First: Welcome new readers. Help yourself to a quick tour of EP.
I’m picking up today from a point in the most recent newsletter, where I mentioned that I was making some decisions. And one of the decisions has been to never-mind about separating “commentary” from my other posts.
So—here we go.
The most recent Time Capsule was about a trip to California in the early 1990s, where I had an opportunity to appreciate the energy and ideas then swirling around Tarot. I was late to the party, of course—people there (and in a few other places) had been working for more than a decade to build a new vision of Tarot.
I’ve already written in EP about pieces of that “vision” story, and as I go further into the Capsule drawers, I’ll add more. But now I’m thinking about what happened after the creative culmination of the 1990s. And reflecting on the reasons I disconnected from Tarot, for quite a while.
I hadn’t really focused on those reasons—it happened gradually, and I had only very general ideas about “why” along the way. Some of it was just the trajectory of my own life, which was filled with work (I was in IT strategy and communications for most of the 2000s), as well as personal challenges. And though I presented at a couple of Bay Area Tarot Symposia during that period, I’d have to say it was never really the same kind of experience for me.
For one thing, the event had gotten bigger—but the “lane” for my approach to Tarot seemed to be shrinking. I sensed that Tarot was headed in a different direction.
I have nothing but the highest praise for Thalassa, who put enormous effort into growing and nurturing BATS. Something was changing in the 2000s, though, and that’s what I want to write about today.
Don’t Say the “F” Word
Sandra Thomson, Pictures from the Heart: A Tarot Dictionary, 2003:
For the last decade there has been a movement afoot— should I say, at hand ?—which well-known tarot authorities Mary K. Greer and Rachel Pollack call the Tarot Renaissance. It incorporates the idea that tarot readings can form a new basis for stimulating self-awareness, personal growth, and inner transformation. This approach has become so popular among tarot devotees that it is rapidly replacing the idea of the tarot as a fortune-telling device, except in those ubiquitous novels, television commercials, and desolate storefront tarot parlors bereft of any capacity to kindle an inner flame.
Hmmm . . .
The first part—about increasing emphasis on self-awareness and personal growth—is just an accurate statement. But the second part goes a giant step further, relegating everything else to the “desolate storefront parlor” school of Tarot. Which, I suppose, would include me.
I didn’t know Sandra Thomson, and I’ve never read her book. But this passage came to my attention when I began looking more deeply into recent Tarot history.
What I’ve found in my little flurry of research is that the “personal growth” thread had long been intertwined with other strands in the Tarot tapestry. It was spun over the course of four years and four books:
Sallie Nichols foregrounded psychological connections in her 1980 classic, Jung and Tarot: An Archetypal Journey
Gail Fairfield’s 1981 book Choice-Centered Tarot focused on applications of Tarot to personal life
Rachel Pollack’s Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom came along as a complete edition in 1983, offering a close read of Tarot meaning and symbolism
Mary Greer rounded out this quartet in 1984 with her perfectly titled Tarot for Your Self: A Workbook for Personal Transformation
First, by connecting the Tarot so aggressively with a respected set of “serious” ideas—Jungian psychology—Nichols gave it a new respectability. At the same time, Fairfield’s “self-empowerment” theme resonated with folks who wanted a kind of secular Tarot, without all the New Age woo-woo. Pollack and Greer provided a pair of different but equally brilliant tools for Tarot students seeking “modern” perspectives—and while both their books talk about divination, the idea of a “Tarot reading” had begun to take on a broader, more personalized meaning .
All four of those writers made a remarkable shift away from the arcane approaches to Tarot that had prevailed for decades. And although that was a good thing, I think you can also draw a straight line from those books to the almost total rejection of Tarot “fortune-telling” that was apparent by the early 2000s.
Don’t Say the “D” Word Either
Sandra Thomson’s view was disseminated far beyond the usual Tarot audiences, when two snipers responsible for a series of fatal attacks left a message for police on a Tarot card. The card was Death, of course—and here’s part of a commentary printed in the Baltimore Sun:
“We all knew right away it wasn't a tarot reader who did it. It wasn't anybody who knew about tarot, because a tarot reader wouldn't leave that card," said Sandra A. Thomson, president of the 500-member American Tarot Association.
Devotees of tarot say the cards have nothing to do with the occult or with fortune tellers.
”Most people who are tarot scholars, or readers or enthusiasts understand that the [Death] card stands for renewal," said Mark McElroy, vice president of the association.
I have no idea how many people were members at that time of the ATA, which was in fact established that same year (2002). But I do know that it would be hard to find a serious Tarot “scholar”—then or now—who would attest that the Death card “stands for renewal.”
And today, twenty years after those comments, there are innumerable examples of the “nothing-to-do-with-fortunetelling” mantra, across social media, in books, blogs, and mainstream publications.
Closely related is the idea that every Tarot card must be “about” something that can be viewed as positive. One example—renewal has a lot of possibilities, whereas death is a rather stark proposition, if taken literally.
I’m going to wrap this up soon, but want to make two more points. First, the rise of Tarot organizations was (in my opinion) not a good thing. Within a few years there were several of them, and in every case that I know about, problems arose—the sort that seem to be unavoidable when humans get together in a formalized structure. A bigger problem, I think, was the whole idea that there should (or could) be some sort of officiating Tarot agency, bestowing certifications and setting standards.
Tarot associations still exist, but it’s hard to tell whether they experience much growth. However—it’s easily told that hundreds of Tarot courses, many of which offer some sort of branded “certification,” are inexpensively available today. On just one platform, Udemy, there are 240 listings for the subject area “Tarot Reading Courses.”
Second, and completely in reverse of the extended “Tarot education” model, another trend has been ramping up . . . .
Richard Kaser’s Tarot in Ten Minutes was published thirty years ago, in 1992. But by 2019, Tarot-learning time had been cut in half, according to Karina Collins’ Tarot in 5 Minutes: Your Shortcut to Love, Money, and Happiness. An along the way, a steady stream of “easy” and “simple” guides to Tarot.
My perspective would be—yes, people can do simple things with Tarot. And yes, you can learn “simple” things “easily.” I see no reason why those who want to do simple things with Tarot shouldn’t.
But it’s a shame so many people think that’s all there is to it.
In retrospect . . . .
As I looked around at Tarot in the 2000s, I saw Rachel Pollack and Mary Greer writing and teaching on a very serious level. I saw research into Tarot history gaining energy throughout the decade, with the Tarot History Forum getting started in 2008. I saw thoughtful books and beautiful decks being published.
Much to appreciate, and be hopeful about.
But even though I could see a strong current of ideas and effort still flowing along, it seemed to me that the rising tide of pop Tarot would steadily wash over everything of substance. That wasn’t something I reasoned out—just something that felt inevitable.
Thanks so much for reading. If you’re interested in a deeper Tarot dive, there’s still time to catch up with the ongoing series Tarot | In Four Dimensions. C