Tarot as a Way of Knowing
As a historian of science, I’m especially interested in different “ways of knowing,” as we like to call them. What counts as science? Knowledge? Who do we give the authority to determine truth and falsity, and in what ways does that authoritative license link up to those to whom we give political authority? More often than not, this leads me to what a lot of arbiters would consider “inappropriate” questions. Where does faith start and empiricism begin, and where is the point where the two meet? Given a mismatch between an expected result and an actual result, where does a person choose to identify what went wrong? What does it mean if we agree that “Nature” is the arbiter of truth, but our understanding of Nature, and how to get her to reveal her secrets, has changed over time? It leads me to exploring equally unbecoming subjects. Science, obviously. But also lay knowledge. Divination. Magic and alchemy. Religion.
I do not claim to be a historian of most of these topics, at least not yet, anyway. My current research explores the political and scientific history of LSD in the United States in the mid 20th century. But I suspect future projects will explore some of these subjects more in depth, if for no other reason than that, from a historical and global standpoint, a culture that treats them as separate and incompatible is the anomaly, not the norm! Since my interest is in the many possible ways that science and politics can interact, it hardly seems befitting for me to ignore the variety of ways this has happened across time and different cultures.
At the moment, my interest in these topics remains one of the curious dabbler, and I claim no specialized knowledge beyond that. But I’ve become intrigued in the ways that Tarot cards draw on a combination of esoteric, scientific, mythological, cultural, and religious currents to do their thing, and I have found it fascinating to work with them to think about the ways that they are distinctive and curious archive in their own right. Working with this archive is much different than working with the types of archives historians tend to use, but I suppose that’s what makes it so hard to look away from.
Whether you find my readings helpful in your own life as a believer in their power, whether you are an experienced reader with insight of your own to share, or whether you are simply a curious onlooker or skeptic, I hope you will draw as much interest from them as I do.
Today’s draw:
Four of Wands (Celebration)
King of Disks (Power)
Princess of Cups (Dreams)
Deck:
The Field Tarot, by Hannah Elizabeth Fofana
An auspicious set of cards for a new endeavor!
The four of wands, as the keyword on the card says, indicates cause for a celebration. As far as I can tell, the four traditional suits of modern tarot decks come from ancient science (a few examples include Ancient Greek physics, humoral theory, classical Indian science) that saw four elements as the fundamental stuff the universe was made of — fire, water, earth, and air. Wands correspond to fire and is the tarot suit associated with active energy and getting things done. Although the four comes early in the journey of a project’s completion (only at step 4, after early planning [3] has been completed), it suggests that the groundwork has been laid successfully and a celebratory rest is in order.
The King of Disks — sometimes called the king of pentacles or coins in other decks — is the final card in the disks suit. As such, it represents the culmination or height of that suit’s aim in the world. Disks are associated with the earth element, which is about securing the material means of life. Wealth, jobs, food, home and hearth, and other forms of physical security. In his ideal form, the king exerts power on the world through his ability to ensure his subjects’ material security. It is a generous card, a monarch who nurtures through the stability he provides. In his negative aspect, when drawn in the reversed upside position, he may represent greed, overwork, corruption, or a brittle and rock-like rigidity.
The Princess of Cups, also sometimes appearing as the Page of Cups, represents a youthful archetype of the water element. This element was historically associated with the emotional world: fluid, deep, and often murky. It was the element associated with female intuition, creativity, and desire. The page/princess archetype relates to the element in its most naive but also most promising form, a kind of dreamy hopefulness that has not yet been hardened by disappointment nor inflamed by passion.
Taken together, they suggest a positive and balanced start to a budding endeavor, though the end remains out of sight.
