If
you are interested in using antique tarot decks for divination,
I moderate a discussion group devoted to that topic. Click the
button for more information.
There is a perception that the study of tarot history is, at best, irrelevant to the use of the cards for divination, and at worst downright antagonistic toward it. Ever since the fanciful stories the occult writers, claiming that the cards were invented in ancient Egypt as a coded library of secret magical knowledge, were rejected as historically false, historians have often been regarded as "debunkers", trying to deprive the cards of their esoteric significance and call into question the legitimacy of their magical and religious uses. Indeed, there is some truth in this perception.
We should recognize, however, that tarot cards have persisted as a part of our culture for nearly six centuries. Anything that survives that long will evolve and change, and so will attitudes toward it. The fact that game-playing was an earlier use for the cards than fortune-telling does not make it a better use, it just makes it an earlier use. From our present vantage point, we can recognize that the tarot cards are a cultural artifact of great versatility, capable of engaging our interest in many different ways, according to the context in which we encounter them, the nature of the times in which we live, and our own individual preferences. The history of the tarot is only part of its identity.
But doesn't that make the early history of the cards irrelevant? To some extent, it certainly does. No knowledge of tarot history is required to read the cards effectively, especially if one uses a modern deck designed primarily for divination. However, I believe that one's relationship with the cards, just like one's relationship with another person, is made richer by an appreciation of where they came from. If we lack confidence in the relationship, we may not want to hear the facts, for fear that they will disappoint us or shatter a cherished illusion. But, conversely, learning the facts and incorporating them into our understanding of the cards is an activity that strengthens the relationship and makes it more resilient and durable.
I read the cards. I have many decks, from the oldest to the most modern. I have decks that were made as card games, decks that were made for use in secret societies, decks made for pagan magic, decks made for fortune-telling, decks made for meditation, and decks that were made purely as works of art. I use them all and I study them all. It is clear to me that the tarot symbols are exceedingly well suited for divination and contemplation, even the ones found on decks that predate the rise of card reading. There must have been something extraordinary in the culture that produced these cards, that they can speak to us with such power, across so many centuries. I would feel ungrateful if I had no curiosity about the people who first conceived and made the cards.
My studies of tarot history have made me a better reader. Knowing that the Hermit was once Time adds to his profundity, and it takes nothing away. He is still the solitary seeker of truth, the reclusive philosopher monk and teacher of initiates. But he is also a figure burdened with age, conscious of the slow but irreversible progress of sand through the neck of the hourglass; his staff is both a symbol of spiritual power and an old man's prop. In the Tarocco Bolognese, he has wings (because Time flies). But that addition yields another remarkable image: a winged man on crutches! And perhaps that is the familiar Hermit once again, outwardly lame, but inwardly free.
In the end, I am fascinated with the tarot symbols themselves, and so I am not satisfied with a single deck, a single theory, or a single practice. True symbols are not happy living inside such restrictions; they have a greater depth and reach. They keep resurfacing in new guises, finding new embodiment each time a new deck is printed. Tarot includes them all. With the fascination comes respect, a commitment to recognize and honor the true story of the symbols and the many generations of card makers and card owners who have appreciated them, each in their own distinctive way. The history of the tarot is a testimony to the power and adaptability of the symbols it embodies.
As a card reader, I strive for a deep understanding of the meanings behind the cards. For me, deep understanding does not come through one channel alone. Studying the theories of the occultists, reading the divinatory meanings assigned by different authors, meditating on the cards, drawing on sudden intuitions, responding esthetically to the artwork on the cards, and attending to the human issues that surround me in my life, all these things are part of the process. A knowledge of tarot history, too, is a tool for understanding the symbols. It supplements and complements the others.
The tarot is both a divination tool and a legacy of Renaissance culture. That is not a contradiction. It should not embarrass either historians or readers! It is a remarkable truth, worthy of exploration and affirmation.
If
you are interested in using antique tarot decks for divination,
I moderate a discussion group devoted to that topic. Click the
button for more information.
