AUTHOR’S NOTE: As a long-time student of the esoteric tarot and a committed practitioner of divination with the cards, I’ve always had a foot in both the scholarly and mystical camps. But my interaction with the online tarot community demonstrates that the academic perspective is far outweighed by the psychological navel-gazing, psychic mind-reading and intuitive fortune-telling viewpoints, and its proponents are greatly outnumbered.

The scholars are represented by the “secular tarot” enclave and the tarot historians. This crowd steers well clear of any kind of perceived “woo” in use of the cards for divination (when they don’t disavow prognostication altogether). Their sober focus can be much more intellectually stimulating for the serious philosophical enquirer but their metaphysical worldview is often excessively narrow. Conversely, the mystical mindset can be far too accepting of impressionistic notions derived from looking at the images. Standing in the middle of the face-off, I’ve always adopted the “Hamlet defense” that encompasses both alternatives. (“There are more things in heaven and Earth” . . . etc.)

If pushed to it, I would trust my analytical instincts over my intuition to give me reliable insights, while the latter adds interpretive “color” to what can otherwise be a drily clinical assessment; this imaginative input often comes to me in the form of revealing metaphors and analogies that clothe the bare bones of the more literal narrative. The seasoned diviners involved in the conversion recognize that both are necessary to a well-rounded storytelling approach, but they are sometimes drowned out by one side or the other in disagreements where the atmosphere can occasionally become prickly and the attitudes disrespectful. I had to step away from the secular side of the argument because, for rationalists, they were surprisingly irrational when it came to the subject of divination. It was difficult to even talk to them about it.

On the other hand, I have little tolerance for the purely speculative form of guesswork that can emerge from free-association based solely on the pictures. Such reliance can be misleading since many decks convey a personal take on the underlying symbolism that veers away from the traditional model. In the most radical cases the artist’s rendering presents an unconventional vision with no connection to tarot’s established archetypal structure beyond identification of the cards. For the most part these decks are “tarot in name only” and more closely resemble oracle packs; they don’t even “quack like a duck.”

At its worst, this freestyle approach to deck creation tramples on the fundamental paradigm underlying any design that can legitimately be called “tarot,” and its interpretation when reading the cards is apt to fall back on subjective opinion-slinging with scant grounding in precedent. It is difficult to critique insights that lack historical continuity and often claim to be “received wisdom” emanating from a higher spiritual source, leaving us to either swallow it whole or reject it outright. (Come to think of it, organized religion is no different in its “Would I lie to you?” climate of unconditional trust.)

As more of a literalist than a speculist I typically opt for the second choice but, depending on the mood I’m in, I might be charitable enough in the first instance to “take it under advisement” without immediately accepting or rejecting its veracity. Once again, it’s the “Hamlet defense” that neither endorses nor refutes the truthfulness of the uncoupled narrative but only nods to its existence before moving on to a more substantive analysis. Due to its lack of materiality, I liken intuitive improvisation to munching on cotton candy, which is mostly hot air interlaced with spun sugar. It might sound delicious but when our goal is to provide meaningful and actionable advice to our clients, it can be the tarot-reading equivalent of “empty calories.”