AUTHOR’S NOTE: What follows is an odd-ball idea that applies the poker-player’s caveat about “knowing when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.” There are times when it’s clear that a reading is going nowhere, but we still feel obligated to make the most of it. If that realization occurs with the very first card as its harbinger, we might want to give up the chase and go back to the well for amended insights before we get in too deep. The “oracular moment” when we first pull the cards may be “sacrosanct,” but that doesn’t mean we have to beat ourselves over the head with it. While I have a strong aversion to any kind of adjustment to an original draw, I also acknowledge that we shouldn’t ignore clear signs from the Universe.

In a previous essay on horary astrology I observed that horary “has a self-limiting feature that doesn’t appear anywhere else in the practice of astrology: the concept of ‘strictures against judgment.’ There are certain conditions pertaining to a horary chart that render it ‘unfit for judgment.’” A number of these involve the zodiacal degree on the Ascendant; the condition of its ruling planet (aka “Lord”); and/or the presence of unfortunate planets “in the Ascendant” (occupying the First House). Similarly, in the interpretation of a Lenormand Grand Tableau layout it is common to scrap the reading and start over if the Significator or “main person” card lands at the extreme right-hand edge of the pattern, with no cards on its right to show developmental potential (although modern practice is to read the lopsided spread anyway). Here I’m proposing a comparable type of restriction for “line spreads” in tarot divination. (Note that more complex designs like the Celtic Cross don’t lend themselves to this approach.)

My assumption is that when they lead off the spread, certain cards are of a sufficiently problematic nature to “stop the reading in its tracks,” and invite either a re-shuffle (perhaps with a different deck) or a postponement of the activity until a later time. Receiving one of these cards in the first position of the spread should be an obvious hint that little of value will be gained by pursuing the divination, or even that nothing good can come of it. The occurrence can still be viewed as a warning for the querent without undertaking the struggle to make something empowering out of the following cards. Another thought would be to set this card aside as a cautionary preamble to the subsequent (reformulated) spread, in which case it won’t show up again but one of its peers might. In this scenario I would treat the excluded card not as an active player in the next iteration but as a stage-setter suggesting the overarching theme or tone of the entire session, the challenge being to view it as advisory and not as casting a pall over the proceeding. As I see it, better to take a fresh cut at it than to go through the “trying-to-turn-a-sow’s-ear-into-a silk-purse” routine.

A couple of these show-stopping cards are “no-brainers.” The Tower at the start implies that any opportunity will be derailed long before it ripens, and trying to pick up the pieces and soldier on may be too much to ask since there are no guarantees at this early stage. Death represents being “flat-lined” at the outset, which is no place for the querent to be at the beginning of the matter. The Fool is a “zero-sum” proposition; like its corresponding number, it is the proverbial cipher with no definite agenda; no purposeful trajectory; and no momentum to speak of, while the Hanged Man is equally stymied with even less motivation propelling it. (The Devil and the Moon are ambiguous toss-ups that can go either way, but I would be inclined to proceed with the reading when they appear.)

There are a few Minor Arcana cards that might also give the reader pause: the 3, 5, 9 and 10 of Swords; the 5 and 8 of Cups; the 5 of Pentacles and the 5 of Wands are prime candidates, although their impact may not be overpowering enough to justify outright dismissal. (Depending on the context of the question, I might give the sitter the option to stop or continue, but at their worst these cards could merely signify a “false start” that would benefit from a clarifying re-pull.) Only the court cards are free of this taint.

The objective is not to dodge bad news, but to avoid having to play out a losing hand when the cards are plainly “stacked against you.” I don’t consider this side-stepping to be “cheating,” but merely prudent task-management when the goal is obtaining constructive advice. Unless we’re doing a “past-present-future” reading,” getting off on the wrong foot in a three-or-five-card spread doesn’t allow much wiggle-room to set a different course when the opening move delivers such a discouraging setback. If one of these cards appears, I would not simply disregard it and draw another to replace it, but would instead take up the deck, reshuffle and start pulling again. If the same card or one of its ilk shows up once more, I would halt the reading and choose a different deck or alternate predictive method, or I would suggest waiting for more propitious conditions. However, when reading for a paying client I would probably make one more attempt at a “third time’s the charm” reset since I’m unlikely to run into this stricture three times in a row. If it still doesn’t work out to my satisfaction, I would return the client’s money.

Another instance where pulling a substitute card for one of the above would be appropriate involves two court cards in a line spread that are separated by an onerous “bone-of-contention” card (particularly if the figures are facing one another). Rather than treating it as a “no-win” situation in which neither party comes away unscathed, this time I would pull another card from the deck after dealing the rest of the spread and interpose it as a “second chance” to make progress in their confrontation. Of course, I would first discuss the situation with my sitter to make sure it rings true.

In general, I read the cards as they lay and just work through any hard spots, but there are occasions when it seems that there is no reasonable solution, so the best option would be to drop the pretense of finding a “silver lining” in every reading, bow to the inevitable and effect a reboot rather than engaging in what could become a futile exercise in diminishing returns. But, unlike “Cardinal Ximenez” (Michael Palin) in Monty Python’s “Spanish Inquisition” sketch, we really shouldn’t feel obliged to offer “three last chances.”