” Hesitancy looms large in this scenario along with the risk of some deception.

As decisive Fire welcoming tentative Water into his lair, the King of Spirals is a boon companion who “turns positive intentions into reality” He is well-suited to cut through the confusion and indecision of the 7 of Mirrors with a steady (if slightly heavy) hand.

Because there is no “flattening” effect here except for the neutral beginning and the slightly off-putting 7 of Mirrors, the conclusion I reached about this reading is that “opportunity knocks” but there is uncertainty that must be overcome without exerting too much force.

*Note that, although it is presented as “tarot,” the Chrysalis reads more like an oracle deck (quite successfully, I might add), so the card titles and the descriptive text from its LWB (“little white book”) don’t align closely with tradition.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This spread adopts my current view that the Major Arcana in a reading seldom show significant events in their own right, but rather overarching themes and environmental backdrops for the mundane conditions reflected in the court and pip cards. (During more than 50 years of practice I've encountered very few instances where major changes occurred with trump cards.) I normally resist psychological profiling or mind-reading with the tarot, but this one seems to hold promise. (All images are from the Albano-Waite Tarot, copyright of US Games Systems Inc, Stamford, CT.)

To begin, concentrate on the "big picture" aspects of the situation while shuffling a tarot deck in a way that allows for reversals, then deal cards into a pile until you come up with a trump card. Place this card face-up in the first position (Mental Input/Response) of the "Trumps" row.

Keep dealing into the pile until you obtain three more trumps and lay them face-up from left-to-right into the top row accordingly.

Reassemble the remaining cards and shuffle them while concentrating on interactive situational aspects of the matter, then pull cards until a court card appears; place it face-up into the first position of the second row from the top and deal more cards until you receive three additional court cards to populate the rest of that row in the same manner. These cards will suggest "terms of engagement" for the querent's dealings.

Reassemble the deck as before and shuffle it again while concentrating on advice that might be offered to the querent, whether to act or avoid acting; deal them into a pile until a pip card comes up, and place it face-up in the first position of the third row from the top. Continue dealing until that row has been fully populated with pip cards.

Finally, calculate a "numerical essence" card (always a trump card) for each of the four columns by summing the face value of the three cards above and reducing the total to a number that falls within the zero-to-21 range. (This number will identify the trump card that will populate the bottom position for each column.) The mathematical reduction can be made by "Theosophical addition" (adding together the digits of a complex number as many times as necessary to arrive at a value within the range), or by "casting out nines" (subtracting increments of nine) for the same purpose.

For those who are familiar with the "quintessence" calculation of the French Cross spread, I've made a few changes. First, in order to ensure that I can obtain the Fool as zero without resorting to "casting out nines," I will subtract the face value of any reversed cards from the total (which can also give me a reversed "essence" card). Secondly, I consider the unnumbered court cards to carry the values of 11 through 14 since I believe all cards on the table should be included in the calculation.

As you finish each calculation, place the derived trump card in the applicable column. (If that card has already appeared in the reading, take another specimen from a second deck as I did below).

Refer to the "Upright" or "Reversed" notation in the left margin and read each position according to the nature and the orientation of the card placed there.

To demonstrate its use, here is a hypothetical example reading about a married man who has designs on another woman and wants to know about his chances. I've seen enough of this sort of question in the online tarot community to believe that this spread will be useful for many querents.

The Devil in the "Mental Input/Response" position of the "Trumps" row points out that he should re-examine his motives, which appear to be unseemly.

Justice reversed in the "Emotional Input/Response" position makes me think he is nervous about being "called out" for his indiscreet intentions.

Death in the "Physical Input/Response" position practically shouts "Be careful what you wish for." One false step could be irreversible.

The Star reversed in the "Spiritual Input/Response" position reiterates that his desires in the matter are not above reproach.

The Queen of Pentacles in the "Mental Input/Response" position of the court-card row suggests that he will receive no encouragement from the target of his affection, who will remain aloof.

The reversed Page of Swords in the "Emotional Input/Response" position conveys his impatience about being put off. He wants an answer right now, and this card could also represent a clandestine go-between or "agent" in the situation, or possibly a younger person - an innocent pawn between the Queen of Pentacles and the Queen of Swords - who could be emotionally damaged by his actions.

The Knight of Pentacles in the "Physical Input/Response" position could mean that he will try to appeal to the Queen of Pentacles' baser instincts, perhaps in his own mind "meeting her on her on her own turf."

The Queen of Swords in the "Spiritual Input/Response" position reveals that he probably won't get away with it from a karmic standpoint. Justice's displeasure returns with a vengeance in this lieutenant, who has her "head on straight and her feet on the ground." As far as assistance, she will "put him on the straight-and-narrow" in a moral sense. (Maybe his wife will catch wind of what he's up to.)

The 5 of Wands in the "Mental Input/Response" position of the "Advice," or "pip card," row is goading him to be bold and, as the saying goes, "let the Devil take the hindmost" (a particularly appropriate aphorism here). But there is no guarantee that he will succeed.

The reversed 2 of Cups in the "Emotional Input/Response" position is putting on its best Tony Soprano accent and saying "Fuhgeddaboudit, ain't gonna happen." In other words, he wasted his enthusiasm.

The reversed 10 of Swords in the "Physical Input/Response" position can only mean many sleepless nights, possibly causing health issues.

The 4 of Wands in the "Spiritual Input/Response" position would probably have had A.E. Waite telling him to "take a vacation in the country." In more realistic terms, he needs to recognize that all of the above is for his own good.

The Chariot as "essence"card for the "Mental Input/Response column shows that he will move on in a positive frame of mind.

The reversed Lovers as the "essence" card for the "Emotional Input/Response" column is plainly saying that any opportunity he may have had is now beyond his reach, so he might as well give up. Any decision he makes to do otherwise would probably be a bad one.

The reversed Devil as the "essence" card for the "Physical Input/Response" column seems to be expressing his only regrets about not hooking up. I'm thinking "the Devil takes a fall."

Strength as the "essence" card for the "Spiritual Input/Response" column is an irrepressible indication that he is most likely going to try his luck elsewhere. Some people never learn . . . .

To summarize, the first column indicates that he will "have his work cut out for him;" the second column that he will wind up emotionally dissatisfied if he proceeds; the third column that he will reap only bitterness and regret; and the fourth column that he needs to find another outlet for his aspirations

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A single run of cards can be silent, inconclusive or even contradictory in its testimony when the querent is facing a "multiple-choice" dilemma within a decision-making scenario. This is where having two or more chains of cards to analyze as a group comes into its own. Each option offers a separate narrative regarding the likelihood of success, effectively creating a comparative multi-reading array. I recommend using a different deck for each chain so all of the cards have an equal chance of appearing in each one. Any number of options can be explored in this way, and reversals can be applied to convey resistance to advancement of the matter at any juncture. Judgment may still be required to single out the "winning combination."

The top row provides an intuitive hunch (or at best a subconscious "educated guess") regarding what each path offers in the way of opportunity. (The querent may have already researched this, so it could be more than an assumption.)

The second row shows what each one looks like "coming out of the gate."

The third row is the first half of a "cost/benefit analysis," suggesting what could gained in each instance.

The fourth row indicates the loss that might be incurred by following each of the proposed paths.

The fifth row gives the outcome in the form of what each choice will deliver in terms of satisfaction.

Here is a three-chain example reading to demonstrate its use, with three possible paths and three alternate outcomes covered by the forecast. The description of each option is shown in the graphic. I happen to have three copies of the pocket-sized Retro-Thoth Tarot, which is an advantage when several chains must be populated. (I just have to get them all back in the right boxes when done, something that is never guaranteed.)

Reversals hold sway throughout much of this reading, and the numerous court cards offer only one exemplar of maturity, the Queen of Wands, although its reversal spoils the impression of dignity. All four Princesses appear (one twice) and one of the Princes, so youthful enthusiasm permeates the last half of the narrative and attempts to beat back the abundant evidence of discord shown by the nine reversed cards.

Option #1 suggests that if I move too rapidly, I will be on my own and may be sticking my neck out unnecessarily. The subject will dig its heels in and resist furtherance. Gains will be scant due to impracticality, and I may lose respect if I attempt to push my agenda through prematurely. But in the end the opportunity will slip away. The obstinacy of Earth dominates here.

Option #2 shows my ego taking a major hit due to even more vigorous resistance that has had time to find its voice. Gains are again slim. this time because of waiting too long and allowing the harvest to spoil. Bitterness can be transcended by taking a stoic view of the matter, but it won't taste any better as a result. Fire and Air are prominent, providing negligible "staying power."

Option #3 implies "going nowhere fast," which is the gist of this path. A roll-back of optimism is indicated, but renewed encouragement may be forthcoming from the object of my attention. In the long run, it may be possible to leave the threat of defeat behind and receive gracious acceptance. The elements are scattered, with only the Fire of the Princess of Wands holding a slight edge, and that's not much to count on.

On balance, it looks like the "Do nothing" option will have the most favorable consequences, but it will take some time to get there. "Wait and see" comes in second, and there is nothing to be gained by being too precipitous under Option #1.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There, I've said it again: I'm hooked on creating and using positional tarot spreads. Of course, those who believe tarot reading should be entirely open-ended and unstructured will never agree with me. Intuitive interpretation won't tolerate many strictures, but in my opinion it also doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in the dependability of its vision. It's entirely too subjective to be trusted implicitly, so I don't buy into the practice as my go-to method of divination and use it only as an adjunct to a more disciplined approach. (Warning: "deep thought" ahead!)

A tarot spread turns random inputs into measurable outputs. It resembles a variable-speed gearbox in that its ratios are fixed but can be "stepped" up or down within reason, while everything that revolves within it is spinning at different velocities, and the torque it produces will vary within a defined range depending on the demands placed on it. (In tarot-reading terms, that end-product would be a function of the context.) The pattern provides internal organization and a discernible sphere of operation so the cards pulled make sense within a concise and credible matrix of meaning. (I warned you!)

In less fanciful language, it brings order to chaos. Well-crafted spread positions ensure that the narrative stays on track from beginning to end while still allowing enough "breathing room" for intuition to leave its mark. It reminds me of the creative writer's "toolbox" with its words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs all tied together with grammar and syntax (unless you're the next James Joyce). There is an inherent logic to a good spread that is transparent in use, identical to the way that accomplished writing seems effortless.
 

Personally, I wouldn't want to make life-altering decisions based strictly on the fables clever diviners (myself included) pull out of their "nether regions" unless the content is poured into a vessel that lends it definition and a frame of reference beyond just trying to narrowly answer the question. (No "bathroom humor" here, please! I do know where stuff from the "nether regions" normally winds up.)

Arriving at a serviceable reckoning of potential events and circumstances is obviously the goal but, as I see it, gaining a broader understanding of the reasons behind the projection is just as important as the single-pointed conclusion. If I'm going to accept its veracity, I expect to see a coherent "story" leading up to the denouement, and this is where competent spread design shines.

I view each spread position as a "signpost" on a roadmap pointing the way to the next milestone on the seeker's journey. This is particularly true of spreads like the Celtic Cross that so many people "love to hate," but it is a perfect example of form and function dovetailing in a way that leaves little to the imagination. (For the record, Waite's original version is inherently flawed, so I've adapted Eden Gray's more compelling design for my own use.)

Psychic readers will "cry foul" here because this is precisely what they are trying to avoid, but my suspicion is that too few of them know what they're dealing with when they throw their mind wide-open to the influence of spiritual entities that betray uncertain intent and temperament. Due to this vulnerability, I find the whole "spirit guide" premise more than a little fatuous because it encourages an irrational psychological reliance on unvetted subliminal impressions.

Like a skeptical "Mr. Rogers," we might well ask "Can you say gullible?" (In its defense, Tarot de Marseille author Enrique Enriquez did acknowledge that reading the tarot is inherently an "irrational act.") When we are trying to decipher the cards in a reading, this kind of intuitive crutch can steer us far wide of the destination that would have been well within reach if we had stayed on or near the path offered by a formal spread.

As professional readers we must ask ourselves whether our sole objective is to appease our mystical preferences or whether we aim to provide substantive guidance that our clients can bank on. I recognize that the two aren't mutually exclusive, but they can be miles apart in practical value and shouldn't be confused as the same thing.

It begs the question "Who's driving the boat, the reader or the sitter?" I submit that it's the querent's reading, not mine, and my only role is to make the cards they choose intelligible, not spoon-feed them every last scrap of innuendo I can squeeze out of my fevered brain.* An effective spread will furnish an economical framework on which we can both hang our insights and then sort them out together. Very little time is wasted in trying to puzzle out vague hints.

*As always, I must add a caveat here that my observations apply only to face-to-face contact with my clients. Remote readings by email, text, voice, video, etc. where the sitter has no direct interaction with the cards is another long-running target of my skepticism, and the subject of numerous posts that I won't recap here.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: An author I’m presently re-reading holds the opinion that sticking with one or two definitions for a tarot card is “lazy” when a wide range of meanings is possible in any situation, and it can result in what he describes as “under-interpretation” that can fail to identify important issues. Having spent a good deal of time learning the Lenormand system over the last few years, I have a different perspective on that score. Lenormand thrives on a narrow range of ideas that are then merged into combinations, and tarot readers could learn much from adopting that approach.

For the tarot novice, picking up a small number of keywords for a card and building on that vocabulary over time is an ideal way to acquire skill with interpretation; I think of it as “training wheels.” Even now, after 50+ years of reading the cards, I have a fairly small inventory of descriptive “triggers” or “memory-joggers” that will kick in immediately upon recognizing a card when it pops up in a spread. This prevents me from starting out completely tongue-tied when the card doesn’t instantly mesh with the overall pattern. I may not voice this initial impression because it could seem that I’m underestimating the scope of the matter, but it is my “safety net” going into any reading.

I have little to fear from harmful “under-interpretation” because the dialogue with my sitter will flesh out the narrative as necessary, so there is no need to unilaterally drive home my insights with a swarm of words. A slight nudge here or there will get them talking, which makes my job easier. I start the ball rolling and then exit “monologue mode” as soon as I can and open up the floor to “mutual discovery.” This is one of the joys of face-to-face divination.

However, the threat of over-analyzing in the interest of ever-greater comprehension is a different concern. Having too many competing definitions crowding our mind and hijacking our observations can promote what I call “throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.” This extravagance can scramble our output to the point of client befuddlement (“Oh, no, he’s gone to plaid!”), and I would rather err on the side of economy than indulge in overstatement. At some point a rambling presentation will begin wandering all over the map and never come to a concise conclusion. The risk is even greater with online reading because we have plenty of time to succumb to “diarrhea of the keyboard.”

Forbearance is a virtue that is readily mastered when reading “on-the-clock” in public settings because a 15-or-20-minute session doesn’t allow for much elaboration. Having achieved it, I now bring the same level of concise clarity to my more expansive spreads like the Celtic Cross. Most clients don’t want their life-story parroted back at them; they already know who they are and where they’ve been, they’re just after the “lowdown” on upcoming events and circumstances. While it can be tempting to show off our wisdom and erudition, that’s not why I read the cards professionally and I don’t feel compelled to embroider every point I make unless a curious querent coaxes more detail out of me. Then all bets are off.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In The Book of Thoth, Aleister Crowley discussed metaphysical syncretism as it applied to spiritual beliefs and practices across a wide range of ancient cultures, drawing parallels between them when it struck him as significant. At a more humble level, I employ syncretism ("the merging or assimilation of several originally discrete traditions") in the development of tarot spreads that use more than one divinatory method to arrive at an answer: cards and dice; cards and dominoes; cards and coin-flips; cards and board-game spinners; etc. The secondary technique is usually brought to bear on decisions that must be made between two or more cards, paths or outcomes.

I've posted a number of essays on the subject in the past. Here is another spread that enlists a board-game spinner in choosing the cards for a reading.

Begin by shuffling a full tarot deck (don't worry about concentration or reversed orientation at this point), then deal all 78 cards into six piles of 13 around a board-game spinner in a way that will give all of the groups an equal chance of being singled out by the spin. (A little overlap will prevent "gappers.") If it's easier, you can deal the cards into a row of six sub-packs and place them in the layout when done; the order of placement doesn't matter since "the spin is the thing."

While concentrating on the question or topic, give the pointer a brisk spin. When it stops on one of the piles, pick up those cards and shuffle them (continuing to concentrate and allowing for reversals if you like), then draw one card to represent the first card in a line spread. (This approach is suitable for spreads of any length; just keep spinning until you have all the cards you need.)

Make note of this card so you don't lose track of the order, then continue concentrating, spinning, shuffling and pulling until your spread is fully populated. If you land on the same pile in any subsequent spin, remove the card previously pulled, reshuffle the pack, and pull another card from it. Unless you have a really large spread, you won't run out of cards in any one pile by doing this.

Here is the final spread. (I didn't get any reversals in this one.) For some strange reason, I can hear The Beatles singing "We Can Work It Out." Although I didn't have a specific question in mind for this example, it does suggest an opportunity to make headway after a slow start. That Queen of Wands seems "ready for anything" and the resources appear to be available, but the Princess of Swords is elementally hostile to the 3 of Disks and may be hard to motivate. She has the look of a "Quality Control inspector" to me, but then I should know since I used to be one a long time ago.

Me the Inquisitor: “How does tarot work?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “It’s a function of the subconscious mind that taps into a higher source of knowledge. Either that or it follows the SWAG (scientific wild-ass guess) principle.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “Who cares, it ‘just works.’ But if you must know, I have a hotline to the Divine, or maybe just to the Astral Plane or my own fertile imagination.”

Me the Inquisitor: “What do the cards have to do with it?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “They act as a medium that engages and is imprinted with the seeker’s subliminal awareness via concentration on the question or topic of interest while shuffling.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “They look purty!”

Me the Inquisitor: “Must the reader know the querent’s specific question before the reading begins?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Not in face-to-face settings, where the initial communion is between the sitter and the cards, not between the cards and the reader. In the interest of privacy and belaying the reader’s preconceptions, it’s best not to know too much until the sitter chooses to reveal it. The cards will ‘speak their piece’ anyway, and the diviner just ‘reads ’em as they lay.’ In remote readings, the seeker’s life-area of interest should be known as a minimum.
Me the Hedge-Mystic: It doesn’t matter under any circumstances. The mystic receives inspiration via spiritual channels and the cards are mainly “props,” vessels that capture the received wisdom for presentation to the querent.

Me the Inquisitor: “Is intuition the only ‘right’ way to read the cards?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Perhaps for self-analysis. For divination I find that it’s secondary to a more analytical approach based on knowledge and experience, to which it can add visionary inflection, often via the creative use of metaphor and analogy.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “Zzzzzzzz”

Me the Inquisitor: “Can anyone really learn to read the cards in just 10 minutes?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Are you nuts?”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “What’s to learn?”

Me the Inquisitor: “What are the most important inputs to effective storytelling?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Inspiration, imagination and ingenuity in support of extraordinary insight. Oh, and a good vocabulary.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “Huh? Whazzat? I simply answer questions based on my intuitive hunches. I play it safe by saying ‘Nothing is carved in stone.’ I can soft-peddle ‘I don’t know’ with as much finesse as the best of them. I wouldn't know a 'narrative' if it walked up and bit me.”

Me the Inquisitor: “What is the “theater of tarot?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Anything the diviner does (usually of a ‘mystical’ nature) that is not directly related to explaining the cards. In short, various manifestations of ‘woo’ that make the reader feel good, none of which is crucial for success: crystals, candles and incense; prayers and invocations; ‘knocking’ on the deck; bathing the cards in moonlight; cutting with your left hand to the left, et al.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: “Tarot-reading is a performance art, so it’s all dramatic theater.”

Me the Inquisitor: “Should a tarot reader always tell the truth exactly as the cards present it?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Only to the extent that the unvarnished truth is helpful and not harmful. There are ways to deliver it without beating the seeker over the head with its perceived inevitability. After all, I’m not a sadist.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: <looking bored> “Ommmmm.”

Me the Inquisitor: “Can the tarot answer ‘yes-or-no’ questions?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “Of course, tarot can answer any question as long as it is phrased properly.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: <superstitiously making a “warding” gesture> “Get thee behind me . . . “

Me the Inquisitor: “Can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”
Me the Mad Scientist: “It doesn’t work that way. Go see a psychic for that.”
Me the Hedge-Mystic: ” . . . you think that I’m a fraud?”

Me the Curmudgeon: <doffing the inquisitor’s robe> “I didn’t say that, you did! But now that you mention it . . . .”

My current approach to the trump cards is to treat them as overarching themes or environmental backdrops for the events and circumstances shown by the "pip" and court cards. Since every day will exhibit some degree of thematic distinction (even if it's only in the prevailing weather), I can see opening the reading with a trump-card to set the "atmospheric tone," followed by a court card as the "agent of manifestation" for its grounding in the querent's affairs and a pip card as the pragmatic "real-time" outcome. (Note that if you don't use reversals you can ignore that guidance below, and if you're a "trumps-only" reader this technique won't suit you.)

Begin by separating a tarot deck into three sub-packs: trumps. courts and pips.

Shuffle the trump cards while concentrating on the general outlook for the day ahead (or other period of interest). Pull one card from the pack and place it to the left on the reading surface. (Reversal may be used to indicate an unstable climate that will require a flexible response.)

Shuffle the court cards while concentrating on the "agency" by which this theme may be "brought down to earth;" draw one card and place it to the right of the trump card. This card can represent either another person with whom the querent is (or might become) involved during the period, or a psychological state-of-mind that will persist throughout the duration of the forecast. (Reversal can be applied to indicate the possibility of unplanned developments, whether in terms of human interaction or mental perspective.)

Finally, shuffle the pip cards while concentrating on the type of situational change that can be anticipated to occur as a result of the first two cards; pull a card and place it to the right of the court card. (Reversal could imply divergent, indirect or delayed consequences of the kind indicated by the card.)

Read this line from left to right as you would any three-card draw, but with an eye toward the "trickle-down" influence of the general atmosphere on specific conditions by way of the intermediary "agent."

Here is a "test" reading for this spread. (Images are from the Fournier Tarot de Marseille, copyright of Naipes Heraclio Fournier, Vitoria, Spain.)

Sun reversed: The theme for the period is one of maturing opportunity that is not yet ripe. We might say it's "hanging fire."

Valet d'Epee: I often interpret this card as impatiently waiting for an answer, so here it suggests "Get on with it, I haven't got all day." But its active engagement is stymied by the Sun's reversal, and it is obvious from the Valet's gaze and pensive expression that he can see this quite plainly.

5 of Cups: This card conveys being "duty-bound" and having to forego pleasure for the time being.

The general impression I get from this reading is "Today is not the day. Curb your frustration and wait a little longer for that opportunity to ripen. Pushing the issue prematurely will get you nowhere." I could also read it as a weather forecast: "Bright sunshine gives way to scattered clouds (Sun reversed); a light breeze (Valet d' Epee) brings in unpleasant rainfall later (5 of Cups)."

In a more literal sense, these cards may  only be showing that I baby-sit my toddler grandson (and sometimes an older sibling) every Thursday, and all that implies in terms of juvenile expectations and demands. (Not that it isn't both an opportunity and a pleasure, of course.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: "You're missing half the fun" is one of my favorite rebuttals for those who avoid reading reversals because they find the practice unnecessary, inconvenient or confusing. (My title alludes to the old Doublemint gum commercial.) But, unless we deliberately ignore or suppress them as some do, they are going to dog us whenever we read the cards so we must make peace with them.

When the 78 tarot cards and their millions of possible combinations in a typical spread are subjected to reversal during the shuffle, the potential scope of their interpretation expands enormously. Thinking about this fact too deeply can be paralyzing, so it's best to remember that in any reading it will "all come out in the wash." Taking a rational approach to the subject will preclude getting too worked up over it.

I don't believe that a reversed card is inherently more negative than its upright expression, nor is it more positive when the card itself is difficult, just "different" in its complexion; its core meaning doesn't change significantly, only its mode of delivery and the way it is received and processed by the querent. Navigating this situation with aplomb is where the "fun" comes in.

After reading reversals for decades, I finally came to the conclusion that the swapped orientation seldom hijacks the card's message but rather reflects a shift in the seeker's practical or psychological posture toward it, which can run the gamut from denial to acceptance of its relevance. This epiphany focuses on the sitter's subjective experience of the energy, not on any change in its implicit quality, and I love the wealth of nuance it offers to the divination since it can permit grooming the advice to be more thoughtful and measured.

For an auspicious card, it can show an opportunity to redirect one's efforts in even more beneficial ways that may otherwise have been overlooked. For a discouraging card, I think of it as "taking a deep breath and two steps back" from the challenging aspects of its upright orientation, giving the querent a chance to look at them from a more detached perspective. (My euphemism for this phenomenon is "having a Hanged-Man moment.") This in turn can reveal an alternate path to success in dealing with the implied difficulty. In either case the conventional approach may have to be adjusted or refined.

This often requires the diviner to be more sophisticated in judging the flow of potential events and circumstances. The customary portent loses traction in these scenarios and the uncommon outlook gains purchase. In a face-to-face reading I will often turn a reversed card upright, explain what it normally means, and then talk about how reversal might play out in a less transparent fashion, all for the purpose of preparing the querent to handle its oblique impact in the most effective manner. This will almost always be more profound than plainspoken, so the reader's task is to ensure that it doesn't come across as convoluted. There is no value in describing subtleties if they are going to be inscrutable to the sitter, or in giving advice that is likely to be mystifying rather than motivating.

The road to the destination may be packed with intriguing byways and compelling detours suggested by reversal that ultimately lead to the same place, and as the saying goes, for both the reader and the querent "Getting there is half the fun." But for those who are still unconvinced, I will simply quote "President Skroob" (Mel Brooks) to the Doublemint Twins, Marlene and Charlene, in Spaceballs: "Whatever. Chew your gum."

Here is a spread that takes it one small step further and identifies "zones of vulnerability" that might warrant increased awareness from a maintenance standpoint if the reading flags them. No specific advice is offered about what to expect, nor should it be. The idea is to promote prudent attention to high-risk areas. It also includes an indication of "No Immediate Concerns" (Card #12) if that happens to be the outlook, and four broad elemental wellness categories (Overall Energy Level, Cognitive Well-being, Emotional Well-being and Sensory Well-being). I would put it to the querent as "Your subconscious awareness of your personal well-being is pointing toward this area of potential interest."

To begin, choose a Significator card to represent the querent and leave it in the deck. Shuffle (or have the seeker shuffle) the cards and deal them face-up into the twelve positions in the order shown, continuing until the Significator turns up in one of the "zones." (Reversals are not used.) Any cards that appear with it in that location can be read as background information if so desired as long as no attempt is made to be too detailed; this is not a prognosis. (The narrative could be as innocuous as "get more exercise and watch your diet.") If the querent has reason to believe there is more to it, they should be urged to take it up with a health-care professional.

I did a test reading for myself, and the Significator popped up in the "Overall Energy Level" vulnerability area (Card #8), telling me I should get more rest and not run myself ragged. I didn't really want to hear it, but it's true.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This spread tackles the premise that many decisions in life present a three-fold situational tableau: the transcendent level of higher wisdom at which the conscience operates; the conscious realm of thought where we try to apply logic (and often rationalization) to the matter; and the subconscious domain of purely emotional engagement. These dimensions are usually interleaved within the scenario, although one will eventually take precedence over the others and lead to making a choice in the situation.

With this spread the tiered structure is the dominant feature; while the columns and diagonals can be read separately, they are not as definitive as the rows since the last card of each horizontal path provides a composite summary of its testimony, showing in a single trump which dimension offers the most compelling promise of effective decision-making. Until the comparison at the end, cutting across tiers will only muddy the water. (All images are from the Waite-Smith Centennial Edition, copyright of US Games Systems, Stamford, CT.)

Here is an example reading that demonstrates how I would approach it. The question involves an emotional matter that could have serious ramifications. (Note that in the "essence" calculation I always treat the court cards as 11 [Page] through 14 [King] even though they aren't formally numbered. It doesn't matter how you do it as long as you're consistent.)

The verdict of "higher wisdom" is that, while there is the appearance of pleasant conditions in the making (6 of Cups), chances for success are slim (5 of Swords), although "standing fast" (Ace of Wands) may be a reasonable stance for the immediate future. The "numerical essence" card, the Hanged Man (6+5+1=12), is advising the need for patience, and for "letting it ride" for the time being. Conscience abides.

Thoughts on the matter are that, while there seems to be an opportunity for fulfilling accord (Queen of Cups), this will encounter a good deal of strife (5 of Wands), placing everything "on hold" (Hanged Man). However, the Empress (13+5+12=30; 3+0=3) as the upshot of the conscious deliberation is that satisfaction will eventually come of it.

The subconscious perspective looks rosy from an emotional and physical connection standpoint (2 of Cups; Page of Pentacles; Empress) until the end, when it all blows up (Tower, 2+11+3=16).

The conclusion I've drawn from all of this is that "patience is a virtue" and there is nothing to be gained by pushing the issue any time soon. With the Empress, it will mature in its own time, although prospects for emotional rapport may take longer to recover from the damage that letting it get out-of-hand prematurely would produce.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was conversing with someone online who is apparently dealing with an "earthbound spirit" in the house, one that is feeling a bit annoyed about being "stuck" although to date there have been no outward signs of this, just a general atmosphere of psychic malaise. My suggestion was that perhaps some kind of "releasing" (or even "banishing") ritual is in order. I fully expect to be asked for recommendations, so I thought I would organize my thoughts in this post.

As I understand it, "releasing" a troubled spirit to pass on involves gentle persuasion (not coaxing or wheedling, but "permission") from a sympathetic standpoint that is aimed at easing the transition. Any distress involved (and there is likely to be some) should be soothed in as comforting a way as possible, considering that the "victim" of the visitation almost certainly shares that state of "high anxiety." Having never done it, I know of no formal technique to go about it other than in a civil "conversational" way that acknowledges and engages with the spirit in a kindly manner.

Banishing is a ruder practice since we are often confronting a belligerent (or at least uncooperative) entity, and have to be more assertive. A straightforward approach is presented by the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (LBRP), which can be found in books and doesn't require a ton of "occult horsepower" to attempt, just a bit of knowledge combined with sincerity, dignity and firmness. (Another less-demanding way to sever an unwanted connection is "candle magic," but that is a different topic that I covered in a previous post.)

I haven't done one in years, but my recollection is that the LBRP "operator" creates a physical talisman and "charges" it with the adjuration (an appeal that can be mentally formulated or as simple as writing the petition on a piece of paper while in a properly reverential frame-of-mind), then "shows" it to the four quarters of the area to be cleared while orally invoking ("vibrating") the god-name for each direction and for the overall operation, which results in empowering the operator to enlist the energies thus summoned for the purpose of the transaction.

This is aimed at energizing the volume of space with the operator's magical Will, from the center of which he or she can, under the authority bestowed, sternly order the presence to depart and not return. This might have to be done for each room in the house, working from the inner rooms to the outer walls; I've also read that opening the exterior windows and doors while banishing will symbolically let the pent-up aura of unpleasantness out, although I've never been in that situation myself.

Of course, it's always possible to just live with the inconvenience and hope that the spirit will find peace sooner rather than later, but the risk is that the intrusions will become more unnerving and ultimately demand the intervention of a professional exorcist. Given the uncertain pedigree of many such practitioners, I suggest that it's better not to let the problem get that far.

Modern interpretation has added layer-upon-layer of deflection to that “avoidance” tactic with the same goal in mind (suppressing or obfuscating the obvious): “Oh, it just means major transformation; its simply an ending; it signifies something outworn that we have to let go.” Bleh! We’re getting into “lipstick on a pig” territory here. Author Andy Boroveshengra, back on the old Aeclectic Tarot forum, once quipped wryly that “There is nothing more transforming than rotting in the ground.”

I recently came across the notion, apparently borrowed from playing-card divination (where the Ace of Spades and the 7 of Spades can be a fatal combination), that the Death card will only mean physical demise if it is accompanied in a reading by three or more of several other cards: first-and-foremost, Judgement; the World; the Tower; the 10 of Swords; the 6 of Swords (huh?); the 4 of Swords; the 3 of Swords and “the blank card” (for those who use it). With this formidable hurdle to overcome, the assumed destination will almost never be reached and we can continue to look the other way. I like to quote the old Maine wags who advised tourists “You can’t get there from here.”

In my own practice I stay with the presumption of “an ending,” usually of the sobering variety unless it delivers relief. This leaves the forecast intentionally equivocal, thus supporting any kind of terminal event — big or small — that will be experienced as stressful in most cases. It is, after all, the “Grim Reaper,” although I don’t think it must be accompanied by a retinue of henchmen in order to deliver its ultimatum.

Followed by the Chariot, it could mean “moving on” from an untenable situation; by the Wheel of Fortune, it might be seen as “turning the corner” in a more fulfilling direction; by the Tower as “going from the frying pan into the fire” (I’ll leave the vision of “purifying flames” to the philosophers); by the Hermit as perhaps winding up incarcerated (yikes!); by the Fool as “getting caught with your pants down.”

The card preceding it could indicate what is being “cut off at the knees,” similar to the meaning of the Coffin card in Lenormand reading. There are all kinds of clever twists that can be put on it without attempting to sanitize its import as modern readers are inclined to do.

I’ve written a number of essays on Death (one is shown below) that covered the subject in more depth (or would that be “more death?”). The example post proposed that “Affirmation hits a brick wall (or perhaps ‘goes over a cliff’ is a better analogy) when it encounters the finality inherent in this card.” In the recent “non-esoteric” rewrite of my Tarot de Marseille trump-card meanings, I made the same point by defining it as “Inevitability and finality; the end awaits.”

I see it not as fatalism, nihilism or cynicism, but rather stark realism. Change in life is a given; if it were not there would be no reason to perform divination to chart its course. Every card partakes of it to a greater or lesser extent, prompting MacGregor Mathers to coin the phrase “for good or ill.” With the Wheel of Fortune (the other “poster child for change”) there is an opportunity to gain traction in our affairs (Jupiter looms large) while with Death there is a greater likelihood of losing it. Omar Khayyam is my favorite champion of this philosophical premise (regardless of what we may think of his “moving finger” or his obsession with wine).

Death, Be Not Loud

It is generally assumed that the Sun is an entirely favorable card that bodes no evil; even when reversed it suggests a “passing cloud” rather than a gloomy long-range forecast. But there is another way to look at it.

I recently performed a professional reading for a client who was facing a bureaucratic gauntlet of reviews and approvals and wanted to know how it would fare. The upright Sun was the outcome card, suggesting that it would all work out for the best in the end. When it didn’t, at least in the short term (there may be a “Plan B” in the offing), I did a postmortem on the reading to see what might be learned.

In the past I’ve written that the Sun when upright can imply “too much of a good thing.” This can manifest as a bad sunburn, or as an uncomfortable revelation that ideally should have remained under wraps. In the second case I described it as “The glare of the Sun illuminates all the dark corners and leaves nothing concealed, particularly those things that can’t withstand the light of day.”

In the case at hand, although no justification was given for the refusal, in retrospect it looked to me like something shady about the submittal may have come to light during a slapdash review by the bored paper-pushers (there is a story behind that perception in the other cards that I won’t get into*) that triggered a rejection. My suspicion is that the shortcoming would have been more serious than merely failing to “check all the boxes.” It originally struck me that the apathetic officials would not delve too deeply into the background of the application, but perhaps they didn’t have to, and being the plodding sluggards that the cards convinced me they were, they dismissed the proposal summarily without bestirring themselves to offer remedial advice.

The lesson for me is to explore both faces of the Sun during a reading and not draw my conclusions entirely from its optimistic “bright side” without poking into the dimmer recesses. It may be a stretch to find the concurrent negativity but, as this instance clearly shows, ignoring the potential can leave half the story untold. In the “soundtrack of my life” I can now hear the Rolling Stones chiding me about having had “another standing in the shadow,” but it seems I wasn’t listening at the time. Give me a piece of chalk and I’ll write on the blackboard 100 times: “Every card has both positive and negative meanings.”

*OK, OK, here you go! My spread had five positions: a “Current Situation” card (in this pull it was the Thoth 6 of Disks, auguring “Success” whereas the RWS version only promises “disbursement;” this was the first “red herring” but I saw no cause for alarm); two “In-Process Factor” cards that will either reinforce or offset one another (more on those below); an “Action” card showing how to proceed (here it was the Aeon [Judgement], about which Aleister Crowley said “always represents the taking of a definite step;” I advised my client to act promptly to nudge the matter in the most auspicious direction but the verdict came back too soon for that to happen); and an “Outcome” card (the allegedly glorious Sun as noted above).

The “In-Process Factors” gave me the most pause: they were the Thoth Knight (RWS King) of Cups, Mr. “I Don’t Want to Stick My Neck Out,” and the Thoth Knight of Disks/Pentacles, Mr. “I’m Going Strictly by the Book Here.” They were most likely senior public servants who were just putting in their time so they didn’t even break a sweat in their denial of approval.