AUTHOR’S NOTE: In thinking about the observation of James Joyce that society (“the State”) is concentric while the individual (“Man”) is eccentric, I began toying with the idea that modern peer-pressure resembles a social “gravity well” that exerts a relentless pull on the iconoclast (at its worst an inexorable “black-hole” form of entrapment from which not even the light of reason escapes), aiming to reel the maverick into the fold of constant connectivity when being instantly reachable at all times is not mentally healthy. In my own experience, what began in the 1950s classroom as institutional mind-control has shifted into commercial suggestibility led by trendy “influencers,” a development predicted by Vance Packard in his 1957 book on motivational needs-analysis in advertising, The Hidden Persuaders.

As a “child of the ’60s” I’ve long resented this authoritarian prerogative, but from the vantage point of advanced age I now realize that the perpetrators were just acting out their socio-biological survival mandate at the tribal level. They felt threatened by “non-herd” behavior, and their programmed response was to enforce rule-based conformity (the post-War regimentation mentality was still in full flower during my early teens even as wealth-fueled autonomy was on the increase). In Prometheus Rising, Robert Anton Wilson has given me the words to convey this perception of “tunnel-reality” in a more thoughtful way (although I think he saw himself in the starring role).

I’ve always felt like a willful outsider in both the secular and esoteric communities, circling the center but managing to avoid colliding with it like a meteor falling into the Sun. There is a fine line between the allure of an independent trajectory (the pursuit of which would skirt the societal safety-net that rewards “just blending in”) and the immobility that can result from being pigeon-holed by convention. I’ve never been much of a “joiner,” although I’ve tried a few times; I tend to steer clear of self-proclaimed “masters” and just view them from a prudent distance, taking what seems worthwhile and leaving the rest. Ayn Rand in philosophy and Aleister Crowley in occultism were my earliest examples.

At the beginning of my cartomantic journey in 1971, I was “imprinted” (another of Wilson’s perfect idioms, although I don’t think it was his) by the Hermetic principles that inspired my work for the next forty years. At the time, psychological astrology was dominant and there were so few of us in the tarot cabal that I felt like I was operating in a vacuum, which suited me just fine for the purpose of private experimentation. But that changed in 2011 when I was awakened to the online takeover of public tarot practice.

Widespread social exposure reached us in rural New Hampshire via the internet at the end of the ’90s, and I caught up to it from a metaphysical perspective around ten years later. (What can I say, I was slow on the uptake because I was too busy playing Everquest.) My first encounter was in the old-school forum of Aeclectic Tarot, and I found a lot to like there. But that only lasted for six years and then I was rudely shoved into the more fragmented world of Facebook and reddit, neither of which satisfied me. I’m still looking for an intelligent platform that values deep contemplation accompanied by shared insights on these matters, but for the time being I will stay at the end of my self-imposed tether and keep an eye on developments. Daily blogging and the occasional reading keep my hand in.

What I find more compelling is the fanciful notion of using the core knowledge like the “slingshot effect” by which a spacecraft acquires “escape velocity” as it swings around the Sun on its outbound voyage. For me this is where the true value lies in the traditional wisdom that was encoded in the symbolism of the cards from the late-18^th to the mid-20^th Centuries, although it has been largely obscured by the folkloric accretions of a more populist nature that have now gone into overdrive via the 21^st Century preoccupation with intuitive self-reflection.

It strikes me that if anything can be true from a subjective viewpoint, then nothing will be absolute in the eyes of objective truth, it will all be relative. This may be valuable input for an inclusive punch-list of options, but in the interest of effective decision-making and problem-solving I wouldn’t feel comfortable basing actionable advice on it. I would have to default to letting querents figure it out for themselves, which is certainly legitimate since they do own the reading, but I wouldn’t be doing my job of probabilistic opportunity-and-obstacle assessment. This may be the norm in the realm of freestyle “empowerment,” but it doesn’t do much for me as a conscientious diviner who pursues the goal of meaningful counseling.

I want my words to carry weight and not just amount to coaching cues. The cards are capable of offering substantive guidance if they aren’t squeezed into a narrow straitjacket of personal bias. But I also don’t overdo the metaphysical, philosophical or psychological content when I’m trying to make a practical point, which is usually what I’m being asked to do. It all hinges on the inspiration, imagination and ingenuity of creative storytelling that puts a context-specific spin on the testimony in the spread. This is the individual “stamp” that the non-concentric (i.e. heterodox) tarot reader puts on his or her observations.