The Diviner as Middleman – Sharing the Burden of Proof

Ted Striker (Robert Hayes): “Surely you can’t be serious.”
Dr. Rumack (Leslie Nielsen): “I am serious . . . and don’t call me Shirley.”
– from the movie Airplane!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: After many years away from it, I’m now re-reading The Kybalion, a learned text on esoteric philosophy. In one of the early lessons the author insists that those who practice the metaphysical art of divination are positioning themselves as “middlemen” between the unerring source of perfect insight (the “ALL”) and those who seek it, an intrusion the sages consider both unnecessary and presumptuous. These oracular pundits are posing as “information brokers” who purport to have an inside track to concealed wisdom that they will disclose for a fee.

This struck a sympathetic chord in me because I’ve always believed that a tarot reading should be set in motion by the seeker, and the reader acts only as a herald who communicates the subconscious musings that appear in the cards selected for the reading. This follows my assumption that the querent “owns” the outcome through the act of shuffling and cutting the deck (my preferred way of handling the distribution) which aligns it to tell their story. While doing so, they would be wise to embrace the empowering sentiment expressed in the closing lines of William Ernest Henley’s poem Invictus:

I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

Although I am always sincere in my pursuit of the knowledge, I never claim to be 100% sure of the message received until the sitter confirms its validity, and even then it is only a likelihood and not a guarantee unless and until they choose to actualize it. My feeling is that they know much more about their future circumstances, at least subconsciously, than I can learn from consulting a handful of symbolic images, and my main task is to nudge them in that direction with my commentary after they set the stage with their initial participation. Any assurance of certitude on my part would only be a pretense aimed at instilling confidence in my credibility, so I never argue that “surely I’m right” – the reading will undoubtedly speak for itself and the client and I will share the burden of proof in assessing its reliability.

I encounter far too many experienced readers in the online tarot community who have been practicing ten or more years and who are very sure of themselves (and quite a few who are equally full of themselves) when it comes to gatekeeping about what is and isn’t permissible in the realm of divination. To them I can only caution that the human/tarot interface is always evolving and it’s never prudent to depend implicitly on anything it entails, at least not for very long because the goalposts will invariably move.

Then there are the mystical individuals who say “Whatever you’re doing is right for you, so keep on doing it” regardless of whether it has proven to be valuable for the recipient of the reading. I once wrote an essay about this idealistic posture titled “No Wrong Way” (But Maybe Better Ones). Neither of these attitudes is conducive to advancing “best practices” in the art. Objectivity is a virtue that is often in short supply among the first group while too much tolerance for sloppy technique is evident in the second one.

By choosing to “just read the cards,” I take on the humble role of interpreter with no illusions about being the mouthpiece for a higher authority. My clients connect with that eminence when they throw themselves open to the subliminal inspiration and I hold my peace while they do so. Any guidance they receive finds its way into the arrangement of the cards, and I step in after that occurs. I have no use for priesthoods of any kind, so I never profess to channel flawless intelligence from exalted sources even if that is the avenue by which it normally arrives; that affinity is for the querent to achieve through concentration.

If there is anything fated about the conclusion, it emerges during that silent communion, and the sitter should be able to correct anything I get wrong in the subsequent narrative based on that private awareness. All I can do is create the story; the querent must bring it to life, and in that regard I edge away from “sureness” in deference to their superior instinct, even if they aren’t consciously convinced of that themselves until it is brought to their attention.

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