Back in the day in the Italy of the 1980s, having a psychic reading was a normal occurrence. Most of my friends had a cartomante, a favorite tarot reader they would consult periodically. Did somebody break your heart? Were you looking for a new job? Were you anxious about something? These were among the most common reasons to pay a visit to a cartomancer who would help you attain clarity about your predicament.
Like many in my generation, I started consulting tarot readers out of curiosity. Soon enough, however, I was smitten by how effective they often were at sorting out my dilemmas. How could these strangers speak so competently about a life that was not theirs? From the humble old lady surrounded by her cats to the young attorney who read cards during weekends, each of them had some insights to offer. In fact, several of these cartomancers could pick apart my challenges to identify patterns that were not just intelligible, but also actionable.
I was amazed. Little by little, my focus shifted from the kind of advice I was receiving to cartomancy per se. There was something magical in the ease with which these psychics opened a window unto the unknown of my life, allowing wisdom to shine on its darkest areas. This was an art I wanted to learn; I longed to know what they knew and do what they did.
In 1985, I finally bought a book and a deck and started practicing. The tarot seemed to put me in touch with a more advanced form of consciousness. The answers it gave me were clear, accurate, and helpful. I started reading for my friends and for my friends’ friends. Over time, the tarot became a trusted presence in my life to which I could turn when I needed answers.
Fast-forward to over thirty years later, and I am still reading the tarot; I do it for myself, and I do it for others. As an old timer, however, I am a little different in my approach. To me, my deck is just a psychic springboard; hence, I do not use the tarot as an oracle but rather as a scrying tool. I am familiar with the meanings of each card; however, what guides my readings is the images and words which appear to my inner senses. And, since the crone in me has gone completely rogue, I no longer bother with spreads, either. The cards just tell me their story regardless of their position on my desk.
Overall, my tarot has its own way of broaching a topic: it starts with a general overview and then goes deeper with each round. Things during a reading may get very personal, very quickly—there is no such a thing as boundaries in the world of spirit. Also, if the tarot does not like a question, it will redirect the topic as it sees fit. Each reading has its own flavor; by connecting with my querent, my tarot begins to tell a nuanced story. In this process, my role is that of an intermediary between my client and a benevolent consciousness who has a deeper understanding of things and wisdom to share.
Whatever it is, this consciousness has a personality of its own. For one, it invites introspection and reflexivity; it highlights patterns that are hidden in plain sight, and suggests new ways of looking at challenges. Also, while deeply compassionate it does not embellish the truth; instead, it often points to karmic lessons that need to be learned: releasing them is usually the best way out of a predicament.
If you think this approach is for you and you are ready to take a deeper look at your life, book a reading with me and let’s get down to work.
Image by Cat Crawford via Unsplash