Three ways of reading: in line, singling out & in layout
Let us compare three situations based on the reading of pretty much the same cards. I use playing cards for this, as they are the classical precursor of all divination with cards, Tarot, fortunetelling, and oracle cards.
For the sake of illustration, and to keep to the bare essentials, there is no question. In real divination situations, I never perform any readings without first anchoring the question in a specific context, but here I want to highlight the premise for why we develop a particular preference for a method or a style of reading.
In line
Consider this string as a narrative first based on the cards above, a case of triage-en-ligne, or the reading that is sentence-based, focussing on what the subject does.
John is meeting Mary in his studio in the basement behind his father’s back.
Variation with the 7 Clubs and King of Hearts as last two cards:
John is meeting Mary in his studio in the basement with this father’s consent.
Now you’re welcome to say: What kind of bullshit is this?
You’d be perfectly right in calling me out on this bullshit. It is bullshit. It is a completely imagined scenario based on overhearing a conversation between Mary and her best friend, Beth. Beth is worried: ‘What a bastard, John’s father. So where do you meet?’ ‘We meet secretly in the basement’, Mary says, full of apprehension.
End of reading.
Singling out
Consider how this story above contrasts with another type of reading that starts with the predetermined meanings of the cards taken individually and without much regard for context. Although this reading is also imaginary, the style is not. I’ve witnessed this style of delivering a message many times.
More specifically here, we look at what each card tells us about what the subject is or is like, or what each card is associated with what idea. Most of these associations follow cartomantic conventions that are completely arbitrarily decided upon.
Using this method, readers often go like this: the Jack of Hearts means a man of love, openness and generosity. John is a very nice man, loving and caring. Sometimes he may flirt too much with too many people at the same time. But since he has a big heart, we forgive him.
The 2 Diamonds means cooperation. Probably involving money transactions.
The Queen of Hearts means a nurturing woman, a woman of love and generosity. She is open and receptive, fertile and kind.
The 4 Clubs means stability at work.
The Ace of Spades means death. Oh, no, sorry, the Ace of Spades means trasnformation or a decision. Anyway, it’s bad, or something like that.
The 7 Spades means theft, or magic. Let’s go with magic because we like it better.
The King of Spades means a big, bad magician. We like big, bad magicians. We admire them. Such sheer force. The dark side is so exciting. Granted, however, in some fortunetelling traditions the King of Spades is just a magistrate, but that’s more boring. A judge punishing a thief, or a policeman handing out parking tickets. How boring is that! Can we go back to the esoteric world of the big bad magicians? Actually, we don’t want to go esoteric at all.
Therefore let’s sum up here instead: we have John and Mary. They are nice people. There’s something about stability that’s not so good. And then there’s that big, bad magician, the King of Spades, err, sorry, I mean, the judge. Anyway, what do you think? Bad vibes, no?
It would be better for John to have a benevolent father (KH) who consents (7C) to his amorous encounters (JH, 2D, QH).
End of reading, with a note:
What this narrative string has to do with John and Mary we don’t know, because we focus on the individual cards. But if we stretch ourselves a little bit outside of the template that dictates: ‘this card means this thing,’ then maybe we can say that John and Mary have a stable relationship of working together until that relationship gets impaled by the Ace of Spades.
How this impacts on the fact that they both belong to the Heart suit, and that it’s possible that the working relationship is towards fixing whatever needs fixed when a mean father is in the picture, we don’t bother to investigate simply because that would take too much brain work. So, we just say that they have a stable working relationship, and then get on with the program. The tall dark stranger ending the string of cards here is too good a magic story to ignore. Individually taken.
In layout
Let us now move to the third narrative string, this time in a Celtic cross layout, where we have the cards locked in distinct positions. This type of reading focuses entirely on the subject’s perception and self-perception.
I use 3 extra cards here to fulfil the requirement for a 10-card reading. They are taken at random from the top of the cut deck. The first 7 cards follow the exact same order I drew them in as in the first example.
The Celtic Cross layout operates with these positions.
1) The Self (JH); 2) What crosses the Self (2D); 3) The Self’s past foundation (QH); 4) The Self’s coping with the past (AS); 5) The Self’s current aspirations (4C); 6) The Self’s future (7S); 7) The Self’s self-image (KS); 8) The Self’s environment (KH); 9) The Self’s hopes and fears (7C); 10) The Self’s deliverance (9C).
Now let’s see the configuration of these cards in the Celtic Cross layout.
Here we can go like this: John is at the center of everything, a nice man. He is crossed by cooperation (JH, 2D).
He used to love a woman (QH), but he’s past that anguish now (AS). His goal is to get his shit together (4C) and stop crying (7S).
His self-image is permeated by anger (KS), but his father supports him (KH).
He fears he has to work a lot, yet hopes for relief (7C). But fate dictates differently (9C). He gets to work a lot, in spite of his desire not to.
End of reading.
What’s your preference?
Now, what can we say about these readings, especially if we were to leave out all judgmental positions? Which of the outlined narratives carries the most or the least amount of bullshit?
Le me suggest the following:
The reading in line tells us something about what the subject does, how he acts, thinks, or positions himself vis-à-vis the other actors in the picture. This reading favors the sentence-based narrative that gives attention to how self-awareness is constructed and arises in context. In the absence of court cards that can disclose who the main protagonist is, we give priority to function of the suits, and consider which suit is the most relevant to talk about in relation to the question.
Singling the cards out and reading them individually one by one tells us something about arbitrary meanings. There’s no agency here at all. Just meanings and random characters embodying ‘archetypes’ that are used as mirrors for identification. We’re here with random meanings expansively oriented towards other random meanings. The dynamic here is of mutual attraction: symbolic meaning attracts symbolic meaning. Nothing gets killed off here in the name of non-substantiality, as all the symbols are pregnant with predetermined meanings by definition. If the reader doesn’t stick to the formula ‘this means that,’ there’s trouble. The fact that the loving Queen of Hearts can also mean ‘a shallow woman’ is disturbing. A reader who uses the cards as mirrors will not be happy having to deliver a portrait that is not flattering to the sitter. So this method has an inherent flaw, as it sets up the conversation between the reader and the sitter as a performance that only advances a corrupt image of what emerges from the cards at the expense of clear insight.
The reading in layout tells us something about identity-based relations. It’s all about the self in capitalized form. It’s all about the Self’s worldview, embedded constructions of self-image, and internal drama. In layout, what the Self does, what he’s good at, and how he serves is irrelevant. Layout and positional readings seduce the querent with even fancier mirrors than in the previous example.
Here’s my point: readers of cards read in different ways. Preferences are not subject to critique. One can critique modality and approach, but what’s the point of critiquing preference? If I used sarcasm and a tone of ridiculing the strategies of reading cards without regard for context in my stories above, it’s because I wanted to highlight how deficient some methods are.
Personally I prefer the method that allows for meaning to arise in context. I also favour the least all identity-centered narratives. But that’s simply because my own spiritual inclinations tilt towards decentering the self through a lot of practicing the fine art of deconstructing mythologies.
I actually get a major kick out at laughing at language games and at how language ‘thinks’ that just because it belongs to culture it has the upper hand on my thoughts and actions. Even in my dreams I’m aware of just how culturally constructed my thoughts, metaphors, and images are, and so I never ‘believe’ them. Hence, the reading based on ‘meanings’ doesn’t excite me either, as it takes away the pleasure I have in thinking about permuting with image and word according to what is possible and plausible in any given context.
In my divination practice I aim to deliver statements that make the other I happen to read the cards for think. I’m a fortuneteller that doesn’t tell fortunes. I’m a fortuneteller that deconstructs the hell out of fortunes.
Some like it that I do this. Others say, ‘it’s not for me.’ Some cross my palm with silver, bowing and retreating with a sense of being high, finding it liberating to go home with the distinct feeling of what it means to trample all over words, especially the words that maintain the illusion of fixed thoughts, thoughts of anger and depression, anxiety or self-elevation, thoughts of desire and denial, thoughts of a self that has no substance beyond the pure performance that the self is always already subject to and participates in both consciously and unconsciously.
So let us ask again? Which reading method is the best, even when we now ought to know, since we’ve already laughed at the ones that merely set us up rather than deliver us from all evil? I’d say that the simple reading is the best. There is a lot of sophistication in simplicity. If there is a tradition in divination that is indisputable, then it’s the tradition that casts diviners as averse to simplicity. Simplicity is lousy at performing the mysterious. As people like to have secrets revealed, theirs and those of others, they prefer the aura of the esoteric to play out in a divination session. Traditionally, diviners have exploited this preference, but now to the question: do we want to just read the damn cards, or join the circus?
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