I recently received some questions from a visitor to this website. One of them was in which sense the Sibilla is considered “chiacchierina”, i.e., chatty.
This is an interesting question, because it gets to the heart of how divination works (and not just divination with cards). I don’t want to foster the belief that the Sibilla is more capable of conveying information than other divination systems. This would be false advertising. Every deck and every system is capable of informing us.
But the way in which the Sibilla informs us is rather unique. Here we get into the specific character that each deck and system has. The Sibilla is like an off-beat aunt with a poor sense of boundaries.
A girl once asked me how her crush for a guy would develop. The girl had moved in with her grandma and the grandma disapproved of the guy. The Sibilla started off not with an answer to the question, but by telling me that the girl’s grandma disapproved of the situation. If I had asked another one of the decks I work with, I probably would have gotten a more straightforward answer.
It takes working with each deck in order to understand their language and personality, but these always emerge sooner or later. This is also probably why old folk diviners believed that each deck has a spirit attached to it that lives inside its cards and infuses them with its peculiar traits, a belief that I tend to share, since it explains this phenomenon much better than the impersonal Jungian theory of synchronicity.
The reality is that each (valid) divination system is chatty in its own way. I’ve heard the Bolognese tarot being referred to as chatty, and as I work with it I understand that its chattiness really is a factor, even though it is less chaotic than the Sibilla.
I did a reading recently with the Bolognesw tarot that I unfortunately forgot to record. It was one of those instances of “of course I will remember it.” The one thing I do remember is that the Tower featured prominently in the reading and did not take on a nefarious meaning, instead just indicating a place other than the home.
This gave me the idea of collecting here the combinations I have actually experimented in practice so far.
Tower + Queen of Coins (Truth) = School, Place of learning (this combo was in the reading I did recently)
Tower + World (big) = A palace (in the example of the reading I did, it was a tourist attraction)
It is not an endless list, as you can see, but then again the Tower doesn’t always come up in a reading, and when it does it doesn’t always indicate a place, and when it does it isn’t always clear what kind of place it represents, based on the other cards. But this short list is what my experience has borne out so far, and it clearly shows how the cards operate as small particles of meaning that gravitate toward each other to create complex structures.
Obviously, much depends on the context and on the other cards. The Ace of Coins, for instance, is the table, but it is also a big money card, so with other material cards it could turn the Tower into a bank instead of a restaurant. What I can say for certain at this point is that my experience with the Bolognese tarot shows the Tower isn’t necessarily an evil place (like a hospital or a prison) as some strands of the tradition seem to indicate, but its meaning can be modified by the presence of positive cards.
The bed symbolism is almost as widespread in cartomancy as that of the table, of which it is a natural counterpart. The table often stands for conviviality, nourishment, feasting and interpersonal contact, and it often represents situations happening during the day. The bed, by contrast, is a nocturnal symbol of retreat and rest, and can stand for sickness, but also for physical intimacy, depending on the other cards. As usual, it is admirable how the card readers of yore used to weave simple and effective symbols of daily life in their reading systems, which allowed them to talk about reality.
The oldest mention I could find of a card representing the bed is in a little-known system for reading Italian regional playing cards with a reduced pack of 25 (instead of the full deck of 40). In this method, the Four of Coins is the bed card. It tends to represent situations becoming static or sick, or it can talk about passion, depending on the other cards. It can also indicate that something happens in the evening or at night. Interestingly, in another system I’m aware of, this time utilizing the full pack, the Four of Coins is the table, while the Five of Wands is the bed.
In the Bolognese Tarot, which is the oldest used divination deck we have written records of, the Chariot is the bed card. This has got to be one of the most puzzling bits of symbolism of the deck: a card that is usually indicative of forward movement, travel, progress, launching forward is seen as a card of static sickness, likely due to how the chariot is represented, with the horses crouching at the sides, as if the forward movement had stopped.
Truth be told, in the oldest extant document on divination with the Bolognese tarot, which dates back to the Pre-Napoleonic period, the Chariot is still considered a card of journey, but shorter than the World card, which is assigned the meaning ‘long journey’. This may indicate that the meaning of the card evolved through time, from ‘little journey’ to ‘little movement’ to ‘not much movement’ to ‘staticity’. Another likely possibility is that different meanings were used by different strands of the tradition, one of which hadn’t yet been put down in writing. This latter possibility is confirmed by the fact that there are readers who who assign both meanings to the Chariot, depending on the cards that surround it (static cards activate the static meaning, active cards the moving, active meaning).
The bed card is also present in some of the oracle decks that originated in the XVIII century as parlor games. In the Sibilla we have two bed cards: one is the Four of Spades, the Sickness card, which interprets the symbolism of the bed in its more static and negative sense of needing to interrupt one’s routine and of situations that are not healthy. The other bed card is the Ace of Diamonds, the Room, which can indicate any room in a building, but which in itself stands for the bedroom. As an extended meaning, it is the card of intimacy, so the presence of cards indicating love or physical contact can lead to rather hot interpretations.
The Kipper deck does not have two bed cards, but it does contemplate the symbol of the bed in the card “a short sickness”, which depicts a patient in bed being visited by a doctor. This is mostly a card of sickness, but many German-language sources I’ve read consider it also an ingredient in combinations about intercourse, partly due to the presence of the bed and partly due to the doctor touching the sick man’s wrist, which is supposed to be indicative of physical contact, if supported by other cards.
Working on my review of Andrea Vitali and Terry Zanetti’s book on the Bolognese tarot I came across some interesting information that matches what some Bolognese tarot readers have confirmed.
If you read my section on the card meanings of the Bolognese tarot, you will see that I call the King of Swords “Spadino”, which literally means “little sword” or, more appropriately in this context, “little sword bearer” (the ‘bearer’ part is implied). This is because the people I have chiefly learnt from all agreed on this one name, independently from one another.
When we read Zanetti’s section on the divinatory meanings of the cards, though, we find that she calls the Page of Swords ‘Spadino’, identifying the figure with a young man. This is in contrast with the tradition I’ve received, whereby the Page of Swords is just a letter or message. Zanetti does say that the card can also sometimes signify a disquieting letter, but she chiefly identifies the Page with a young man.
The Page of Swords and the King of Swords in the Bolognese tarot / Tarocchino bolognese
I must say I find this option strangely titillating, as the Page of Swords, Spadino, would then be a male counterpart to the Page of Cups, Coppina, ‘little cup bearer’. The ending -ino, which in Italian points to something small or young, definitely fits the Page more than the King. Zanetti denies that this parallel between Coppina and Spadino exists, because the Coppina is supposed to be always negative (she’s traditionally the little floozy who snatches hubby away). But I have not found this to be the case: the Page of Cups is just a young (or younger) woman.
Ultimately, as my understanding and practice with the Bolognese tarot evolves, I know I will have to create my own deck (all traditional readers seem to have done so, preserving a part of tradition and integrating it with their own discernment and experience). Tradition is, after all, not something fixed, but something that is handed over to us (from the Latin tradere) and that we must administer intelligently.
Another interesting fact is that Zanetti emphasizes the intellectual aspect of Spadino, calling the card “young man and his thoughts”. This is in contrast with what I’ve learned from Germana Tartari, my teacher for the 50-card method, whose grandma taught her that the Knight of Swords can sometimes represent the King of Swords’ thoughts, in a kind of parallel to the Knight of Wands being the thoughts of the King of Wands.
The fact that so many traditions seem to exist should not discourage us from engaging with them. Keep in mind that the Bolognese tarot tradition evolved locally, with each city, village or even street having slightly different versions of it. Thus, this is less a matter of who is right or wrong and more one of systemic preference and whether integrating different system together leads to new systems that work, or whether it is best to keep them separate. This is something that can be established only through trial and error.
This is a recurrent question I get. Some people are of the opinion that reading decks have something akin to a shelf life, after which they stop answering or they become impregnated with negative energy from all the readings. I often get asked if this is the case.
To which my answer is: under normal circumstances, your deck will keep answering you (or at least it will keep working, even if it occasionally snubs your questions) for as long as you use it. This has been my experience, as well as that of all my teachers, and I’ve had the good luck having many teachers.
My first teacher, from whom I learned to read playing cards and the Sibilla, followed the Italian tradition that divination decks need to be old, must have been used to play at the local inn and the people playing with them must have covered them in offensive swearwords (read here my hypothesis on why this tradition exists).
This obviously doesn’t apply to the Sibilla, since Sibilla decks, as well as similar decks like Lenormand or Kipper cards, are pretty much the only card decks specifically designed for divination. But tarot was a playing card game, and playing cards… well, it’s in the name, and so, according to my teacher, they needed to be “giocati e bestiemmati” (played with and offended with swearwords). And after you got a hold of one such deck, you probably were going to use it for as long as you lived.
When I started learning the tarot, my other teacher held on to her first deck as if it was a relic, and it did answer her beautifully. She was of the opinion, however, that the deck could stop answering correctly or become more negative in its answers if you read for many people with a tragic life. When this happened, she usually took the deck to church and had it blessed by the priest. I honestly cannot say I ever needed this, but there you have it.
As for the Bolognese tarot, I do not know what deck the person who taught me the 45-card system used, but I do know that my teacher for the 50-card system still uses her grandmother’s deck. Another person I am in contact with, who uses 49 cards, still uses the deck her teacher gifted her.
As for me, I have a conservative outlook on life, and I don’t throw away something unless I really, really have to. The Sibilla deck I use is the one I bought when I started learning, and while I don’t insist on always using the same playing card deck, I still occasionally whip out my old one.
Still, there are people who believe decks can stop working after a while, including people I admire (see Josephine MacCarthy). Is there anything to it? Obviously, much depends on the theoretical framework one uses for their magical activities (which includes divination).
I was taught that divination (any divination) can stop working if you are the recipient of a curse, but that’s an extreme scenario. More often, the people who complain about their deck going lazy on them tend to torture them with repeated questions on the same topic over and over.
As much as skeptics may point out that this is proof that divination doesn’t work because it cannot be repeated ad libitum in lab conditions, it is simply how it is: if you annoy the deck it will stop answering. This simple fact shows, at least in my opinion, that there is something alive attached to the deck.
Usually, in traditional divination folklore, we would say that the deck has a little spirit hidden inside. And while this may sound like a childish explanation, it is the one that best explains my experience, as well as being perfectly in line with traditional hermetic principles. The point is that while many valiant attempts have been made at explaining divination using more or less recognized principles (see Jung’s views), we are at work with something we don’t fully understand. Some level of respect is due to this something, if for nothing else than to keep the work environment positive with whatever it is.
In every deck there are what we might call topic cards, that is, cards that represent a specific field of life: family, work, money, health, love, the law, etc.
All or most of these cards also have general meanings that apply to various contexts. For instance, the Ace of Cups in the Bolognese Tarot is the home card (just like the Ace of Hearts in playing cards or the Two of Hearts in the Vera Sibilla), so it is the topic card for everything relating to family and house questions. But it can also indicate that someone belongs to the family, e.g., when it comes up next to a court card. It can also indicate the inner side of one’s experience of life, one’s inmost, intimate world, etc. So it can also show that something is close to us and touches us.
We need to distinguish between a card acting as a stand-in for a specific topic and the same card acting out a particular meaning. To keep with the Ace of Cups example, when it comes up in a question about work, it might show that the querent’s work life interferes with their family life or vice versa, or that they work from home, or that their work environment is family-like. In all these cases, the house card qualifies the other cards by adding details of its own.
But when the House card is simply a stand-in for the topic ‘home and family life’, the card says nothing about the topic itself. It doesn’t qualify the reading. It simply tells us, “this is the topic.” It is then the role of the other cards to describe the situation, qualifying it in a positive or negative way.
When we are doing a general reading with no question, or with all the cards down on the table, this is all well and good: we see if the person’s significator is next to any of the topic cards, showing that that topic is important, and then we read the cards surrounding the topic card relating them to the topic.
When the question has been specified, though, extra care must be taken trying to figure out if the topic cards that appear are qualifying the topic of the question or if they are coming up to ignore the question and talk about something else. This is not always easy.
Let’s say you asked about work, but the house card comes up. Why? Is it because the home is involved? Or is it because the cards have decided to bypass your question and discuss something else? Or is it both? (It CAN be both). One way to solve this issue is to see if there are topic cards relating to the question, or if at least the cards seem to be predominantly of a nature that seems more akin to the question asked (e.g., lots of Diamonds and Clubs in a work-related question).
The other way is to see if the cards next to the rogue topic card coalesce with it to form a coherent statement that has nothing to do with work, or if instead the topic card allows itself to be absorbed into the querent’s question.
The third way is simply to work with the querent. This is always a good idea. After all, our aim is to interpret the oracle correctly, not to impress people.
Cards that have the potential to be topic cards are always quite strong in a reading, so it is always good to observe them first. Often they form focal points in the interpretation of the spread. Sometimes some cards in some readings can even be ignored, but topic cards always seem to have something to say. We ignore them at our peril.
When it comes to divination, theory can only get you so far. The best way to improve your reading skills is to learn the basics of a *valid* system and then start reading.
For most of us, we are our own first querents, and that is a problem. I don’t have a 100% accuracy record when reading for others, but I barely reach 60% when reading for myself, especially if I’m invested in the topic. It is not just a matter of wrong interpretation, which can and does happen. I am more and more convinced that sometimes, when we read for ourselves and we are not perfectly at peace, we tend to get readings that reflect what we think rather than what is happening or will happen.
Furthermore, the tendency that many people have to start obsessively putting questions to the cards just to see if they say something vaguely understandable (which doesn’t mean true) is dangerous, and can get us in a warped frame of mind.
I know that for many, especially coming from certain societal backgrounds, reading for others can be a big step into the unknown, but I would advise anyone to start reading for some sympathetic friends or relatives (and when I say for them I mean in front of them, not asking questions about them) and then to graduate as soon as possible to readings for people we don’t know or know little about.
I don’t have too many friends, but they do a good job of talking about me to their friends and to their friends’ friends, which is how I get my supply of test anim-ehm, querents. If you start reading for your friends and ask them to spread the word the same will happen to you.
The cool thing about reading for people we don’t know is that it is so much easier than you might think. Divination DOES work! And divining for someone when there is no chance of you knowing the information in advance is very impressive for them and very satisfying for us as diviners. It will build your confidence much more quickly than torturing the cards about your own mental dramas. Plus, the oracles always seem to be much clearer and much more crisp when I divine for strangers.
One thing I would advise is to be as scientific as possible: record the question, the reading, your interpretation and the results. Don’t think you cannot build your vocabulary because the only right answer is the one offered to you by your intuition. 99% of intuitive readers are terrible, and what they call intuition is not actual intuition: it’s their stupidity echoing in the empty chambers of their mind. Be systematic and slowly you will gain experience.
I think this reading is interesting because it showcases the odd behavior of the Death card in the Bolognese tarot of answering yes to a question. I have already written that I prefer to take this traditional rule with a grain of salt, but it does seem to apply in several cases.
Here the question the (male) querent asked is if there would be reconciliation with a friend he had had a fight with. The reason I included the cards of the cut (the King of Wands and the Angel) will become clear shortly.
Two Friends
Right off the bat, the death card comes up in the last position, and this, added to the Angel in the cut, should give us a sort of super yes. But we always need to interpret the reading.
The second thing that caught my attention was the Page of Coins (words) next to the Knight of Swords (cuts, problems, arguments, hurt) and the Love (affection). So there is affection between the two, even now (how could there not be, since they were friends?) but the Sword card creates problems.
In the next line we find the Eight of Swords, which is a card of suffering. If we see the Eight of Swords as coming after the Love card in the line before, then there is great emotional suffering surrounding this argument. However, all is not lost, as the Knight of Cups (agreement, conciliation) and the Sun (positivity, clarity) follow. So this, together with the Death card, seems to confirm there will be a great improvement after a period of uncertainty.
In the last line we have two kings. One is the friend probably the Sword. The other king, the Cup, can possibly identify him as like family, or, paired with the third king in the cut, it constitutes a triplet of success in the matter (three Kings are a success). Then the World card comes. Talking to the querent, I discovered the friend lives quite far away, but I believe the deeper meaning here is that their relationship’s path is still an open road, so it is not over.
I don’t have much to say about the first line. It isn’t clear to me. The Ace of Coins can be money, but the argument wasn’t about money, but it can also be the table, their conviviality (especially with the Seven of Cups, which is a relationship of closeness), which suffers a hiccup (the Stranger). That’s my best guess.
As for advice, the querent (the King of Wands) comes up in the cut together with the Angel, so clearly he has feelings of deep friendship. I told him to show them better, since this is what leads to the Sun card in the spread overtaking the Eight of Swords.
You’ve got to appreciate how folk cartomancy takes the objects of our everyday life and turns them into means for predicting the future. This is, after all, probably how cartomancy started: people needing to know what tomorrow would bring adapting the symbolism of the decks to which they had access (tarot, playing cards and later oracle cards) to the objects and situations that constituted their daily lives and their symbolic interpretation.
From a philosophical perspective this shows great acumen and observational ability on their part. They may not have had a piece of paper that qualified them to count angels dancing on pinheads, but they were possessed of great perception–which is only natural, considering that on their perception depended their survival.
From an occult standpoint, it further indicates that they were perfectly acquainted with the power of symbols to connect the inner and outer realms, which is the foundation of all forms of magic.
One of the recurring symbols of folk cartomancy is the table. In the system of cartomancy with playing cards that I was taught, this corresponds to the Four of Clubs, certainly due to the squarish (Four) and social (Clubs) nature of the card. The Four of Clubs is chiefly the card of words and talks, but it extends to all contacts we develop with others: we can sit at the table with them and talk, negotiate, have fun, etc.
In the Vera Sibilla, we must distinguish between the table in general and the festive table. The former is assigned to the Ace of Hearts, the Conversation. This is also the card of words and talks, but being the Ace of Hearts it is also representative of your family or the people you live with. Furthermore, the table here can also be seen as the table you eat at, due to the connection of the card with the hearth and with everything to do with your mouth and throat. The festive table is more a prerogative of the Nine of Clubs, which is connected with celebrations, fun and banquets.
The first written record of the cartomantic concept of the table is found in the earliest recorded system of reading the Bolognese tarot with 35 cards: here the table is given to the Ace of Coins. This is a meaning that still exists in all traditions I am aware of, although the card has also doubled down as the card of big money in the 45-card system I know, the card of official documents and letters for Germana Tartari and of work for Ingallati.
I am unclear as to why the Ace of Coins was chosen, but I guess the round shape of the heavily stylized coin could be seen as a round table or as a centerpiece. Broadly, the table in the Bolognese tradition is seen as the place of direct contact with others, of conviviality and of business transactions. The card also symbolizes ‘l’ora di tavola’, the time of day you sit at the table, usually lunch time and therefore, more generally, the day as opposed to the night.
The second earliest recording of the symbol of the table comes from Etteilla, whose source attributed it to the Ace of Cups. Here Etteilla and his students tried to extend the meaning of the table beyond the common experience of it by playing on the other meanings of the word ‘table’, so that for instance, the Ace of Hearts for him can also be the table of laws (as in, the one Moses received).
I am unaware of whether the Lenormand or Kipper traditions contemplate the symbolism of the table, though the symbol is not obviously represented in the cards. What I do know is that the symbol is also present in most Italian playing card system, so that I am aware of at least one where the Four of Coins indicates the table.
The 45-card method, which is the one I’m trying to specialize in on this blog, despite being acquainted with and using the other methods as well, tends to be rather more obscure than the better-known 50-card one. One possible reason is that Maria Luigia Ingallati’s niche-defining book discusses the latter, and has consequently inspired others who follow her school.
Another separate source for the 50-card system is Germana Tartari’s book, whose approach I follow when using the 50-card deck, having been her student and now friend. Tartari’s book was also met with good success, further cementing the 50-card system in people’s imagination.
But before Ingallati made the Bolognese tarot available to a wider public there were a couple of books on the 45-card method, and Lia Celi’s Il Manuale di Cartomanzia (The Cartomancy Handbook) is one of them. The book was first published in 1999 and is very difficult to come by (don’t ask me how I got my copy. Or maybe do ask me, who knows.)
The subtitle of the book, “How to read tarot cards without boring yourself to death” serves as a good introduction to the style in which the book is written. Lia Celi is not a card reader, but a writer and journalist, and this is immediately evident in the refreshingly irreverent tone of the book. She did collaborate with some card readers to put together this book.
The second thing to notice is that, if you were to buy the book based on the front or back covers, you’d never know it’s about the Tarocchino Bolognese, as the title, subtitle and description simply talk about tarot cards and cartomancy, and even the cover art pictures regular tarot cards (I believe Sergio Ruffolo’s tarot).
The third thing to take notice of is that this is, broadly speaking, a good book. Honestly, it would be worth a read even if you had no interest in cartomancy, simply because it is guaranteed to tickle your funny bone on more than one occasion. And this is probably how the book was commissioned in the first place: as a fun and exotic read for the beach, aimed mostly at young women who may or may not choose to pursue cartomancy as a passion.
Given these presuppositions, Celi’s work has no right to be this informative. Pretty much everything you need in order to start using the 45-card system is offered to you in easily digestible bits: the various traditional methods on how to acquire, christen,1 study, shuffle and lay out the deck, the individual meanings of the cards (which are often easy to remember thanks to Celi’s sharp humor), a decent, if small, selection of traditional combinations, some of which I recognize from my own source, some practical advice on how to deal with various types of querents, and a final interview with the daughter of a card reader who is just setting out to practice the art herself, and who offers some advice. Clearly, Celi did her homework and did not skimp on looking for good information.
The card selection the author discusses is the same as the one I know, with one exception: she uses the Nine of Coins as the card of tears, while I use the Seven. Also, the meanings of some of the cards differ. For instance, she says that the Star is chiefly the card of health, while for me it is chiefly the card of business. Still, she does say that the Star is good for work and study, and even my own source taught me that the Star represents medications and healing in the right context. Besides, it is perfectly normal for a tradition like that of the Bolognese Tarot to differ a little from source to source.
The spreads Celi illustrates tend to be on the shorter side: a three-card spread, a four-card cross, a variation of the thirteen-card spread and a pyramid spread of fifteen cards that may be adapted to various questions.
So what is missing? Well, as in most books, what’s missing is the practical part. We have only brief mentions of how the cards interact with one another, so that if I didn’t come from a background in cartomancy and didn’t have access to first-hand information, I don’t know if I would be able to pick up a deck and start reading after finishing this book. Still, Celi’s Cartomancy Handbook is a good addition to your library if you are interested in the Bolognese tarot.
Where to find: This is the book’s amazon page. Unfortunately the book is unavailable, so your next best shot is ebay. However, the lord does work in mysterious ways…
MQS
The traditional practice of ‘christening’ the deck or having it blessed so that, according to popular superstition, it starts working properly. In reality the deck works anyway and only in particular situations (such as curses or difficult periods) does it need to be blessed. ↩︎
