This is the second of a series of posts about my ideas on adding a ‘zero’ card to each of the minor arcana (the first article can be seen here). I’ve started with the suit of Pentacles, because at first glance, Pentacles (or coins, or earths or any of a myriad of other names) seem to be an easy concept to apply ‘zero’ to.  This assertion turns out to be both true and untrue. To start, lets make certain we’re all talking about the same thing.

Just what is a Pentacle?

At its most elementary, the word ‘pentacle’ is a combination of words for ‘five’ and ’what is written’, meaning any written symbol with five lines or with five corners. Pentacles have often been used as occult symbols, used to identify members of an order or group, such as the Seal of Solomon, or the Pythagoreans, as well as more modern groups of pagans. In that sense, they were the equivalent of team logos, gang signs or corporate icons. (I admit it amuses me to imagine a gang of young-bearded Greek philosophy students, running the streets of Athens, tagging building corners with pentagrams to mark their territory. But I’m silly like that.)

Classically, a Pentacle was a mystic symbol, written onto paper, carved into wood or stone, or etched into metal. Since they were often put on small discs, the suit is also known as Coins and thus the common association with matters of wealth. I believe, however, that there’s a lot more to Pentacles than as an abstract medium for financial transactions and understanding this is necessary for exploring the concept of a ‘zero’ of Pentacles. It’s all about the ‘mystic symbols’ part that our metaphorical philosopher-taggers mark their territory with.

So what are these ‘mystic symbols’ all about? Well, as an engineer in my day job they remind me of circuit boards, diagrams and flowcharts. In a way, that’s what a symbol is: a diagram of esoteric knowledge, a pattern for channeling energies, a fuse to prevent excessive flux, a ward against the unwanted. Crafting them takes time, skill and the right materials; thus Pentacles as Talismans have an intrinsic value. Someone openly displaying a great many of these Talismans would have the air of someone of great wealth, influence and/or craft (if they made their metaphysical bling for themselves). They wear their personal talismans of health, their house has pentagramatic wards against the weather, they carry icons of sacred ancestors and so on. They are an embodiment of the six through ten of Pentacles.

Now imagine you don’t have any of this.

A Zero of pentacles

So what would the Zero of Pentacles mean? In one literal sense it would mean being destitute, impoverished beyond the downtrodden depicted in the RWS Five of Pentacles; those are affluent people who have fallen on hard times. The Zero is the primitive; one who has not only never had possessions, but has never known what it is to own something. Also: since Pentacles are wards, talismans and spiritual circuit breakers, the Zero is someone who is vulnerable and unprotected against the unseen an unknowable.

Now, to counter this rather depressing concept of the Zero of Pentacles thus far, consider the following: The Zero has no ties or commitments; no debts or responsibilities to or for others. They are the free radical or the noble atom; readily hungry for attachment and interaction, or aloof and uninvolved. Like the Fool, ready for a journey of awakening. This is especially appropriate when you consider that the Fool is also numbered zero. In fact, all the Zero minor arcana will have a strong correlation with the Fool.

And finally: how liberating a message would it be to ask the question: “what have I got to loose if I do this?” Then draw the Zero of Pentacles and realize: nothing!

If one considers the craftsman aspect of the suit of Pentacles, then the Zero represents the ignorant, unenlightened and unwittingly (or willingly!) agnostic. The concept of Pentacles as science gives me a new idea for the suit: That Pentacles can  represent knowledge and wisdom of a temporal nature; of how physical things work in the secular sense. A craftsman doesn’t need to understand how the world came about, or who or what made it so; they just need to understand the physical properties of the materials they are working with. The numbered minor arcana then represent orders of magnitude of understanding: from the stone tool, to the pulley and lever and wheel; hydrodynamics, thermodynamics, electromechanics, relativity, quantum mechanics, string theory… where could it end?

Depicting the Zero of Pentacles

Here’s the hard part: how do you show the lack of something? The answer really depends on the visual style of the deck in question.  If the purpose is to show who the Zero of Pentacles is, then the imagery depends on depicting who are the dispossessed, the utter bottom rung of the social ladder. If the purpose is to show what the Zero of Pentacles is, the primitivism is the key. In fact the entire question of depicting the Zero of Pentacles is almost entirely subjective. For now, I’m going to postpone this part to another article. It’s a big enough subject it needs it!

In the meantime: How would you depict a Zero of Pentacles?

It’s my ambition someday to create my own Tarot deck, with imagery and structure special to the decks’ theme and background. One of the advantages of making your own deck is that you can change the format and play with the structure; tailoring them specifically to the theme and mythos of the deck’s “setting”.

To that end, I’ve been thinking about the number zero. While today we easily incorporate zero in our modern thinking and counting systems, the actual use of zero as a number is less than two millenia old. Thinking in terms of zero is difficult at first, and somewhat counterintuitive.  Given an empty basket, we can rationalize statements such as: “I have zero apples in the basket.” You also have zero grapes, bananas and monkeys in the basket. In fact, you have an infinite number of zeros in that empty basket; everything not in that basket is a zero/potential for something that could be. But lets not get too far ahead of ourselves! An infinite number of zeros is too big to fit our metaphorical basket. In the RWS and most similar Tarot decks the Fool is numbered zero in the Major Arcana, but that’s the only use of zero in the Tarot that I know of. I think there’s great potential in adding zero cards to the minor Arcana as well.

So to draw upon my previous article about the Magician as a Demiurge, we must remember that the minor Arcana exist to codify things into terms that make sense. Thus the Zero minor Arcana must also be specific in their potential. Each of the Aces stand for new beginnings; ideas, endeavors, wealth and emotions. They represent the first step down the path that each minor arcana represents. A Zero minor arcana would represent the stage before that; the potential for growth and change. A potential awaiting initiation, triggering and direction. The Zero minor Arcana represent the raw stuff of creation -the potential- waiting for the will of the Magician to name it, give it form and purpose.

In following posts I’ll be exploring some of the specifics for what zero means for each of the minor arcana, how Zero can be depicted and  finally some spreads that focus on using Zero cards.

~Andrew

This last weekend was the closing of the annual Valhalla Renaissance Faire, and Rosered, Artemis, Anastasia and myself attended. With our new friend Michele’s assistance in running the front of the booth, I was able to do more readings for patrons. Today I’ll share some of the memorable readings, questions and surprises that came up during a whirlwind weekend of readings.

The Couples’ V spread.

Overall the TTG booth did more couples readings in one weekend than entire years previous. While I did only one myself, I know RoseRed, Artemis and Anastasia all did readings for many many couples over the weekend. Couples’ readings are typically about specific questions, like: Where should we retire? Will our nest egg be there when we need it? What should we do for our anniversary? This weekend it was: Should we get married sooner or later?

I’m very grateful that Anastasia has a prominent display of TTG’s code of ethics at the front of the booth. The guiding principle is: We’re not psychics or fortune tellers. I can safely stay behind that barrier and tell people: “I’m not going to tell you what to do” because a) it’s illegal without a (pricey) license, and b) I don’t want to be responsible for what you do.

So what do you do when you’re asked a question like: Should we get married sooner or later? Change the question.

If they’re asking when, that means there’s a reason for they haven’t already done so. So the question I want to help them answer is: What do you need to do to be ready? So in this case, I created a spread that would hopefully show them what they needed to do to reach a point where they’d be ready to get married.

I call it the Couples’ V spread. Here’s the process:

Have one querent shuffle the deck, then have the other cut the deck into two piles.

Then deal cards in the following pattern. Odd numbered cards are drawn by one querent from their pile, and even card numbers are drawn by the other querent from their pile. The last, X, card it drawn by the Reader from either pile or by reshuffling the two querents’ piles.

The meaning of the cards are as follows:

1. What Partner #1 brings to the relationship/issue

2. What Partner #2 brings to the relationship/issue

3. What Partner #1 needs to deal with in regards to the relationship/issue

4. What Partner #2 needs to deal with in regards to the relationship/issue

5. How Partner #2 helps Partner #1 with their issue.

6. How Partner #1 helps Partner #2 with their issue.

X. Outcome. Any last advice the Reader thinks the Querents need to hear.

The Vacation spread: Who, How, How Long, and Family.

One of the other advantages to working a faire years in a row is seeing familiar faces again. It’s really quite gratifying and humbling when a patron comes up and says: “Do you remember me? You read for me (x) years ago and you were right!”

Well this year I saw ‘Pirate G.’ Two years ago I read for her, her son and her son’s girlfriend. At the time she was planning her retirement, and this year she gleefully informed me how much she was enjoying her freedom and liberty. In fact, she was planning a trip-of-a-lifetime to the Mediterranean and wanted help with planning it. So we sat down and drew some cards. There were essentially four categories: Who should she take with her; How should she take this trip (train or cruise); what kind of planning would she need to make and finally how her family would deal with her leaving.

For the first question, I drew four cards, describing what kind of person they represented, and after each asked her if she knew who this was. Almost immediately she knew who it was and happily decided on her partner for the trip.

The second question went much like the first: drawing one card at a time in a stack, describing how they might represent a type of journey. Starting off with the Chariot was kind of equivocal between taking a Cruise or a Train. The second card was the 8 or Wands, so I said that implied lots of options while on the trip. We both agreed that sounded more like a cruise than a train ride. That settled that.

The third question is a little harder to articulate, but I’ll try. She wanted to know, essentially, how to best use her time on her trip, as she “burned out” easily by trying to do too many things in a row. Fortunately the first card to come up was Justice, so I said she needed to plan appropriately, balancing the frenzied go-go-go of climbing Greek mountains and exploring catacombs of Rome with days just lounging on the sun deck, drinking marguerites and enjoy watching the pool boys.

Her last question was about her family, since it was just her and her friend going on this trip. Would they be okay without her? Well the first card in this stack was the Devil so I told her this trip was all about her and so she should just indulge. The next card was the three of swords, so I told her the kids would miss her, but they’d get over it.

She was delighted, excited, and left promising to tell me all about the trip at faire next year.

On dealing with the three of hearts.

Speaking of the three of swords, a reading for a client I read for had a bit of a twist that required some reshuffling-of-thinking. This very regal Lady sat down for my basic “where am I? where am I going in this hand-basket?” (More on this spread in another post) type readings, which focuses on current challenges and ends with a ‘turn of the wheel’ card that represents either the evolution of the person (if a Major or Court card) or represents the next challenge ahead.

In her initial reading, the three of swords came up as the turn of the wheel card, and my client immediately seized on this, saying that she was dealing with heartbreak and disappointment now and asked how she could deal with it.

Okay, I said, let’s start over and focus on that. I kept the three of swords out, setting it down as a ‘Origin’ point card, and had her reshuffle the rest of the deck. We then asked the deck to tell us what she could do in dealing with the three of sword, and drew three more cards:

The first card was… The Chariot. “Keep yourself busy” I said, “focus on living your life and getting things done and the next time you stop and remember what was making you sad, you’ll be a hundred miles away and the sadness will be that much smaller.”

The second card was The Moon. “Listen to the subtle wisdom, the voice behind the crying and the pain. It’s trying to tell you something important. It’s know where you need to go on that Chariot; if not the destination than the journey, because that’s just as important.”

The final card was The Queen of Swords. “Loose yourself in the details. Process your feelings in a rational way and with each step tell yourself: “This is why I am upset or hurt, and this is how I am getting over it”. Let the Chariot take you on a journey, inspired by the Moon, and take some good notes along the way.”

Readings like this, when you really reach someone almost without trying, are proof as Thalassa says: TSW. This Stuff Works.

The next TTG Ren Faire will be at Ardenwood, September 11^th and 12^th in Freemont/Newark. Come by and get a reading!
~Andrew

In light of this annual celebration around the world, try the following exercise:

1) Take The World cards from your favorite Tarot deck,

2) Shuffle the rest of the deck and draw another card. Consider how the new card and The World work together to create a goal for the year.

Post your results here in the comments if you care to share!

[The demiurge] is blind; because of his power and his ignorance and his arrogance he said, with his power, “It is I who am God; there is none apart from me.” When he said this, he sinned against the entirety. And this speech got up to incorruptibility; then there was a voice that came forth from incorruptibility, saying, “You are mistaken, Samael” – which is, “god of the blind.”

-From The Hypostasis of the Archons or The Reality of the Rulers,
Nag Hammadi Library, Codex II,
translated by Bentley Layton.

When you read about The Magician card most booklets that come with the deck invoke creativity, personal empowerment, initiative and motivation. But what does The Magician actually DO? How does one actually become or invoke The Magician? Every Tarot reader I know has their own interpretation, and I’d like to share mine. Not just who The Magician is to me, but how I incorporate that meaning into readings.

My own revelation on The Magician came out during a reading I was performing for someone else. In the reading The Magician came up as the goal for resolving a long series of challenges ahead.

In one of those epiphanous moments, I saw the implements of the minor arcana about him and asked: “Did he (The Magician) find those or did he make them?”

To which my client answered: “He’s a wizard, right? I think he made them!”

Afterwards, I kept thinking about The Magician having crafted the Cup, Sword, Coin and Wand; the very symbols the Minor Arcana are structured around. This lead to the “chicken-and-the-egg” kinda question; which came first? Did the Magician make these symbols after they already existed in the minor arcana, or did did he make them first and the minor arcana followed his example? Being a Major Arcana, it seemed inappropriate to think of The Magician was a mere locksmith who churns out copies of keys that the minor arcana use to fulfill their purpose (in which case, the Ten of Swords should ask for his money back). Nor did it seem right that he was a glorified trinket peddler hawking metaphysical bling outside the stadium of creation. No! This is The Magician! The archetype of mind-over-matter, the embodiment of creation-as-an-act-of-will. He’s the craftsman of the symbols which the minor arcana identify themselves with.

I explained this idea to Anastasia, who said simply: “So the Magician is the Demiurge?”

The Demi-who?

To detail the lineage of the Demiurge from its modern rebirths back through the Renaissance, muddle the Middle Ages, course Gnostic reconciliation and find its roots in Platonic syncretism would be an essay unto itself. Many a philosophy student has written their Masters’ Thesis on the topic already, so to use one of my favorite movie quotes:

“Let me explain. No, that will take too long. Let me sum up.”

Here’s the short version:

The Greek philosopher Plato first spoke of the Demiurge in his work, Timaeus. The work is the vehicle for his reconciliation the philosophies of his predecessors, Homer and Hesiod, on the origins and structure of reality. According to Timaeus – as revealed via grand monologues – the Demiurge brought order out of the unthinking chaos that was before and instilled both intelligence and the soul into the life thus made. The Demiurge was not the creator of the universe, merely the craftsman who made something from the raw materials already present. Plato’s Demiurge was a benevolent shaper-of-what-is. The word Demiurge translates as “public worker” and commonly refers to a “craftsman,” or “artisan.”

Later Gnostic origins, inspired by Plato’s model, added the twist so common to dark age mythologies: intrinsic evil. In many Gnostic mythologies, the Demiurge was born unaware of his origins or of the higher gods that begot him. This abandoned and feral godling created reality out of a subconscious awareness of the perfection he was born from. But his work was flawed, and thus we have plagues, earthquakes, and taxes. The Demiurge of Gnostic mythology was thus an antithesis of the true creator and an allegory of Satan. Gnostic names for the Demiurge included: “Yaldabaoth,” meaning “the blind one;” “Samael” which means “God of the Blind” and “Saklas” for “the Foolish one.” The cross-pollination of these names into other religions as various devils and demons shows just how negative the concept of the Demiurge was during that era.

What’s this have to do with the Magician of the Tarot? It begins, as things often do, with The Fool.

Evolution of the Fool into the Magician
At the start of the Fools’ Journey through the Major Arcana, the Fool says to himself:

“I know nothing of the world at large.

Thus, I am going to set about experiencing it for myself.”

The Fool finds the world confusing and chaotic because he lacks the tools and language to understand or reason with what he encounters. He knows that there must be patterns to what’s going on. His subconscious awareness of higher orders imposes a desire to force order out of chaos – the spark of divinity in his soul manifesting as subtle wisdom. This is an example of the Logos (Greek for ‘word’) as regards to the Nous (the Mind of God) in Platonic Idealism; that there is an underlying order under the surface of things and that intelligent beings can sense the logos because of their own connection to Nous.

Keeping careful notes, and learning from his mistakes and observations, the Fool begins to discern patterns in the chaos. He creates words to define and encapsulate not just what he sees, but, more importantly, the logic behind the scenes. He makes observations, empirically tests his theories, and revises them as needed. One can easily see The Magician as the model of the scientist employing rational methodologies, even if they are fantastical.

He crafts tools that embody his theories which let him not just observe but affect the world around him.

The Cup for containing the mercurial emotions and feelings of everyday life. The Wand for the passions that burn in our hearts, light our way, and occasionally burden us. The Sword for cutting through the Gordian Knots in our minds, represents the clarity of thought. The Coin for the earthly concerns and demands.

The symbols of the Minor Arcana are his creation and thus define the world for him and bring order out of chaos; everything in the Minor Arcana makes sense because the Fool – now the Magician – sees it in terms of his paradigm.

The Fool turned Magician

Thus the Magician is the Demiurge; the artisan who brings order out of chaos; the lens through the rest of the minor arcana fall into place and make sense.

So how do you use the Magician-as-the-Demurge in readings?

The ‘Platonic’ Magician
When The Magician comes up in readings it speaks to me of the opportunity to re-define how the world works, to craft new tools, to make sense of things and to sift chaos into patterns that we better recognize and understand.

When The Magician comes up in a reading space for self, opportunities or goals I think about self empowerment – the opportunity to become our own Platonic Demiurge and shape or reshape what is around us (at least, in our minds). When my querent is confused and looking for help, The Magician means they need to take a step back and define what works for them and to craft or discover the tools they need to succeed. Redefine your paradigm.

When the Magician comes up in the space of the other or outsider, the message can mean that this other actor is playing the Magician; they have their own worldview and tools and may see things differently than you; that they have a role for you to fulfill in their understanding and journey. Knowing that someone else is operating within a different paradigm than you can make interacting with them easier.

The Shadow of the Magician: the Gnostic Demiurge
Of course, we have the power within us to become the Gnostic Demiurge as well. Self-delusion, arrogance, and misjudgment lead to a flawed worldview and malfunctioning toolsets. The shadow of The Magician is about the risk of abuse of power and potentially being blind to the true workings of the world. If your theories are incorrect, the results will not match expectations. Wisdom lies in revising your theory and changing as needed. Insanity is trying the same thing and expecting different results. The warning of The Gnostic Demiurge Magician is: don’t become Yaldabaoth or Samael “The blind” and don’t remain Saklas: “The Foolish One.”

The Magician is one of the most powerful cards in the Major Arcana but it can be hard to understand exactly what that power is or how to use it. Like great wizards of myth and legend, The Magician is not to be trifled with, and their power is seemingly unlimited. They see beyond the veil of matter and know the secrets of the workings of creation. Their power over creation can redefine the world around them, for good or ill. When we embrace The Magician, we’re tapping into our subtle divine insight to bring order out of chaos; not just see the patterns that shape our world, but take hold of them like reins and drive them before us. To invoke The Magician is to define for yourself how your world works, and by that knowledge, know where and how to apply your will.

~Andrew

Hello and welcome to Andrew’s Tarot blog. I hope to post once a week or so, to share my journey as I explore and experience the esoteric wisdom of the Tarot. Comments are most welcome!