That’s the thing with magic. You’ve got to know it’s still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.
~ Charles de Lint
Yesterday’s question we were left pondering was, “How do we befriend the sudden, profound change many of us feel is waiting nearby?”
And meantime, my dear friend, renowned astrologer Lynn Hayes has offered a powerful explanation, pointing to the movement of Uranus as it changes direction. Her description of how this feels is dead on.
Not being an astrologer myself, though, I return to the more familiar ground of the Tarot.
How do we invoke lightning bolts of change and magic, without being toppled like The Tower?
Perhaps The Tower’s root card, The Chariot, (based on reducing its number, 16, to 7) holds a clue. If The Magician can be thought of as a catalyst, The Chariot may be the follow-through.
The Charioteer sets his goals and single-mindedly drives forward with absolute commitment. This is a wonderful gift in the right circumstances; he is skillful, bold, disciplined. I should think that this time of ambling and detours would be especially foreign territory. Ambivalence and hesitation are just not in his repertoire.
But what if that inspired goal turns wrong somewhere along the way? What if we continue to pursue it no matter what? I have noticed in that case that the Goddess Multiverse has a way of derailing us, sometimes the hard way. The lightning strike of The Tower usually happens without our willingness or invitation, and can bring a painful, but necessary downfall.
So it seems to me that it is important that we not jump the gun, or try to ride the wave before it arrives, or otherwise artificially stir up drama because the wait is so mysterious.
Let us then take to heart the wisdom of this week’s Magician. Perhaps he simply directs us to find our altar in the bower of blossoms. We clear away everything unnecessary, keeping only what is beautiful. We don the red robe of passion upon our white tunic of pure spirit. Having prepared thoroughly, our intention clear, our magical tools polished and ready, we wait. We open. We summon to us the strike.
As our hair stands on end and the atmosphere around us begins to crackle, shall we dare to reach right into the heart of it?