Editor’s Note: Sarah Taylor was unexpectedly unable to write today’s Weekend Tarot Reading, and I got the message late. In its place, here is one of Sarah’s early articles on how to read tarot cards, which originally published Sept. 22, 2010. — Amanda
By Sarah Taylor
In last Wednesday’s exploration of Death and The Tower, I referred to the idea that no card has a definitive meaning that can be applied in every reading. The message that a card brings with it is affected — however subtly — by each client; by that client’s interaction with the tarot reader; and by the circumstances and subject on which a reading is based.
Its message also depends on the other cards in a layout, and it is this correlation between cards that we’ll be looking at today.
The three-card reading
I am going to be talking about the cards as they are depicted in the Xultun layout — although I have also included the equivalent cards from the Rider-Waite Smith deck so that you have something familiar with which to anchor yourself if you start to feel somewhat adrift. If you do get that floating feeling, look at the Rider-Waite Smith cards for a few moments, and then go back to the Xultun layout.
A little earlier, I shuffled the cards. One card fell out of the deck while I was shuffling, so guided by the law of synchronicity I took that as the first card. (I refer to these “jumpers” and take their calls for attention seriously.) I then cut the deck, and picked the other two off the top of the last cut.
These are the three cards, in order:
– The Sun
– 9 of Jades (Pentacles or Coins)
– 8 of Staffs (Wands)
My first thought was, “What a contrast from last week.” It felt like a counterbalancing of Death and The Tower, or perhaps an antidote of sorts — not to the cards themselves, but to some of our more fear-based reactions to them, mine included.
My overall impression on looking at them is one of lightness, swiftness and flight — borne out by the Sun, and the wands and the bird respectively. It feels like there is an initiation at play, its origin in some form of focused energy — life force, perhaps — that then develops its own momentum because the necessary preparation has taken place so that it can be harnessed effectively.
But I’m jumping ahead of myself. How did I come up with this particular message? Let’s take a step back, look at how the cards are interrelating and communicating with each other, listen to what they are whispering, and watch how the story develops.
The Sun is a high-octane card in that it tends to bring with it a distinct and powerful charge. It is often viewed as ‘positive’ because it so obviously seems to be about light in its most concentrated form, and the antithesis of darkness. However, given the suggestion that I made last week that cards are neither positive nor negative, where does that leave us with The Sun?
The first step is to try to separate The Sun from our emotional reactions to it and look at it with a modicum of objectivity. In our solar system, for instance, the Sun is the giver and sustainor of life. The light that emanates from the Sun is also able to banish darkness, and across the world this is experienced cyclically after it rises in the east, and before it sets in the west. At certain times of the year, the Sun’s intensity is able to warm the skin, melt the ice and frosts of winter and early spring, and coax new shoots out of the ground. In astrology, the Sun represents the ego: our conscious mind, how we express ourselves in the world, the outward aspects of our personality. These all suggest radiance, the idea of things being brought out into the open, being more easily perceived.
Given this idea of radiance, I believe that The Sun card has more ability than most to affect the other cards in the layout — as if its rays do not recognise the limits of its own margins but spread out over its neighbours… much in the same way that a pool of light has a wider sphere of influence than a shadow.
Bearing this in mind, look at The Sun on the left-hand side of the Xultun layout. There is a feeling of movement about it, as the eye gets drawn to the centre of the Sun, then out to the sides with the rays — all the while being fed by the downward movement of the wind on the left and earth on the right. Earth, wind and fire. Green shrubs opening to each side in the configuration that suggests birth. The Sun in the middle, giving out life. Genesis.
It is at this point that I find my eye wandering across the right ray of the Sun, and traveling into the second card along the upper red strip that suggests the ground on which the female character is standing. Here is a clear example of the rays extending their influence beyond the margins of the card — so much so that there is the sense that The Sun and the 9 of Staffs are joined, and that the sun is shining on the woman’s back. It is part of her picture. She is richly clothed, regal. She seems prosperous. Her hands, too, are in the configuration that suggests birth — one pointing up, the other down, palms open. The energy that has its genesis in the Sun has given birth to something in this card too: the bird that the woman releases into the air.
The 9 of Jades is about reaching some form of culmination after a period of hard work and where the one who has been toiling is able to benefit from the fruits of their labour. Perhaps the figure here was assisted by the light in the previous card; perhaps the ‘enlightening’ nature of The Sun worked in concert with her to enable her to achieve this. I also notice that her back is to the sun, for The Sun, as with our own heavenly body, carries with it an implicit caution. More isn’t necessarily better, and too much of it can be blinding. We get caught up in the brilliance of an idea, an event, a feeling, and we can lose our perspective — even our sight — and with it our ability to act consciously. With her back to the Sun, the figure can benefit from its rays without being overwhelmed by them.
Finally, we move across from the second card to the third, the 8 of Staffs. As with The Sun and the 9 of Jades, these two cards work poetically together. The forward motion of the bird cast into flight is picked up by the eight staffs moving into the picture from the left. The two figures face each other and mirror their hand movements. The blue circles of jade in the first card are rolled out into the blue waters of the second. There is a sense of balance and reciprocity. There is a sense of evolution as the bird becomes less physical and more abstract — the concept of creativity, fire, libido. This force is contained by both figures, while the movement isn’t lost. It is a contradiction that holds together: movement and containment (evocative a force field); masculine and feminine; physical and abstract. And The Sun endures, a steady presence on the left.
Yes, cards have their basic meanings; but the way that they interact with reader, client and situation is unique. You might even find yourself throwing out a textbook interpretation altogether if that is what the reading is calling for.
What remains a constant is the message, and it is through the interplay between knowledge and intuition, and our willingness to be confident but humble, that we are able to find a clear path to its door.