AUTHOR’S NOTE: There is currently a glut of aspiring tarot readers who believe that starting up an online practice is a surefire way to make enough money to survive. Until disabused of the notion, they don’t realize just how many of their peers they will be competing against, many of whom read for free or for very small sums ($5 or $10).

I’m an outsider in this field because I choose not to go up against those low-end readers in the open marketplace. I simply can’t descend to the level of the truncated “fly-by” interpretation that in online venues may very well be generated by a tarot app or AI compiler and sold as original content. But to be fair, any money I make is supplemental to my main income so at this point I’m more of a dedicated hobbyist than a full-time professional, although with a wealth of knowledge and experience to share that deserves fair compensation if anyone seeks me out.

My preference when working remotely is to communicate via email because it allows me as much time as I need get the forecast “just right.” On the other hand, it encourages being overly verbose while trying to find the perfect expressions to convey what I see in the cards. My challenge in a written presentation has always been to find the sweet spot between not enough information and too much.

My output can range anywhere from just over two pages of text, including an image, for a five-card reading (one paragraph per card with introductory and summary statements) to almost four pages for a ten-card Celtic Cross. It should be obvious that the time it takes to produce this material is considerably greater than that involved in a face-to-face session with its casual interface, and it’s the main reason I’m not as openhanded with my work as some (although I’ve been told I still don’t ask for enough in payment).

When I’m approached online for a reading, the feeling I get is that prospective clients are looking for free or cheap advice, and when they find out what I charge (which is still not much by offline standards), they ghost me and I never hear from them again. These days my main tarot pursuits are experimental spread creation and writing for this blog, not public divination, so any predictive work I undertake is primarily offered as a service to those who value my observations at a more profound level than I see in social-media settings.

I respect the art of tarot reading far too much to sell it short in a mercenary way that seems more cynical than compassionate. I’m not questioning anyone’s motives in sharing their ideas via an electronic platform, but I think this impersonal approach to counseling can limit the penetration of any wisdom it might convey. Where is the dialogue that is so valuable to making what Joseph Maxwell called “a full and helpful divination?”

I’m reminded of Marshall McLuhan’s 1964 book, Understanding Media, in which he argues that “the form of a communication medium shapes our society and alters human consciousness far more than the actual content it carries” (Wikipedia). In short, the online tarot exchange is “one big happy family” of consumerist sentiment that wouldn’t know a deep thought if it saw one. My misgivings will no doubt provoke the Ronald-Reagan-ism “There you go again!” but it’s too much of a carnival atmosphere for this esoteric philosopher.