” . . . shovels and rakes and implements of destruction . . . “
– from Alice’s Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This essay is not for the softhearted or the soft-headed. It’s another unapologetic critique of contemporary divination (specifically tarot-reading) with just a hint of ironic self-reflection. Proceed at your peril!

As I see it, there are two distinct modes of action-and-event-oriented prediction (aka “fortune-telling”) that apply to the tarot cards. One is entirely passive: we only want to know what the Universe has in store for us. The other is active: we seek guidance for aligning with the Cosmos and putting it to work on our behalf. The first – like the common “mind-reading” approach to love questions – is lazy; the second is considerably more ambitious (and more exacting) when pursued with vigor.

Although I have no quarrel with the concept, I’ve never liked the term “empowerment” when associated with divination. Akin to “intuitive” and “resonate,” it’s one of those “squishy” words: upbeat but too generically elastic to be convincing. I don’t expect the tarot to “empower” me, I just want it to “instruct” me about effective ways to deal with life’s vagaries and I will take it from there. If the advice happens to resonate with my intuitive hunches about where I should be headed, so much the better, but I would rather have it come across as analytically precise and anecdotally pertinent in equal measure.

I’ve written frequently – and perhaps a bit too caustically – in the past about the shallowness of the popular platforms for tarot discussion and learning in the social-media age (which I suppose is an unintended poke at the wide-eyed participants). To paraphrase an old Gary Larson cartoon, it’s “a clear case of too many cheerleaders and not enough talented teachers.” I have a similar problem with psychological coaching aimed at self-awareness and self-development because I don’t find the tarot especially productive for such navel-gazing, and I encourage seekers to employ natal astrology for this purpose since it is far more definitive (even as it is much harder to learn). I stop well short of the utopian premise that tarot is a universal nostrum that can be “all things to all people.”

I sometimes feel like an “army of one” when I’m compelled to object upon plunging into the ocean of mystical “woo” that typifies so much of the online conversation about the practice of tarot reading. The climate is overly reminiscent of “push advertising,” the cynical goal of which is to persuade us that we need something we don’t by repeatedly shoving it under our noses, a dodge for which video pandering is tailor-made. Neophytes are likely to ask “Which YouTube channel should I watch?” and not “Which book should I read?” It’s a sad state of affairs in my opinion.

The thinly-veiled smugness of many contributors irritates me the most. Self-impressed pundits with three or four years of experience behind them hold forth in droves, certain they are uniquely qualified to guide beginners down the right path when it’s obvious to the veteran observer that they haven’t advanced very far along it themselves. Mastery of the tarot is a long road involving years of study and practice, not one that can be quickly assimilated by reading a “learn-tarot-in-a day” book and watching a few online “talking-head” presentations. Instant gratification may trump slow-and-steady progress in the mind of the modern aspirant but it will never replace protracted first-hand experience no matter how clever AI’s creative “borrowing” becomes.

There is an unmistakable sense that traditional symbolism is lost on these entrepreneurial upstarts (many of whom offer impersonal or “collective” readings to their followers) and they will just make up the narrative to suit themselves using free-association from the images and untethered imagination masquerading as spiritual insight. The ubiquitous Waite-Smith tarot with its prosaic scenes encourages this derivative style of freewheeling interpretation that is all-too-vulnerable to subjective bias, its main pitfall. I feel like the perceptive child in the “Emperor’s New Clothes” fairy tale whenever I encounter its widespread abuse, so I’ll just stick with advocates of the Thoth and Tarot de Marseille decks who at least have to dress themselves in the symbolic language with consummate artistry before exposing their sartorial finery to the public.

The archaic interjection “Faugh!” translates into “urban dictionary” parlance as “Yuck!” and it fits this scenario perfectly. As a card-carrying “New Age survivor” with only frayed metaphysical sensibilities to show for it, I’m fully on-board with this critical sentiment. I recognize the resurgence of “snake-oil salesmen” when I see it, and in these credulous times it may still be possible to steer the wary away from the woo but it could be too late to purge the woo from the unwary. On the other hand, maybe – like Voltaire’s “Candide” – I should just go “tend my garden” and forget about crafting verbal hand-baskets (loaded with hand-grenades) for the hell-bound. (Oops, as Ronald Reagan used to gently scold obnoxious reporters who nettled him, “There you go again!”)