“Relax,” said the night man. “We are programmed to receive.”
– from Hotel California by The Eagles

AUTHOR’S NOTE: In Real Magic, his fascinating and – for this metaphysical maverick – highly influential 2018 book, parapsychologist Dean Radin mentions that in common discourse the tenets of psionics (including psychism) are subsumed under the neologism psi (pronounced “sigh”).

I couldn’t suppress an involuntary chuckle. *Sigh* is exactly how I react when observing the “psychic” contingent of the online tarot community, who believe that the mind (and more specifically their mind) is an open channel for the delivery of unassailable wisdom from numinous sources that include a spiritual Higher Self; a personal “spirit guide” or “guardian angel;” a magnanimous divine presence; and other similarly-exalted founts of hidden knowledge sporting an unimpeachable pedigree. This blind faith is unsettling for the rational diviner who refuses to swallow every novel assertion that is trotted out under the banner of intuitive insight.

Although tarologist Enrique Enriquez once called divination an “irrational” act, and I accept that it invariably displays a mystical quality that transcends the bounds of the five senses, I firmly believe that (since we have no other way to process it) there is nothing within our purview that can’t be understood as a phenomenon of logical cognition once we really get our head around it. Even the most visionary impression must be translated into sensible words in order to be communicated (unless, like surrealist Alejandro Jodorowsky, we play by different rules).

I don’t deny encountering the occasional clairvoyant episode in my own tarot practice (I come from a line of Spiritualist mediums), but I don’t immediately unload it on my clients. I first compare it to earlier flashes of prescience acquired during my five decades of forecasting with the cards to see if it is worthy of inclusion in my vocabulary, and if it doesn’t make the cut in its natural state I may link it to a metaphor or analogy that creates an oblique cultural reference, all with the goal of ensuring that it makes sense to the seeker. This occurs on-the-fly, and I don’t dismiss such ephemeral hunches out-of-hand but instead put them through the semantic “wringer” before relying on them in a public setting. I’m patient enough (and wary enough) to “hold my fire” until I can clearly see the approach to my intended target. It’s all part of being “half mad-scientist and half mystic” (call it 70/30 to be precise).

My point is that credulous diviners place entirely too much trust in unfiltered extrasensory signals under the dubious assumption that the noumenal Universe is a benevolent entity overflowing with good will toward humanity. This is a stretch when the Cosmos-at-large is more likely to be uncaring or at best neutral regarding our private concerns, and when petitioned for help it will ignore us and just go on doing whatever ontological macrocosms do no matter how much we clamor for preferential treatment at the “micro” level. Consequently, when navigating these uncharted waters we as prognosticators are reduced to making up the itinerary as we go, and it must be acknowledged that many readers do just that.

In ascending order of soothsaying fabulism (with plainspoken fortune-telling on the ground floor), subconscious bias on the part of the diviner sits on the bottom rung due to its “navel-gazing” partiality, followed closely by prospecting for uncommon inspiration in the transcendent mental/emotional sphere, and then by directly calling on ethereal guidance. All of these are frequently brought to bear on remote-reading scenarios, and none escapes the taint of unfounded speculation. Where intuition is involved, the line between subjective and objective perception can become blurred and, in outdated computer-programming terminology, we will fail to achieve the “wysiwyg” (“what you see is what you get”) outcome we were envisioning.

While the existence of a superior order of awareness seems to be irrefutable, its uncritical summoning in these instances is plagued by self-serving aspirations (not to mention exaggerated expectations). This uppity stance takes the generous “ask, seek and knock” assurances of Matthew 7:7-8 just a bit too far for plausibility, and it can become a tantalizing form of auto-hypnosis in the style of “If it feels true it must be true.” All I can do is tear out my hair in frustration and groan “Arrgh!” As Alvin Lee sang “Tell me, where is sanity?”

I tend to see divination with the tarot as a “local field” phenomenon: the farther one travels from the source of the input (the querent’s silent communion with the deck) the less pronounced the effects become. This is not the persistent and all-pervading distributed awareness of the psychic domain but rather the experimental laboratory of the analytical investigator. It does away with the premise of omnipresent “mind-reading-with-props” and replaces it with an evidence-based paradigm that can be observed close-up and in detail.

Despite recent scientific testimony in favor of clairvoyance, I’m not convinced that dependable, topically-relevant psychic contact occurs in remote reading scenarios at the level of intelligibility claimed by mystics, and certainly not to the point of imparting sage advice that seems more like an eloquent product of the diviner’s fertile imagination. When I do the shuffling, I can’t fathom why the cards won’t just capture my own subliminal impressions and disregard more far-flung communication (it strikes me as pseudo-telepathy and not legitimate card-reading anyway). I also assume that a face-to-face dialogue is always going to be more reliable than a long-distance monologue because it can overcome subjective bias via direct interrogation of the courier. (Not quite Aubrey Beardsley’s “Examination of the Herald,” but don’t go look. I warned you!)

This was the impetus behind my own move away from the previous psychological and spiritual focus of my work toward a more action-and-even-oriented model. When foreknowledge of physically distant or temporally decoupled events and circumstances reaches the subconscious of the shuffler via a subliminal link to a more rarefied dimension (by whatever name we choose to call it), it is translated into a form that can be imparted spontaneously to the arrangement of the cards. How that hand-off happens is part of the mystery of “how tarot works,” but for me the key ingredient is the querent’s active engagement in the process.

In my opinion, it’s safest to “just read the cards” for literal content first and then expand the interpretive palette as necessary using more imaginative methods. There is no need to jump straight to baseless conjecture when we have a narrative laid out in front of us. But I place the most confidence in the ability of tarot divination to tap into the querent’s subjective awareness of his or her future reality that is “induced” into the cards through the act of shuffling. (See French tarot author Joseph Maxwell’s 1938 book The Tarot for a great deal more on this subject.)

This leaves the unilateral long-distance reading via social-media platforms or email out in the cold when it comes to the all-important client involvement. The common argument that “it’s just universal energy that anyone can access on behalf of an individual on the other side of the globe” can’t possibly elevate the monologue to the level of reliability offered by a face-to-face dialogue. There is much to be said for eye contact when the faceless alternative can land us squarely in “gimme a break” territory.

Lacking this critical contribution, we must once again fall back on our own devices and just “make things up” from visual free-association and intuitive guesswork, flailing away under the burden of questionable input that we assume is psychically valid. We might even convince ourselves that we’re gifted in that way when in fact each episode is little more than a charming fabrication. It’s all too easy to simulate precognition when nobody can gainsay our putative discernment until it’s too late to make any difference. Then it’s on to the next flight of fancy in our “Fantastic Voyage.”

For the analytical diviner, it’s insidiously artful enough to precipitate the well-known Ebenezer Scrooge gag reflex (i.e. “Bah! Humbug!”) even when the guileless reader’s intentions are honorable. I haven’t always been an apostate in these matters, but the online circus has transformed me into a proper curmudgeon who doesn’t suffer foolishness gladly. At any rate, this will be my final rant on the subject of psychic tarot reading so I pulled out all the stops. Think about it before shooting the messenger, okay?