78 Notes to Self: A Tarot Journal

The ache for home lives in all of us, 

the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

~Maya Angelou

I did it!  I found a home! It's beautiful and cozy and sweet and happy and it's just the sort of house I imagined for myself.  It was built by the seller's grandfather in the 40's. He owned a sawmill that made doors. So he used his "extras" from unclaimed door orders in his own house.  No two doors/door-frames are the same size. He used red oak for the floor throughout the house, even in the kitchen. The baseboards and moldings are generous with deep windowsills, stained to match the floors. I have a vestibule (!) with windowed doors. The house has a rather unremarkable exterior, but inside it's an adorable cottage with bright yellow kitchen cabinets that line the length of the large kitchen. We moved in June and couldn't be happier with our new home.  At last, I am home. 

I love metaphors to a fault.  I know when I've traveled too far into metaphor land when my children snap back, "OK, Mom, ok, I get it, I get it."  It's like when you've walked along a beach for so long that because the scenery still looks the same you have no idea how far you've gone.  Enough with the metaphors.  I can never get enough.  Tarot, like metaphor, is illustrative language that tells a story and paints a literal picture in order to communicate a vital truth.  I love tarot and I love metaphor, so yeah, not going to stop with the metaphors.

I have often heard the metaphor of an onion used to describe an internal process, be it of healing, maturity, or self-discovery.  The idea of the onion metaphor is that we continually peel away layers of self to get to the core.  The onion metaphor, however, did not line up with what I actually experienced on my personal trek through life.  I found that when I overcame a particular personal obstacle or had a breakthrough that allowed me to move on, at some point later I would revisit the same issue.  I thought that layer of the onion had been removed.  Then a friend of mine shared that she thinks the path is more of a spiral. As we travel the spiral we certainly do revisit the same issues time and again but at a different level.  Now that's a picture I can relate to because it mirrors what I have experienced in a more precise way than the onion metaphor.

From the golden ratio and the Fibonacci sequence, the spiral is a constant pattern in the universe.  This is a widely observed phenomenon, though scientists have not figured out the "why."  Maybe that's better left to philosophers, but the pattern is evident in everything in nature, art, biology, and The Universe itself.

The Major Arcana XXI, The World, or in some decks, The Universe, relates intimately to the spiral pattern that maps our life's journey, collectively and individually.   XXI (21) is the smallest non-trivial example of a Fibonacci number whose digits are Fibonacci numbers and whose digit sum is also a Fibonacci number.  It's also the winning number in the games of Blackjack and ping pong. In Kabbalah Numerology 21 is pictured as “The Universe”, and is also called “The Crown of the Magi”. It promises general success, and guarantees advancement, honors, awards, and general elevation in life and career. It indicates victory after a long struggle, for the “Crown” is gained only after long initiation, much soul testing and various other tests of determination. However, the person or entity blessed with the number 21 may be certain of final victory over all odds and opposition. It is a most fortunate vibration – a number of karmic reward.


The World card is about those times on our journey when we overcome obstacles, complete an objective successfully and feel joy, freedom and a sense of accomplishment.  The wreath that encircles the dancer reminds us of these cycles and that we are never really finished.  If you've ever played a video game with "levels" you'll know what I mean when I say this is the "Leveled Up" card.  Completing a level is an accomplishment worthy of dancing in celebration, but as any gamer knows the next level will undoubtedly be more challenging and many of the same obstacles you met in the previous level will be presented again but will be more difficult to overcome.  However, all along your journey through the levels of the game you have picked up tools and skills and armor to help you in the succeeding levels. In some games, you've also picked up allies who will help you as well.


Wait, these cycles, aren't they what The Wheel of Fortune is about?  Yes, but different cycles. The Wheel is most definitely about cycles but they are the typical rotations of life's whims and follies.  In other words, fate.  While our actions do certainly shape our destinies, we are never free from those events that occur outside of our control that impact our lives. The World, on the other hand, focuses more on how the individual has responded to those and other experiences in order to achieve the successful completion of a goal.  The similarities between the two cards doesn't stop there.  They each have heavenly beings in each of the four corners.  They can be attributed to Christian symbolism of the four evangelists whose books are canonized in the reformed New Testament: Matthew -- a man; Mark -- a lion; Luke -- an ox, and John -- an eagle. These four Evangelists are also represented by the four fixed astrological signs: Leo, Taurus, Aquarius and Scorpio.  In The Wheel's imagery they are each busily writing in books whereas in The World they are celebrating the success of the figure in the center. This conveys the message that the Divine was in the seemingly arbitrary events and that heaven was rooting for you all along.

By Rolf Süssbrich - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2567511  The four winged creatures that symbolise the Four Evangelists surround Christ in Majesty on the Romanesque tympanum of the Church of St. Trophime in Arles, France.

The World has a key similarity to another Major Arcana card: The Hanged Man.  Both figures leg positions are the same. In the World, she is dancing.  Does this mean The Hanged Man is likewise "dancing"?  Well, sort of.  The legs form a fylfot cross, or what is known as a swastika cross.  Before the German Nazi Party co opted it, the fylfot cross was and is a spiritual symbol that meant "well being" and "balance."  In The Hanged Man it communicates that although he is in a painful circumstance, all is well with his soul.  He will come through it intact and blessed.  There is also the balance concept seen in The Wheel of Fortune. The swastika is a type of solar cross with arms bent at right angles suggesting a whirling or turning motion. Likewise, the dancer in The World, with her fylfot cross position and flowing hair and scarf suggest the same.


 Yet another symbol in The World card can be found at the very beginning of the Major Arcana within The Magician.  The Magician holds a wand. The figure in The World holds two.  This wand is distinct from the suit of Wands in the Minor Arcana.  On the table before the Magician, that wand is lying along with symbols of the other suits.  So the wand in his right hand with his left hand pointing downward is to symbolize his connection to the Divine and the power to bring forth the adage, "As above, so below."  He is, in Waite's tarot, an adept who, unlike the charlatans of previous tarot magicians, seeks to express the Divine within as direct manifestation in his life on earth.  The wands in the hands of the woman in The World card are not directly engaged in a concerted effort.  She's barely grasping them and they are balanced equally.  She's mastered something in her Divine nature and the manifestation is complete. Bravo!


 Resting on that laurel wreath is transitory because the next turn of the spiral is right after her last spin on the dance floor.  She will find herself back at one, as a Magician, attempting to manifest yet another aspect of the Divine into her earthly existence.  No doubt she will go over the same ground previously trod but with a new perspective gained from her last level.

 In readings, some situations are readily seen as World events.  Graduations, new parenthood, a promotion, an award, etc.  I've seen The World show up when someone has been struggling to overcome a broken heart and is a very encouraging indication they are ready, finally, to move on.  I've seen it say, "You're above this, don't stoop to their level." and "No need to go through that again, don't reinvent the wheel" (note reference to The Wheel).  To a lesser extent this card can be associated with travel, not just a road trip, but more like the kind of travel that requires a passport or visa.  However, more often it is a celebratory message that says "Go you!"  The question remains, "What's next?"

When the Fool appears in a reading he is often welcomed as a "fresh start," a "new beginning," brimming with possibilities.  But, he's not wise and he's quite prone to making dangerous mistakes.  He doesn't give a care what consequences may come, he's impulsive and naive.  I wondered, however, if back in the day when tarot began if the image of the Fool was viewed in such a positive light as he is today? When did the Fool become a Hero?

He's a complicated character, to be sure. He's good and not so hot. In the game of tarocchi, the Fool carries the same points as any of the Trumps which hold the highest point value, but he has a special function.  He's the Excuse card which can be laid down in place of any suit when the player doesn't have a card of that suit to play.  As such, he's a very good card to have in one's hand.  However, at the end of the game, if the score is split even, the side that played the Fool will lose. Not good.

In the olden days when tarot was new, there was already much commentary about fools.  The Bible for example, has tons of proverbs and pithy sayings that warn against being one, the most notable verse being Psalms 14, "A fool says in his heart there is no god."  It is important to note that the Hebrew word for fool used in that phrase means someone who is morally corrupt.  That's important because tarot images of the Fool range from a court jester to a beggar to a mentally disabled person who each have different characteristics and reasons for acting the fool.  The Psalms 14 statement appears to be condemning only the ones who, with full mental capacity, knowingly choose evil over good. Fool is used in the New Testament in ways that point out wrong decision making and Jesus had no problem calling out a fool if it illustrated his point.  It was considered a very harsh term back then, though, because it inferred the person was hell-bound if they didn't change their ways, and it calls not only their faith but their intelligence into question.  And if "fool" wasn't bad enough, he sometimes added to it by calling some extra ignorant people "blind fools."  Fools also get a bad rap in the ancient writings of the Greek philosophers, Confucius, and, well, pretty much everyone who tried to explain the difference between right living and wrong living used the fool as an object lesson in what not to do, who not to be.  He has been our shining bad example. 

But then St. Paul turned the fool around.  In his first epistle to the Corinthians, Paul stated that man's wisdom is foolishness to God and where we think we're crafty and wise, God knows we're ignorant.  He contended that the message of the Gospel was seen as foolish to those who were smart and educated by society's standards, so to counter their arguments he embraced the fool and said, "We are fools for Christ's sake, but ye are wise in Christ; we are weak, but ye are strong; ye are honourable, but we are despised." (1Cor 4:10) Basically, he was saying that anyone who accepts and promotes the wisdom of man is the real fool because the wisdom of God, which seems foolish to men, is the real deal.  Being a fool for one's faith was suddenly better than all the man-made education in the world.  It was a pretty clever way to say, "I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you."  This statement changed the symbolism of the Fool to someone who was only temporarily lost or misguided but could be enlightened. Not only that, but once enlightened would continue to be disdained by conventional society because they just don't get him.  Someone who, despite all outside appearances to the contrary, was actually wiser than those who followed the well-trod path of human convention. And now we have our Wise Fool, the bumbling hero who manages to overcome obstacles and challenges, endures trials and tribulations, gets tempted and falls, rises above the consequences, learns from wise teachers, focuses on the goal, succeeds admirably, and finally is rewarded with a crown of glory.  The Fool's Journey is the Hero's Journey.

The notion of the "wise fool" was developed during the Middle Ages and  became very popular during the Renaissance and promotes the concept of learned knowledge and wisdom.  The wise fool became so popular that no Elizabethan drama was complete without the fool.  The original idea of a wise fool is seen in children and in the phrase, "Out of the mouths of babes."   Heraclitus observed that much learning does not teach wisdom, implying that wisdom can be possessed by the unlearned.  The "wise fool" is not mentally deficient, but possesses an otherworldly wisdom beyond his status.  He is also not a jester that merely plays the fool in order to be allowed to speak his mind to and about those in power.  But all manner of fools have these elements in common:

• They are ignorant and so live a happy and carefree life.  They are not intelligent enough to worry about tomorrow or regret past decisions, so they lead a blissful existence in the present moment.
• They are not expected to abide by societal conventions, they may say whatever they please, do whatever they wish and are exempt from consequences imposed on them by societal norms and rules. 
• Any wisdom a fool possesses is presumed to have come from a supernatural source rather than from normal intelligence or traditional education.  They have not earned their wisdom, it was granted to them.  It is a gift.

Tarot's Fool has appeared to evolve into the Wise Fool over time, but I think he was always a questionable composite.  While our modern philosophies tend to prefer the Wise Fool over the sarcastic Court Fool, the Mentally Challenged Fool, the Morally Corrupt Fool, and the Beggar, we can find all these archetypes in historical representations of the Fool that predate Tarot.  The challenge in tarot reading is to discern which face of the Fool is dominant for that particular reading.  I've certainly seen the Fool represent the simple, literal message: "You're being foolish, stop that." It has also conveyed the assurance that, while conventional wisdom would disagree, you are wiser than you know, so don't pay any mind to naysayers.  It can also convey warnings to watch your step, danger ahead, and don't dismiss the signs.  It can tell you the action someone else took was well-intentioned and innocent, even though it may have ended badly.  Interpreting the Fool may also be swayed by which type of Fool is depicted in the tarot deck you've chosen for the reading.  One that portrays a more traditional Beggar Fool versus one that looks like a Court Jester will render different meanings.  The Court Jester was known for "speaking truth to power" in a more humorous and palatable way, whereas the Beggar Fool could bring welcome wisdom from an unlikely source if you would dare to set aside your prejudices and welcome him onto your porch for a spell.

The main reason the Wise Fool agrees with us is because he is us.  Erasmus disagreed with the prevailing idea that folly was sin.  In his essay "In Praise of Folly," written in 1509, Erasmus suggested that foolishness is the natural state of humans:

"But methinks I hear the philosophers opposing it and saying 'tis a miserable thing for a man to be foolish, to err, mistake, and know nothing truly. Nay rather, this is to be a man. And why they should call it miserable, I see no reason; forasmuch as we are so born, so bred, so instructed, nay such is the common condition of us all. And nothing can be called miserable that suits with its kind, unless perhaps you'll think a man such because he can neither fly with birds, nor walk on all four with beasts, and is not armed with horns as a bull."

We start off life as innocent fools and continue through life making mistakes, learning from them, and subsequently find out more and more that we don't know.   The Fool is Tarot's bumbling hero, and subsequently, that Fool is us. As he meanders among the Arcana, takes chances, asks questions, falls down, gets back up, faces tragedy, triumph, temptation, and trials, we easily identify with his experiences and so identify with and can apply the meanings of the cards to our lives with immediate relevance. Although we do hopefully become more wise as our path progresses, we find, often to our dismay, that we are never immune from our own foolishness no matter how long we have been on our Fool's Journey.  Michelangelo said at age eighty-seven, "Ancora Imparo,"  I am yet learning. 

The world has never yet seen a truly great and virtuous nation because in the degradation of woman the very fountains of life are poisoned at their source. ~Lucretia Mott

I've been a feminist as long as I can remember.  Thanks to my mother, who encouraged her daughters to be independent, strong, and socially conscious of sexism, I have, despite my varied intensity on the subject over the course of my life, always had a deep and abiding passion for the social equality of women.  I had a brief crush on a boy when I was 12 years old who asked me in all seriousness, "You don't really believe in all that Women's Lib stuff you talk about, do you?"
"Of course I do!" I retorted, "Why would I say that stuff if I didn't believe it?"  All of a sudden, he didn't seem that attractive to me anymore.  Mom would blast Helen Reddy's song, "I Am Woman" on the stereo and we would sing loudly and pump our fists:

I am woman, watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my loving arms across the land
But I'm still an embryo
With a long long way to go
Until I make my brother understand

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to I can face anything
I am strong
I am invincible
I am woman!

Who else but a woman would use the analogy of an embryo?  I liked this verse most of all because it spoke of joining together with men to create a more equal society.  Because as long as I've been a feminist, I've also loved men.  Or maybe I am just fascinated with men as being so different from myself. Regardless, I believe in a society that simply accepts people from the inside out without regarding them as inferior based on physical characteristics. 

I have not lived consistently with my feminist convictions.  I married a man who was extraordinarily sexist and violently abusive towards women.  I am the man, I have the mustache, and so I tell you what to do! No joke, he actually said that.  He viewed us as "equally matched" in our fights, "You have your tongue, I have my fists.  We're equal."  However, in true feminist form, I sought the support and help of other women to leave him and his abuse, and along with my female lawyer soundly conquered him in court.

You can bend but never break me
'cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

While I won't go so far to thank my abuser for it, my experiences with him certainly served to deepen my convictions about equality for women and particularly to work toward freedom from violence in our relationships with men.  I went on to work with domestic violence victims and survivors, hosting support groups in my home and creating and maintaining a website for victims.

Even when I was neck-deep in fundamentalist Christianity, I wasn't content with the more conservative interpretations of women's role in society.  I would counter those views with what I believed to be the authentic message of Christianity: mutuality.  I did the requisite Biblical research and made a sound case, but received the censure of my church's pastor who said I was unfit for service because I believed and espoused that women could and should serve as clergy.  In leaving the church, I was freed from the task of having to prove what I believed to be obvious: men and woman are different, yes, but functionally equal.  I wondered what men were afraid would happen if they admitted this.  I also wondered why they refused to take advantage of the vast resources of half the population.  Just as my pastor relegated me to organizing women's tea parties rather than Bible studies, many men seem content to ignore the treasure-trove of creative insight and intelligence in their counterparts. What does it benefit them to do this? 


In the long run, Women's Liberation will of course free men -- but in the short run it's going to COST men a lot of privilege, which no one gives up willingly or easily. ~Robin Morgan


It really chaps my ass that women have had to fight for what should be naturally acknowledged as true.  The Greeks were very much into dualistic philosophies and they acknowledged that both masculine and the feminine traits were to be found in everyone.  The problem was these characteristics were ascribed value judgments and those deemed "feminine" were seen as less appealing and needing suppression. But here's the problem with dualism: it neglects the whole.  The Sanskrit word Tantra transliterates as the weft and warp (duality) of the weave (nonduality), the directions of the threads that create cloth. If one of these dualistic pairs did not exist, neither would the cloth. Equality doesn't exclude the differences or polarities, it includes them, accepts them, and weaves them together to make a whole -- whole person, whole society.  Suppression or devaluing one side of the duality makes for a very unbalanced, weak "whole," or rather, something that is not whole. 

The Empress in Tarot is representative of the feminine part of the duality, while The Emperor represents the masculine.  Neither is greater, together they form a pair.  The Empress comes first in the deck, interestingly, but that doesn't mean better.  If it means anything, it means every man was born of woman.  While the feminist movement has enlightened many, we still have entrenched ideas about feminine things being inherently "lesser" than masculine. While women are commended (and simultaneously ridiculed) for exhibiting traditionally masculine characteristics, men are rarely applauded for exhibiting their feminine side unless they do so in a distinctly masculine manner.  A man who bakes cakes is a "Cake Boss" whereas a woman who bakes is, well...a woman. 
 
We've begun to raise daughters more like sons... but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters. ~Gloria Steinem

The Empress is the archetypal "mother" but not all can identify with that.  Instead of viewing her as a noun, try instead to view her as a verb.  In a commentary written by feminist Gloria Steinem, she explains:

"Think about it: As a noun, mother not only excludes half the human race, but is also limited by fertility and age and intention...
As a noun, mother may be good or bad, willing or unwilling, on welfare or rich, worshiped or blamed, dominating or nurturing, accidental or chosen.
Perhaps that’s why the noun mother is so easily taken over by profanity; or by war, as in “the Mother of All Bombs;” or by war-makers who honor Hero Mothers for birthing soldiers.
But when mother is a verb—as in to mother, to be mothered—then the best of human possibilities come into our imaginations.
To mother is to care about the welfare of another person as much as one’s own.
To mother depends on empathy and thoughtfulness, noticing and caring.
To mother is the only paradigm in which the strong and the weak are perfectly matched in mutual interest." ( Mother As A Verb by Gloria Steinem)

 Another funny thing about archetypes and dualities is that they aren't really meant to describe actual men and women, but only traits and characteristics, with no value judgment placed upon whether these characteristics and traits are better or worse.  They simply are. Men express "mothering" naturally and as easily, and many women really suck at it.  The mistake is made when we assume that feminine archetypes belong to women and masculine archetypes belong to men.  They don't, they are meant to be balanced within each of us and therefore balancing our societies.

Patriarchy is the result of too strong an emphasis on the masculine part of the duality, too much value given to that particular warp of the cloth.  While it has its benefits, such as strength, survival, profit-making, and logic, it is lopsided on its own.  Technology and business are examples of masculine archetypal structure and energy and while extremely beneficial, when they ignore the feminine elements they become destructive and ultimately self-destructive.  Only when feminine archetypal energy is integrated into these institutions will they thrive in balance with nature and with our own long-term survival. 



To me, feminism isn't about who's better or who screwed everything up.  It's not about forcing men to shoulder the blame for everything wrong with the world, even though, come on guys, you've made the lion's share of decisions for quite some time now, so take responsibility.  It's about awareness and what the hippies used to call "consciousness raising." What does it really take for people, both men and women, to realize we need balance?

It's October 31st and it's time to celebrate Death.  This doesn't sit well with many, but for thousands of years people have been observing this time of year to joyfully remember those who have died.  All Hallows Eve is a Celtic tradition born from Samuin or Samhain which means "summer's end." It wasn't originally connected with acknowledging the dead but as a thanksgiving to the gods for provision for the winter.  The Halloween connection with death came only when the Catholic Church set their All Saints Day on November 1.  Gaelic Christians, then, merged the celebrations.  While the Church was notorious for co opting pagan festivals in order to better convert the masses, this was not true in the case of Halloween.  Pope Gregory III moved All Saints Day to November 1 in the mid 700's and a November festival of all the saints was already widely celebrated on November 1 in the days of Charlemagne.  This may have been part of the reason Pope Gregory III did it, but there were other more Roman-centric reasons having nothing to do at all with the Celts in England, Ireland, and Scotland.

A more overt co opting was seen in Latin America where the Spaniards, viewing the celebration of the Aztec Day of the Dead as sacrilegious and failing in their attempts to ban the celebrations, instead moved it from it's original position in the Aztec calendar (roughly around the beginning of August)  to November 1-2 to coincide with All Saints and All Souls Days.  The indigenous peoples of South America had a very different view of death than the Europeans.  They saw life as a dream and death as waking from that dream and a continuation of life rather than an end to it.  The buoyant atmosphere of the Day of the Dead contrasts with All Soul's Day's somberness in which prayers are offered to help loved ones pass through Purgatory into Heaven. 

The practice of taking over existing cultural holidays and "Christianizing" them is something the Church has done practically since its inception.  In a well-known speech to the Athenians in the 1st century, the Apostle Paul declares the deity they called "Agnostos Theos," or unknown god, was actually the Hebrew god, whose name was too holy to say.  (Acts 17:22-31)  There was a temple in Athens dedicated to this god, but it wasn't viewed so much as a deity itself but as a way the Greeks could cover their spiritual hindquarters in case there was a god that existed that they didn't know about and didn't want to inadvertently insult. Paul, being an educated scholar, used his understanding of the Greek culture and literature to sway his listeners to a different spiritual concept, but also using one that was already embedded in the culture.  Conversion to Christianity, in Paul's experience, came as a dramatic "Aha!" moment in which he was struck blind for a time.  When he could see again, it was as if he saw everything in creation in a new light with a new perspective.  Therefore, the effort to  convert others to Christianity involved, at least early in the history of the movement, persuading them to see their existing world through the lens of a Christian perspective.  That Sun God you worship?  That's the Son of God.  The death and rebirth you witness each year on the earth?  That symbolizes Christ's death and resurrection, and so on and so forth.  It wasn't until the Church became a civil authority with the conversion of the Roman Emperor Constantine that it had the official power to not only persuade but demand certain feasts and festivals honor Christian concepts rather than pagan. Constantine himself was Roman and did not cease to be Roman after his conversion. Rather, he credited his successes to the Christian High God but continued to honor the Roman deities as well. In fact, he instructed that Christians and non-Christians alike were to observe the venerable day of the sun.  This edict would lead to the transforming of the pagan holiday of Yule into Christmas, but Constantine was happy with it as it was. 

Cultural practices are not easily eradicated.  They are, instead, incorporated and evolve into a merging of borrowed observances until we often lose sight of their true origins.  We end up observing a holiday just because we always have, because we were taught as children to do so, not even knowing why we do the things we do at those special times.  While some people decry Halloween's increasingly gory displays, it is a valuable way for people to come to terms with their fears surrounding death.  By dressing in costume and becoming that which we fear, we are for the moment the master of it.  Likewise, by consciously attempting to step through the veil between the physical and non-physical, one feels more in control of otherworldly forces that would otherwise pop through unexpectedly.  While we may not be literally paying homage to loved ones who have passed on, though many still do that at this time, observing Halloween gives us an opportunity to honor Death itself, giving it its due as a power beyond our control and understanding.

The Death card in Tarot is numbered XIII.  Thirteen hasn't always been viewed negatively, but when the ancient 13-month lunar calendar was replaced with the 12-month solar calendar, which coincides with the transition from feminine-based religions to masculine ones, the number began to take on ominous meaning.  The lunar cycles also coincide with a woman's menstrual cycles of 28-days and is associated with the moon.  Men believed witches fly at the full moon and the moon is a feminine symbol as well.  The negative connotations with the number 13 are probably connected more with male fear of women and witchcraft than anything else.  The fear of feminine stuff is largely based in a predominantly male fear of the unknown, of disorder and chaos, and of the inability to control the uncontrollable.  Because Death is the ultimate uncontrollable force, its association with 13 is understandable in that light.  In very ancient societies, death was but one aspect of the Great Mother, both the giver and taker of life.  However, the dualistic view of the ancient Greeks divided life and death into different personas, life being feminine and death masculine, but there are many personifications of Death both as male and female across time and cultures.  There really doesn't appear to be a consensus in the human archetypal compendium which renders Death specifically of one gender, which is rather fitting for the Great Equalizer.

Meanwhile, as we don our costumes, attend parties and trick-or-treat, we are participating in an amazing cross-cultural, cross-spiritual event, whether we recognize it or not.  We're paying homage to Death and, by extension, to Life.  We're facing our fears, whistling in the dark, and honoring our ancestors who have all had to face the same ultimate end. We all participate in the dance macabre.

There is a movement beginning in the United States that started with a small, rag-tag group that decided to protest something intangible but felt tangibly by millions of people.  Occupy Wallstreet began on September 17 in response to a call by Adbusters on July 13.  Since then, thousands of people have taken to the streets of New York and the protest has spread to other cities in the US.  The protests are not springing forth from any particular political party and the agenda isn't entirely clear except that people are sick and tired of being treated as if 99 percent of the population are disposable by a small, wealth-controlling minority.  We're tired of electing public officials that tell us one thing but relinquish their promises in favor of the whims of those who bought and paid for them to secure office.  What the protesters are seeking is Justice, both karmic and legal.  It's rather fitting that the protests are still going on and this month is the anniversary of peace activist John Lennon's birthday.  He once said, "If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."   He firmly believed that the people already possess the power to change things, but they aren't aware of the incredible power they already have.  He devoted a significant amount of his life and resources to advertise for peace, to helping people become aware of the power we have, both individually and collectively, to change the world. 

So often we think the power lies "out there" and it's all a matter of  what other people and forces do that affect us, but we're the ones that create and shape our world.  Justice always seems like an "other" type of force, something outside of us that decides for or against us.  Thing is, we are the ones that set Justice in motion. Even if one views her as a kind of karmic balancer, rather than an internal virtue, then she is still profoundly influenced by our actions: past, present, and future.  St. Thomas Aquinas defined justice as the constant and perpetual will to render to everyone his due. Injustice, then, occurs when a person or group receives either less or more than what is due to them.  The problem, as Lennon observed, is in the lack of awareness that most people possess, either because of apathy or ignorance.  People who are educated, informed, and aware of injustice react to it, almost instinctively, and seek to set things to right again.  The only way a small, albeit powerful, group could have succeeded in tipping the scales so profoundly in their favor and against the majority without Justice intervening is because the majority wasn't looking or they thought Justice is something done by others and not something they themselves produce by their own decisions and actions.  

Ancient Minchiate Etruria by Pietro Alligo, Lo Scarabeo 1996

Among the opponents of the recent protests are those who think the people who are protesting are just pissed off that other people are wealthy and have made something of themselves and that the protests are nothing more than folks with a bad case of sour grapes. What I see instead is the awakening of many people to the reality that we, both individually and collectively, wield Justice's sword.  While it is true that Justice represents the decisions made by the "powers that be," what is often overlooked is that we are the creators of those offices, those powers, and it isn't by divine right that those in power maintain their positions.  It is all of human artifice and design and therefore can be balanced only by human influence.  


Because Justice is a Major Arcana card in the tarot deck, the idea that its power is "fated" or "destined" and is somehow outside of one's control comes into play in many tarot readings.  It isn't entirely untrue, that interpretation.  As a society, we do vest power in our legal institutions to decide for us, on our behalf.  Therefore, when we find ourselves in a situation in which our "fate" must be decided by they who are granted those powers, we can feel quite powerless in the court of Justice.  And while our power may be limited in its influence in that moment, we are not powerless.  Sometimes Justice rules in our favor and sometimes she doesn't, but nevertheless when Justice is served we know it.  It's when we see the scales of Justice totally off kilter that something within rises up, attempts to seize the sword from her hand and start hacking away at whatever resides on the weighty side, and yes, that is our right and duty.  It is at Justice's invitation and and plea that we act upon that inner sense of hers inside of us that ultimately determines her final decree.

The problem with human justice is that it is limited by our perceptions.  All the checks and balances placed within the system can be circumvented and corrupted by the very people who rely on it to serve them.  There is a well-known story in the Gospel of John called the "Pericope de Adultera" about Jesus and the woman taken in adultery.  The governing authorities brought a woman who had been caught "in the very act" (ahem) of adultery to Jesus for dispensing of justice.  The story illustrates something very important about not only Justice, but who should, and more importantly, who should not wield her sword.  Adultery was a capital offense in ancient Jewish society and the sentence was to be carried out by stoning the offender.  When the officials brought the woman to be judged, the crowd gathered with stones in their hands in order to, they thought and believed, exact justice.  All too often, this is how most of us respond to the call to justice.  We follow what we have been taught and so believe to be right.  Our inner scales are already weighted with our customs, our upbringing, our cultural mores.  With one sentence, Jesus strips the blindfold off Justice by saying, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone."  The statement blatantly reveals that not one of us is unbiased, impartial, nor unstained with personal opinion that renders the human being incapable and indeed unworthy of passing such a serious judgement upon another.  


All we can do is strive to balance the scales, but we must do so in the understanding that our perceptions are probably skewed and that perfect human justice is probably unattainable.  No social movement will ultimately "fix things."  However, that should never stop us from trying.  The next time Justice appears in a reading, consider where balance ought to be restored and how one might contribute to that effort.  If it indicates you are in the position to "render judgement" then consider carefully that you, too, carry the human flaw of bias.  If you are the defendant in Justice's court, don't lose heart or feel powerless, but seek to understand your own influence in the events.  In human affairs, Justice is something we all work to achieve, but never quite possess.

 

Classic Tarot by Carlo DellaRocca Published by Lo Scarabeo 2000

The Star is always trotted out as one of the most wonderful cards, always.  Then why, when I see it, doesn't it make me happy?  I've said before it could be that I'm more geared toward immediate gratification so when I see the Star it tells me I'm on the right track but it's going to be a good while before I reach my goal and that just frustrates me.  It's always good to see the Star coming up for what a romantic partner thinks of you, but that too kind of irritates because inevitably the ones who always think the Star of you are the ones who also keep you at a distance.  Like you're up on some lofty pedestal or something.  Since readings have been sparse lately -- cue shameless promotional plug: it would be a great time to schedule a tarot reading with me now because there will be little to no wait -- I've had some time to poke around and research this card that seems oh so great but always bothers me.  I think I've uncovered something more than a naked lady playing with water.


The generic description of the card features "a goddess"...wait, which goddess?  And do they call her a goddess because she is both beautiful and naked or because she represents a particular goddess myth?  Choosing to go with the latter, I researched goddesses associated with either stars or water.  I found Inanna, Sumerian goddess of rebirth.  Hold up.  Rebirth?  Wouldn't that be better associated with Judgement?  Maybe, but there's a lot more.  Others have seen the similarities to Inanna and the tarot Star card, too, and what they are seeing is more than rebirth but alignment with a myth that is only a part, but an important part, of Inanna's legend.  Typically, images of Inanna show her either richly dressed or naked.  In the story, "Inanna's Descent to the Underworld," which is most useful for the Star imagery, she is stripped of her clothing.  Also, for a time during that journey, nature "dies" with Inanna and nothing would grow.  It was only when she returned to earth that things began blooming and growing again, hence her fertility goddess role and the watering of the earth.  Also, her symbol all over Mesopotamia is the 8-pointed star. 

Maybe I should tell the story. Essentially,  Inanna needed to visit her sister Ereshkigal who rules the Underworld. She heard her sister's baneful moaning and felt compelled to see her.  Any trek to the Underworld risks death, so she garbed herself accordingly: with her crown on her head, lapis lazuli around her neck, a golden bracelet, and a royal robe on her body and a breastplate.  She also took a lapis measuring rod and line.  When she was announced at the gate, her sister became more agitated and only allowed each of the gates to be opened a crack and Inanna had to remove her garments and ornaments in order to squeeze through each one.  She arrived at her destination naked and vulnerable.  The judges of the Underworld ruled against her and her sister killed her.  She became a rotting corpse and was hung from a hook on the wall.

Her companion outside the gates waited three days and then went seeking help from various Gods and finally Enki,God of Wisdom and Water who had originally blessed Inanna prior to her descent, came to his aid. He created two creatures and gave them the food and water of life to take to Inanna.  They snuck into the Underworld and found Ereshkigal in a very distressed state, moaning and crying.  Whatever agony she named, they would speak it back to her.  Finally she stopped and blessed the creatures and promised to give them whatever they asked.  They asked for Inanna's corpse, of course. As part of the deal of reviving her, though, she had to choose another person to go in her place.  She ended up choosing her husband because while she was gone, he had gone about his life as if nothing had happened.  Though she loved him very much it was clear he didn't love her the same.

Carl Jung, pioneer psychoanalyst who worked extensively with archetypes and myth in his practice and writings wrote some commentary on the Inanna's Descent myth.  I found this commentary to be so very enlightening with respect to the Star imagery.  The commentary focuses on the Inanna story as it illustrates a journey of deep depression.  His commentary, even more than the myth itself, speaks to why this card doesn't always feel so "happy" or "good."  It represents the afterwards, the time following a very rigorous examination of one's shadow self, a time of deep darkness and depression.   It's as if there is a pause between the Tower and the Star, a time spent in the Underworld groaning, moaning, and dying, a time of utter hopelessness.  We don't see this in tarot as it happens in the nether realms, but it is important to understand the cause of the hope the Star implies.  The article states: "The solution to depression lies not in great intellectual power, nor in great emotional power. It comes from Wisdom, which encompasses all of the psychological functions."  Ah! The missing virtue in tarot! Prudence!  The hope she has comes from Wisdom, and from knowing that whatever depths she has visited can be overcome with Wisdom.  She has also discarded her former garments for she has learned their value is little compared to the experience of facing her shadow self and integrating it into her being and becoming whole.

Being a veteran of my own treks to the Underworld, I know intimately the cost of depression. Upon my return, I was not happy-go-lucky but I did acquire hope.  In the depths, I could not see what there was to look towards.  In my ascent, I had hope that things would get better, I would get better.  The Star is that time, when you have integrated something rather dark, tragic, painful and costly into your being and, surviving that after having already survived the Tower experience that preceded it, your skin still raw and wet from rebirth, your psyche still wounded and painful to the touch, you spend some time tending to that which you could not when you were "away."  Inanna's earth would not grow, so she is watering it to revive its life.  The water would not flow, so she is pouring her tears into the stream.  It is a time of reclamation, without which we could not move on.   You may have to cut ties with people who, as you found out when you were gone, didn't really give a crap about you, like Inanna's husband.  You start the process of pruning the overgrowth.  This isn't an easy time, but it is a hopeful time.  It's a time when others may expect you to be back to "your old self."  How do you tell them your old self has died, never to return?  Besides, it will be a while before the process of reclamation is done, before you get where you're appointed to go. But it will never be as it was before.  You are changed. Your direction will likely change.  This is a card of work and healing and growth and yes, rebirth.

Now I understand why it unsettles me so.  I know this work. There is a reason stars only shine at night and why the Moon follows this one in tarot progression.  It's like that poem by Robert Frost, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening."

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.