Three of Hearts, a love long lost, three swords stabbing a bright red heart, with dark rain clouds in the background. The Heirophant, Reversed. Bohemian lifestyle, non-conformity, the Pope’s frown now turned upside down, his dark red coat gleaming in disapproval. The Fool, a new journey, the beginnings of an odyssey, Heracles ready for his twelve labors. Jason climbing aboard the Argo. The peasant boy in the card looks sufficiently untested in battle and wit. A white dog is at his feet, egging him on. Toto and Dorothy on the cusp of Oz.
Archetypes. That’s what they are. They’re all archetypes. Thank Joseph Campbell for lampooning that into societal consciousness, though his other ideas are very much so out there, and that’s probably where people should stop giving him credit. There’s always a heartbreak. Always a scorned lover. A knight riding off into battle, a veteran returning from victory. A saddened queen, a vengeful king, a backstabbing page, a wise old man. Archetypes.
I can see why people might mistake this for divination, for fortune telling. I can Continue reading December 10th