Divine Measure – Traversing the Star Card of Ancient Tarot

In Greek mythology, while transformation into a rock is usually a barren fate, a pattern emerges in which the heroines who were transformed into islands are lovers of the gods; just as islands, like cities, were usually personified as minor goddesses or heroes. [Wikipedia]

This is precisely what happened to Asteria, Titan Goddess of falling stars, oneiromancy (divination by dreams) and astrology (by stars), and mother of Hecate. She transforms herself into the Island of Delos, where her sister Leto at last gave birth to the lunar Artemis and solar Apollo, after an exhaustive search for refuge. The usual suspects were to blame; Zeus for making Leto pregnant, then pursuing Asteria, and jealous Hera’s subsequent curse, that Leto not be able to find solid ground on which to give birth, forbidding all places on earth to accept her. Hera also kidnapped the goddess of childbirth to ensure that Leto’s labour would be ultra painful. Asteria (‘star’) defied Hera’s orders, but as she had not succumb to Zeus’ advances, Hera, though angry, did not punish her.

Artemis was an easy delivery, but Apollo took 9 days and nights to come out (luckily, Artemis was able to assist). There are a few variations on the myth, as is typical. Delos means ‘to manifest or reveal’. It had been a floating island, ’emerged’ for Leto by helpful Zeus (the least he could do since he can’t seem to keep his Tower in his robe). Either it was uninhabited or it was and the people didn’t want her giving birth there, so Leto gifted the island with 4 anchors to keep it stable, which pleased them. Are these ‘anchors’ the 4 Royal Stars (Aldebaran, Regulus, Antares, Fomalhaut)?

‘Cary Sheet’ Star, ca 1500

“Hail. O heaven-built isle [Delos], most lovely scion of the children of bright-haired Leto, O daughter of the sea, thou unmoved marvel of the spacious earth, by mortal men called Delos, but by the blessed gods of Olympos (Olympus) known as the far-seen star (astra) of the dark-blue earth . . . For aforetime, that isle was tossed on the waves by all manner of whirling winds; but, when Leto, the daughter of Koios (Coeus), in the frenzy of her imminent pangs of travail, set foot on her, then it was that four lofty pillars rose from the roots of earth, and on their capitals held up the rock with their adamantine bases. There it was that she gave birth to, and beheld, her blessed offspring.”  ~ Pindar, Processional Song on Delos (Greek lyric ca 5th B.C.)  [Theoi.com]

Ancient Greek coin (date?)

Both Delos and Delphi, site of Apollo’s famous oracle and omphalos (navel), share the root word ‘del’ with ‘delphini,’ which means dolphin in Greek. Dolphins are sacred to Apollo, Dionysus and Poseidon. The Cary sheet hints at location with a fish-tail shape in the shoreline. Dolphins were considered by mariners to be a very good omen indeed, guiding and protective. They are also known to protect whales giving birth. So saviour-like are dolphins, that in the 14th century, French heirs began calling themselves ‘dauphin.’ It is beyond shameful and utterly reprehensible how modern humans have abused these sacred beings (the marine mammals, not the French kings).

Louise of Savoy instructing her son, Dauphin Francis I, ca 1505

Apollo wore his golden hair long and his sacred number is 7, associated with the traditional planets, stringed lyre and the Pleaides (starry rain-makers).
The cards do not give us absolutes, but evoke in a mnemonic, riddling fashion, so don’t be too confused by the lack of breasts on the Cary water-bearer.

After her transformation into Delos, several stars, deeply moved by her tale, aligned themselves in her honor. This formation, known as an asterism, served as a protective shield and a tribute to the goddess. For sailors navigating the vast seas and stargazers looking up in wonder, this celestial pattern became a symbol of Asteria’s indomitable spirit. [Olympioi.com]

Greek jug (both sides), 3rd-2nd c BC

It’s obvious that the birthing waters have broken, which explains why the card is somewhat incorrectly interpreted as illustrating the zodiac sign of Aquarius. Aquarius signifies a similar idea (and the constellation once included the Southern Fish, with Royal Star Fomalhaut in its mouth) – albeit in the dead of Winter we are talking more about inward, spiritual rebirth, ultimately necessary for a more evolved, physical return (Saturn).
The androgynous figure pours one jug onto the earth and one into the water, as she will do in the classic Tarot de Marseille card. We get the sense of purification by libation – libation of feminine fluids – as well as the cyclical nature of water, aka life, connecting with her arms in a continuum. In alchemy the liquid purification of spirit is considered Lunar and feminine, inner.

A sea of blood and milk…

Now it’s also possible that her two pitchers contain waters of Mnemosyne and Lethe – some Orphic lamellae (gold tablets) instruct the deceased to only drink from Mnemosyne’s streams, not Lethe’s, in order to avoid another, terrestrial birth or an eternity in gloomy Hades:

“You will find a spring on the left of the halls of Hades, and beside it a white cypress growing. Do not even go near this spring. And you will find another, from the Lake of Memory, flowing forth with cold water. In front of it are guards. You must say, ‘I am the child of Ge and starry Ouranos; this you yourselves also know. I am dry with thirst and am perishing. Come, give me at once cold water flowing forth from the Lake of Memory.’ And they themselves will give you to drink from the divine spring, and then thereafter you will reign with the other heroes.” ~ from Petelia, 4-3 BC

Other sources seem to indicate we’re to drink a bit of each. Hmm.

Chosson TdM, 1736, feat. one of many misspellings

The little black bird, which could represent the soul or ‘Ba bird‘, in the background is also a mytho-alchemical clue, for the crow in alchemy is symbolic of Saturn and the blackening (the first stage of the work, now fading in the distance, but not entirely forgotten).
In another, Apollo myth, he sends his originally white bird to keep watch (spy) on his lover, Coronis (‘crow’).  Unfortunately for everyone involved, the bird reports she’s been cheating with a mortal. Seething, Apollo scorches the messenger for his efforts, then shoots his woman down. Naturally, he regrets it, tries to revive her, but it’s too late, because Greek tragedy. In the opener image kylix detail, we see the blackened crow or raven as Apollo’s bird of prophecy. Are bird and lover one and the same? Only the shadow knows.

Apollo kills Coronis, 1590 engraving by Hendrick Goltzius

During the alchemical opus, there is something called the ‘impregnation stage’ wherein:

The star rises to the surface and thus connects both the upper spiritual part of the vessel and the lower substance. The bird flies upwards, the soul of the process also seeks union with the spirit. The Impregnation is the turning point of this phase, and indeed it marks the point in the whole process where we are no longer dealing with mere material substances, but the seed of the spiritualization of substance has here been sown, and from now on we will see, through the many following stages, just how this seed grows, metamorphoses, and develops.  ~ Adam McLean, The Alchemy Website

The blackening of Apollo’s bird and the rising of the 7-pointed star

It’s been pointed out that in the Cary, there is an emphasis on 4 stars surrounding the main one, creating a starry quintessence, but problematic is the 5th ‘extra’ star in the figure’s right shoulder. In keeping with with the theme, however, this evokes the constellation of Orion, aka Osiris, with red star Betelgeuse placed thusly. Osiris was the god of death and regeneration par excellence, whose reappearance signified the annual rising of the Nile and the land becoming fertile again with birthing waters. (Hapi, who was male but had breasts, was the god of the actual flooding of the Nile, that became Aquarius).
Interestingly, one of the reasons Pythagoreans were superstitious about the number 17 was that Osiris was killed on the 17th day of the month of Athyr.

Eridanus, the cosmic River of Night, has a bright, fixed star at either end; in the north, Rigel, situated in the foot of Orion/Osiris, and in the south, Achernar, the ‘end of the river.’ The god-king has one foot in the water at the serpentine river’s mouth, as if being born out of it. (Article with more on this here).

Eridanus, John Bayer

If we count the number of little plants sprouting from the earth in the Cary card, they equal the number of small stars. As above, so below. Inner quintessence = outer/cosmic. This unification can only happen after the Tower – the structures we build around our minds from the outer, ego, etc – has been transformed. The star not only depicts ‘outer space’ but ‘inner space.’

Marriage stela of Tjanetiset feat. red and white Nut, ca. 825–712 BC (MET)

The ancient Egyptians saw earth as the mirror of the heavens. The sky goddess Nut is depicted, like Hapi of the Nile, holding two jugs that flow with the waters of creation/fertility.

Nut was the goddess of the sky and all heavenly bodies, a symbol of protecting the dead when they enter the afterlife. According to the Egyptians, during the day, the Egyptian decans would make their way across her body. Then, at dusk, they would be swallowed, pass through her belly during the night, and be reborn at dawn. She was often painted on the inside lid of the sarcophagus, protecting the deceased. The vaults of tombs were often painted dark blue with many stars as a representation of Nut. [Wikipedia]

Rosenwald sheet 15th c (National Gallery of Art)

In astrology the ‘big three’ of a natal (birth) chart are our Sun, Moon and Ascendant. The Sun indicates the time of year we’re born, energizing the present lifetime and our natural, outward expression of what we aspire to be this time around. The Moon shows time of the month (phase, day) and is indicative of the past and of our inner or nighttime realms – memory, dreams, soul lineage – what we bring with us, unconsciously. The Ascendant completes the picture with our precise moment of arrival/first breath. There is something very fated and acutely personal about this moment.

To the ancients, it was not so much the moment itself or even the rising sign, necessarily, but the star heralding or accompanying the Sun, as it rose on the day of birth (they didn’t have clocks) that was of prime importance. Stars on any angle or conjunct a luminary or planet are also significant, coming into play at different times during the course of a life. We could muse that this first star on the horizon is our navigational star, guiding us back to the ‘berth’.

Compass rose, France 1543 and sounding lead (for measuring depths), Marseille, 1st c

The TdM Star card is also interpreted as Venus, since she is symbolized with 8 points, but of course she can also have 5 (evening and morning star symbols). In the Tarocchi of ‘Mantegna’ print below, we find Venus in her river toilette (note the anagram, there), with her entourage of Eros and the Graces, looking suspiciously like the Star card figure. Meanwhile, in the unique, Leber-Rouen card, a witchy ‘Stella Maris’ looks like the wild twin of Botticelli’s serene goddess. (Might the cross/ankh around her neck have been an add-on?). 

‘Mantegna’ Venus and Leber-Roen Venusian, mid 15th c

Lodovico Lazzarelli, in his De Gentilium Deorum Imaginibus (trans. William O’Neal) described the first one:

Nude Venus swims forth from the midst of the natal wave of the sea, and the fair one holds a sea-shell in her right hand. For she divests lovers from extraordinary cares and affairs. Nude Venus calls nude bodies to herself Indeed the sea shell engages itself in sexual union within its own body. Passionate love is ship-wrecked by a sea of troubles.

The victor stands with his quiver of arrows, and he is swift on his wings. The nude boy Cupid stands with eyes covered. At one time he hurls down golden arrowheads from his bow and at another time lead ones, and each strikes the hearts of men with a different wound. The lead-tipped arrows drive love away but the golden-tipped bring it about. As hatred is strong so also love is dear. The nude boy loves the defenseless. Love with eyes covered does not know at whom he aims. He drags his prisoners through hard places. And those ignorant of every road wander off through lonely places The boy calls young men to his camp. Love marks out their unstable souls for his swift wings. He causes wounds hastened along by his quivers.

The Idalian nymphs, the fair and pleasing crowd of three, stand together with their bodies unclothed. They hold their arms together bound by interchanging bonds as often interchanging Love ties the bonds. The first holds the light of her countenance and her eyes toward us. The rest of her group sees us in her gentle eyes. First, Pasithea enraptures us in her gentle fires. Aglaia revives those taken in with her flattery. Euphrosyne entangles them in fetters and strong chains, and she does not permit her captives to go back. Then, Venus, pitying those mangled in such sorrows encourages them with her sweet enticements and flattery. Poets have treated these many things from the star of Venus which lovingly presides over the triple place of heaven. This constellation stands in the highest part of heaven with a triple name. Of course, it has always been said to be Venus.

Sounds a bit like alchemy-speak, no? Lead and gold-tipped arrows? I’m still pondering the arrangement of her four doves. Anyone?

In the Leber-Rouen card, our Stella Maris is of course Venus-Fortuna, for she holds in one hand a large arrow-cum-spindle, its quiver wound (with hair?). In the other, she grasps a lock of her windswept tresses. It bears a similarity to Lazzarelli’s description – she lures or navigates ships through shifting weather in the same, fated manner as Cupid sends forth his arrows.

Dame Fortune wielding a large arrow, French, 1403

Sailors were a superstitious lot. They believed women, being ‘wetter’ (ie, more lunar) than men had a special power over the sea. Medical writers like Pliny the Elder, in his Natural History (77 AD) declared, “For, in the first place, hailstorms, they say, whirlwinds, and lightening even, will be scared away by a woman uncovering her body while her monthly courses are upon her. The same, too, with all kinds of tempestuous weather; and out at sea, a storm may be lulled by a woman uncovering her body.”
Hence ancient goddesses, Isis in particular, but also the Stella Maris (‘Star of the Sea’, which could be Venus or any navigational star) became protector of ships at sea, and female figureheads were often bare-breasted.

The power of the jugs

Now, obviously I’ve focused only on the more cryptic Star cards, as mystery is what I find interesting, but there are just a few more worth an honourable mention, before wrapping up this essay. Their imagery, at first, may not seem to relate to our running theme, but let’s take a closer look…

Tarot of Paris early 1600s, Jacques Vieville 1650, ‘Mantegna Tarocchi’ Geometria 1460s

The third image is not a Star card but depicts one of the Liberal Arts inspiring these learned men: Geometry (‘to measure the earth’). Of all the Liberal Arts personified in the ‘Mantegna’, she is the only one floating in the sky above.
In the first card, the man sits at a drafting or reading table with books on it and holds the compass to his head, in thought. It’s hard to say whether he’s aware of the Star or whether it’s symbolic only, but divine, mathematical inspiration is being transmitted. I like to think of him as either an astrologer or an explorer creating maps.

Checkered floor of the alchemy lab

In the second card, the central Star and four little stars form a ‘quintessential’ arrangement. An astronomer/astrologer or mason (or alchemist) sits in contemplation or meditation before a cathedral-like building that has a clock or rose window in its bell tower. The division of the cosmos has now become a precision science, thanks to the sacred gadget. He appears to be measuring the heavens, but as in the Paris card, the compass almost seems to be a conduit and, held this way, it resembles the numeral V (5). The ground has a checkered pattern typical of masonry tiles and alchemists’ labs, but also resembling meridian lines of the earthly plain. Vieville or whoever created the the images for this deck was likely of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood. It’s just barely possible find a rose hidden under that red circle behind the figure’s head.

Like the Cary, in Vieville we find a 5th small star, this time in the clock/window face, connecting the above and the below. The Vieville Star card with its theme of enlightenment is in contrast to his Moon card, wherein an old woman sits spinning yard (and fate) under a tree, in the realm of night.

Geometry’s sacred tool.

The compass (actually called a divider) was specifically created in order to measure the heavens (hence time), while the much older square was used for earthly structures. These were the two essential tools of the stone masons and still form the well-known, Freemason logo. Because it allowed for the concept of eternity/divinity (the monad) to be perfectly drawn, the compass became a symbol of man’s spirituality and higher nature.

“It is said that the compasses’ two points represent spirit and matter, life and form; from these all the complexities of the fleeting, ever-changing mantle of the one-life are produced within the circle, self-imposed by the Being who has decreed the bounds of His Universe or His System.” ~ Harold Bayley, The Lost Language of Symbolism

Thus in these two variations, another aspect of the Star is emphasized: human intellect (Mercury/Aquarius) or indeed wisdom as the vehicle for uniting Heaven and Earth.

God/Christ the Geometer creating the world soul, 13th c

The sacred tool bears a notable resemblance to a stork or crane, birds associated with birth/immortality (like crow and raven, they are interchangeable, symbolically). We all know the greeting card baby delivery propaganda, but it was once the belief in Ancient Greece that they actually stole infants, like Harpies. [Fun fact: vultures evolved from storks.] Hera’s wrath again – this time at some haughty Pygmy queen who’d just given birth to a son:

The other Pygmies brought many gifts for the newborn infant, but Hera, enraged that Gerana would not worship her, elongated her neck and turned her into a crane. Wishing to keep close to her child, Gerana as a crane would fly from roof to roof, but the people armed themselves and chased her away, and thus arose the rivalry between the Pygmies and cranes. [Wikipedia]

“I’m crushing your head!”

Nevertheless, the nesting of cranes/storks on one’s rooftop is generally considered auspicious. People sometimes placed old cartwheels on the roof, to help initiate nesting. (Interesting we have named the mechanical monsters of construction after them, due to the resemblance).
Indeed,  if we zoom in on the ‘Mantegna’ Geometria print, we find one of these very birds hunting in the river below….and it has caught a snake!

Master of the e-series, Ferrara, 1460s (MET)

From compass to compass, star to star, this concludes our sojourn of the 17th Triumph. Thank you for reading. To explore more articles on the Tarot de Marseille, simply type ‘TdM’ into the search, or scroll the Home page, where I list recent articles. ~rb

Related, excellent talk,  if you wish to go deeper:
How the Alchemists Meditated by alchemist Dennis William Hauck

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Let Me Take You Down – The Juggler/ Le Bateleur of Tarot de Marseille

Isis assists with the embalming of a mummy, Kom El Shokafa, Alexandria, 2nd c

‘One becomes Two, Two becomes Three,  and out of the Third
comes the One as the Fourth.’  
~ Pythagoras

In a previous post , we saw how this Cosmology of Pythagoras applies to Tarot. It is but one of the initial or initiatory, key concepts conveyed to us as a visual clue by our Master of Ceremonies, The Juggler/Le Bateleur (aka the Magician). Do you see it?
Hint: It’s ‘dessous la table’, in every Marseille-type deck.

Vieville, Conver and Noblet cards

Of course, I am referring to the legs. People tend to write off his three-legged table as simply being of the portable sort that Bagatelles used. It’s true, three legs provide the most stable table for any surface. (Especially if it happens to be a tripod with a Pythia sitting on it). But his table in fact has four. Because one of his legs is behind or combined with one of the table legs, his other leg becomes the 4th leg; ‘the One as the Fourth.’ Another consistent feature is that the rectangular table top always extends beyond the picture border… just how long might it be?

Below are two images of Anubis, god of funerary rites and underworld guide, preparing the dead. His uncovered, lower legs are always visible beneath the embalming bed, and knees about level. This ritual table traditionally had a lion head(s) and legs, which we will return to in a moment.

Legs of Anubis
Egyptian embalmer’s bed, 664-332 BC  (Met Museum, NY)

The Juggler is often equated with Hermes/Thoth, initiator into the mysteries or the ‘in-between’ state itself who oversees the alchemical process. But he’s also seen as an initiate, who maybe doesn’t yet know what all these objects he’s selling are for. As others familiar with Osirian-Orphic mystery content in TdM imagery have noted, they likely allude to dismemberment or sacrifice. They also bear a resemblance to the tools used in the Egyptian ‘Opening of the Mouth’ ceremony, which according to belief, enabled the deceased to eat, breathe, drink and use their senses in the afterlife.

Religious equipment for ‘Opening of the Mouth’ ceremony, 6th dyn. (British Museum)

Naturally, the Juggler’s objects also symbolize the four Hermetic elements (ie, the suits of the minor arcana) and the four ways a body is returned to them in traditional funerary rites. The four ‘parts’ of us that are returned to their sources – body to earth, spirit to fire, soul to water, mind or breath to air – will again be drawn from them and remixed, for another round.

Four ways a body is returned to the elements

Now, let’s just for fun assume the Juggler’s table should have another wooden leg, that it is indeed modelled on an embalming table with leonine features and that it displays tools related to the ‘opening of the mouth.’
Where would we then look for the missing leg? Only the Conver-type decks give us a proper clue [addendum: Dodal also] – the Strength lion’s single leg having a distinctly wooden look and no paw. (Always thought it a rather canine-looking lion). In other TdM decks, it has normal, lion forepaws, which, nevertheless is a hieroglyphic feature, based on Horapollo.

The missing leg and the opening of the mouth

The Pythagorean rule informs us that every 4th card is also a first. 1 was considered masculine/solar and 2, feminine/lunar. 3, while odd, fiery and therefor technically ‘masculine,’ creates the first enclosed space (triangle/womb), so it is actually a combination of masc/fem (the Mercurial, creative magic of the trinity need not be re-explained here). 11 is two 1s or 1+1=2, the lunar partner to the solar Juggler.
I’ll discuss the 2s in my next post, but let the image below, from the Catacombs of Kom El Shokafa, where Egyptian and Greco-Roman mysteries meet, serve as a preview.

Where did you get that hat? Gorgoneion as ‘death face’ of the Sun

The crown/corona worn by royals represents the Sun’s rays. To be coronated means to be crowned with the Sun and become a god-like, solar figure. In alchemy, the Sun symbolizes both the material gold and the hidden, spiritual gold, which is only achieved after a long process. The Juggler holds a little yellow coin or roundel (material gold) and there is a small, yellow flame [aka ear of golden grain] beneath the table, in the distance (spiritual gold). They are separate, at this point in the game.

One/Four cards (Camoin-Jodo deck)

Notice that every card in the 1/4 place between Juggler and Sun depicts a crown, in various phases of transmutation, as well as solar wheels (Chariot, Fortune) and phallic symbols (all seven do, but in the last card it is a horizontal wall). The Sun is its own corona (unified, risen spirit), but what about the Juggler? He is only a 1, not a 1/4, and wears not a crown but a floppy hat with a spherical, red middle.  Could this too be symbolic of the Sun?

Floppy discs

Answer is yes. The question of his hat had admittedly irked me a long time, until I saw these beautiful, French prints of Egyptian deities in the NYPL collections.

Winged solar disk, emblems of Thoth/Hermes Trismegistus (NYPL)

So the red sphere of the Juggler’s hat represents the solar disk, its brim being vaguely reminiscent of wings – or – perhaps symbolic of the funerary boat in which the Sun god Ra, and thereby Kings and Pharaohs traversed the Duat, when the sun set. The red sphere appears to sink into the brim, ie, setting below the horizon, corona faded. Meanwhile, on the distant horizon flickers that tiny, golden flame of spirit, which will become a bright Sun once again.
Pythagoreans believed in reincarnation, Pythagoras himself was said to have remembered several of his past lives.

New take on retro fashion or just comparing scars?

On that note, I leave you with a vivid, childhood memory…
My father was a psychiatrist with a sense of humour (and with whom I often played cards). Hanging on our bathroom wall was a small, framed photo of Sigmund Freud, with a quote by Groucho Marx taped beneath:

“This may be a phallus, but gentlemen, let us remember, it is also a cigar.”

~rb


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Double Double Toil and Trouble

What does this famous line, chanted by the three Weird Sisters in Shakespeare’s MacBeth actually refer to? It’s Gemini season, so let’s deep dive into doubling.

The Tragedy of MacBeth

The Weird Sisters are basically the Fates (Moirai) or the Graeaes. We’ve spoken about three being the magic number of Hermes, but of course it is also the magic number of the Lunar Goddess, that maiden-mother-crone of past-present-future who spins the cycles of earthly existence. Hence three witches, fates, etc. The allegory of lunar Fortuna as black and white illustrates that ‘Some are born to sweet delight/Some are born to endless Night’ (William Blake, Auguries of Innocence) and the changeability of fortune in general.

Fortuna with black and white Moon face

As the Sisters chant ’round the cauldron, they concoct  and prophecy General MacBeth’s destiny – that he will become Thane of Cawdor and King of Scotland. Hurray, but unfortunately MacBeth is not qualified to achieve the spiritual gold, because he lets his own demons run amok and, well, not to get too far into it, an unholy bloodbath ensues. According to my teacher mum, the tragedy demonstrates a perversion of the alchemical stages, which occur in backwards/out of order, from gold to black. ‘Fair is foul and foul is fair.’

Poster for Polanski’s MacBeth film – note the reverse Ace of Swords

So ‘Double Double’ refers to the two sides of fate and of human duality. With ascension to power, fame, wealth, there are pitfalls, if the destructive/shadow side of a man’s nature is not kept in check. This poster for the Polanski film depicts the reverse of an emblem we recognize as the Tarot Ace of Swords. In the card, the sword of Truth, pointing up,  is both penetrating and girdled by the yonic crown of Wisdom (Sophia); the olive branch (lunar) of peace and palm frond (solar) of victory are held in equilibrium. I believe the symbol might possibly come from the Isis lotus flanked by two serpents, below.

Water canister (detail) Pompeii Isis temple, Ace of Swords (negative for comparison )

Toil and Trouble‘ is a forewarning that might refer to ‘the work’ and its inherent dangers. Be careful what you wish for. They famously tell him ‘none of woman born‘ shall be able to harm him, but neglect to mention the fine print, that C-sections don’t count. There are ‘doubles’ all through the play – specifically MacBeth and his wife, Lady MacBeth (she has no first name, for starters), who, in absorbent, lunar fashion disappears further into madness as her husband commits crimes. In reverse process, they start out unified, but become separate, Lady MacBeth eventually committing suicide.

The Sacred Marriage

2 Twos of Cups

A more joyous union, or at least the beginning of one, is beautifully illustrated in the 2 of Cups. Typically in Tarot de Marseille, the two dolphin-fish are slightly different in appearance. This twin fish theme, besides being Piscean, can also be traced back to the ancient, pagan world. In the sanctuary of  Didyma (“twins”, thought to refer to twin temples of Apollo and Artemis), Greece, for example, we find a figure not unlike the split-tailed melusine (aka the Starbucks mermaid), who grasps her two tails, or sometimes two fish, much like the ones in the Cups card.

Didyma figure
Two versions of Mesuline

The 2 of Cups was one of the minor arcana cards with a space where a  printer could put their name or an emblem. In these two examples, the emblem beneath the cups is not unrelated, heralding love and peace (the heart and olive branches). This card had come up in a discussion, recently, regarding the two ‘trumpets’ therein. Are they in fact trumpets? If so, what kind? Though they resemble telescopes, it’s probably something like a buisine or the North African import, below, played at processions, celebrations funerals and especially weddings.

Medieval double trumpet from North Africa

The Myth of Marsyas

What my little eye spied, however, was the Greek Aulos, a double flute that long ago served the same function, and is associated with the myth of Marsyas and Apollo. (Perhaps the lyre shape behind them was a clue).

The Aulos was said to have been created by Athena, who, upon catching a glimpse in the water of her puff-cheeked reflection playing it, threw the instrument away. It was then found by the satyr Marsyas, who was so elevated by it’s music, he had the crazy idea to invite Apollo and his lyre to a contest – winner ‘have his way’ with the loser. As judges, Apollo chose the Muses and Marsyas chose King Midas. Marsyas won the first round and was pretty excited at the prospect of sex, but for round two, Apollo demanded they play their instruments upside down, putting the satyr at an obvious disadvantage. Apollo was declared the winner, whereby he promptly had Marsyas strung from a tree and flayed alive for his hubris (divine insult against a god), then gave Midas donkey ears. Like MacBeth, Marsyas’ ambition blinded him and didn’t read the fine print of prophecy (Apollo).

Apollo, Marsyas and a Scythian waiting to flay him (relief, middle of the 4th century BC).

The myth is symbolic of the continual battle between the Apollonian reason and the Dionysian madness that make up man’s nature – as viewed by the Athenians. (Presumably women are better versed in this particular polarity, due to our physiological ties to the inconstant Moon…unless they have a partner like MacBeth).

Athena’s horror at her own reflection might have been too much of a reminder of her Medusa side (PMS – a most irrational affliction!). The aulos itself, being a double, wind instrument, can be viewed as expressing two winds or two spirits that ‘make beautiful music together’.

Roman Medusa cameo, 2nd-3rd c – what Athena saw?

As such, there is a deeper meaning to the flaying of Marsyas than the dangers of hubris. In his essential book, Pagan Mysteries in the Renaissance, Edgar Wind explains:

‘The musical contest between Apollo and Marsyas was therefore concerned with the relative powers of Dionysian darkness and Apollonian clarity; and if the contest ended with the flaying of Marsyas, it was because flaying itself was a Dionysian rite, a tragic ordeal of purification by which the ugliness of the outward man was thrown off and the beauty of his inward self revealed.’

and:

‘The cry [of Marsyas]: ‘Why do you tear me from myself?’ expresses then an agonized ecstasy and could be turned, as it was by Dante, into a prayer addressed to Apollo: ‘Enter my breast, and so infuse me with your spirit as you did Marsyas when you tore him from the cover of his limbs.’
To obtain the ‘beloved laurel’ of Apollo, the poet must pass through the agony of Marsyas…The torture of the mortal by the god who inspires him was a central theme in the revival of ancient mysteries, its illustration in Apollo and Marsyas being only one of many variations’.

Chariot and Hanged Man of Jean Dodal, 17th c

In traditional TdM, the golden-haired Charioteer at first appears to be a solar-heroic, Roman emperor type. But his stance says Dionysus and, indeed, the  very word ‘triumph’ comes down to us not from Roman victory processions, but from hymns to Dionysus sung in processions in his honour.  So rather, the Charioteer is a conglomerate – albeit, like MacBeth, he is more Apollonian on the outside.

His epaulettes are indicative of his solar-lunar natures, facing opposite ways, while the two horses also want to go off in either direction. There definitely is a sense of hubris about him. The three stems growing underfoot in the black soil, here, foreshadow his reversal from hero to scapegoat; The Hanged Man, strung up between two boughs, not unlike Marsyas, and the dismemberment/decomposition that follows in arcanum 13.

Jacques Vieville 2 of Cups and Hanged Man duality details
Chariot detail showing solar and lunar horses (anonymous, 15th c Milan)

As with the fish and horses, the two tree bases in arcanum 12 are usually different, sometimes even containing sun and moon in them, as in the Vieville example. The figure can be flipped vertically and viewed two ways; hanging or dancing. His golden, solar hair is a clue to what’s going on – ‘the beauty of his inward self’ is slowly being revealed as he undergoes ‘living death’. Two of these oldest TdM examples (Vieville, Dodal) require flipping the card to read the number correctly – printer mistake?

The strange placement of his epaulette-ish hands might represent wings (sprouting or  hidden), most apparent in this 17th c Jean Noblet card. Also of note, his reddish hair, a basis of discrimination and choosing sacrificial victims, especially Jews – Noblet himself being Jewish. But looking at it alchemically, ‘red gold’ was ‘pure gold’:

The oftener gold is subjected to the action of fire, the more refined in quality it becomes; indeed, fire is one test of its goodness, as, when submitted to intense heat, gold ought to assume a similar colour, and turn red and igneous in appearance; a mode of testing which is known as “obrussa.” [Pliny, “Natural History,” 33.19]’

Noblet Pendu, 17th c – note his elongated ears

The Hanged Man (Le Pendu/Pandu) was once called ‘The Traitor’ and the figure held two money bags, a reference to Judas, aka Didymus, ‘the Twin’ (also a supposed redhead). We know the two cards are related, because 7 is 3 + 4 and 12 is 3 x 4. (3 and 4 began separately as Empress and Emperor).

Alchemical fountain

Summation

Obviously we are complex creatures, made up of many polarities, but the most basic one is that we live consciously, outer or by day (solar) and unconsciously, inner or by night (lunar). This was expressed in Egypt as the two eyes of Horus. Right now, you are reading this and having both an outer and inner experience.

The alchemical equivalent of Marsyas and Apollo is the torture of base metals, such as lead, in order to extract the precious, pure one – namely gold, but also its ‘mate’, silver, and others.  Lead is the metal of Saturn, who, strangely enough, ruled the Golden Age and is associated with Pan, satyrs, nature, etc.  Apollo is of course the solar gold.

Devil and Sun cards, Nicholas Conver TdM, 18th c

Seeking material gold (symbolized by the physical crown, in MacBeth) is the ‘lower mystery’. But, as the alchemists discovered, this corporeal quest is often how initiation to the ‘higher mystery’ begins. In the end, after all our ‘toil and trouble‘, we might be fortunate enough to attain spiritual gold.

Self-knowledge (gnosis) is not just about understanding one’s own personality (another ‘lesser mystery’), but rather, understanding the entire workings of the universe as being within oneself, and vice versa; ‘As within, so without’. But this must be done in stages and is not something that can merely be understood as some intellectual concept.

I leave you with the last lines from William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence ‘ which, though we love to quote the first verse (‘To see the world in a grain of sand…’), in it’s entirety, puts it all in a nutshell.  ~rb

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born 

Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to sweet delight 
Some are Born to Endless Night 
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 

But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day

 

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Mercury – I Come in Three!

Mercury

We are in Mercury retrograde at the moment, so what better time for a blogpost about everybody’s favourite psychopomp and magic number?

Early on, Hermes’ sacred number was 4, being god of the crossroads, which was where his  herma were placed.  These were originally piles of stones, to indicate the border of someone’s tribal land. Gradually they became erect stones,  often with a cross shape (probably for hanging garlands), and a head and apotropaic phallus was added. No matter who travelled there, friend or foe, offerings were made to ensure safe passage of the foreign turf. Perhaps it is related to the practice of marking graves with stones, too, since the dead were buried outside the boundary, for safety reasons. “And stay out!”
Herma for other gods existed, but the name of course relates to Hermes himself. Bust sculptures are probably a continuation of this tradition.

Herma 520 BC

But when we are speaking of Hermes-Mercury as a planetary/astrological  god, 3 is the number by which he operates. Think of retrogradation – common to all planets, but ultimately under his jurisdiction. It’s a triple, illusory move (forward-backward-forward) and, in Mercury’s case, occurs 3 times per year, for about 3 weeks, 3 times in the same element. Even in the most astrologically uninformed circles and media, the ‘Mercury Retrograde’ is reknown, if for all the wrong reasons.

How most people view Mercury retrogrades

Since Mercury can never be more than 28 degrees from the Sun, there are but three Mercury placements a Sun sign can have; in the preceding sign, in the same sign, or in one the proceeding it. For example, Taurus can only have Mercury in Aries, Taurus or Gemini. The Mercury placement will inform the Sun native’s expression and how they process information. Is it possible Mercury in these 3, consecutive signs might have a resonance with the phases of retrogradation? Might Mercury preside over midpoints, as well (particularly, one would assume, the Sun-Moon midpoint)? Questions to ponder during retrograde.

When it comes to uniting solar and lunar opposite natures, the realms of living and dead, awakeness and dreaming, the above and below, the within and without, Mercury is the cosmic connector. We see this in traditional Tarot de Marseille, a ‘Hermetic’ Tarot wherein duality and the balance of opposites is a running theme, as is triplicity and quadruplicity.
In alchemy there are three forms of Mercury; vulgar, volatile and philosophical.

Doubles in Noblet Tarot Pape, Pendu, Soleil ca 1650

Mercury’s sigil also has three parts: the cross of matter (or crossroads) surmounted by a solar circle and lunar crescent. And of course, he rules  Gemini, sign of the Twins. Perhaps the Virgo rulership might be better understood if we remember the dual nature of the Goddess – those two serpents originally belonged to her, after all. Where Gemini is happy to  be two people, Virgo works tirelessly to create wholeness. She is very much like the angel of Temperance, is she not? This card from the Vieville deck could be Virgo with the Mercurial caduceus.

Vieville Temperance card, mid 17th c

Might we also  find a connection between the 6th house (Virgo’s traditional lodgings) and TdM 6th arcanum, wherein a young man stands between two women? It’s interpreted as having to decide between vice and virtue, like Hercules at the crossroads, but I think ‘crossroads’ might be the key word here. That 7th house cusp is the dividing line, after all. Some other blogpost!

Osiris attended by sisters Nephthys (death) and Isis (life), Conver TdM Lover, 18th c

 

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Lonely at the Top – Sun or planets in the 10th House

 

‘Most Young Kings Get Their Heads Cut Off’ Jean-Michel Basquiat

Do you have a tenth house Sun placement? How about other planets?
How does this express itself for you?

If a person has a goal and is determined to achieve it, a 10th house placement can work well for them…but if they don’t, they may feel they haven’t achieved enough or have, consciously or not, set standards for themselves they can’t possibly live up to. They may imagine a harder landing, should they fail or fall from grace. This is, after all, the house allotted to Capricorn and its Saturn rulership, traditionally the house of the ‘father,’ and in olden times, ‘the king’. [Some see it in reverse, that it’s the house of the ‘mother’ and the 4th (Moon/Cancer) is the father, although I haven’t personally found this to work as well. Let’s call it even and say this is the polarity of the parents, either of which can be dominant in our psyche.]

The cusp of the 10th, the midheaven, is where we find ourselves looking down from the top of the mountain peak at what we’ve experienced up to this point (often at mid-life) and either saying, ‘wow, I’ve been through a lot, learned a lot, made a lot of money or become a better/more mature person as a result’, or, ‘I’ve done all this stuff, had all these different careers that haven’t amounted to anything and life ain’t getting any shorter,’ depending on whether the cup is seen as half full or half empty. Even the term ‘a-mounted to’ is very Capricorn mountain goat language!

Visconti-Sforza Tarot Wheel of Fortune/Rota Fortunae

But the tenth house has another secret. In Tarot, 10 is the Wheel of Fortune, which is based on the zodiac wheel. We see one character going up, another sitting pretty at the midheaven, another going down, and another at the bottom, at all the angles. A metaphor for life’s ups and downs, successes and failures, but also of time cycles and of the houses themselves, which are angular, succedent, or cadent. In the Tarot card above, the figures are saying, “I reign, I reigned, my reign is finished, I shall reign.”

Roue de Fortune, Tarot de Marseille

The angular houses are strongest, cadent (fallen away from the angular placement) are weakest, and succedent (next in line to the angular position) enjoy the hope of success/succession. [This is perhaps easiest to comprehend when using the equal house system, which evenly divides the wheel into 12 pie slices, one for each sign, beginning with one’s rising sign/degree, but personally I don’t use equal house.]
Technically speaking,  the house moves into the position of the house that was formerly in that position, not the sign or planets, i.e., transiting Mars will be in Gemini at a certain degree all day, but in a different house every hour. The houses, though paired with particular signs/planets and spoken of as a conglomerate, are actually separate entities.

Angular, succedent and cadent houses

The 11th house of ‘hopes, dreams, wishes, groups’ (allotted to Aquarius/Saturn and Uranus) is where we can perhaps look for help with our 10th house issues. You will notice the succedent houses are all ‘fixed’ sign placements. Thus they have a certain steadfastness, while the angular (cardinal), though strongest in terms of influence, have that built in ‘fear of falling’, just like anyone in a position of power might. Caution: some viziers make better allies than others.

And although cadent (mutable) houses tend to be shoved aside, as if nothing much happens herein, there can be a certain freedom from expectation in these houses that may also be utilized (true, Virgo seems the exception, but will often find freedom in under-the-radar, detailed tasks such as organizing files). The 0 in 10 is, after all, associated with the Fool, who creates his path as he goes along, unattached to outcome. He was the only medieval court member who could openly roast the king, thus reminding the monarch we all fall down, and 10th house achievers that the journey is really what it’s all about, ‘on arrive jamais‘. Sagittarius is allotted to 9th house as jester, highest card in the deck, with none of the responsibilities of a king, yet somehow lucky enough to have Jupiter as its ruler. Hmm. Faith?
Caution: Some fools may be a tad nihilistic and reckless.

Charles VI Tarot Fool

Further proof of this ‘power of three’ lies in the fact that every grand trine is composed of an angular, succedent and cadent house of the same element. Being ‘all for one and one for all’, grand trine energy can flow so easily and fast as to not even notice it’s happening.

So if your Sun or other lofty 10th house planets are feeling alone at the top or afraid of falling, look to either side of them, at your 11th (succedent/fixed) house vizier and 9th (cadent/mutable) house fool for a different perspective from planets therein or friends/people with their sun in these signs, who can ‘act as’ planets. Keep in mind that the 10th house planet/sign is still the one ultimately in charge and can make things happen, it just needs support, sometimes – is it being supported or sabotaged? This goes for all the angular houses, but especially the 10th.

Gemini is cadent to Cancer, Aquarius succedent to Capricorn, two angular signs.

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2023 – Of Gods, Solar Heroes and Magic

Happy New Year!

Jupiter is back in Aries, until May 16. This masculine, fiery combo embodies the mythology of the solar hero (Aries) on a mission from God (Jupiter) or the ‘superhero’. The Sun’s exaltation is in Aries and the Sun is also the ‘son’.

John Singer Sargent, Hercules, 1921

Weapon-wielding, demi-god sons who saved humanity by wiping the floor with fabulous creatures were abundant in the ancient world (or at least abundantly immortalized), as they are, today – but one in particular stands out from all the others, for he wears the solar lion’s skin and performs twelve labours, just as the Sun and Jupiter themselves stay a day and a year, consecutively, in each zodiacal house. Sing along if you are old enough…

“Hercules, hero of song and story!
Hercules, winner of ancient glory!
Fighting for the right, fighting with his might;
With the strength of ten, ordinary men!
Hercules, people are safe when near him!
Hercules, only the evil fear him!
Softness in his eyes, iron in his thighs;
Virtue in his heart, fire in every part of
The Mighty Hercules!”

‘The Mighty Hercules’ TV series  1960s

I was dismayed to learn that the ‘real’ Hercules never had a magic ring, ripped abs and a quiff, or a centaur sidekick who’s favourite expression was  “Suffering Psyche!” But my childhood TV cartoon got one thing right, ‘Herc’ was the modern, macho superhero prototype:

“Heracles – or Hercules as he has been more popularly known ever since the Roman times – was the greatest of all Greek heroes, “one who surpassed all men of whom memory from the beginning of time has brought down an account.” A half-god of superhuman strength and violent passions, Heracles was the epitome of bravery and masculinity in the ancient world and the most notable champion of the Olympian order, which he staunchly protected from various chthonic monsters and earthly villains. Even though his short temper and lack of composure did cause both him and quite a few innocent mortals undeserved trouble, the magnitude of his labors was of such an order that it earned him the prize of immortality… Heracles is undoubtedly one of the most iconic figures in all of Greek mythology.”  [source]

Drunk Heracles “urinating” (in fact trying to get it up, for erroneous intent).

In the myth, Goddess Queen/evil stepmother Hera, angry that Zeus had sired him with another, who had the gall to name him ‘glory of Hera’, hated her step son and had marked him since birth. She sent two poisonous snakes (of course) to kill him in his cradle, but he strangled them with his bare, chubby little superbaby hands. Years later, grudge firm as ever, Hera served Heracles a potion to drive him temporarily insane and murder his own family. When the drugs wore off and he realized what he had done, remorseful Heracles sought spiritual advice from Apollo, who divined the gruelling tasks for his atonement. (Note that Apollo was a Sun god, who killed and usurped the Python). “In my defence, I was drunk and drugged!”

Delphic oracle with her tripod, Hellenist bell krater detail (British Museum)

The myth of Herc’s 10 labours was likely extended to 12 – which became the official number – because the day and the solar year were also divided into 12 sections (Roman year had formerly been 10 months, also), each through which the Sun himself was ‘guided’ by a lady of the hora, as he traversed the sky in his chariot. Every man of importance in the ancient world, political or religious, was depicted wearing a halo of the Sun’s rays – essentially what a golden crown is, made with the Sun’s metal. Alexander the Great, who self-identified with various mythic/solar heroes, including Heracles, was frequently depicted as Helios. Our image of the haloed Buddha (‘enlightened one’) also comes courtesy of the imported, Greco-Roman Sun God. Of course it wasn’t only reserved for men, they just tended to have a bit more power and a bit less humility.
[Side note: Though I’m not of the ‘there are really 13 signs!’ camp, it’s interesting that, in order to make things solar and mathematically ‘even’, the 13th constellation touching the ecliptic, associated with the serpent (and 13 being lunar) had to be left out. We now know our Sun is itself serpentine in nature, it ‘sheds’ its skin via coronial mass ejections (CMEs).]

Gilt roundel with Alexander as Helios, 4th c BC


“All the seven planets have

opened their gates.” – Goethe

Whilst reading up on Heracles and the horae, I took a rabbit hole into horary astrology. Turns out that on the first day of the first month of 2023, the first  hour belongs to the Sun, as does the day (Sunday), meaning the entire year is going to be under solar influence. The Sun card comes up (19 reduces to 1), as does the Chariot, being that it’s a universal 7 year ( 2+0+2+3). The actual picture of the solar demi-god in his vehicle!

The 7th house cusp of the zodiac, opposite to the natal horizon or ascendant, is where the Sun-self begins its descent and marks the beginning of knowing thyself through others (Libra), which is a different kind of awakening.

Vieville Tarot Sun and Charioteer, looking rather Alexander-ish

Unlike Heracles, the Charioteer, previously initiated as a Lover (6, which some do see as ‘Hercules at the crossroads’, choosing between Vice and Virtue),  is now tasked with keeping the solar and lunar sides of his own nature in Balance (8).

The fiery energy of Jupiter/Aries is boundless, until Saturn enters Pisces, March 7 and tempers the flame. Saturn specializes in labours and (karmic) atonement, and it’s entering the 12th sign, traditionally ruled by Jupiter. At best, Saturn/Pisces directs Jupiterian inspiration, so as to give form to visions and dreams, testing their weight and our faith, every step of the way. Are we just being given our tasks or is this the final push? Maybe both? (I have Saturn and Jupiter returns coming up this year, will let you know…).

There are 7 cycles of 3 (plus the Fool) in the Major Arcana, so each 4th card is also a new 1. So the Chariot, as the first card of the third triad,  is also a 1 placement. All ‘1‘ placement cards have to do with the theme of change/transition/death/rebirth: 1Magician, 4-Emperor, 7-Chariot, 10-Wheel, 13-Unnamed, 16-Tower, 19-Sun.

Being the number of traditional planets/planetary spheres, 7 has long held sacred significance as a microcosm, by which the weeks and solar years are divided.

Amulets found in Turkish excavation, dated from 7th-4th c BC

Horary astrology is also tied in with magic (using the energy of the planet at the appropriate time and/or creating talismans for positive outcome or amulets for protection). Before Solstice, I made some planet-themed bracelets. I hadn’t checked the planet hours at their creation, but when the Mars one proved conductive, I wondered whether I’d made it during a Mars hour or on a Tuesday. It remains to be seen whether Sun-ruled hours/days this year will have extra potency, but I intend to find out!  In astrology, the Sun is generally seen as a bringer of happiness, unless terribly aspected. Similarly, we feel hope when the Sun shines, except during a drought or heat dome.

“Symbols are to the mind what tools are to the hand–
an extended application of its powers.”
  – Dion Fortune

To me, the Chariot card is emblematic of Tarot itself and of magic; forces within and without in accordance, the meeting of above and below, the completion of the first 7 steps.

painted icon of seated blue sphinx on gold background
Blue Saharan Sphinx wood icon by Roxanna Bikadoroff

Sphinxes, such as those who ‘pull’ the triumphal Chariot in some decks, were guardians of mysteries and the dead. As human-lion anthropomorphs, they are also symbolic of Aquarius/Leo (or, previously, Leo/Aquarius). We might view the pelt-clad Heracles as an initiate, a man not yet integrated with the solar lion in the spiritual sense. (He did actually become an initiate of the mysteries, but only in order to capture Cerberus). He is still an accursed bête, wearing the old skin but not yet the golden crown of the solar lion (the Nemean lion he flayed represents the constellation of Leo).

Of the Aquarius Age, astrologer Alan Oken, in the 1970s wrote,

“In spite of the utopian visions which this writer shared with millions of his peers in the 1960s, the Age of Aquarius will not be dominated by a suddenly transcended, spiritually oriented, love-sharing world population. Mankind has yet to work out the natural animal aggression which is so much a part of his nature…”

He goes on to say that (as we are seeing) the Aquarian Age will be dominated by ideological conflicts and, because of the energies available and potential for evolutionary advancement, self-awareness is a priority for people of the Aquarian Age if we are to properly channel these energies – physical and metaphysical – for the benefit of all.

Heracles, in burning agony, throws himself on the fire

In the end, after a kind of alchemical trial by pyre, brought about by a toxic balm his second wife inadvertently procured from a centaur (Sagittarius, the centaur sign ruled by Jupiter, is the transforming fire of the zodiacal triplicity), Hera and Zeus both agreed he’d suffered enough, and Herc was placed in the sky, as the constellation formerly identified with Gilgamesh. “Victory is here, raise a mighty cheer!”

Final thoughts…

As we ‘permanently’ enter the rational, masculine, high-tech age of the Titans (fixed air Aquarius, that is), with Pluto making its first ingress into this sign March 23,  it’s important to  keep sight of our higher Aquarius/Leo nature. The Sun is just one star in the heavens, but it represents the creative here and now, the full potential and expression (Leo) of our present lifetime. Meanwhile, Aquarius, sign of the starry heavens (hence astrology/astronomy), can open our minds to the distant past and future. Imagination is our personal conjuring tool. Through our art, wonder and creativity we are connected to the cosmos and the gods of our higher consciousness. In sync with these, there is no need for domination or force.

TdM Ace of Wands, a cudgel transform’d


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