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I've watched people shuffle a tarot deck like they're trying to pass a card-handling exam. Stiff fingers, eyes on the cards, mouth tight. The deck does not pass them anything. The deck just gets a workout.
Shuffling is not a technique problem. Shuffling is a relationship problem. Your hands are talking to the cards and the cards are talking back, and the shuffle is the part of the reading where you stop being two things and start being one. If your hands are tense, the cards will be tense. If your hands are bored, the cards will be bored.
Here are six ways to shuffle. None of them is the right way. They're all the right way, on different days.
The overhand shuffle. Hold the deck in one hand, lift small chunks from the top with the other, drop them on the front. Repeat until the deck has been through itself a few times. This is the gentle shuffle. It's the one I use for the card of the day. It's slow, it's easy, it doesn't hurt the deck, and it keeps your eyes free to look at the candle or the window or the inside of your own face. Use this when the question is small and the morning is quiet.
The riffle shuffle. The casino one. Split the deck in two, bend the corners, let them interleave under your thumbs. This shuffle is fast and it mixes a deck thoroughly in three or four passes. It's also hard on the cards — bent corners, worn edges, eventual splits. I riffle only with decks I've decided to wear in deliberately, the workhorses, the ones I'll replace in three years anyway. Use it when you want speed and you don't mind the deck looking lived-in.
The smoosh. Lay the whole deck face-down on the table and swirl it around with both hands like you're making bread, or fingerpainting, or stirring a small pond. Push the cards in circles until the order is gone. This is the shuffle for big questions, for grief, for the readings where you don't know where to start. Your whole hand is on the deck. It's the most contact you can have with the cards without holding them. Use it when the question is heavy and you need a minute.
The table cut. Hold the deck in your hands, lift a chunk off the top with your thumb, place it on the table, place the rest on top. Do this once or four times or seven, then pick the deck back up. The table cut is the shuffle for steadying yourself. It's slow on purpose. It gives the brain a beat. Use it as a finishing move at the end of any other shuffle, when you want to draw a line under the mixing and say "okay, we're ready."
The intuitive cut. Hold the shuffled deck in your non-dominant hand. With the other hand, run your thumb down the long edge of the deck until something stops you. A burr in the cards, a tiny resistance, a feeling. Cut there. Read the card at the top of the bottom half. This isn't really shuffling — it's choosing. Use it when you've shuffled enough but you don't know how to pick. Let the deck pick for you.
Shuffle until you forget you're shuffling. This is the only real rule. If you stop after a set number of passes, you're counting, not reading. If you stop when the deck feels done, you're reading. The body knows. Wait for the body.
Shuffle face-down, always. If you see cards while you shuffle, you'll start reading them before you mean to, and your conscious mind will start steering the draw. Keep them blind until the moment of the turn.
Let reversals happen. If you only ever shuffle in one direction, no card will ever come up reversed. If you want reversals in the reading — and you do, eventually — let the deck flip on itself. The smoosh handles this naturally. The overhand needs a little wrist twist every few passes. The riffle does it automatically if you split the halves and rotate one before interleaving.
If the deck is brand-new, give it a long shuffle the first time. New decks come in suit order out of the factory, and that order will bleed into your first three readings if you don't break it up. Smoosh the whole thing for two or three minutes the first night. Then put it under your pillow if you're into that, or just set it on the shelf if you're not. Either way, the deck will know you the next morning.