As you may expect, I am very mindful when I pull my Monday Card of the Week. I always cast a circle and greet a host of Guides, Guardians, and Allies. I engage with the astrological and sacred energies of the current Time.
I welcome my own personal Helpers, as well as those I feel are especially supportive of divination, Tarot work, and the Ancestors whose lineage I belong to, as a seer.
I pray for help, so that you, dear visitor, always are given the right card for the right time; so that all seekers who find their way to my website may receive the very best guidance for whatever is needed, for the highest good of all.
I have a ritual for casting, calling, shuffling, and choosing that I have been doing for many years.
I am never casual about this work or how I proceed with it.
So I did my usual “thing” this morning and was very clearly shown the card to pull for this week that features the Full Taurus Moon, the Cardinal Grand Cross that will come into play this week, and this week’s astronomical cross-quarter of Samhain (when the Sun is at 15° Scorpio).
Happy surprise: it was The Sun.
So I thanked all who gathered with me, picked up the cards, and wrapped them in the scarf I’ve used for over 40 years, ready to put them back on the shelf and extinguish the candle. But then I glanced down, and there was one card, off to the side of the layout cloth, face down. Huh? How did that get there?
That has never, ever happened before. I honestly can’t tell you how it came to be separated from the spread I use for the Card of the Week, much less slipping off to the edge unnoticed while I wrapped up the deck. But there it was.
And what was this card, arriving under such mysterious circumstances, to interact with The Sun?
Looks like it could be a rather intense week. Returning for the first time since right before Pluto moved into Capricorn in 2008, it was a visit from The Tower.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth…
~ Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
This week, it would seem we have before us a profound choice, two roads we might travel. We are offered divergent options as explicit and powerful as anything I have ever seen.
There seems to be a toss-up between faith and collapse; joy and destruction; the realization of the soul, or the suffering that will force such a realization, the hard way.
Keep on the sunny side
Always on the sunny side
Keep on the sunny side of life;
It will help you every day
It will brighten you on the way
Keep on the sunny side of life.
~ The Carter Family
Interestingly, this card last visited us at Samhain, 2011.
One of the most joyful cards in the Tarot, The Sun heralds victory over the challenges of the “night” cards preceding it in the Major Arcana.
So when we next reach The Sun in the Tarot story of the Trumps, we have emerged from our work with the shadow-self, and are ready to make the transition to liberation. In the Fool’s Journey, The Sun celebrates that our lessons through the dark have brought us at last to the light.
Yet this is precisely the time of year when we enter that our journey into the Underworlds. Samhain marks the final descent into the darkest time of year. It is the beginning of the period our European ancestors knew as the Wild Hunt, a time of danger and chaos. The gloom gathers, the dark slide towards Winter Solstice hastens. An interesting juxtaposition.
Once The Sun dawns after the trials of the night cards, the path ahead becomes clear, simple, and straightforward.
The Sun itself is depicted with alternating straight and wavy rays. This is an ancient way of representing the “philosopher’s Sun,” and illustrates the Sun as the source of light (straight rays) and heat (wavy rays) – illumination and warmth, the life-giving energies.
In a walled garden of sunflowers, a smiling baby rides a white horse. The flowers, which would normally turn their faces towards the Sun, are gazing instead at the child of light.
The happy child suggests that after all is said and done, the mystical journey of the soul requires a return to childlike innocence. Like the open and upward-facing posture of The Fool, the little child rides with arms open wide in trust.
In many cultures, the white horse is a benevolent, protective spirit guide, or even the beloved and powerful Epona, horse Goddess of Gaul and Rome. The absence of reins or saddle resonates with many ancient carvings of Epona and indicates a complete integration of will and surrender.
Good wins the day, when we go forth in perfect love, in perfect trust.
Whatever dark journey lies before you, like the light of Eärendil, may this be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out.
Because evidently, we are going to need it.
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible, make violent revolution inevitable.
~ John F. Kennedy
The Tower, probably the least pleasant of all the Tarot cards, has insisted that it must also be our card this week.
Although we humans are not usually fond of being stricken by sudden, irrevocable change, sometimes it is as necessary to our liberation and growth as enjoyable experiences. Sometimes, even more so.
The Tower is explosive, abrupt, often painful. Traditionally, it represents misfortune, violence, betrayal, and loss. No, this is not likely to be very much fun.
The complex, disturbing image of The Tower has many layers of meaning; from the overthrow of someone who has abused their power, to the downfall of those who have been too materialistic or aloof, to the destruction of certain beliefs, illusions, and perceptions.
It may remind us of the Tower of Babel in the Judeo-Christian traditions – which was struck down when their God was angered by the arrogance of humanity, leaving mankind in a chaos of foreign languages.
It may also be like the lightning bolt of insight that struck Siddhartha Gautama as he sat beneath the bodhi tree.
My own experiences with The Tower over the decades have been equally complex. But given the current state of affairs, this week I see it as a lesson in tough love.
Often, in order to shield ourselves from some unpleasant part of reality, we insulate and rationalize. The Tower is the hand of Love that strikes down that which enables us to remain in our comfy, deadly prison of denial.
We build our gated communities, we lock our doors, and look the other way. We tell ourselves we don’t need to change the status quo, we just need to be able to carry guns in public. To hell with old people, poor people, sick people, women, children, immigrants, public education. Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?
We can frack and drill and make a ton of money while we’re at it. And all you polar bears, climate change bleeding hearts, peaceniks, and environmental Greenies can just be damned.
We cultivate and tolerate fear and hatred for the outsiders — the “others” who don’t look, or worship, or own stuff, or love like we do.
The Tower is a warning that if we refuse to let go of the fears, attitudes, habits, and relationships that thwart our growth, the Universe will make us do so. If we will not get ourselves unstuck, we will get pushed. Perhaps pushed very hard indeed.
If we refuse to open our hearts, the Universe will break them open for us, for opened they must be.
Note that even as the lightning strikes The Tower’s crown of worldly power, and the fires burn, and the people fall, in the air there are Yods, symbols of the Word of God. This downfall comes by the command of Divine Love. This act of destruction is also an act of creation.
Change is coming. A revolutionary rebirth is at hand, one way or the other.
With both The Tower and The Sun, all hiding is gone. Profound truth is revealed — either by painful shattering, or by the natural daylight where no shadow can be. Which do you prefer?
Perhaps you are voting in the American elections. Or you may live elsewhere. Wherever you are, there seems to be a knife’s edge choice ahead that will resonate, not just politically, but karmically.
This strange, unprecedented reading points to a moment that may echo, either individually or collectively, as a turning moment for many years to come. Whatever you do, or do not, will have huge implications.
The Sun beckons us to live honestly, simply, and to shine with the joy that is the birthright of the human spirit. Happiness and goodness are choices we can make.
But if we try to remain in our towers of false power, fear, and separateness, change will be imposed, probably painfully.
Rise up, rise up, my beloved friends. Take the high road, and embrace Life with all your heart.
The Tower, like an opportunistic villain waiting in the wings, may yet be avoided. If you are reading this, I ask you to heed this opportunity and warning. Let us ride forward together, not one step back.
Let us radiate the goodness of life, without prejudice, in all we do, all we decide, and with all we’ve got.