AUTHOR’S NOTE: There is an unusually abstract theory in speculative physics (one that is dismissed out-of-hand by the mainstream scientific community) that all objects – whether in concrete form or as massless “packets of energy” – have their origin in the primordial raw material of information that is defined as binary data-bits operating in the “yes-or-no” manner of computer microelectronics, but at the “nano” level of quantum mechanics. Our “local” experience of an object thus owes its nature to the “non-local” phenomenon from which it sprang. This has been explained as a function of the “participatory universe.”
Although they don’t say it in so many words (their preferred justification for indirect engagement with their clients is “everything is energy that anyone can access at any time”), modern tarot-readers who perform remote divination for people at a considerable distance from their own locale believe this hypothesis to be true beyond the shadow of a doubt. My own position has been that having a querent physically in the room is far superior to interacting with them entirely in psychic space. But this discussion has given me pause to think about it in a more profound way.
I’ve come to accept that while individuals sitting across the table are physically present, their subconscious is – or should be if they are concentrating properly – plumbing the depths of a vast well of uncommon information variously described as the Collective Unconscious, the Akashic Record, the Astral Plane, the Mind of God, Plato’s “Soul of the World” or other allegorical source of hidden wisdom. In short, the seeker’s body is here but his or her mind is there. The act of imparting this subtle knowledge to the cards during the shuffle fetches it across the liminal divide into conscious awareness for the reader’s scrutiny.
It has been argued that a “local” diviner can perform this function for a “remote” client just as effectively as the distant person can despite the fact that there is no physical connection between them other than the latter having posed the question. But as I see it, with the seeker in my presence and actively involved as an intermediary I am that much closer to getting to the bottom of the matter than if I were to shuffle and draw the cards myself on their behalf, while also minimizing subjective bias on my part. I don’t like to be put in the position of having to speak for someone when they are perfectly capable of generating their own narrative for my interpretation. I prefer to hand them the deck and say “Have at it!” (I sometimes tell non-local sitters who own a deck to do just that and tell me what they pulled for my analysis.)
Albert Einstein said of quantum mechanics that something “spooky” is going on at a distance that defies interrogation using the principles and practices of classical physics. Perhaps confirmation of the “we-are-all-one” assumptions of the mystical diviners, at least to the degree of specificity needed to make remote prognostication consistently reliable, will have to wait until the rise of what Dr. Dean Radin has labeled “postquantum spookiness” (for the moment he views it as “miraculous”).
Meanwhile, I will continue to invite corporeal sitters into my lair and try to pick their brains with the tarot cards. I will do remote sessions unilaterally but there’s no joy in it for me beyond intellectual gratification when I have always considered tarot-reading at its best to be an interactive art ideally performed as a joint effort. Face-to-face contact may be a thing of the past in the social-media age, but for me it’s still the heart of the diviner’s vocation.
I like thinking on my feet and speaking off-the-cuff while looking a client in the eye even though having the opportunity to write everything down in detail invariably yields a more comprehensive forecast. I also value the immediate feedback of a “live” conversation that compels me to adjust on-the-fly (I call it “verbal tap-dancing”) over the arms-length detachment of electronic communication. In my opinion, divination is more about the “people” than the “process,” but I’m talking about analytical parapsychology here and not about using intuitive guesswork to create an income stream, so I don’t get much sympathy from the online crowd who are scuffling for a living with their remote-reading efforts.
Although they don’t say it in so many words (their preferred justification for indirect engagement with their clients is “everything is energy that anyone can access at any time”), modern tarot-readers who perform remote divination for people at a considerable distance from their own locale believe this hypothesis to be true beyond the shadow of a doubt. My own position has been that having a querent physically in the room is far superior to interacting with them entirely in psychic space. But this discussion has given me pause to think about it in a more profound way.
I’ve come to accept that while individuals sitting across the table are physically present, their subconscious is – or should be if they are concentrating properly – plumbing the depths of a vast well of uncommon information variously described as the Collective Unconscious, the Akashic Record, the Astral Plane, the Mind of God, Plato’s “Soul of the World” or other allegorical source of hidden wisdom. In short, the seeker’s body is here but his or her mind is there. The act of imparting this subtle knowledge to the cards during the shuffle fetches it across the liminal divide into conscious awareness for the reader’s scrutiny.
It has been argued that a “local” diviner can perform this function for a “remote” client just as effectively as the distant person can despite the fact that there is no physical connection between them other than the latter having posed the question. But as I see it, with the seeker in my presence and actively involved as an intermediary I am that much closer to getting to the bottom of the matter than if I were to shuffle and draw the cards myself on their behalf, while also minimizing subjective bias on my part. I don’t like to be put in the position of having to speak for someone when they are perfectly capable of generating their own narrative for my interpretation. I prefer to hand them the deck and say “Have at it!” (I sometimes tell non-local sitters who own a deck to do just that and tell me what they pulled for my analysis.)
Albert Einstein said of quantum mechanics that something “spooky” is going on at a distance that defies interrogation using the principles and practices of classical physics. Perhaps confirmation of the “we-are-all-one” assumptions of the mystical diviners, at least to the degree of specificity needed to make remote prognostication consistently reliable, will have to wait until the rise of what Dr. Dean Radin has labeled “postquantum spookiness” (for the moment he views it as “miraculous”).
Meanwhile, I will continue to invite corporeal sitters into my lair and try to pick their brains with the tarot cards. I will do remote sessions unilaterally but there’s no joy in it for me beyond intellectual gratification when I have always considered tarot-reading at its best to be an interactive art ideally performed as a joint effort. Face-to-face contact may be a thing of the past in the social-media age, but for me it’s still the heart of the diviner’s vocation.
I like thinking on my feet and speaking off-the-cuff while looking a client in the eye even though having the opportunity to write everything down in detail invariably yields a more comprehensive forecast. I also value the immediate feedback of a “live” conversation that compels me to adjust on-the-fly (I call it “verbal tap-dancing”) over the arms-length detachment of electronic communication. In my opinion, divination is more about the “people” than the “process,” but I’m talking about analytical parapsychology here and not about using intuitive guesswork to create an income stream, so I don’t get much sympathy from the online crowd who are scuffling for a living with their remote-reading efforts.