You might be a novice, or even a more seasoned reader. You might be super intuitive, and you know your cards well. Maybe you got innate social intelligence. And, of course, you are an empath .
Well, dha’ling, being an empath in the fortunetellig biz is both a blessing and a curse. Surely, we don’t need to go into the blessing part. But lets talk about the curse aspect!
When we are compassionate, supporting, and empathizing with our clients, we start feeling more inclined to tell them what they want to hear :
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🤥 5 of Pentacles — “Of course you’re getting your old job back.” .
🤥 3 of Swords — “Absolutely, he’s leaving his crazy wife for you.” .
🤥 7 of Swords — “Has she cheated on you? No way!”
We all have been there. And if you aren’t a complete charlatan, who gives clients only what they want to hear, so they come back for more horse shit — you know how shook your integrity be after that client leaves.
So how shall we deal with this catch 22? My best advice is — read the damn cards! When all fails, go back to the reading table, and tell your client word in word what the layout is about; explaining each card’s meaning, and letting them soak in the vibe. Then, when they are aware of the cartomantic atmosphere, you’ll be able to let them down easier.
Cards don’t lie, readers do. Don’t be an over-extended empath. Deliver the prophesy with integrity, and trust that your client will benefit in meaningful ways from your honest divination, in the long run because Spirit works in mysterious ways!
If you’d like to learn more about how to cultivate the foxiest version of yourself, or techniques to balance your, chakras, or about meditation, ritual crafting, all things cartomancy …. and how to make your instagram look glamorous, please DM or book some time with me at www.madamenadia.com.
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Going back to the Playing Card Oracles (PCO) has become a tradition of sorts for me. It occurs naturally. Without me thinking about it. When my mind is overwhelmed, preoccupied, uncentered, or when I’ve been over-saturated with other decks and perhaps even with clients, the PCO slides into my hands with familiar certainty and the repair begins.
Divination is my calling, and cartomancy specifically is a bit of an obsession. I love researching historical decks while supporting new and emerging artists by investing in their art. I enjoy learning new systems of Divination, while always honing my skills. I even experience a sensory, ASMR-like enjoyment from shuffling and handling certain decks.
Although I’ve been reading cards for over 25 years now, I took a sabbatical of a few years, after suffering a massive burn injury while being three months pregnant with my daughter. (Actually I’ve just celebrated my eighth burniversary last week!!!)
The injury itself had nothing to do with my ability to read or shuffle cards. My hands, thank Goodness, weren’t damaged by the fire. Outside of 75% of my skin that was compromised — either due to third-degree burns or because it was used for skin grafting — it was my trust in the Divine that overnight was burnt to ashes, transforming into a rage against everything spiritual I held on a soul-pedestal before the accident.
While I began the long process of rehabilitation, my collection of cards was packed away, per my request, and most of my spiritual possessions given to friends and colleagues.
The following years were spent in healing, both physically and emotionally. Mostly it felt like I was given an infernal membership in a special kind of hell, taking private dance lessons with my demons, as I taught myself how to walk again in real life. The learning curve was steep: from learning about who I really was skin deep, to the fluctuating loyalties of the world around me. I even discovered that it’s possible giving birth in compression garments! (Sorry, burn survivors’ sarcasm.)
However, it is when I saw my daughter for the first time though — a healthy, chubby bun of divine light, with a head full of thick black hair — that I realized inside my chest still existed a heart overflowing with hope, even during the darkest times with my own psyche setting itself on fire.
Fast-forward to a few years later, following a relocation from my beloved Bay Area to the Midwest; to buying a house, to attempting a new career. I was a different woman I thought. Then, out of the blue, I found myself shuffling cards again. I can’t recall how a that PCO deck got out of the trunk and into my hands. But it did. And with it many realizations.
I was aware of the sense of comfort spreading with, as I handled these loose leaves of paper. I missed card reading so much!. And these playing cards have brought an essential part of me back to life.
That fall I dug up the book that came with the cards, and taught myself Ana Cortez’ method. I found her YouTube channel, and later became a student in her online school.
In spring I was fully back to reading cards, rejoining Hoodoo Psychics and AIRR, a magical services organization which I helped founding.
The original PCO deck, as well as the Alchemy addition, hold a comforting sense of clarity to me. The story of my draws unfold naturally, taking shape in the spaces between the suits and the numbers, comparing and contrasting with the colorful characters. Meaning makes itself knows via questions like: “Is there a balance between the red and the black cards? Are all of the suits represented? Can the pips guard their ground against the assertive courts? Is this a prediction of a battle, or an idyllic fairytale of love?”
It’s 10 am, and it is gloomy in Lombard, IL. I woke up with a heavy heart due to dreams of financial crisis and unfinished business. As I sip on fragrantly thick coffee my partner has brewed for me, I instinctually reach for a deck on my nightstand. I shuffle with the intention to make meaning for my state of mind. Is it something external that’s coming at me? Is it spiritual in nature? (In my business witch-wars are as real as gang activity.)
The deck I’m using today is a small PCO Alchemy deck. I’m comforted by the familiar, black and white constellation of the backs, and the way the wholesome paper-stock feels to my fingers.
I draw a vertical, four-card spread — pulling three Clubs and one Spade. The lack in red suits reflects the heaviness of the gloomy weather outside. A confirmation that the cards, my Self, and the world around us is in tune.
daily draw
The majority of Clubs places a significant emphasis on the Air element, which corresponds to the Thinking Mind. It says loud and clear: “You’re in your head!”
At the top is Sir Galahad (9 of Clubs). He is the “proper” knight, always trying to do the right thing.
Next shows up The Wand (3 of Clubs), looking like an extension of Galahad’s trebuchet, shamelessly revealing my “bi-polar” state of mind. It stresses that I’ve been, without much success, attempting to juggle very positive and very negative thought patterns. If anything, this “Janus” energy is aggravating, and it’s making me slightly cray cray, which is highlighted in the next card, the 5 of Clubs — Wind Cape.
The cards shamelessly telling me that while I imagine my shit has been under control, the truth is that I’m “loosing it.”
Finally, The Sword of Destruction (7 of Spades), actually brings some solace. Even though it’s a a heavy card from a troublesome suit, its redeeming quality pierces at the foot of the spread; a placement where Earth, an element represented by the Spade suit, is dignified. In a way it grounds the other three Air cards. It helps me stay functional, by offering an “out of the self-mindfuckery jail” ticket.
In other words, the cards suggest that accepting the erratic moodiness my current state of mind generates is the first step for healing and stability.
The more I meditate on this, the more the draw makes sense. After all Mercury just went Retrograde, and the Moon is in Gemini.
La Vera Sibilla cards have been sort of an obsession of mine for almost a year now. It’s a fascinating, pack of 52 fortunes that is read upright and reversed. Each card sports a small square on the left, top corner, with pip inserts corresponding to suits and numbers of a traditional playing cards deck, as well as two “lottery” numbers at the bottom of each card. Like other “sentimental”* packs, La Vera Sibilla look like a not-so-far-removed cousin to the “The Parlor Sibyl” family.
a Parlor Sybil deck
Learning how to read the Sibillas has been challenging. Firstly, I do not speak Italian. And secondly, when you finally find access to the cards’ definitions, there is a ridiculous amount of meanings to memorize for each card. So far the 52 shady ladies of La Vera Sibilla pack turned out to be consistently and unapologetically on point — just like I like it.
Last week I finally got to accomplish a spiritual task I was planning for a long while. But due to a busy schedule — conjure clients, a masters degree, a family, and all that jazz — I had to wait for a summer break in order to build a divination altar. It took me about 5 days from the point of starting to clean and prep the area where I was planning to erect it, to actually having a functional sacred space for devotion and inspiration.
Madame Nadia is reading the Deste at the Hoodoo Heritage Fest, photo courtesy Coastside Conjure
I was taken by surprise when, after posting a picture of my newly constructed fortunetelling shrine, I got many questions about it from folks over social media. After thinking about it I realized that indeed I haven’t seen many images of divination before.
What I call a divination altar is a space dedicated to the Spirits I work with when I read fortunes. By honoring my Spirits regularly, my connection with them deepens, and my divination skills improve. Not every one works with Spirits, or knows their Spirits, or is aware of a presence of such energies while divining — and it’s perfectly fine. This is just the way I do it, and how my practice had unfolded throughout the years. In fact, now that I think about it, building this shrine in a first place was a mission given to me by my Spirits of Divination.
Building altars has its own aesthetic. Every one does it their way. And my technique, even if originally my intention was keeping it clean and functional, turns into a sensory overload painted in the colors of a bordello. Really, I shouldn’t even try fighting it anymore. lol
Carnivalia Sign
The pieces on the altar are images, photographs and statuary that has special meaning to me or to my Spirits. For instance, last May, while teaching at the Hoodoo Heritage Festival, I was presented by the sweet, Coastside Conjure, with a beautiful shingle sign made by Carnivalia. Since I am not reading in person, I knew I wanted this large beauty to be the backdrop for my altar. I also keep a few beautiful containers with graveyard dirt — one of them contains dirt from Mlle. Lenormand’s grave site, another precious gift I received from a talented colleague and friend, Balthazar Conjure.
Graveyard dirt and other delights
A cool water container, glass
In addition, I keep a few card decks and other, special to me, divination and magickal tools either on display or hidden. One of these is my first Thoth deck that also happens to be the oldest reading deck in my possession (as opposed to the vintage decks in my collection). The only deck I owned prior to the above mentioned cards was a Rider Waite Smith I purchased at the age of 15. However, these cards were left at Ma Kali’s feet as part of my initiation offering some 10 years ago. And of course, there are candle holders and an incense brazier placed securely among bones, furs, shells, magickal goodies, and a central piece — a glass for water. I must boast that this cool container is also a present from a friend and a student, Dean from QuickSilver Conjure. I do have awesome friends! ❤
A playing cards – themed water container between two shells
The purpose of this post was more to share my thought process and approach to altar building and fortunetelling, than giving you an instructional bulletin. I hope that some of you find this information meaningful, and apply it to your own fortunetelling practices.
If you have questions, please post them in the comments section or on my Facebook page.
Warmly,
Madame N.
Need a reading? No problem! You can book one here!
Certainly my first love, when it comes to fortunetelling, is hand down cards.
In fact, I clearly remember sitting on top of my father’s heavy, writing desk, as I spent hours upon hours looking through a fancy deck of playing cards that I would secretly retrieve from the top right drawer, where he kept it alongside a plastic sample pacemaker (… don’t ask… ), and other trinkets I cannot recall anymore.
Those cards had traditional-looking pips, and I can’t remember anything really significant about those. But the face cards… The face cards is a whole other story! They were glorious.
Elegantly dressed with some German flare to their coats, the face cards seemed to look straight at me each time I would pull one. Liberally, the picture cards shared with me stories of old kings, regal queens, and boisterous knaves. They even gossiped about one another, whispering into my mind’s ear about embarrassing moments unworthy of royalty. Their tales echoed in the castles of my young imagination. And as these face cards danced out their royal affairs right next to me, their glossy card stock stood out against the deep brown of my father’s old writing desk.
I spent many days with that deck, handling it with love, admiration, and fascination.
Many years have passed since, and I never thought I’d see those cards again. That lovely deck, as other non-essential belongings, had to be left behind the iron curtain as we immigrated from USSR to Israel in 1988.
But the great appreciation of the intimately pleasing, almost tingly, sensation I got when I shuffled through that deck of playing cards has never wore off. As I went through cartomantic puberty, in my late teens and early twenties, I developed farther the tingly skill of caressing my decks; running my hands along the edges, shuffling papery leaves in between my fingers, and the scent of vintage paper — all of these are sensory triggers for me. Though I admit that some decks do it for me more than others 😉
Fast forward to late 2013 — 25 years later. I look through an online card archive — not an unusual activity for a card addict… ahem… collector, like myself.
And boom! I recognize one of my old idols.
Holding my breath in disbelief I wonder.
“Is it her? Is it really her? No way! Impossible.”
“Oh my God! It’s her!”
The Queen of Clubs looks at me mischievously, glaring like a computer screen supernova in the unsuspecting darkness of my bedroom. Not a sign of aging on her perfect card face.
The coquettish Queen seems to recognize me.
“Do you really remember me? Even after all these years?”
Nodding just so slightly, the Queen slowly faces away from her fancy hand mirror, forcing my attention to her royal and elaborate headdress. She certainly knows how to wear that crown.
The thing is, this Queen and I both know that her headdress is the one single, last detail still etched perfectly in my memory. A detail that became associated with a happy, magical, and wholesome part of my childhood. A detail I refuse to let go of — holding on to it like to a life vest, and painting it and again again in a melancholic coat of sweet-stale memories — so it contrasts against the canvas of passing time that starches over new geography of experiences, lined with a multitude of insignificant encounters with significantly less royal packs of cards.
But the Queen of Clubs doesn’t care. She, as any self-respecting queen would, knows that one never forgets her first love. Never!
Although not an original, but a reproduction, I now have in my possession a double pack of Prince Karte No. 402, originally manufactured by the legendary Dondorf company.
I don’t know how about you, but this Mercury Retrograde has been especially brutal for me. I placed orders online that have disappeared into thin air, booked readings with clients, but a mistyped phone number, and had to redo obnoxiously simple tasks over and over again. My life felt like a broken record, and I couldn’t get a grip or change the tune. Emotionally it didn’t feel like a picnic either!
Finally Mercograde was over, concluding ceremoniously with an electrifying Lunar Eclipse and a Full Moon in Gemini — oh boy! I feel like all the tension buildup of the past three weeks has finally hit the fan. I definitely feel more clarity, but now all this emotional plaque is right in front of my eyes and I know I have to deal with it. Clearly, denial ain’t going to offer its velvety and familiar numbness this time. I really have to deal with some major personal funk.
After speaking with many friends and my regular sitters, I realize that this Mercury Retrograde was hard on many. Relationships in particular were examined under a merciless magnifying glass, while dysfunctionality floated to the surface without reservation.
So today, as I am beginning to feel a bit more sane, I pulled a few cards to get a global advice regarding the proper psycho-spiritual approach to the upheaval that is plaguing our lives following this recent astrological phenomena.
A Queen of Cups (Alexander Daniloff’s 2012 Tarot) flanked by 2 Clubs, 5 Diamonds, and a King of Hearts (Alexander Erko)
The cards I drew are the Queen of Cups (from Alexander Daniloff’s gorgeous deck), followed by the 2 of Clubs, 5 of Diamonds, and the King of Hearts (made by Alexander Erko’s). For me, the draw mirrored the raw emotional vibration all around that feel as comfortable as exposed nerves during a root canal procedure. But the Queen who had a hard time to keep all her bubbles together recently, and who is usually an expert par excellence in the watery depths of the feelings department, is finally able to integrate all of the emotional memory without drowning herself in it. She can work through it, bringing a much needed healing. In this deck in particular, she actually looks at the reader with a post-meditation gaze. She’s finally ready to act!
The playing cards flanking the Queen prove that the feminine principal doesn’t feel or chooses to be alone anymore (as she felt in the past few weeks). She is ready to connect with a male counterpart — offering him the gift of equal partnership. He accepts his help in dealing with the issues coming up during the past retrograde. Shall we dance?, she asks.
Finally, there is a strong underlying karmic essence to all this emotional scab-picking that needs to happen. And this enigmatic Queen reminds us that there are patches of healthy, smooth skin underneath it all, waiting to be loved as soon as the wounds are properly cleansed and dressed.
The time has come for real healing to start! Please be gentle with yourselves!
I am so excited to share these awesome news with all of you! My mentor and friend, Ana Cortez, the author and co-creator of the Playing Cards Oracles is raising funds to publish a second deck.
I find this upcoming project very exciting, and am planning to support it personally as well. I thought I’d share the information with you, so you too might participate in the manifestation of this new and brilliant playing cards deck.
Read more about this extraordinary project on Ana’s site.
And if you just want to go and get you a few decks, or buy an original painting, here’s the link to Kickstarter: The Book of Knowing
For this week’s forecast I laid out the Grand Tableau, using my vintage Carta Mundi deck. I also drew 4 cards from the Playing Cards Oracle deck, and cast some bones.
Here’s what I got:
Bones — from closest to farthest:
Abalone (open); John the Conqueror; Blocked Cowrie (coconut top); Cowrie (upside-down); Buckeye; Wiesel Jaw (facedown).
Recently I divined for Katie; a young lady who desires to settle down. She had her share of flirts, relationships, and heart aches. Now she’s wondering whether she’ll ever get married. And if so, when?
Also, an old flame — now a father to a young child, and soon to be a divorcee — is back in her life. Katie wants to know if he is a candidate for a solid relationship.
In this video reading I am using playing cards, The Victorian Romantic Tarot, French Cartomancy Lenormand, and The Victorian Flower Oracle.
You might be a novice, or even a more seasoned reader. You might be super intuitive, and you know your cards well. Maybe you got innate social intelligence. And, of course, you are an empath .
The injury itself had nothing to do with my ability to read or shuffle cards. My hands, thank Goodness, weren’t damaged by the fire. Outside of 75% of my skin that was compromised — either due to third-degree burns or because it was used for skin grafting — it was my trust in the Divine that overnight was burnt to ashes, transforming into a rage against everything spiritual I held on a soul-pedestal before the accident.
The Gloss Fox Tales 