AUTHOR’S NOTE: There are many people who have the natural psychic ability to penetrate the Veil that separates the mundane world from the spiritual realm, returning with insights that may be unattainable in any other way. (My Spiritualist cousin was brilliant at it, and my maternal grandmother was no slouch.) To them I tip my hat. But I suspect there are a great many more who are convinced they have the talent but are merely fooling themselves and their followers, often in the interest of self-promotion.

It’s easy to do when dealing with something that is entirely personal and wholly numinous: there is nobody to dispute us or haul us back when we go off the rails, so we may wallow in our self-indulgence while thinking we have a “lock” on the truth – and worse, believing that we have a mandate to counsel others about it. We flatter ourselves through self-appointed “spirit guides” who seem to have nothing better to do than wander around looking for an opportunity to baby-sit us. My personal take on that theme is “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” via a formal summoning. Let’s just say I’m suspicious of their motives when they’re given free rein with our psyche. We may not want to “mainline” their nebulous input without the physical buffer of a Ouija board or other interactive mode of communication.

I consider those who attempt to tap into universal wisdom by channeling it from a higher level of consciousness to be “funneling” the knowledge, sometimes using tarot cards to provide “guardrails” that keep them on the path. These supplicants take a position at the bottom of a vast metaphorical funnel or – in Donald Tyson’s view – vortex of transcendent awareness, psychically open themselves to inspiration, and wait for their request to be fulfilled. I find that this can be a bit reckless when it comes to not vetting the source; naively accepting the intimations we receive from the subtle regions in the form of mystical epiphanies can be risky. There is typically a fine line between illumination and self-deception.

We may believe we’re communicating with an angel when in fact we’re chatting up a demon (for lack of less-archaic terms since I’m not sure of the existence of either one in the “classical” sense when we may only be visiting our psychological “shadow side”). As is the case with internet anonymity, disembodied astral entities – whether real or imagined – can impersonate anyone (or anything) they choose (yes, even a trusted spirit guide) and we won’t be any wiser. Making important decisions (or advising others to do so) based on this rarefied gloss of supernatural judgment is a dubious proposition, and I prefer to steer clear of it (as I do with anything that smacks of “Divine authority”).

I’m not a particularly psychic person, although my intuitive faculties are robust when I elect to use them. Mediumship runs in my family, but I never assume that I’m receiving the “straight dope” from my invisible contacts. Credentials can be faked, especially when they’re presented subliminally and we have no way of validating them. (Is that really you, Uncle Joe?) For that reason, I’m more of a “forager” than a “funneler.” I liken tarot reading to “turning over rocks to see what crawls out from underneath.”

If it’s a snake, I’ll immediately recognize it as such and respond accordingly. I can see it with my own eyes in the cards, so – as long as I’m on-target with my interpretation – there will be no qualms about legitimacy as there can be with psychic interaction. I don’t buy into something simply because it’s what I want to hear, I subject it to “due diligence” to the extent I can, and take very little at face value. That skepticism is why I think of myself as “half mad-scientist and half mystic” (although these days it’s more like 70-30). Consequently, my readings seldom stray too far from the literal except when I delve into metaphor and analogy to make a point. (As you might imagine, I’m a fan of pragmatic Lenormand divination.)

In any event, it’s prudent to “just read the cards” and not become too enthused about our own intuitive flourishes, which may be nothing more than random fantasy if not supported by the details in the spread. (To be honest, I’ve obtained some of my more insightful observations that way, but I’m careful to tie them back into the rational flow of the narrative.) It’s generally wise to play off the core meanings assigned to the cards and then extrapolate from there into more imaginative territory.

That way if it doesn’t pan out with the querent, we can always circle back around to where we started and nothing will be lost but a little time. If we do it right we won’t even compromise our credibility. A bit of inventive yarn-spinning with a serious purpose can be fun for both, and lighten the mood of the reading by wrapping the message in laughter. In a past essay I borrowed from Mary Poppins on this notion: “A spoonful of laughter makes the medicine go down.”