Tactfulness: The Professional Diviner’s Best Friend

AUTHOR’S NOTE: A recurring topic of discussion in the online tarot community is whether a public reader who is confronted with a highly negative prediction should just dump it on the seeker with no attempt at moderating the presentation. There are some who would rather walk away in these situations than sugarcoat their statements or soft-peddle their advice. So they tell it like it is every time, without regard for whether they’re helping their sitters or merely traumatizing them.

Professional opinion is mixed on this question, but it seems to me that most practitioners are sympathetic rather than hard-nosed about it. Personally, I have no intention of turning my readings into the tarot equivalent of Monty Python’s “being-hit-on-the-head lessons.” I’m not going to beat up on my clients when there is always a way to finesse any observation that is overly harsh in its raw form. All it takes is a judicious choice of words and a large enough vocabulary to keep them coming without interruption.

Tactfulness should be at the top of every diviners list of acquired skills. Most modern tarot books are not adamant about promoting the mean-spirited vitriol that some traditional sources lay on those cards with the ugliest reputation. The idea that a more balanced point of view is preferable seems to be the norm and not the exception. Personally, although I don’t buy into the premise that “there are no bad cards,” I always manage to spin those that don’t make the “kinder-and-gentler” cut in ways that can be steered toward an accommodating end.

In my book, it isn’t even about empowerment, it just good, old-fashioned professional etiquette. Why would we want to offend querents with barbed insights when we can win them over with a little verbal tap-dancing that makes the point without drawing too much blood? But I also stop short of using what I call “weasel-words,” language that slyly attempts to blunt the impact of a tough call by talking all around it with a used-car salesman’s panache. At the same time I don’t back away from the truth of the matter, I just groom it to be as presentable as possible. It’s part of being a counselor and not simply an oracle.

While we can make it clear at the start of a session that the sitter “owns” or is responsible for the cards that appear in the spread via the act of shuffling and cutting the deck, the reader’s phrasing and delivery are vital to the effective presentation of the reading as “performance art.” Overlaying this anecdotal filter on the emotional thrust of the narrative and its likely impact on the querent will help to create an atmosphere that is conducive to what the fantasy literature and entertainment industries rely on for their market penetration: “suspension of disbelief.” The language we use can throw open that window of wide-eyed speculation for the individual as we pursue the “Aha!” reaction.

Not to trivialize the practice of divination in a any way, but I sometimes describe the ritualistic trappings of a tarot reading as “props in the theater of tarot.” While we will almost never be tempted to approach our offer of foresight as a satirical “comedy of errors” (although I sometimes think it when contemplating the superficiality of social-media metaphysics), we might well declare a reading to be a type of “morality play,” which is defined as “a genre of allegorical drama, popular in the 15th and 16th centuries, designed to teach a moral or spiritual lesson.” If I can achieve that righteous level of profundity in the staging of my comments I will have accomplished my oracular mission.

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