AUTHOR’S NOTE: “What is the truth?” (at least in the matter at hand) is one of the “big questions” along with “What is the meaning of life?” (usually “my life” when asked by a querent) that are often put to the tarot and other modes of divination. (Of course, both questions are aimed at discovering the practical implications of the answer.) Whether are not there is “unconditional truth” or an overarching “life’s purpose” I will leave to the philosophers, but both are at the opposite end of the ethical spectrum from “Does Joe or Mary like me?” and other mind-reading inquiries of the “wishful-thinking” kind (most of which steer well away from the “What should I do with this information?” angle).

Not long ago during a conversation on the r/tarot sub-reddit, the topic of secular versus mystical tarot reading came up, and there ensued a side-discussion on whether seeking proof of our accuracy is necessary or even desirable. My contribution was that there are “subjective” proofs and “objective” proofs. The first of these validates the results to our own satisfaction and is usually enough for us to get on with our lives regardless of whether anyone else believes it. (I would argue that there are people of a particularly nonchalant temperament who conduct their entire existence this way; call it the “That’s good enough for me” attitude.) The second one comes into play mostly in the philosophical realm, or when we run up against someone else’s subjective (and usually contrary) proof and need a tie-breaker.

The same goes for truth. A subjective truth is entirely personal, while an objective one is agreed upon by more than one person, such as “The grass is green” (unless of course you’re color-blind, in which case it remains an ambiguity in your own opinion). If we ask the tarot “What color is the grass?” and we pull the Empress (Venus/Emerald Green), that’s close enough, but if we draw the Emperor (Aries/Scarlet) we’re clearly being lied to and are able to objectively verify that fact. While Benjamin Franklin did say “Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see,” some truths are indeed self-evident in terms of direct observation (although Hindu theologians – for whom physical reality is “maya” or illusion – would certainly disagree).

If my private version of the truth enables me to be successful in everything I attempt, with universal truth standing by to console and correct me if I fail or am disabused of my illusions by someone with a superior handle on the nature of reality, I don’t suppose it matters much whether or not I concern myself with the “big truths” that have little or no bearing on my daily routine. “The sun will rise tomorrow morning” is one of the most obvious, since thinking about it won’t make much difference in how I plan my day and I can’t do anything about it anyway. As long as I refrain from trying to impose my personal truth on anyone else for whom it would be falsehood, the Universe should leave me alone. (Evangelists and Hollywood “influencers” take note.)

When it comes to divination, most questions posed by sitters go after the “little truths” and let the big ones slide. It is for the most part an unassuming, anecdotal and folkloric pursuit that doesn’t demand much in the way of philosophical “heavy lifting,” nor does it benefit from overthinking. Trying to tackle anything too profound with it is like attempting to eat an elephant in a single enormous gulp rather than “one bite at a time.” Fortune-telling tends to “nibble” at the specifics, it doesn’t usually tear off a huge chunk of the truth and endeavor to shove it down our throat. It is best applied to utilitarian matters (“Will it rain on my picnic next week?”) and not to rhetorical questions like “Why does it always rain at the worst possible time?” (aka “Why does the Universe hate me?”)

As a reader I much prefer to field mundane questions rather than lofty psychological, philosophical or spiritual ones, and certainly not the socially-charged kind that ask “Why did my friend block me?” Predictable circumstances and events often stand out in high relief compared to the murky outlook for thought-transference exercises, whether they target another person or a higher order of consciousness. While I’ve had some fun creating “spirit-contact” spreads of the mediumistic kind, I don’t put a lot of faith in what they deliver because it’s mostly intuitive storytelling masquerading as psychic sensitivity. I won’t flatter myself by proposing that I have an exceptional knack for the latter, or let myself be charmed by my own credulity into believing that I do, although a certain amount of open-minded suggestibility comes with the territory in any form of mystical practice. But I suppose I would rather go to a self-styled “intuitive empath” for a tarot reading than to a “singing barber” for a trim; one of them at least has a justification for such curious conduct.