lesson 41: receptivity and what intuitive reading feels like

Bon.Sequitur Tarot

Another new deck, this week, even though I have several I’m really in devotion with. I saw this on Instagram and fell in love. I justified it because I can only think of one or two other square decks I’ve had, and both are “mini.” This is the Bon Sequitur Tarot by Zephyr Pfotenhauer. It’s a total delight, shuffles great, and quite a useful size. Walkthrough here. 

I chose a 2x2 spread this week because it seemed apt for a square deck. For sides, for cards, four quads. And also I don’t think I’ve ever used a 2x2 before! New deck, new spread, new . . . baby? Dear god, no. (I remember my mom, when I was kid, saying to her friends, “New house, new job, new baby.” Annoyingly, I remember it so well I find myself saying it to my friends and irritating them as much as my mom did/does—I don’t know if she still says it.) 

The question for this blog is always, “What is lesson #?” (in this case, 41). Or it’s usually that, and it is this week (I’ve strayed from time to time for interest/impulse/intuition’s sake). What’s amusing to me is that I immediately dislike this spread layout because I typically always work with odd numbers, and generally begin in the middle and work my way out, around, and in rows, columns, etc. This even-numbered nonsense is workin’ my nerves. I don’t know where to start! I hate it! But, of course, I knew I would. That’s why I did it. I like to fuck myself up, if for no other reason than to discover my way out of it. (Another mom story: when she learned to drive, she used to get herself lost so she could find her way home. Wise. I’m also reminded that there’s apparently a serial killer loose in the state I live in right now, so . . . )

When there’s nowhere obvious to start, we go where the eye carries us and in this case, it’s the first card I put down—the 6/pentacles. This card was rather a star at the event I read at a few nights ago. Nearly every reading I did, using two different decks, contained either the 6/pentacles or 10/swords—often both. The 7/pentacles is a card that keeps showing up when I use this deck, which is amusing because I happened to share this card on Instagram and folks said it looks like me. I’m going to work with these two together for two reasons: first, same suit; second, working diagonally was my last instinct. I was going to explore the card in context of the two its touching, but because we’re doing opposite world today, it makes more sense to do the thing I wouldn’t do. Or something. 

Six and seven occupy a curious space in the continuum of minors. We could think of the pips as a two-act play: Act I ace-five; Act II six-ten. But when I think about these numbers from a story standpoint, they’re both fairly inactive. We might say they’ve receptive. It’s common to think in terms of odds/evens playing this way. Odds, like the black card suits, being aggressive (we might be used to saying “masculine,” but I’m done with that crap); evens, like red suits, receptive. That’s not untrue. But I also find that there’s a subtler relationship to aggressive and receptive than simply all odds are this, all fire is this, etc. Unlike many readers, I think of fire and water as the aggressive suits, not fire and air; that makes, then, air and earth the receptive suits. Fire and water are verb-y. They do. They aggress. Air and earth, well, they do, too—they’re just not as ostentatious about it. So, though odd numbers are typically aggressive and even receptive, there are shades within that. Ace, two, three, five, nine, eight, ten are super aggressive in my mind, even if they’re larger nature is receptive (two, eight). Four, six, and seven “feel” receptive. They’re each somewhat introspective—some might say vain, selfish, or navel gaze-y, but those would be judgments of receptivity. They aren’t passive, they’re still. Consider how much energy it takes to stand or sit still, especially if you’re an ADHD headcase, like me. Stillness is active, but it’s actively receptive (which is why I don’t use active/passive to replace masc/femme). In stillness, enlightenment occurs. I learned during my Reiki training that the energy of treatment takes the body from “fight or flight” to “rest and digest,” and one of the ways we know Reiki is working is when we hear the body making noises—gurgles, burpies, and toots—because the body can only do that when it’s resting. Healing occurs, but without the healer or healed doing anything beyond receiving Reiki’s electricity and (in the case of the “healer,” who actually isn’t healing—the electricity is) channeling it. 

I’ve said a lot already and nothing about the “meanings” of the six and seven of swords. But I sure as heck know a lot about what this reading is going to be about, now. It’s going to be about the act of activated stillness for the receiving of divination! Take that. And what else do I know about this reading before getting into card meanings? Welp, earth is our main element (receptive), and I have an Empress and a queen (receptive, at least stereotypically). This reading is all receptive. I fuckin’ love that! I also know that, though the Empress’s typical association is Venus (rather than an element) and Venus isn’t an “earthy” planet, the Empress is. In fact, we might say, in certain cases—like this one, where the element’s dominance makes it clear that all cards are functioning in an earthy way—that she is the earth. (As opposed to “the world.” By which I mean, she is the planet earth, our home. “The World,” as a card and concept, is less about the orb and more about the concept of being in the world—the collective, the everything. If that makes sense.)

Receptivity is necessary as diviners, and it is in many ways (I’m starting to think) the very heart of readings. I used to think, and to some degree I still believe this, that the reader was simply recognizing patterns. Nothing particularly “psychic” (I still hate that word) or “metaphysical” (that one, too) or “new age-y” or “woo” (I hate both of this, as well) was happening—and you can see that I really resist those concepts, because even the words make me cringe. (I was listening to a podcast this morning during which someone, whose work I admire, had the experience of a spiritual connection with Jesus. And just hearing a person say those words out loud made me feel so embarrassed for them . . . And, in fact, I, too, happened to have a spiritual conversation with rather a Jesus-y guide this morning, and so I know these kinds of things can happen . . . but I still also find talking about it really icky. And that may be partly because I do think giving some things language actually diminishes them and when that’s true, we probably shouldn’t talk about them—but rather savor the experience. I also think that people share too much of their spiritual practice on social media so that it becomes performative. On the other hand, if we don’t talk about things like this generously, we don’t get other people the chance to learn that their experiences are valid, real, and potentially powerful magic. So . . . I’m a mess,  I guess, is the point.) 

I really took the “divine” out of “divination,” and I think you can see evidence of that all over my first two books and really all of my videos. That said, I’ve really had to come face-to-face with the colonialism of cynical behavior and the reality of my own increasingly active spiritual path. Without putting too fine a point on it, I had to come to grips with the fact that I could no longer deny that divination involved divinity. And in particular receiving it. 

When you’re having a conversation with someone and a translator or interpreter is involved (sign language, spoken language), you have the conversation with the speaker, not the interpreter. This leans if you’re speaking with someone who has deafness, you look at and speak to them, not the interpreter. The interpreter is literally just that, an aid, a translator, a—to put it bluntly—non-entity in the conversation. That’s not entirely true, but for our purposes it helps in making my point. In the case of divination, the reader is the translator, the interpreter—not one of the speaker. Who are the speakers? The client and the divinity. The reader is a voice box for the divinity, who does not speak a language clear to the client (or who does, but the client wants to double check, which I find happens a lot). But the reader is not part of the conversation, in the same way an interpreter isn’t part of a conversation. In the sense of being a participant, of shaping the dialogue. The interpreter has to get out of the way. So does the reader. 

It’s not a perfect analogy, of course. The reader can’t and probably shouldn’t disappear. We actually do shape the reading, because divinity is quite subtle in approach. You sort of have to trust that simply by being a reader the act of translation is happening. But we’re not the aggressor, we’re the receiver.  (Which, interestingly, has similarity to giving Reiki, incidentally.)

And what I think this reading playfully highlights is that a reading is kind of like shaking the dice and then allowing intuition to show us how to read it. I say this because of the way the the 6/pentacles looks like people just tossing coins onto a table or game board, and the 7/pentacles looks like someone studying the aftermath of it. There are readers who learned to call doing readings “throwing” the cards. You could read this that way. Throw the cards and then “listen” to them. (Which is something I frequently say about readings.) 

Now, if this all sounds super heady and totally impossible to do—don’t freak. We just did it. Consider: I haven’t said anything about the “meaning” of either of these cards, nor have I said anything about what the numerology typically suggests. I have considered the receptivity of the element, but nothing much else about earth. And I for sure haven’t talked about pentacles as coins, money, or jobs. What have I done? I’ve experienced the cards. I’ve received them. I simply began with the card that drew my eye first (the six), then resisted the temptation to do what I always do and read on the diagonal instead, and then I just started noticing things about the interplay of the six and seven. And I already know a lot about what the lesson of this reading is. 

I think when people say they’re “intuitive readers,” this is what they think they’re doing. And there’s nothing saying they’re not doing it. But there is a slight difference, and what I’ll say is you can tell if someone is really an intuitive reader if they can read with any deck--particularly one that is different in style, tone, and/or system from their go-to. Here’s why. Someone who is reading the Waite-Smith images isn’t intuiting as much as they are using the images to construct keywords or phrases. Let’s consider a more typical illustration of the 6/pentacles: a moneyed person appears to be presenting destitute people with charity. A pittance. And so we might say, “charity,” or, “there’s an exchange of money,”  or “we have the resources but we feel improverished,” etc. All might be valid. But if you take that deck away and give them the Thoth, say, or the Wild Unknown, or even something that’s Waite-Smith-y—but much different, like this six, their “intuition” freezes, and/or, they go into the image they remember. There is absolutely nothing wrong with any of this, please know that. I’m not judging, especially because I—like just about everyone—begins this way. It is literally the learning process. And it is how we learn to use and understand intuition. But it’s not yet intuition. 

This is because they’re still relying on a “meaning.” It’s just that the meaning is coming from a familiar image. Change or remove the image, and the card no longer has anything to say. An intuitive reader is not stumped. The intuitive reader receives the card as it is and may well call on other card images and things read in books, but they don’t launch to that immediately. They simply notice what’s in front of them them. As they experience what’s in front of them, connections will begin occurring. “This looks like people throwing game tokens on to a table, and someone else studying the results.” “Six and seven both feel like receptive numbers.” “Earth is a receptive suit.” “Earth is the major suit in the spread.” “The Empress is earthy.” “Queens are typically considered receptive.” “Earthy, receptive, earthy receptive, earthy, receptive . . .” And then meaning takes shape. But the reader isn’t imposing anything on the cards; they’re not immediately looking at an image, assigning it a story, and then sticking with that story. That’s not intuition. That’s aggressive. It is putting meaning on to an image. If I were putting meanings onto the two cards in this spread, I’d say that the Six of Pentacles is about anteing in for a poker game, and the seven is about summer gardening. Because that’s what I “literally” see on the cards. There’s nothing on the images about receptivity, divination, “throwing cards,” any of it. That all came from experiencing the cards, not saying “OH WELL THIS GUY IS LOOKING AT HIS HARVEST, SO THIS SAYS YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW.” 

Maybe he is and maybe it does, and maybe it even says all of that in this very reading. But I don’t know until I let the cards tell me! 

And that’s intuitive reading. 

I’m going to begin wrapping this up, believe it or not, because the point’s been made and the other two cards underscore what I’m saying—but because you’re here to learn (I assume), let me quickly explain why: Queens, as we know, are typically considered receptive. I don’t think that’s always the case, and the same is true of the Empress. The fact is, they are people “of rank.” The queens are the most skillful cards in the deck, a trait often associated with kings. Not so. Why? A queen, when serving as head of state rather than royal baby maker, must navigate a world and political system designed simultaneously to rely on her and subjugate her. She isn’t trained to do the job, like a king would have been, and she is thought to be of lower intelligence. All that Elizabeth and The Crown stuff. This means that she has to be far craftier, far cleverer, far more agile—more skillful—than a king. What, then, are the kings? I frequently think of them as “enteritis” — the sorta retired sage. 

Anyway, the whole thing with whether or not the queens/Empress are receptive or aggressive depends on who they’re with. If someone out ranks them, they’re receptive; if not, they’re aggressive. In this case, no one outranks them—but there is no one else besides them (we’re looking at the diagonal). So they don’t need to be anything. They can just be. And that, then, is receptive. In fact, both cards look rather receptive in posture. The Empress even looks a bit bored, which means perhaps she’s not enjoying being receptive—which, for anyone with an ego (all of us), can be a reality. 

But the key to divination is this entirely receptive state—a ground receptivity, we have to remain connected to our task (earth) because we have a job (earth) to do. In this case, get an answer. What we’re doing, really, is keeping our feet on earth (Empress, literally has her feet on the ground) and our head in the clouds (Queen of Swords, literally in the clouds). We become a conduit. All thanks to this experience of active receptivity. 

I can and will end this reading here and I haven’t talked about any of the card meanings or numbers or associations or anything. Isn’t that wild? You take the info you need from the cards and I don’t need any of that. Could it help? Often. It might help deepen or even strengthen my message, but in this case I honestly don’t think there’s much else they could add that wouldn’t repeat what I’ve already said. The Queens are intuitive, which is the theme of this reading—and they’re intuition when they’re receptive. Sixes are beauty, and true beauty isn’t ego-driven it’s simply existing (receptive). The seven talks about looking within and discovering what’s really important in life (receptive). So, they’re all kinda giving me the same vibe. And when I have a lot of context, I don’t need all of it. I just need what helps me get a clear message, particularly when the question is as broad as this one is. 

So there ya go! I really enjoyed this one. See what happens when you force yourself not to do what you’ve always done?

A Read of One’s Own
Draw a 2x2 spread and explore experiencing the cards, noticing them, and try to fit that in the theme of how you can strengthen your intuitive reading (as I define it here). ​