When children play, they work with symbols (in the form of toys, figures, dolls, etc.) that interact according to a theme.  Even a child who is doing something as seemingly simple and basic as building a tall tower with blocks is likely exploring the theme of competency (“Can I do this? What are the limits of what is possible and/or of what I can do?”) as well as other possible themes.  As a therapist who specializes in working with young children, I have witnessed how easy it seems to be for most children to let go, opening wide the door to their subconscious minds.  For adults, the subconscious mind is like an attic full of boxes, but we can’t remember the last time we pulled the string from the ceiling to bring down the ladder to the attic, let alone what is in all those boxes.  For young children, the subconscious is more like the guest bedroom of a house than a rarely-visited attic.  Even when there are memories of past traumas and other unpleasantries in that room, children go right in, open up the boxes and start pulling the items out. 

Having watched this fluid process countless times, I have come to appreciate the incredible, healing power of the subconscious mind which—out of self-preservation or some other inner drive—seems to be naturally drawn to that which is healing.  Claude Monet, the famous impressionistic painter, once said, “To see, we must forget the name of the things we are looking at.”  While the conscious mind will present endless distractions and defenses that can end up sabotaging personal growth, the subconscious mind has enough perspective to be brave.  This is true for adults as well as children, particularly when they encounter a stimulus (a song, an image, or something else) that seems to cut straight through the surface down to the very core of the person.  The impact of such an event can be powerful and even life-changing.  

There is nothing mystical or other-worldly about seeing an image and responding to it emotionally, viscerally.  As you stroll through a museum, you may walk right by some works of art while then staring at some of the other pieces for what seems like hours.  As the Talmudic saying goes, “We do not see things as they are; we see them as we are.”  At one point while I was still trying to process the dissolution of my 22-year-long marriage, I sat looking through a massive coffee table book that contained classic paintings.  I flipped right by the paintings that exuded peace, happiness, or family togetherness, but I paused and reflected on the paintings that poignantly captured pain, defeat, and loss.  In that moment of my life, I felt connected to these works of art, or more specifically to the people within the paintings; some appeared broken, others courageous and determined, but they all had pain in their eyes.  The subconscious mind is so much better at recognizing patterns and making connections than the conscious mind.  Therefore, if someone had asked me at the time why I chose to look more closely at the “depressing” paintings, I might have made a joke about the importance of reinforcing my dark state of mind.  Upon reflection, I have no doubt that my subconscious mind was using this simple experience, as well as others like it, to help me heal.  As I took in the various representations of painful defeat, my subconscious mind created a healing road map for me that included forgiveness, strength, accountability, and acceptance. 

While for some, any mention of tarot brings to mind charlatans, gypsies, and fortune tellers who make vague declarations and predictions that could apply to virtually anyone, in reality the tarot is a collection of 78 images that—like any works of art— can evoke emotion and spark an inner dialogue about those neglected boxes in the attic. 

There are two main reasons, in my estimation, that tarot has negative connotations for some people.  An entire book could be written on this topic, but for now, I will briefly describe these two reasons: 

First, religious cultures (not all, but many) have historically frowned upon (I’m putting it nicely here) anything that is perceived to be used for divination, because the very word divination suggests that an individual is seeking knowledge that, from a religious point of view, is not for them; from this perspective, using tarot cards to gain insight would be akin to eating from the tree of knowledge—the forbidden fruit—in the garden of Eden.  After all, the original, root meaning of the word divination suggests that the person doing the “divining” is attempting to discover the will of God (or “the Gods”, depending on the religion).  From this vantage point, though, what information is okay to pursue and discover?  Is the subconscious mind off limits entirely, because any exploration of this deeper, more hidden, part of one’s self suggests wanting to know and understand more—even if that “more” is for self-improvement, enlightenment and ultimately with the goal of living a more productive life that would better honor God, for those who believe?  When a person creates a “world” in the sand tray during a counseling session, using miniature figures that collectively tell a story from the subconscious mind of the individual, how is the process different from a person who looks at images on some cards and then pulls out some of the images to string together into a narrative?  Either way, external stimuli are being used to facilitate communication from the subconscious.

The other main reason that tarot is viewed negatively by some people is a direct result of tarot having been used by some people to exploit, hurt, and/or take advantage of others.  Similar to those who seek mental health counseling, quite often those people who reach out to get a tarot reading are vulnerable, at a difficult time in their lives, or otherwise impressionable to suggestion.  The field of counseling is regulated by governing bodies that dictate which actions are—and are not—ethical when interacting with a client, because of the potential for exploitation.  Obviously, engaging in a sexual relationship with a client would be a clear ethical violation of the client’s trust, but what about accepting a gift from a client? Is that crossing a boundary that is detrimental to the client’s well-being?  Thankfully, there is clear guidance for counselors so they can effectively help their clients in a way that is consistently ethical, never exploitive, and that promotes positive mental health.  Unfortunately, there is no such regulating body in the world of tarot users.  As a result, since the 14th or 15th century, there have been those who have capitalized on the vulnerability of those who are searching for answers. 

Even intelligent, otherwise savvy people can fall prey to an unscrupulous tarot reader.  Years ago, when I was working toward my bachelor’s degree, I lived in a house with several other girls who were also in college.  One of these girls had a really difficult time after she and her boyfriend broke up.  She cried almost constantly and had frequent panic attacks.  I noticed that her mood was better one day, and she explained that she had found a new age healer who was helping her.  Over time, I became aware that this roommate was giving several hundred dollars each week—not a small amount of money for a typical college student!—to her “new age healer” who was casting spells, predicting the future, reading the cards, and guiding this girl’s every move with her allegedly psychic guidance.  It was sad to witness, and this girl would not listen to anyone who suggested she consider the possibility that her new age healer did not have her best interest at heart.  We live in a world in which there is evil, but there is no evil in tarot cards themselves any more than there is evil in any of the items in my therapy office.  A scam artist who sends forged love letters to a lonely, older woman and convinces her to send him her entire life savings similarly exploits vulnerability and weaponizes something that might otherwise be viewed as sacred: love, or more specifically, a heart that is ready to love.

In Tarot as a Counseling Language (2015), Bradford Hatcher put it best, in my opinion, when he said, “For me, Tarot is a language about psychological states, sort of a wardrobe of attitudes and approaches to life… There is nothing supernatural about it, but the natural is underestimated. Tarot simply uses native heuristics like pareidolia to get us closer to the subliminal, to places in the mind where consciousness can’t go.”  There are many different versions (or artistic representations) of the 78 tarot cards, but there is wide consensus on the basic meaning for each card.  Even someone who is unfamiliar with tarot can look at any of the 78 images and describe what seems to be happening in the picture while reflecting on any connections that can be made to his or her own life.  In the Hermit card, there is a sense of being alone, of turning within, of taking some quiet time for reflection.  The Sun card might remind someone of happy days at the beach or getting things out into the open for all to see in the light of day. In the Tower card, there is a feeling of destruction and sudden upheaval; everything that has been known and built up to that point is now crumbling to the ground.  Every picture tells a story, and the themes within these stories naturally resonate with those who are open to self-reflection and recognize themselves in some of the images. 

In my own life, I have been that person in the 9 of Swords card, sitting up in bed, my head pounding, unable to sleep or even relax, because my thoughts were racing.  I have been that person depicted on the 5 of Cups card, so emotionally consumed by what has been lost that I almost forgot what I still had.  There have been times in my life when the weight of what I had to carry felt unbearable, as seen on the 10 of Wands card, and there have been times when my heart was light, as seen on the 3 of Cups, while taking the time to socialize with friends or loved ones.  I have felt desolate, penniless, and rejected as seen in the 5 of Pentacles, and I have felt successful and autonomous as seen in the 9 of Pentacles.  I have experienced first-hand how some changes in life are so profound and far-reaching in their implications, it feels like a Death of all that has been known up to that point.  As I awaken to a new dawn, I realize that while I am not actually dead, I am mortal which means that death is inevitable; I am emboldened and feel rejuvenated as I reflect on what kind of life I want to create for myself in the years I have remaining.  These are just a few of the cards of the tarot that I have referenced, but every card—every image—is rich with meaning and potential relevance.

We can choose to pretend that there is no “attic” or that the boxes being stored up there contain only cheery, seasonal decorations and heartwarming mementos, but it is more likely that some of the boxes contain memories that are not easily stored away and permanently ignored.  They make their presence known in our dreams, our impulses, our repulsions, our desires.  When denied, the power of these hidden influences becomes stronger.  Carl Jung explained, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life, and you will call it fate.”  Tarot can help with the process of spiritually “cleaning house”—opening up all the windows, going through all the boxes and getting rid of anything that no longer serves you.  This much I know: one day I want to be my best possible self, and tarot is a beautiful, life-affirming tool that is helping me toward that goal. 

This article was published in the Oracle 20/20 Magazine in July 2020.