AUTHOR’S NOTE: I just came across a critique in the online tarot community that belittled using structured tarot spreads because they “muzzle the message” that the cards are trying to deliver. I can only assume that this individual has not carefully considered (or has chosen to ignore) the many advantages of adopting a more coherent approach to storytelling. The prevailing mindset among such deniers is obviously that a positional layout forces readers to pour their cherished psychic epiphanies (just a whiff of sarcasm there, eh?) into a narrow box that discourages stepping outside of its perimeter. (In other words, it is condemned as wrapping a straitjacket around unrestrained intuitive inclusiveness.) My response to that myopic attitude is a derisive “Pshaw!” and a dismissive “Piffle!” (if not quite a nose-holding “Phew!”)

As an experienced spread designer I’ve never been shy about touting my well-over-300 personal tarot and Lenormand spreads scattered throughout this blog. Most are topic-specific in the areas of situational awareness; problem-solving; decision-making; conflict-management; relationship matters; work and business affairs; health and happiness; and general life-reading, with a minor emphasis on mixed-media techniques like cards-and-dice. I tend to create new spreads every time I encounter a matter of interest that I’ve never analyzed before, and it has kept me busy for the last eight years. A comprehensive cross-section can be found here, with more under the specific spread categories: https://parsifalswheeldivination.org/category/tarot-spreads/

Regular readers of my work know that I usually take an economical and rational view of all things related to tarot, so I’m not too amenable to seat-of-the-pants improvisation when it comes to reading the cards. While there will always be good reasons to exercise intuitive license on a case-by-case basis, I don’t let excessive guesswork distort the view of reality offered by a literal foretelling of the pattern on the table. There is a sufficiently large amount of published literature and electronic exchange of ideas to stimulate the creative juices without immediately trying to force-fit something completely original from “out of the blue” or, more ominously, from “where the sun don’t shine.” (Although it may seem like a “sacred calling” to attempt doing so, it strikes me that purely intuitive tarot readers are too often convinced of their own prowess or the infallibility of their spiritual sources, and it’s apparent that their “house of cards” lacks a solid foundation in awareness of and experience with the traditional knowledge-base.) All that is required to master a more systematic reading style is making a commitment to explore a few books, mull over the contents and practice the techniques until something more precisely tailored to one’s storytelling vision emerges to replace arbitrary conjecture.

An effective tarot spread is like a jigsaw puzzle in which all of the pieces mesh perfectly with no extraneous bits left behind to fuss over. It provides a framework that makes sure nothing critical to the interpretation is left out of the analysis, while still allowing adequate “elbow room” for inspiration, imagination and ingenuity. Crafting intelligent position meanings is a matter of coming up with “just enough of the right details in just the right order” to meet the initial objectives set forth by the designer, all carefully selected to further the narrative in productive ways. Much of what I see on spread-sharing platforms is far too vague to provide useful observations that speak to the intricacy of human affairs; put another way, it barely scratches the surface of what might be gained from a more judicious layering of positional intent.

I have a personal anecdote that mirrors the lack of a definitive “backbone” in most freestyle reading. For all his other virtues, my father was not a complicated man and I often thought he resembled an empty vessel waiting to be filled. He managed to mold himself comfortably around my mother’s granite intransigence, an arrangement that suited them both for almost 60 years, but she did the pragmatic “life-engineering” for the family while he wasn’t much for profound contemplation if it didn’t come from scripture (although to his credit he kept that to himself and didn’t force it on us). Their relationship reminded me of the Gary Larsen cartoon with the grizzly bear chomping on the head and shoulders of a hunter while exclaiming to his pals “I love these things, soft on the outside, crunchy in the middle!” This is the kind of architecture that I believe exemplifies the best tarot readings: the spread furnishes an articulated “endoskeleton” and the cards flesh it out with descriptive flair and nuance. One without the other can quickly lose its way.

A spread is a storytelling aid but it doesn’t have to be a crutch. I like the “map” metaphor that shows the “lay of the land.” It can be a roadmap revealing where the major intersections are, a topographic map showing gradients and landscape features to be negotiated or an isometric map in which the spread positions, when populated with cards, suggest “peaks and valleys” in the matter. They set “waypoints” that enable a quick assessment of the track ahead, and I sometimes think of the cards as linked “boxcars” of the train on that track, all moving in the same direction. Like any proper story, they usually convey a recognizable beginning, middle and end, but the drama itself is told by the cards and the spread is only a stage-setting device that doesn’t prevent ad-libbing in each scene.

I normally use spreads for these reasons, and also because they can help advance a stalled forecast by nudging the momentarily stymied reader forward with confidence that the next step in the journey will find reliable footing. I never tire of citing James Ricklef’s recommendation for handling “problem” cards in a reading: “Let them simmer in your consciousness. They will eventually make sense; they always do.” This is sound advice for resolving any apparent disconnect between the dimensions of a spread position and the nature of a card that lands in it; the scenario it depicts may seem like a “square peg in a round hole,” but I’ve found the cards to be infinitely adaptable to any disparity, all we have to do is find the key to their meaningful integration. This mismatch may be disconcerting for a novice, but any competent reader should have no trouble with it.

To those who say they hate spreads, I want to point out that “It’s all in your mind.” A spread is just a convenient device for organizing and binning cards in a logical sequence that will facilitate a narrative approach to interpretation, and defined positions are merely suggestions for ways to advance the plot in an orderly fashion; they resemble “milestones” on the road to the final destination, but they aren’t necessarily barriers to be overcome since only the cards can show that. The idea behind them is not much different from the old convention for teaching journalism with the “five W’s” model: “Who, What, Why, Where and When,” with the addition of “How” to the tarot primer. The message in the cards comes first, and ascribing any kind of notional “profile” to their step-wise progression is only advisory, not mandatory, and their inferred significance is not absolute. I suggest that naysayers take a deep breath, back off two steps, de-focus their eyes from the object of their scorn and forget everything they were told about spreads being “evil.” They are also not “magic,” they are nothing more than an annotated scaffold on which to hang the cards and we can always add our own notes to the mark-up.

By all means develop your own spreads, positional or otherwise, that satisfy your personal understanding of “how tarot works.” But large or small, they should focus on answering three fundamental questions: “What do I want to know?” . . . “How much do I want to know about it?” . . . and “How do I want it presented for optimum transparency?” As for me, I walk a fine line between mystical theorizing and utilitarian analysis, and my spread creation shows it.