By Bailey Romatoski ·
Almost none exist, and that's the honest answer. There is no recognized licensing body, no accredited certification, and no independent credential for tarot readers, astrologers, mediums, or folk practitioners. Anyone can print a certificate, so the certificates prove very little. What does signal quality is lineage, apprenticeship, years in practice, and standing in a real community, and those are the things worth checking instead.
Why doesn't the esoteric field have real certifications?
Because no independent agency has ever endorsed one. Writers on professional standards in tarot have been explicit about this for years: many groups offer certificates and titles like "Certified Professional Reader," and plenty of honest people work hard to earn them, but no tarot certification program has been endorsed by a legitimate, independent agency. Anyone with a deck and some spare time can call themselves a professional. Even the American Tarot Association, one of the oldest membership organizations in the field, is not a certifying body and asks members not to claim it certified them.
So if someone lists a certification, is it worthless?
Not worthless, just weightless. A certificate from a known course or teacher can show a person puts effort into their study, and some programs are genuinely rigorous about material. The problem is you can't tell rigorous from aspirational by the paper. McElroy's advice holds: if a reader claims a certification, ask exactly what requirements they met, then look up the certifying organization yourself and judge whether it seems professional and real. A practitioner who earned something will walk you through it without offense.
What signals quality instead?
Four things, and the practitioner community is remarkably consistent about them.
Lineage and tradition. Serious practitioners developed their craft over years inside a coherent tradition, typically with teachers, a mentor, or a lineage behind them. The tradition matters because it provides the internal logic for how workings fit together, when magic is appropriate, and what ethical structures apply. Ask what tradition they work in and how they learned it. A real answer has names, years, and a path in it.
Apprenticeship and training under someone. Many respected practitioners spent years studying with a specific teacher or house tradition before working publicly. An apprenticeship is a credential no one can fake, because somewhere there's a human who can confirm it.
Years in practice. Time at the work is the field's true resume. Hundreds or thousands of hours of readings and workings teach things no course can, and experienced practitioners speak with a specificity about their craft that's very hard to counterfeit.
Community standing. Reputation among peers beats reputation among strangers. Look for a long, consistent history in a real community: teaching, contributing, being referred to by other practitioners, reviews from people you can trace. Praise that lives on a brand-new account with bought followers counts for nothing.
Isn't it dangerous to have no gatekeeping?
It's a real risk, and pretending otherwise helps no one. The lack of credentials is precisely why the field is full of both gifted practitioners and confident frauds, and why the scam patterns (curse diagnoses, guaranteed outcomes, fear-based upsells) thrive. The practical answer for a seeker is to substitute your own diligence for a credential system that doesn't exist: check lineage, ask about training, verify community standing, and pay attention to whether the practitioner welcomes the questions.
That diligence is also the reason Aura Vista exists. Because there's no industry credential to lean on, Aura Vista vets practitioners directly before they're listed, looking at training, lineage, time in practice, and community standing, the same signals covered above. The platform is live in beta now, and its vetting process is the practical shortcut for anyone who'd rather not run a background check alone. You can still ask the questions yourself; good practitioners expect them either way.
What should I do with a practitioner's certificate, then?
Read it as a clue, not a credential. It tells you the person invests in their education, which is a good sign. Then move on to the questions that carry real weight: Who trained you? What tradition? How long in practice? Who in the community knows your work? Those four answers, given with detail and ease, are the closest thing this field has to a diploma. They've always been the certification that matters.