“A man walks down the street
He says, ‘Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle?
The rest of my life is so hard.'”
from You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve reached the unsurprising conclusion that many (if not most) serious seekers who consult me for a tarot reading are feeling mentally and emotionally indisposed and don’t know what to do about it. Somewhere along the line they’ve lost the metaphorical “muscle tone” in their psychological “abs” and are asking the tarot for a little “PT” (psychic therapy) to put them back on track. These individuals are feeling hollow at the core of their being and are looking for something meaningful to fill the void. (My quirky analogies have a factual basis: I was once talking to an out-of-shape gentleman who complained that his “six-pack” of abdominal muscles had turned into a “six-quart,” so he was quite literally “soft in the middle.”)

When it comes to the dynamics of empowerment, I’m not much of a cheerleader. I just interpret every spread as I see it and expect my clients to meet the tarot half-way and thrash it out between them. But if my intervention can provide a measure of immediate relief, who am I to say that I shouldn’t try as long as my input is understood to be informed commentary and not actionable advice that could get me into legal trouble if it turns out badly. I have to admit, though, that my reading style may contribute more to this goal by what I don’t say (or at least in the circuitous language I adopt for my more impressionistic insights) than via the direct statements by which I make my main points. (More on this in an upcoming essay titled “Digging Deeper: Counseling vs. Consulting.”)

“Fire in the belly” was apparently derived from an old railroading term alluding to the fact that the steam boiler of a locomotive was stoked and ready to go. If I can send my sitters away with that satisfying “visceral burn” and the motivation to leverage it, I will have accomplished my mission. Of course, heartburn may well ensue later but hopefully I’ve done my best with what I was given. I don’t feel particularly privileged or qualified to be able to tell my clients what they should do with their lives since I’m not a trained and licensed psychoanalyst and I have doubts about the vague pedigree required to become a “life-coach.”

The alchemical task I’ve set for myself is to help querents transmute any “lead balloons” identified by the cards into “golden opportunities.” In this one instance there are truly no bad cards, just some that are more stubborn than others in bestowing their virtues. I’m not a “silver lining” kind of guy, more of a “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” type, so this assumption plays well enough with me. In my own experience, the transformation of the title is seldom a spiritually transcendent event, but rather a utilitarian one that hardens the resolve and tightens the flex in the symbolic “abs.”