AUTHOR’S NOTE: For my header I’ve truncated the book title Actions with Spirits (Christopher Whitby, Garland Publishing, 1988), itself a condensation of the much longer moniker for a scholarly 1659 analysis of the “actions with spirits” (purportedly conversations with angels) undertaken by Dr. John Dee with scryers Edward Kelley and Barnabas Saul between 1581 and 1583. My inspiration for the spread comes from my understanding that traditional shamans are mystical seers who can move in a trance state between the plane of Earth and the subtle realms of the sublime and the infernal, communicating with both “good” and “evil” spirits.

The typical four-armed “cross” spread works in one of two ways: either horizontally and vertically, with one or the other given preference, or “around the horn” (an old baseball term for a double play started by the third-baseman) usually progressing from the left in a clockwise direction before reaching a summary conclusion at the hub. Here I’m working the horizontal flow in the customary left-to-right fashion but the vertical axis is presented as “converging on center.” Mundane developments reach a crossroads at the middle position, where a “pause to regroup” or “mid-course correction” often occurs; they receive stimulus from opposite ends of the intersecting column.

The vertical axis enters from both above and below, providing input to the paused nexus (a conflation of spirit and body; purely cerebral aspects get a “bye” in this spread). The idea is that we can tap spiritual guidance from the superconscious to steady us while we dredge up subconscious fragments of “shadow” that we must integrate; once done, we can move forward with both under conscious control. (Note that, although I don’t use the so-called “shadow” card, you can populate the lower position from the bottom of the shuffled deck if you like.)

The “above” could be seen as a rejuvenating cascade in which we can immerse ourselves, while the “below” is more like a super-heated geyser under pressure that we must ride to the summit before we can get off. (Hopefully it won’t be an “express elevator to the 13th floor” like one might find in The Twilight Zone!) Of course, the nature of the card in each position can modulate the emphasis, either strengthening or weakening its potency. (For this post I’ve brought out my DruidCraft tarot [most recently copyrighted by Eddison Sadd Editions Limited, London] for the first time in ages, motivated by my thoughts on shamanism.)

Interestingly, the randomly-drawn mundane input and output cards are both Earth, while the two numinous inputs and the “crossroads” card are all Water. (Cancer is my Sun sign and it figures prominently in this scenario.) The question I asked was about the emotional and physical implications of a matter that has been of interest to me for some time. At this point in the situation no overt action is being contemplated to advance the agenda, so Fire and Air don’t appear. (It’s notable that all of these cards except the Chariot are personal in nature as shown by their planetary attributions, rather than social or spiritual.)

The 2 of Cups reversed conveys a state of emotional suspension; the situation is at a standstill although hope still lingers. The Twos often act like a pendulum in motion, alternating between extremes, but with reversal the “bob” can become stuck at “bottom-dead-center” much like the Hanged Man (in fact, “having a Hanged-Man-moment” is one of my euphemisms for the reversed orientation of any card.)

The 10 of Pentacles as the mundane input is all about the practicality of pursuing my objective, and it seems to be on-track at least in principle. I typically interpret this card as secular complacency that is firmly entrenched; in this context it suggests “no need to hurry.”

The 9 of Pentacles reversed as the mundane output card implies some discomfort over the culmination of events; although the outcome could still come to pass in an agreeable way, its benefit might not endure.

The 4 of Cups reversed as the “shadow” input suggests an emotional state of ambivalence that, by withholding moral support, is acting to stifle the expression of feelings in the 2 of Cups.

The Chariot, corresponding to Cancer in the esoteric tarot, is a card of triumph in physical pursuits with no spiritual depth to speak of (according to A.E. Waite); here it seems to be saying that renewed momentum is all that is needed to override the stagnant 4 of Cups and promptly nudge the stymied 2 of Cups out of the doldrums toward the pragmatic climax, which will be rewarding albeit short-lived.

There is a mild reticence in these reversals that seems like hesitation rather than outright lack of cooperation, something the Chariot is well-positioned to dispel with its confidence. With Venus and the Moon presiding, their protests are subdued, conveying tacit acceptance and prudent delay more than denial. The situation reminds me of the old Paul Masson slogan “No wine before its time,” or maybe the meteorologist’s noncommittal hedge: “Mixed sun and clouds, slight chance of rain.” If I’m right, the patient stance of the 9 of Pentacles could be showing a gentle let-down that is not irreversible, more on the order of “to be continued.”