Enochian Skrying Tarot Deck

November 1, 2026

That sentence carries years of work in it, and it deserves to be taken seriously. Instead, each image and card was created using the symbolism of the meaning of the particular card. That single decision, to build each card from its meaning rather than copying a familiar picture, is what makes this deck different, and it is what makes it a study tool as much as a reading tool.

A deck that only did the first would be a tarot deck with an Enochian theme. A deck that does the second is something rarer: a way into a system that is famously difficult to enter, through a form, the tarot, that many magicians already know how to hold. That bridge, between a familiar form and a demanding system, is the deck's real gift.

Why Enochian is hard to enter, and why a tarot deck helps

Enochian magick has a reputation for difficulty, and the reputation is not undeserved. It is a system with its own language, its own cosmology, its own tablets and calls, and its own history running back to John Dee and Edward Kelly. A newcomer can spend months just learning the vocabulary, and longer learning how the parts fit together. Many people who are drawn to Enochian stall at that threshold, not for lack of interest, but because there is no obvious first step that is both manageable and real.

A tarot deck offers such a step, because it is manageable and real at the same time. Drawing a card is manageable. Anyone can do it. Reflecting on that card's Enochian symbolism, and on what it shows about the system, is real study, because it forces you to engage with the system's ideas in a concrete form, one card at a time, rather than in the abstract all at once. Seventy-eight cards, taken one at a time, is a curriculum disguised as a deck, and a curriculum taken one card at a time is one you can actually finish.

That is also why the deck's refusal to copy Rider-Waite matters. If the cards were Rider-Waite images with Enochian labels pasted on, you would learn Rider-Waite again, with new names. By building each image from the symbolism of its meaning, the deck forces you to learn the meaning itself, in Enochian terms, rather than recognising a familiar picture and stopping there. That is harder, and it is the point. Easy recognition teaches nothing new. Building from meaning teaches the system.

Skrying, divination, and the difference between them

The deck's name includes skrying, and that word deserves attention, because skrying and divination are related but not identical. Divination, in the plain sense, means seeking knowledge of what is hidden, through cards, or other means. Skrying means gazing, steadily and receptively, into a medium, a crystal, a mirror, a card, until images, impressions, or understanding surface. Divination asks a question and seeks an answer. Skrying opens a space and waits to see what appears.

A tarot deck used for skrying is used differently from a tarot deck used for a quick spread. You do not just draw a card and interpret it. You gaze at it. You let your eyes rest on its symbolism, you let associations surface without forcing them, and you notice what comes, including what you did not expect. That gazing is a practice in itself, and it trains the same faculty that skrying in other mediums trains: steady, receptive attention, held long enough for something deeper than the first thought to surface.

Try it as a practice: choose one card, not at random but deliberately, as a subject for study. Sit with it for ten minutes, gazing at its image and holding its meaning in mind, without trying to produce an interpretation. Notice what you see, what you feel, and what associations come, and write them down afterwards, without judging them. That ten minutes is skrying, in a small and honest form, and repeated over weeks with different cards, it builds a familiarity with the deck's symbolism that no amount of reading about the deck could give you.

Learning a system one card at a time

If you want to use this deck to learn Enochian magick, treat it as a study course with 78 lessons, and give yourself permission to go slowly. One card a week, studied properly, will teach you more in a year than a frantic attempt to learn the whole system in a month. For each card, ask three questions. What does this card mean, in tarot terms, as you understand it? How does this deck's image express that meaning, in its own symbolism? And what does that expression show you about the Enochian system, its ideas, its language, or its world?

Write the answers down, in your own words, even when they feel incomplete. Incomplete answers, written down, are the beginning of understanding, because they show you exactly where your understanding stops, and therefore what to study next. A student who writes I do not yet understand this part of the symbolism has learned something valuable: the location of their own ignorance, which is the only place from which learning can start.

Over time, those weekly notes become a personal Enochian textbook, written in your own hand, in the order you actually learned things. That textbook will be more useful to you than any bought book, because it records not just the system, but your journey into it: what confused you, what clarified, what connected to what. And when you later do readings with the deck, those readings will be informed by that journey, which is why they will read deeper than readings done with a deck you have never studied.

Divination with a study deck

A deck you have studied reads differently from a deck you have merely bought, and that difference shows in divination. When you draw a card you have gazed at, written about, and thought through, the card carries that history with it. You are not interpreting a stranger. You are consulting something you know, and that knowing gives the reading a depth and a precision that a first encounter cannot have.

That depth also brings a responsibility: to distinguish what the card shows from what you have studied about it. A card may show you something about your situation that has nothing to do with the Enochian idea you studied that week, and forcing the study onto the reading will distort it. Let the reading be a reading. Use your study as background, not as a script. The study informs your eye. It does not dictate what your eye must see.

For a divination spread with this deck, keep the spread small, especially at first. One card for the heart of the matter, one for what is hidden or emerging, and one for the step or direction available to you. That small spread, read with a deck you are studying, will often give you more than a large spread read with a deck you do not know, because every card in it carries the weight of your study behind it, and that weight is what makes a short reading substantial.

Connecting with a system, in plain terms

It means becoming familiar. Familiarity is built by repeated, attentive contact: looking, thinking, writing, returning. You become familiar with a system the way you become familiar with a place, by visiting it regularly, learning its landmarks, and finding your way around without a map, a little more each time.

A deck gives you a way to visit regularly without needing a large ritual or a long study session each time. A single card, drawn in the morning and reflected on through the day, is a visit. A weekly study of one card is a longer visit. A reading that uses the deck's symbolism to think through a real situation is a visit with a purpose. Those visits accumulate, and accumulation is connection. There is no single moment when you become connected to a system. There is a slow growth of familiarity, and one day you notice that the system's ideas are no longer foreign to you. They are part of how you think.

That slow growth is also a guard against a common error: mistaking intensity for connection. A dramatic experience with a system is not the same as familiarity with it, and familiarity is the more reliable foundation for long work. A deck that offers daily, weekly, and long-term contact is a deck built for familiarity, and familiarity, patiently built, will serve you longer than any single dramatic encounter.

Who this deck is for

This deck is for the magician who is drawn to Enochian magick and wants a real, manageable way into it, through a form they already know how to hold. It is for the tarot reader who wants their readings to be study as well, and their study to be reading as well, with each informing the other. It is for the student willing to go slowly, one card at a time, and to keep notes, because they understand that a system learned slowly is a system learned deeply.

It is not for the reader who wants a quick Enochian-themed deck, or for the reader who wants Rider-Waite images with new labels. It tells you, before you begin, that this deck asks for study, for gazing, and for patience. For the reader willing to give those things, it offers something rare: a tarot deck that is also a doorway into one of magick's most demanding systems, and a companion for the long, rewarding work of learning to walk through that doorway, one card at a time.

A weekly rhythm for study and reading

A deck that is both a study tool and a reading tool works best with a rhythm that honours both uses, rather than letting one crowd out the other. A simple weekly rhythm might look like this: one day for study, when you take a single card, gaze at it, and write about its symbolism and what it teaches you about the Enochian system; one day for a reading, when you ask a real question and read a small spread with the deck, letting your study inform the reading without dictating it; and the rest of the week for living with what you found, noticing where the card's ideas appear in ordinary life, and noting those appearances briefly.

That rhythm is modest, and its modesty is its strength. A grand study plan, attempted all at once, usually collapses within a fortnight. A modest rhythm, kept for a year, covers a great deal of ground: fifty-two cards studied, fifty-two readings done, and a journal full of notes connecting the two. By the end of that year, you will not just own an Enochian deck. You will have a lived familiarity with its symbolism, built card by card, week by week, in the same patient way that any real system is learned: not by conquering it, but by visiting it regularly, and letting it, slowly, become familiar ground.