The unexpected way I learned to read the Tarot.
Sitting with a client, bent over the Tarot cards, our heads close together as we tease out the story, or face to face via an illuminated screen with the help of the marvel that is Zoom, is my greatest delight among all the various things I do. Each card, with its vivid and symbolic imagery, gives us clues on the journey of discovery that we take together. As we collaborate to understand how the cards connect with the client’s questions, the circle of our awareness expands with insights that raise new and exciting possibilities.
Hard to believe now that in the past I smirked at the idea of the cards having any metaphysical meaning. I believed in Tarot, horoscopes, numerology, psychic predictions, crystal healings, etc., about as much as I believed in winged pigs.
Fast forward a couple of decades and how things have changed.
I’m sitting in the back of a stuffy wood-paneled room. On a small podium at the other end of the room stands an old woman, hair died to a deadly shade of magenta, she's dressed in a colorful, shiny muumuu. Waving a deck of cards in the air, she bellows, “The magic is not in the cards. It is in you. They are a portal that helps you tune in!”
She speaks of the power of the symbols to connect us with things that are hard or impossible to put into words, or even put one’s finger on. That sounds familiar. I’m reminded of Joseph Campbell’s writings about symbols.
Her speech is peppered with references to Joseph Campbell’s ideas that we connect with the ineffable through symbols, and Carl Jung’s study of dreams. Nothing about the Tarot is occult, she insists, unless you bring this element to it.
I also resonate with her statement because of my mystical experiences. I believe in those--even as I doubt so many thing, like the Tarot--because they happened to me and I'd rather trust my own experiences than be in denial. The Tarot readings, on the other hand, that friends had given me hadn't seemed to relate to anything in my life. Which is probably why I was so skeptical.
But this speaker is eloquent and knowledgeable, and I am duly impressed. When she'd done with her talk, I approach her to say, "Great speech!" But instead, "Will you teach me?" falls out of my mouth. I’m shocked. What just happened? The moment feels like an out-of-body- experience. She writes her address down and tells me to come by her house the following Wednesday at 9 AM. Sharp. On the drive home, I finger the piece of paper. I slip it in the pocket of my jacket. I take it out, thinking it could fall out and get lost. Finally, at a red light, I pull out my wallet and stick the paper in the attached coin purse where it feels like it will be at least as secure as my money.
The following Wednesday, at 9 am on the dot, I ring her doorbell.
I sit down next to my new teacher at a wooden worktable. She's made me a cup of tea and sets it down at my elbow. After much deliberation, she extracts a Tarot deck from a large wooden shelf overflowing with all kinds of decks, metaphysical tomes, and mementos, it seems, from all around the world. I pull pen and notebook from my green backpack, expecting to jot down what each card means. My teacher sits down, shuffles the deck, has me cut it and proceeds to slap the topmost card down on the table. To my genuine horror, she demands, "Tell me what this card means!"
What?? I look at her with shock. Umm, uh, what??
I don't tend to sweat a lot. But now, I break out in fierce perspiration. I'm helpless. I want to run away! But I don't want her to think I'm a loser. I stammer, somehow hoping that the gibberish I utter will coalesce into something that could pass for an answer. She prods, "Look at the card! What do you see?"
I look. I look.
I’m by this point so embarrassed and panicked, my brain goes blank and I literally see nothing but lines and fields of colors. I hear a voice in my head piping up, This is it. You either do something to impress this woman or you’re done. I force myself to bend down. My face is numb with fear as I look at the blasted card.
Her tone grows somewhat gentler. Probably because I'm as white as one of the three little Maltese dogs that having been running around the room. Pointing at the symbol in the upper corner of the card, she say, "Take a closer look here at this shape and color. What do you think this symbol means?"
I take a breath and, still stammering, describe what I am seeing. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I must've blacked out. All I know is that card after card comes down on the table and I do my best to keep my lips moving even while my brain is choking.
Suddenly, my teacher looks at the clock. Over an hour has passed. She stands up and asks, "See you next week?" Oh. OK. I stumble to my feet. Something dawns on me. I say, "Were you testing me?" A little smile comes and goes.
The next Wednesday, I’m back and we do it all over again. This time, on occasion, my teacher supplements my guttering explanations with some of her own, commenting on this symbol, describing that scene, remarking on that constellation of figures or colors, adding to my observations, subtly leading me.
After more session, she sets several cards down together and ask, "What story does this spread tell?"
What story?! I’ve been doing so well, hiding my discomfort, gamely going along with this insane style of non-teaching. And now this?! Story? At home, I’ve been studying up at the great university, called the Internet, even though my teacher has counseled against it.
When I ask her for suggested resources, she says something I hope I never forget as I teach my students: "When you look up the meaning, what you’re learning is what everybody else says the cards mean. But what you really want to discover is what they mean to you. And that is something you can’t learn from somebody else."
At the time, I didn't yet understand. To me, learning meant knowledge that somebody else has, but I don’t, that then is imparted to me. To me, knowledge was an entirely different category than wisdom or insight. I didn’t believe that one can know a thing by merely engaging with it. Later, I discovered that that’s the very way you can know it.
So, when I look at the cards in consternation just then, I know that this is going to be the moment where our lessons are going to be finished. I am standing before the sea and there’s no way I can part it.
That’s when a very strange thing happens. I suddenly have the feeling that, yea, the sea is parting. To my eyes, the cards grow brighter and more vivid. As if I’d started out watching a 2-D movie that just turned in to a 3-D movie and—guess what?—I have the 3-D glasses already on my head! The story of the cards unfolds before my eyes and it's about my teacher. But no way will I tell her! It would cross her boundaries since she didn't ask for a reading. So I say what I see and and leave it up to her to figure out it's about her. To this day, I wouldn’t dream of sharing something without a client’s explicit permission. That’s an important piece of the ethics that govern metaphysical work.
Very quickly, my teacher moves me to doing readings for other people and encourages me to do readings for my friends. She declines my offer to read the cards for her which makes me doubly glad I didn't say anything. She even warns me, "Never do a reading for a professional tarot reader and don’t ask one to do a reading for you." I ask why to which she wryly responds, "It won’t go well." She come from eight generations of readers so I'm not about to question her.
Later, I do end up making the mistake of reading for a professional reader, not once but twice and, let me tell you, it goes sideways so badly both times, never again!
One day, when I arrive, I see that the workspace is empty. The decks still sit on their shelf. As has become custom, I sit down in the chair next to my teacher’s. In a departure from our typical ritual, she turns to me and pulls my chair around until we are face to face. Today, she is wearing a white shirt with tiny beads along the neckline. Her eyes shine friendly, yet solemn. Her voice is even deeper and more sonorous than usual.
"I want to tell you something," she says.
I look at her, feeling suddenly very nervous.
"Over the years," she continues, "I’ve taught a number of people to read the tarot. And some were quite talented. There have been some unfortunate ones who have no talent for the tarot and I’ve had to turn them away. Such as that young person last week who, after I told her not to, brought an oracle deck instead of tarot cards!"
She looks so mad, I seriously get worried. Is she going to fire me? She takes a breath and looks at me kindly again.
"Listen," she says, "in all my years, and you know I’m old. . ."
I protest, but she shushes me with a wave of her hand.
"I am old,' she insists obstinately, "and in all my time, I have never taught anyone as talented as you."
What?? In a million years, this is not what I expected. She has never once remarked on how well, or not well, things are going in our lessons.
She's read my face, nods and doubles down, "You’re the most gifted reader I have ever met. You’re a better reader that I am."
Before I can protest, she clarifies, "Of course, there are things I know that you don’t yet. I am more experienced than you." And here she stops, then reinforces herself, "much more experienced than you."
I’m actually getting a little irked by that. I’m not a kid, myself, you know. But I have to let it go because she's unarguably right.
"I am saying this, "she continues, "because if I don’t, how would you know? I hope you take reading the Tarot seriously. I know that you thought in the past that this is all a bunch of baloney, as you’ve put it. I hope you’ve learned that it is not."
I did think that and, as I am listening to her, I’m not sure that I’ve completely changed my mind. Am I playing at this? Am I serious? It’s obvious that my teacher has read me well and is seeking to counter weigh my doubtfulness with her seriousness.
We look at each other silently for a moment, then she goes on, "So, now I’ve told you. Now you know and you can’t unknow it. And the words can’t be taken back."
I say kind of tremulously, "Are you sure? You really think I have some talent in this?"
She laughs with a quick snort. "You’re not listening. I don’t think you have some talent. I’m telling you that you’re the most gifted Tarot reader I’ve ever taught. In fact, I have nothing more to teach you. From here on you have to discover for yourself."
Oh no! She is firing me! "But. . .but," I sputter. But she gives me a cold look that silences me.
She continues, "This doesn’t mean that you won’t keep learning. I hope you do. Do as many readings as you can. Keep at it. Get more experienced. But know that all the things you can never learn you already have within you. Understand?"
I take a breath and nod. She smiles, briefly rubs her hands together, looks around and calls to her dogs. I’ve been dismissed. I gather my stuff, feeling a little bereft.
"Oh, you can come back any time you want to," she calls after me, "you just don’t need to."
I turn around and go back to hug her goodbye. Then I step from the house into the sunshine. I don’t feel ready, but my teacher’s words, as she intended, has kindled an excitement within me that, over time, will slowly build into an inextinguishable flame that steadfastly connects me with the divine and allows me to share its wisdom with the world.
Hard to believe now that in the past I smirked at the idea of the cards having any metaphysical meaning. I believed in Tarot, horoscopes, numerology, psychic predictions, crystal healings, etc., about as much as I believed in winged pigs.
Fast forward a couple of decades and how things have changed.
I’m sitting in the back of a stuffy wood-paneled room. On a small podium at the other end of the room stands an old woman, hair died to a deadly shade of magenta, she's dressed in a colorful, shiny muumuu. Waving a deck of cards in the air, she bellows, “The magic is not in the cards. It is in you. They are a portal that helps you tune in!”
She speaks of the power of the symbols to connect us with things that are hard or impossible to put into words, or even put one’s finger on. That sounds familiar. I’m reminded of Joseph Campbell’s writings about symbols.
Her speech is peppered with references to Joseph Campbell’s ideas that we connect with the ineffable through symbols, and Carl Jung’s study of dreams. Nothing about the Tarot is occult, she insists, unless you bring this element to it.
I also resonate with her statement because of my mystical experiences. I believe in those--even as I doubt so many thing, like the Tarot--because they happened to me and I'd rather trust my own experiences than be in denial. The Tarot readings, on the other hand, that friends had given me hadn't seemed to relate to anything in my life. Which is probably why I was so skeptical.
But this speaker is eloquent and knowledgeable, and I am duly impressed. When she'd done with her talk, I approach her to say, "Great speech!" But instead, "Will you teach me?" falls out of my mouth. I’m shocked. What just happened? The moment feels like an out-of-body- experience. She writes her address down and tells me to come by her house the following Wednesday at 9 AM. Sharp. On the drive home, I finger the piece of paper. I slip it in the pocket of my jacket. I take it out, thinking it could fall out and get lost. Finally, at a red light, I pull out my wallet and stick the paper in the attached coin purse where it feels like it will be at least as secure as my money.
The following Wednesday, at 9 am on the dot, I ring her doorbell.
I sit down next to my new teacher at a wooden worktable. She's made me a cup of tea and sets it down at my elbow. After much deliberation, she extracts a Tarot deck from a large wooden shelf overflowing with all kinds of decks, metaphysical tomes, and mementos, it seems, from all around the world. I pull pen and notebook from my green backpack, expecting to jot down what each card means. My teacher sits down, shuffles the deck, has me cut it and proceeds to slap the topmost card down on the table. To my genuine horror, she demands, "Tell me what this card means!"
What?? I look at her with shock. Umm, uh, what??
I don't tend to sweat a lot. But now, I break out in fierce perspiration. I'm helpless. I want to run away! But I don't want her to think I'm a loser. I stammer, somehow hoping that the gibberish I utter will coalesce into something that could pass for an answer. She prods, "Look at the card! What do you see?"
I look. I look.
I’m by this point so embarrassed and panicked, my brain goes blank and I literally see nothing but lines and fields of colors. I hear a voice in my head piping up, This is it. You either do something to impress this woman or you’re done. I force myself to bend down. My face is numb with fear as I look at the blasted card.
Her tone grows somewhat gentler. Probably because I'm as white as one of the three little Maltese dogs that having been running around the room. Pointing at the symbol in the upper corner of the card, she say, "Take a closer look here at this shape and color. What do you think this symbol means?"
I take a breath and, still stammering, describe what I am seeing. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I must've blacked out. All I know is that card after card comes down on the table and I do my best to keep my lips moving even while my brain is choking.
Suddenly, my teacher looks at the clock. Over an hour has passed. She stands up and asks, "See you next week?" Oh. OK. I stumble to my feet. Something dawns on me. I say, "Were you testing me?" A little smile comes and goes.
The next Wednesday, I’m back and we do it all over again. This time, on occasion, my teacher supplements my guttering explanations with some of her own, commenting on this symbol, describing that scene, remarking on that constellation of figures or colors, adding to my observations, subtly leading me.
After more session, she sets several cards down together and ask, "What story does this spread tell?"
What story?! I’ve been doing so well, hiding my discomfort, gamely going along with this insane style of non-teaching. And now this?! Story? At home, I’ve been studying up at the great university, called the Internet, even though my teacher has counseled against it.
When I ask her for suggested resources, she says something I hope I never forget as I teach my students: "When you look up the meaning, what you’re learning is what everybody else says the cards mean. But what you really want to discover is what they mean to you. And that is something you can’t learn from somebody else."
At the time, I didn't yet understand. To me, learning meant knowledge that somebody else has, but I don’t, that then is imparted to me. To me, knowledge was an entirely different category than wisdom or insight. I didn’t believe that one can know a thing by merely engaging with it. Later, I discovered that that’s the very way you can know it.
So, when I look at the cards in consternation just then, I know that this is going to be the moment where our lessons are going to be finished. I am standing before the sea and there’s no way I can part it.
That’s when a very strange thing happens. I suddenly have the feeling that, yea, the sea is parting. To my eyes, the cards grow brighter and more vivid. As if I’d started out watching a 2-D movie that just turned in to a 3-D movie and—guess what?—I have the 3-D glasses already on my head! The story of the cards unfolds before my eyes and it's about my teacher. But no way will I tell her! It would cross her boundaries since she didn't ask for a reading. So I say what I see and and leave it up to her to figure out it's about her. To this day, I wouldn’t dream of sharing something without a client’s explicit permission. That’s an important piece of the ethics that govern metaphysical work.
Very quickly, my teacher moves me to doing readings for other people and encourages me to do readings for my friends. She declines my offer to read the cards for her which makes me doubly glad I didn't say anything. She even warns me, "Never do a reading for a professional tarot reader and don’t ask one to do a reading for you." I ask why to which she wryly responds, "It won’t go well." She come from eight generations of readers so I'm not about to question her.
Later, I do end up making the mistake of reading for a professional reader, not once but twice and, let me tell you, it goes sideways so badly both times, never again!
One day, when I arrive, I see that the workspace is empty. The decks still sit on their shelf. As has become custom, I sit down in the chair next to my teacher’s. In a departure from our typical ritual, she turns to me and pulls my chair around until we are face to face. Today, she is wearing a white shirt with tiny beads along the neckline. Her eyes shine friendly, yet solemn. Her voice is even deeper and more sonorous than usual.
"I want to tell you something," she says.
I look at her, feeling suddenly very nervous.
"Over the years," she continues, "I’ve taught a number of people to read the tarot. And some were quite talented. There have been some unfortunate ones who have no talent for the tarot and I’ve had to turn them away. Such as that young person last week who, after I told her not to, brought an oracle deck instead of tarot cards!"
She looks so mad, I seriously get worried. Is she going to fire me? She takes a breath and looks at me kindly again.
"Listen," she says, "in all my years, and you know I’m old. . ."
I protest, but she shushes me with a wave of her hand.
"I am old,' she insists obstinately, "and in all my time, I have never taught anyone as talented as you."
What?? In a million years, this is not what I expected. She has never once remarked on how well, or not well, things are going in our lessons.
She's read my face, nods and doubles down, "You’re the most gifted reader I have ever met. You’re a better reader that I am."
Before I can protest, she clarifies, "Of course, there are things I know that you don’t yet. I am more experienced than you." And here she stops, then reinforces herself, "much more experienced than you."
I’m actually getting a little irked by that. I’m not a kid, myself, you know. But I have to let it go because she's unarguably right.
"I am saying this, "she continues, "because if I don’t, how would you know? I hope you take reading the Tarot seriously. I know that you thought in the past that this is all a bunch of baloney, as you’ve put it. I hope you’ve learned that it is not."
I did think that and, as I am listening to her, I’m not sure that I’ve completely changed my mind. Am I playing at this? Am I serious? It’s obvious that my teacher has read me well and is seeking to counter weigh my doubtfulness with her seriousness.
We look at each other silently for a moment, then she goes on, "So, now I’ve told you. Now you know and you can’t unknow it. And the words can’t be taken back."
I say kind of tremulously, "Are you sure? You really think I have some talent in this?"
She laughs with a quick snort. "You’re not listening. I don’t think you have some talent. I’m telling you that you’re the most gifted Tarot reader I’ve ever taught. In fact, I have nothing more to teach you. From here on you have to discover for yourself."
Oh no! She is firing me! "But. . .but," I sputter. But she gives me a cold look that silences me.
She continues, "This doesn’t mean that you won’t keep learning. I hope you do. Do as many readings as you can. Keep at it. Get more experienced. But know that all the things you can never learn you already have within you. Understand?"
I take a breath and nod. She smiles, briefly rubs her hands together, looks around and calls to her dogs. I’ve been dismissed. I gather my stuff, feeling a little bereft.
"Oh, you can come back any time you want to," she calls after me, "you just don’t need to."
I turn around and go back to hug her goodbye. Then I step from the house into the sunshine. I don’t feel ready, but my teacher’s words, as she intended, has kindled an excitement within me that, over time, will slowly build into an inextinguishable flame that steadfastly connects me with the divine and allows me to share its wisdom with the world.
***
That was many years ago. I am so, so grateful for the gift my teacher gave me with her words. Without them, I know, I would have spent a lot of time doubting and second-guessing myself and being stubborn and arrogant. Too worried about my "credibility," I may never have truly bonded with the Tarot.
I think she anticipated that. With her words, she ignited a spark of confidence that allows me to trust the cards. And I do completely. With one hundred percent trust and devotion, I let the cards guide me. I know that I recognize the story. I trust that, when I invite my client to collaborate with me as we progress through their reading, I’m doing it right for the simple fact that I am called to do it. That I am helping my clients begin their very own Hero’s Journey—the special call each of us hears but hasn’t usually been shown how to heed. I trust that the divine guides me in every reading. And, finally, I trust that in my readings, I establish a divine connection with my clients and help them to have their own special connection with the divine.
My teacher bestowed on me one of the greatest gifts I’ve received. The cards, for me, are a conduit to divine knowing. In the past, my divine guidance was personal, only meant for me. But when using the cards, I am able to share this guidance with others so they benefit from it. And because of that, there is so much love in my life and I get to express so much love, it can't even be put in words how good that is.
I think she anticipated that. With her words, she ignited a spark of confidence that allows me to trust the cards. And I do completely. With one hundred percent trust and devotion, I let the cards guide me. I know that I recognize the story. I trust that, when I invite my client to collaborate with me as we progress through their reading, I’m doing it right for the simple fact that I am called to do it. That I am helping my clients begin their very own Hero’s Journey—the special call each of us hears but hasn’t usually been shown how to heed. I trust that the divine guides me in every reading. And, finally, I trust that in my readings, I establish a divine connection with my clients and help them to have their own special connection with the divine.
My teacher bestowed on me one of the greatest gifts I’ve received. The cards, for me, are a conduit to divine knowing. In the past, my divine guidance was personal, only meant for me. But when using the cards, I am able to share this guidance with others so they benefit from it. And because of that, there is so much love in my life and I get to express so much love, it can't even be put in words how good that is.
