Harry Potter & The Invisible Planets

It's no secret that the Harry Potter novels are informed by spiritual tradition. In interviews,  J.K. Rowling has confirmed  that the series' death curse, "Avada Kedavra," was derived from an Aramaic spell, meaning "let the thing be destroyed," and which was used to cure illness. Many have noticed the overt Christian allegories woven into the final novel, as well as the many references to alchemical lore throughout the series. But I was surprised that not much seems to have been made of a convention that I found very alluring: that of The Deathly Hallows, the legendary wizarding tools which are said to make one the master of death. The Hallows come as a set of three, evoking a boatload of potential "trinity" imagery, and are signified with a glyph that looks like it leapt from a grimoire.

...or from the back of a dollar bill.

The titular artifacts play a key role in the climax of Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows. For those with hazy memories, they are: The Elder Wand, which renders its master unbeatable in battle, The Resurrection Stone, which allows one to speak to the dead, and The Cloak of Invisibility, a garment that never wears nor tears, and which hides its user from vision completely. In their legend, they were won from Death himself by the Peverell brothers. The first two brothers choose prizes out of arrogance and come to gruesome fates. The third brother chooses more modestly, and lives a long and robust life because of it.  

In thinking back on the story, and on the concept of the trinity as relates to astrology, the model seems to fit a number of patterns. The first that sprang to mind was the non-classical celestial bodies, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. When applied to the tale of the Peverell brothers, some very negative qualities of Uranus and Neptune are exemplified, as well some rarely-heard positive notes for everybody's favorite dwarf planet. However, though I find the story to be decidedly colored by the outers, on a more mundane level of trinity, I think we can connect the Deathly Hallows to the relating planets, Mercury, Venus and Mars. In short, I think this presents a good metaphor for exploration of the possibility that these two sets of three wanderers can be seen as reflections of each other.

I am aware that my allocations are a bit off from the typical line of thinking, which has Uranus as a higher register of Mercury, Neptune as a higher Venus, and Pluto as a higher Mars. But, for one thing, the outer planets represent hard-to-define, broad concepts, and I think it makes too little of them to discount the possibility that other archetypes that might be seen in their influence. More than that though, it's just the way I saw the archetypes land in this particular configuration. .

The Elder Wand 

"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother." 

The wand in this story could easily represent irresponsible misuse of either Uranian or Martial energy. Like Uranus, it speaks to the idea of powerful, iconoclastic personality, a pure Yang force which seeks to conquer. On a mundane level, the wand plays in Mars' world exclusively - its sole distinguishing function is the ability to win duels. 

Uranus' sudden Yang energy comes with a hefty dose of hermetic Air, and it's not uncommon for folks going through a Uranus transit to feel like they have a head full of hornets. It seems appropriate, then, that the wand follows some very strict, structured rules. (Air loves ground rules and absolute truths.) Basically, the wand will only work at full power for the wizard that it designates its master, and it only recognizes its master as a wizard who defeated its previous master. So if you just stole it, or otherwise acquired it by means other than victory in combat, it would do you no good. This ends up being an important plot point in the novel's endgame, as Voldemort came to possess the wand by plundering a grave.

Wands in this fictional universe are conduits for a wizard's inherent ability. It stands to reason that an ingenious wizard could make the most of a poorly-constructed wand, but what's even better is the creation of a device that can make even the most inept user capable of acts of genius. We call this technology, and it's another sphere of the world for which Uranus' influence is well-known. The invention of the gun meant that you needn't be a skilled archer to shoot someone, the invention of electricity eliminated dependency of candlelight, video killed the radio star, etc. It's much the same with the elder wand. Much like a lot of our real world technological advancements, this invention began as a weapon of war. And although, as I said, its distinction is in single combat, its power extends to any area its master chooses...late in the story, Harry (then its master) uses The Elder Wand to repair his broken original wand of holly and phoenix feather, even though broken wands are considered to be beyond repair by most experts in this world.

Its sort of built into the DNA of this story that Uranus and Mars converge into the wands of Harry Potter's world, as it's rare that combat takes place with anything but a wand. I know there's an enchanted sword here and there, some magical monsters unleashed, maybe even a punch thrown here and there...but the main weapon in this story is the wand, which is the same tool they use for every single other magical thing that they do. We don't light up a room with a brandished katana or clean our bodies with assault rifles.

Well, sometimes.

A note on manhood: Uranus, again, is noted as being pure, primal Yang. This is relevant here for a few reasons: firstly, it's been noted that in the Elder Wand's known history, only wizards have been its master, never a witch. Secondly, and obviously, the wand is pretty much a phallic tool. Lastly...well, I have noticed in reviewing aspects between the outer planets and the personal planets that a lot of gay men seem to have a tight aspect between Uranus and either their Venus, Mars, or one of the lights. So, in our story as well as in life, the ones obsessed with pure Yang are often the ones who have that proclivity hard-wired into their charts. After all, the most notably and longest-holding wielder of the Elder Wand was Albus Dumbledore, who was famously outed by J.K. Rowling in an interview following the conclusion of Book 7. 

Again here, we have an unlikely overlay with Mars, as the god of war is also the god of homosexuality in several cultures. Most notable is Ogun, from the Voudoun/Santeria tradition, who is considered to be a patron saint/protector figure to gay men. While I have not read up on any homosexual influence in the Greek Ares' mythos, he was the God of Dance as well as the war god. I'm not meaning to imply that dance is exclusively for gay men, but it's certainly an activity/discipline that carries some importance in gay culture.   

More senseless violence...

Both Uranus and Mars are severing agents - Uranus draws a clear, bold line between truth and falsehoods. Mars cuts off contact from potentially harmful elements. Too much of their unchecked influence can create characters who are, respectively, isolated mad scientists or loner badasses. The Elder Wand does both!

  

The Resurrection Stone

“Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.”

Our second Hallow is The Resurrection Stone, and although it is supposed to bring back the dead, the truth is that it can only recall the shade of a deceased loved one – more solid than a ghost, but less than a living person. Cadmus Peverell, the second brother in the story, used it to recall the spirit of a girl he’d meant to marry before she suffered an untimely demise. But though he was able to speak with her, he could feel a veil separating the two of them, and he could tell that it was very difficult and painful for her to be called back into living death. Eventually, his grief led to his suicide.

Neptune signifies the great collective unconscious, an ocean of feeling which produces both fantasy and nightmare. Often, dream and nightmare twist around each other and blend together into a spiral of addiction. Neptune is as much pure Yin/feminine as Uranus is Yang/masculine, and many creation myths seem to begin with a union of these two polarized forces. (Though Neptune is named for a male sea god, it seems too broad an archetype for him, and seems ill-fitting with much of his mythos.) In the Tarot, Neptune is represented by XII, The Hanged Man, a figure who suffers for their depth of feeling. 

 

This certainly seems to match up well with the case of Cadmus Peverell, who went searching for a lost love (Venus) beyond the veil of human understanding (Neptune,) who became addicted (Neptune) to the powers contained in a precious jewel (Venus.)

While his older brother was driven to The Elder Wand by self-importance and ambition, Cadmus specifically chose his gift as a means to cause emotional damage – he wanted to shame Death, wanted to rub their victory in his face. There is something Venusian in his motivation too, being motivated by arrogant emotions which fall under a haughtier, less understanding piece of Venus’ dominion. In fact, while Neptune denotes a more nebulous, churning octave of feeling, Venus itself is keyed into the emotional spectrum in a way that is precise and easier to define, as its specific drive is pleasure or desire. So while the Venusian layer of feeling might be something akin to “I don’t like x,” or “X makes me feel good,” Neptune represents that same layer and all of the surrounding layers…the reasons for the feeling, the feelings in the background or subconscious, the emotional landscape…

It’s like going to the beach. Venus is one’s enjoyment of the hot sun, the sand beneath one’s toes, the refreshment of a good swim or a cold beer. Neptune is the ocean, the beach, and the entire experience of the trip.

 

Its primal Yin and watery nature turns hard, cold facts into soft, warm mush – in short, where Uranus cleaves truth from obscurity, Neptune clouds it further. It should come as no surprise then, that while The Elder Wand has a long list of prior masters, The Resurrection Stone was completely forgotten, resurfacing as an heirloom of the Gaunt family, who remained completely oblivious to its true magical properties. Whether converted by the Gaunt family or before it came into their possession, someone had disguised the Stone as a ring, which the family displayed as proof of their pureblood lineage. Jewels and decorative wear are inherently Venusian, as is the elitist desire to display higher social status through lineage. Albus Dumbledore further disguised The Stone when willing it to Harry Potter, hiding it in the center of a golden snitch with the vague instructions, “I open at the close.”

Both Neptune and Venus establish connections. Venus does so by drawing lines of desire from point A to B, while Neptune melts those lines and points, assimilating the resulting goo into its whole. The Resurrection Stone draws people in with its beauty and mystical allure, and then disintegrates them in both mind and body.

The Cloak of Invisibility

“And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.”

“…though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.”

The Cloak is our third and final Deathly Hallow, and is probably the most important to Harry Potter’s story, as it is the one that he’s been using since the first book. It was willed to him by his father, meaning that the cloak has been in their family for generations. It went unnoticed for so long because a) it can either look like one of two things: an unassuming cloak, or nothing at all, and b) there are many other invisibility cloaks in this world – but the invisibility charm either wears off or the fabric is somehow damaged. The real Cloak of Invisibility neither wears nor tears. 

 

This inherent ability to hide from the world in plain sight shows a combination of Mercurial cleverness applied to a Plutonic power, and is a reflection of Ignotus Peverell’s actions in the story. While his far too Yang brother wanted to carve his name into the world, and his far too Yin brother lost himself deep within his own heartache, the third brother represented a neutrality, a modest request that ensured that he’d be able to keep on living whenever Death came around again. The implication of continued travel is Mercurial, while the complete stealth is Plutonic.

Pluto is named for the Roman god of death and the underworld. It would seem, then, that his influence extends a bit on all of the Hallows, especially as treasures, secret knowledge, and ultimate power all fall under his dominion. And because, y’know, Death is a central character in this scenario. Unlike the first two brothers, for whom Death created tools on the spot, Death did not create a tool for the third brother…he removed his very own Cloak of Invisibility, which seems a clear reference to The Helmet of Invisibility once possessed by Pluto/Hades.

It was lent to Perseus. You know, in that new shitty movie that was a remake of that old, shitty movie. 

Pluto is known as a planet of secrets and obsessions. It is concerned not with airs and trappings, but with essential essence – what a thing is deep down in its core. For this reason, a Pluto transit to a light or another personal planet can feel very painful at times, as there may be a lot of what Pluto would consider excess or distracting elements around your personality/love life/career, etc. But Pluto also has an association with regenerative forces, with research and digging deep into a subject, with letting go and moving towards one’s destiny. Pluto also is known as a “generational planet” (“generational dwarf planet,” now) as it changes signs very slowly, and seems to mark off generations of like-minded people. Due to its erratic orbit, Pluto changes from one sign to the next every 12 -31 years. 

"I'll swallow your soul!"

 

A lot of this describes Harry Potter’s interaction with the Cloak. It’s passed down from one generation to the next, and having a part of his family’s treasure made him feel closer to the parents he never knew, allowing him to move past his grief to a degree. He and his friends used it in subversive activities, whenever they needed to get a good look at the goings-on of Hogwarts’ seedy underbelly. They did all this by disappearing from sight, using an implement very similar to Pluto’s helm. However, its function in the story is Mercurial, as Harry and his friends only seem to use it to travel unnoticed, or to gather information. True, this naturally impairs a lot of what makes Mercury work – Mercury’s all about communication and cognition, and it’s hard to relay messages and stay hidden at the same time. But when combined with a dark planet, Mercury naturally goes dark to compensate. The mouth may be closed, but the eyes and ears work fine, and the mind is just as quick.

Mercury’s always been known as a planet of neutral gender/alignment, falling into neither Diurnal or Nocturnal sect. Because communication and thought are active faculties, one could see that as being Yang, male. But there’s a lot of subconscious thought happening beneath the surface, a lot that we communicate by body language or quality of voice that we may not even be aware of in our conscious mind. Thus, we have Yin wrapped inside of Yang. Pluto, meanwhile, is a planet of subtleties and extremes. It is a giant power wrapped inside of an unassuming package. (Pluto is often associated with nuclear power.) Yang wrapped within Yin.

It’s worth noting a couple of things at this point: a) the author of this piece has Mercury conjunct to his natal Pluto very tightly. Possible bias! And b) Given Mercury’s natural dualism, and given Pluto’s penchant for extremes, it’s both apt and interesting that other famous uses of this power set have turned out quite differently. H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man shows how dangerous and insane a person can become when they cannot turn this power off, and The One Ring from The Lord of The Rings (also an invisibility implement worn by a dark lord) corrupts minds more slowly, by the allure of power and obsession with potency.

Too much Pluto does NOT do a body good.

That said, things could have turned out more positively for the other two brothers in our tale. There are many tales in history about a man with an unbeatable weapon…King Arthur’s Excalibur comes to mind. Dumbledore himself was the master of The Elder Wand for many decades, but his motivation in using it was to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, and never the inflation of his own ego. Likewise, Harry Potter was able to use The Resurrection Stone to gain counsel and comfort from his dearly departed before going off to fight his final battle. Other famous heroes have sought out guidance from the dead, such as Odysseus (another Mercurial figure) in his journey to consult with Tiresias in Hades.

Point being, items of great power can drastically alter a person’s character. It’s much the same with transits of the outer planets. The difference between a favorable or unfavorable outcome to our story is in how we weather the effects of it power. They may be sending us an epiphany, or a wondrous and strange experience, or a boatload of hurt. Knowing how to avoid going overboard on these adjustments while not avoiding the necessary changes – that’s what takes personal heroism to navigate. 

***

Some notes:

There are a lot of other ways to approach the allocation of the Deathly Hallows in terms of astrology, and while I did not feel as moved by these patterns, I did want to briefly address them. 

- Sun/Moon/Mercury. The first three wanderers. The layout totally works here, too - Sun representing Yang and pride, Moon representing Yin emotional attachments, and Mercury as it is above. 

- The modes. To be honest, I couldn't get comfortable allocating here. The Wand as cardinal, Cloak as fixed, and Stone as mutable? The stone undergoes changes more than the other two, and can only address issues already past. The cloak, meanwhile, remains the same throughout the ages. The wand is cardinal because...it shoots spells? I guess. Like I said, not something I wanted to base an entire article around. 

- House types: See above on the modes, I feel the same way about the Angular-Succedent-Cadent set-up.

- Yet another option was to connect this trio of magical items to the concept of Triplicity, which seems like a really good idea on the surface...the wand could be the day-sect rulers and the stone could be the night time rulers, with the cloak representing the co-operating ruler. So first off, that's a lot of work! Secondly, it's a relatively new concept in my tool kit, and it seems like there's a good deal of diversity in the way that people approach Triplicity. (Morinus vs. Lilly vs. Dorotheus vs. Ptolmey...ack!) In short, I don't have a comfortable enough grip to dive into that.  

  

A Game Of Thrones Tarot, Pt. 4

SPOILER ALERT: This article presupposes that you have read A Game Of Thrones/watched through the first season of A Game Of Thrones. I will make efforts not to spoil anything past that. (Though I will likely write a separate article that incorporates the entirety of the story thus far.)


XVII The Star - Syrio Forel

This was a tough one. The Star is a character who brings new technology from a faraway place, a Promethean genius who can decipher secret meanings of the heavens. Representing Aquarius, the best fit would be a person who goes against the normal conventions of their area and time, someone that stands out as other or foreign. I briefly considered Theon Greyjoy and Osha, both captive outsiders, before settling on Syrio Forel, Arya’s “dancing master” and the First Sword of Braavos. 

Syrio is one of our few major players who is not a native Westerosi (I believe Varys qualifies, as well,) and is the only character I can think of who brings a counter-cultural set of theory and precepts to the continent. Syrio is from Braavos, and unlike Westeros’ reliance on heavy armor and hulking broadswords, the Braavosi rely on lithe, graceful styles of fighting. Syrio calls this “Water Dancing,” and the effect looks something like a combination of fencing and Bujinkan Ninjutsu - certainly nothing like what the knights are practicing, and Syrio is mocked by the men of the land on more than one occasion for his strange and less brutal style of fighting. However, Ned Stark sees Syrio as a gift after realizing that his combat-crazed daughter, Arya, will never quite settle into the needlework and ball gown lifestyle of a proper lady.

Aquarius is ruled by Saturn, a planet which conjures images of authority figures. Instead of  bullies and horrible bosses, the Aquarian Fixed Air throws a more innovative and idealistic spin on this image. So we get a kooky instructor, a strange sensei who’s determined to improve his charge, one confusing koan and humiliating beating at a time.


XVIII The Moon - Sansa Stark

“The Moon” is a somewhat confusing title for this card, as it is not given to astrology’s Moon, but to the 12th sign of the zodiac, Pisces. I think the title’s only been preserved because it’s the middle piece out of three celestial elements that grow larger in scope (The Star, The Moon, The Sun.) My teacher once suggested that a better title for this card might be “The Night.”

Anyway. The Moon, at its most basic, is about regression to the primal, and about finding one’s environment suddenly shrouded with darkness and uncertainty. The night is full of unknown predators, strange creatures not seen in the light of day, not to mention the fearsome potential for supernatural ghouls and ghosts a child might imagine lurking in shadow. Faced with such terrors, a person falls back on their survival instinct. The construct of identity is stripped down further and further until only the essential core remains...a regression to the primal.

A lot of fandom hates Sansa Stark. They perceive her as callow, frightened, and ultimately useless. But if you really think about it, Sansa’s the horror movie virgin-heroine doing her level best to survive in a city full of monsters.

Sansa wanted what every lady of her age wants - she wanted to fall in love and marry a charming prince and live happily ever after. She’s built her perception of the world up to an unattainable storybook ideal, and the attainment of her goals seems to be dangling in front of her face. Without any knowledge of the political strife, conspiracies, or back-deal dealing in which her father is entrenched, all that Sansa can see is that her handsome prince Joffrey (remember, she’s delusional) is right there, their families are friends, and it seems completely natural that they should marry. She doesn’t see why her sister and father have to keep screwing things up for her, and because she’s blinded by a vision of her ideal, she’s slow to notice the danger that her family is in and loses her way very quickly. 

Still a Stark.

However, she’s still a Stark at her core, and the flash of anger in her eyes when Joffrey mocks her father’s corpse shows us that she hasn’t given up. It may not be as obvious as her sister’s method of fighting back, but Sansa has a lifetime of training in the ways of courtly society, a world in which she is now confined as a guest/prisoner. Though she’s surrounded by enemies at all times, she finds her own way to survive and strike back where she can.



XIX The Sun - Brandon Stark & Joffrey Baratheon

Hodor Hodor!

Unlike the previous card, The Sun is less confusing. It represents The Sun. That is, identity, childlike wonder and joy, and the ability of the spirit to climb high and persevere in the face of forces that try to keep it grounded. Whereas Death and The Devil both contain messages of matter’s triumph over spirit, we see the opposite here - the spirit is exalted and eternal.

Joff’s here because this card often points to someone who is the center of attention, the regent on whom all things hinge. The Sun has been an astrological marker of kings and rulers for thousands of years, so much so that eclipses were used to fortell their deaths and grievous misfortunes. Joff’s also here to remind us that not all exalted spirits are wonderful things. He’s as unfettered, childlike and gleeful as you could want this archetype to be, but because of his improper rearing, and probably because he’s somehow chemically imbalanced, that “exaltation” translates into Joffrey using the realm of his playset, acting out disgusting atrocities with little regard for their effect on anyone else. The Sun can be a marker of complete self-absorption and lack of empathy, where no one else’s feelings or concerns ever enter into the picture, and Joffrey is that type of person through and through.

But Bran’s the one I really want to talk about here. He’s a joyful little boy with a love for playing and climbing, and all of that gets snatched away from him in an instant when he is thrown from a high tower by Jaime Lannister and crippled. The rest of Bran’s journey seems to be one of pulling himself up from the depths of his despair in order to reclaim a piece of that original joy and wonder. And with his father dead and his Robb off at war, Bran is the man of the house, the defacto regent of Winterfell. Unlike Joffrey, he is tempered by advisors he’s grown up around who encourage him to take this responsibility seriously for the sake of the smallfolk, who need to be reminded that there will always be a Stark in Winterfell.

The crow is from Springfield...?

Bran’s obsession with climbing is evocative of the solar predilection with trying to bring oneself higher and higher into the sky, and reminds one of Icarus’ fall. With a very limited ability to explore the physical world, Bran must turn toward matters of the spirit, another solar hallmark, as the Sun is primarily concerned with prophecy and the soul. We see only brief hints of this in the first installment of the story, but it’ll develop more as Bran has more empowering conversations with the Three-Eyed Crow, which is a symbol laden with solar imagery. (It is a sky-dwelling bird with a third eye open to symbolize enlightenment. In fact, Amaterasu, the Shinto Sun goddess, had a three-footed crow as one of her divine symbols and messengers.) More than any other member of his family, Bran also relies increasingly reliant on his direwolf, Summer, who is named for a time when the Sun’s strength is most apparent. It is also worth noting that the direwolves seem to be representative of the Stark kids’ souls, so it makes sense that Bran’s bond would be the strongest.   


XX Judgement - Arya Stark

Judgement, known in some decks as “The Aeon,” signifying the beginning of a new era. Given to the element of Fire, this card is about the trials destiny throws at us in order to become who we truly are.

Like themes found in the The Moon, one aspect of this card involves needless pieces of identity being discarded, and like Death, there is an emphasis on inevitability and sometimes on the more grotesque truths of existence. However, Judgement dares one to accept these truths, to stand tall and perform in spite of them. Unlike The Moon, there is an element of inner certainty, a vision for one’s future that transcends simple ambition. This card is reminiscent of Dune’s “Litany Against Fear,” staring fate in the eye and daring it to blink.

Arya Stark has known for a very long time, somewhere deep down, that the path laid out for her would diverge from the path her parents had planned. Uninterested in needlework, boys and gossip, Arya has always preferred the war-like pursuits of her brothers, and has evaded her caretakers many times in order to participate. It’s what she loves and it’s what she’s good at. The only member of her family who has acknowledged the positive aspects of this is her half-brother, Jon Snow, who had the castle’s blacksmith craft a tiny, light, Arya-sized sword, which they together named “Needle,” so that she’d be able to truthfully tell her Septa that she was off to do her “needlework.”

Arya’s action-junkie nature eventually leads her father to find an outlet for her in Syrio Forel, who harnesses Arya’s eager vigor to the training of a Water Dancer. She is with him for only a short time, but manages to absorb the fundamentals of his training enough to become one of the most dangerous little girls in all of Westeros. However, during her escape from King’s Landing, Arya learns the price of the path she’s chosen, as she’s forced to kill a stableboy who meant to capture her. She then lives on the streets of King’s Landing, easily mistaken for a street urchin, until her father is executed and she is sighted in the crowd by Yoren of the Night’s Watch, who has the good sense to take her far away from The Lannisters.

 

Without spoiling too much, Arya’s journey to becoming Hit Girl is far from over. She’ll be forced to do a lot of things to survive, and in her efforts to simply stay alive, other forces seem to be guiding her to a larger fate. She’ll pass judgement on others and be tried by higher powers herself, as she mutates into something very different. Season Two will see the introduction of Jaqen H’ghar, a vagrant stranger who takes an interest in Arya and sends her further down this path.

It is worth noting that, unlike her sister Sansa, whose direwolf was killed and whose identity is slowly disintegrating, Arya sent away Nymeria for her own safety. While Arya remains wind-tossed for some time, there is still the possibility of a reunion with her wolf, and thus, the reclamation of a piece of her soul. Arya will remain Arya because of this, while the same cannot necessarily be said for Sansa.

(psst...Arya Stark is my favorite character in the series.)




WARNING, INCOMING BEWBS (CLASSY ONEs, BUT STILL PROBABLY NSFW)







XXI The World - Daenerys Unburnt

The World card is the end of the tale the highest point of ascent, and in the Neoplatonic view, the closest one can come to godliness. It is about the completion of a great, seemingly impossible deed by holding true to one’s mission and one’s virtue.

While the Ride-Waite deck shows our little friend, Sophia, dancing in the center of the image, other decks show Jesus Christ or New Jerusalem, the promised land. This is the only double-ruled card, given both to the Earth element and to Saturn, both speaking to the need to make something manifest.

Saturn is about having a mission and a purpose, but not in any internal way. This isn’t about changing a person’s heart or soul, though that may factor into it. This is about creating something amazing that you can touch and see. However, this is the card that really combines all the rest into one...and so, spirit does play a large role, as the great work requires a strong will to manifest. The image of Sophia is meant to represent the quinta essentia, the fifth element (Yes, like Leloo Dallas,) and in fact, the faces on the four corners of the card represent the other four elements. They are also mean to represent the four fixed signs and the four evangelists. Dany evokes this image at the end of the first installment of the story - she’s made something magical manifest in the real world with nothing but a certainty that it would work.

Dany doesn’t just conjure the spirits of some dragons or an illusion. She doesn’t feel dragons in her heart, or become a dragon inside...well, perhaps she does, but that was much earlier in the story. The point is, she hatched real dragons from eggs that were supposed to be inert forever, something that members of her family had been trying to do ever since the dragons were exterminated.

If the story were to end here, one might assume that Dany returned to Westeros with her dragons in tow to turn all the bad guys into ash and create a shining new paradise within Westeros. But...it’s not going to be that simple, as this is only the beginning of the Song of Ice and Fire.   

A Game Of Thrones Tarot, Pt. 3

SPOILER ALERT: This article presupposes that you have read A Game Of Thrones/watched through the first season of A Game Of Thrones. I will make efforts not to spoil anything past that. (Though I will likely write a separate article that incorporates the entirety of the story thus far.)  

XI Justice - Eddard Stark

 

Another of the four cards that represent the Cardinal Virtues, the virtue of justice is defined as the moderation between self-interest and the needs and desires of one’s fellows, and is given to Libra, The Scales, a sign for which balance and order are of paramount importance.

While I wavered on some of the allocations, this is one of the first character-to-card assignations I was definite on. Loyalty is a big part of the Libran wheelhouse, and in its highest ideal, this also means honor...the ability to allow oneself to live by his word, to be willingly constricted by a vow. Depending on the source, Justice is often named as the highest, crowning virtue of the four, and its true attainment seems impossible unless one can truly give themselves over to a life of honor. Nobody in the entire Ice & Fire series exemplifies these qualities like Lord Eddard Stark. In true Libran fashion, he defines himself by his connections to those closest to him, and is almost co-dependent in his level of loyalty and selflessness.

Though we accent the word “justice” with halos and trumpets, we forget sometimes that justice always sucks for someone, and its results are rarely beautiful (see the Death card.) The condemned rarely think that justice is such a great thing, or at least, they do not think they’re receiving just treatment for their actions. We see Lord Eddard on one side of this equation when we first meet him, executing a Night’s Watch deserter, and of course, on the other end of this equation the last time we see him at the Sept of Baelor.

For reasons I’ll elaborate on in the next section, I did very briefly waver and consider Ned for The Hanged Man card. However, I believe that out of any Ice & Fire character, his life best represented this high-minded ideal, and his death best represented its inversion, the greatest injustice of the series. Unlike the Hanged Man’s noble sacrifice, a death or loss that makes sense and might serve some greater purpose, Ned’s death caused so much anger (with both characters and fans alike) exactly because it was so senseless. He’s not a martyr; nothing much is changed by his death, and nothing was even gained by the party executing him. The Lannisters and their allies wanted to handle Eddard without killing him, but Joffrey wanted blood. 

There are sometimes visual cues that really alert you to a clear correspondence. (Bear with me here.) For example, one of my favorite video games is Persona 4, an RPG that blends in themes from Tarot, including assigning each of the members of your party to a specific Tarot archetype. I noticed pretty early on that your second-in-command character, who wields two knives in combat, would casually juggle them in his idle animation. It struck me as very appropriate, but I couldn’t put my finger on why it tickled me...in mulling it over later, I realized that it’s because that character represents “The Magician” card in your group, and “The Magician” is known in other decks as “The Juggler.” They made The Juggler juggle, and I thought that was great.

Now, what’s the most famous and iconic promo image from Season One? Sean Bean as Ned seated on the Iron Throne, leaning against his single broadsword. Both are very evocative of the image we see here on the Justice card, a judicial, solemn figure holding a single sword and gazing out gravely before passing sentence. The only difference here is that Ned isn’t holding a scale, and his sword is pointed downward, perhaps foreshadowing the subsequent iniquities, and the failure of this utopian ideal to manifest in a savage reality.

Seriously now.

In Season Two, a character named Ser Davos Seaworth is introduced, and I think he really fills this archetypal vacancy - he’s a good, loyal man doing his best to follow the law and his ideals to their letter in a world where that is nigh impossible.


XII The Hanged Man - Jon Arryn

To be honest, Lord Arryn’s sort of a place-holder here. We don’t know much about him from Season One, and to be honest, reading the books doesn’t yield a whole lot of additional information. But though we never get to meet him, he is a pivotal character, and with what little we know about him, he fits all the criteria. And along the line of visual cues, the one time we do see him in the series, it’s his corpse lying upside down on a slab awaiting burning or burial.

The Hanged Man’s a very interesting and confusing card. It’s been given to Prime Water, therefore indicating a heartfelt sacrifice and a situation that will be emotionally trying no matter the angle of approach. It’s the Catch-22 card in many ways, evoking a situation that will simply be unpleasant and feel horrible and cause one to twist in the wind.

We have two contrasting Renaissance images informing this card’s history. On one hand, the hanged man in question is meant to show what was done to traitors in Renaissance Europe - they were killed and then hung over the battlements by one foot, on display for all to bear witness to their treachery (see “Pittura infamante.”) On the other hand, this is one of the four cards given to a Cardinal virtue by the Neoplatonists...in this case, the virtue is Prudence. Depending on the source, either Prudence or Justice were seen as the highest possible virtue, Prudence in this case being defined as the ability to match the appropriate action to the appropriate moment. In fact, a Prudence card actually replaced The Hanged Man in some early decks, and in an inversion of the image of a man hanging by one leg, it showed a woman raising one leg to avoid stepping on a poisonous snake.

This archetype is usually one who is doomed to a certain fate, and is labeled a martyr or traitor based on their acceptance or rejection of this fate. It is both Jesus Christ and Judas Iscariot, both hung from a piece of wood because of a situation over which they had no control, but remembered in very different lights for their conduct in the moment. (The card has also been linked to the sacrifices of Odin and Osiris.)

 

Jon led a dignified existence, but it also sounds like an unhappy one. He was the Lord of The Vale, one of the major powers of Westeros, residing in the mountainous regions to the West. Though he had two wives before marrying Lysa Tully, neither produced an heir, and all the younger kinsmen who he appointed to succeed him were killed, most through Robert’s Rebellion. He was appointed to be Hand to the king, which is a high honor, but that also meant being tasked with the impossible chore of financing Robert’s reign. He was basically responsible for pulling money out of thin air to finance party after party for his king’s indulgence. And although the exact circumstances of his assassination are not brought to light until later in the series, it’s pretty obvious that Jon died because he had figured out the true parentage of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tomnen.

Jon was placed in a hard situation: Robert was like a son to him, and this discovery would have likely broken his big, fat heart. Such an accusation, if proven true, would also shake the kingdom to its core, and may well have come to war with the Lannisters - it’s unlikely that Lord Tywin would have sat idly by while his son, daughter, and grandchildren were executed. But with house words like “High As Honor,” and seeing what a little monster Joffrey was turning out to be, he could not stand by and let a group of abominations succeed the royal line. So Jon acted with prudence, making certain he could back up the claim before bringing anything public, but leaving enough breadcrumbs for Ned and Stannis to know the truth. His prudence did cost him his life, but it was a martyr’s death - without his discovery, Joffrey’s reign may not have been contested so heavily by Renly (and certainly not by the very by-the-books Stannis,) and there would be no “War Of Five Kings.”

I do think there’s a character who best matches this archetype, and it is someone we’ve met. But he hasn’t done most of the things that would make him The Hanged Man just yet, and I’d be spoilerizing if I called him out. But...I respect peoples’ right to have things ruined for them, as well, and it isn’t a spoiler if you’ve read the other books, so...highlight between the parentheses if you want it spoiled: (Theon Turncloak.) 


XIII Death - The Wights and The Cleganes

 

One of the simplest cards in the deck, and one people want to see least in a reading, the Death card is exactly what it sounds like: someone or something is going to die. In a reading, it needn’t signify a literal death, but the fact that something is coming to an end. This is a truth as universal as taxes, and the Rider-Waite decks shows the pale rider coming to a rich man, a poor woman, and a child all at once just to show us that Death doesn’t play favorites. This is further accented by the five-petaled flower on Death’s flag, its topmost point facing downward to symbolize the triumph of matter over spirit.

A lot of New Age-y types try to put a positive spin on this card by saying that it’s about transformation and rebirth. It’s true to an extent, but a) you still have to die before you’re reborn, and it’ll probably suck, and b) “rebirth” might mean mutation into something stranger.

Yup. A beautiful transformation.

That said, consider The Wights and White Walkers that reside North of The Wall. Like the image on the card, they are literally mobile death, people who have already succumbed to their fate only to be reanimated by the strange and horrible forces that lurk in the coldest parts of the world. Their motivation seems to be focused only on spreading more death.

This same archetypal force is singularly personified by The Mountain That Rides, Gregor Clegane. Devoid of personality and loathe to communicate, The Mountain is simply a killing machine on a very loose, long leash. Like the Wights, he seems to exist only to kill indiscriminately...it is well-known that he horribly murdered Prince Rhaegar’s wife and child. Gregor’s father, sister, and two wives have all died in mysterious circumstances, as well. The only person in the entire series who has faced him in combat and lived is his brother, Sandor, who seems to fit other aspects of this archetype. More on that in a moment...

                                                                                                                                                               Not even horses are safe.

Death is traditionally given to Scorpio: dark, emotionally intense, often troubled. This is an archetype often seen as a bad guy, so it’s understandable that we’ve only really gone over zombies, monsters, and horrible bastards up to this point. But while Scorps are often the ones perceived as doing horrible, despicable things, others rarely consider that they may have very good motivations for their terrible deeds. Thus, the totem of a Scorpion, a small and creeping thing, full of poison and lurking in the shadows. At the end of the day, it’s just another creature trying its best to exist, but to the rest of the world, it’s scum, and part of a larger scourge.

And with no regard for who he is inside, that’s how people see Sandor Clegane. One half of his face is a mass of scar tissue from a childhood disagreement with his older brother. The burns remind one of infection, uncleanliness, and disease. He even carries the title of a baseborn creature, “The Hound,” and is forced to do dirty work for the Baratheons and Lannisters. But Sandor’s the product of an extremely hostile environment, and he’s really getting by the best he can. He’s done horrible things, too - he ran down and killed a peasant boy just for being present when Joffrey was injured by Arya Stark and her direwolf - but he does try to do the right thing where he can. He saved Loras Tyrell from his brother’s wrath, and he stopped Sansa Stark from losing her cool and throwing her life away in an attempt to do in Joffrey. He is not even knighted, but his actions speak of more nobility than many knights in the realm...but, because his work is so public (being Joffrey’s personal bodyguard,) it is unlikely that many people will ever see him for what he is.

In its inversion, the Death card represents “Life,” as in, “we only get a certain amount of life, so let’s enjoy it while we can.” It conjures the image of a plague feast, wherein the celebrants know for  a fact that they’re doomed, but are determined to do all that they can with their time. We haven’t met many characters who round out this part of the archetype, but they’re on their way...


XIV Temperance - Samwell Tarly

 

The last of the “cardinal virtue” cards, Temperance is the practice of restraint or moderation in the face of temptation. The card has also been titled, “Art,” and is ultimately about synthesizes opposites, or an array of opposing forces, into one grand work. The antithesis to The Lovers, which is about dividing things in twain and creating choice, Temperance is about unity, and the incorporation of multiple elements into one path. It is traditionally given to Sagittarius, a sign which is easily given to excess, over-the-top displays, and which usually finds a singular source of excitement and inspiration upon which it can fix all of its focus. In the vein of “crazy, over-the-top displays,” Sagittarian things tend to be much like the Centaur of its namesake: raucous, bawdy, and larger than life. Anime and electric guitars and neon-colored Peter Pan food..all at once!

Samwell Tarly doesn’t fly and shoot laser beams out of his eyes. But he’s clearly given to excess, and he’s completely out of place among his black brothers.

Sam’s “Temperance” ironically has little to do with food, drink, sex, or any of the other typical hedonistic abuses that the word typically evokes. No, Sam’s poison is cowardice. He’s been told since a very young age that he’s a good-for-nothing coward because he neither enjoys nor excels at any of the typical male practices of his day (jousting, hunting, learning how to kill men.) Given a perfectly good excuse to avoid taking action, Sam’s been able to hide inside of that “coward” label, wasting away inside while growing into it. The truth is, though, Sam’s one of the bravest characters in the entire series. If you’ve only seen Season One, then you haven’t seen this yet, but you get a glimpse of it when he confronts he rides out to prevent Jon Snow from leaving The Night’s Watch, not taking a stand against his only real friend, but taking a stand against a desperate, edgy young man with a very high level of combat training and a touchy, silent, giant wolf. That takes balls.

                                                                                                                                                              Uhh, sorry. Wrong Samwell.

And while Sam keeps Jon’s impulsiveness in check, Jon reciprocates by encouraging Sam to man up and stop falling into his “I’m a coward” excuse. Sam’s “Art” is something that The Wall needs as just as badly as any lord or king in the realm, a man who attacks books and strives for utility of knowledge just as viciously as most men attack the lists and chances for glory. The value of Sam’s preference for study will make itself clear soon enough, as he forges his own multi-colored path...


XV The Devil - Tywin Lannister

 

Along with Death and The Tower, The Devil is one of the cards that nobody ever wants to see come up in a reading. And I don’t blame them, as it’s a pretty spooky-looking scene and a title that lacks wiggle room for positive interpretation. As you can see, the Rider-Waite deck’s devil sits atop a black square, representing earthly matter, and is adorned up above by a very scary looking inverted pentagram, which, like on the Death card, symbolizes the triumph of matter over spirit. The Devil has acquired some property in the form of two brazenly nude minions, who he has chained onto the rest of his property in order to increase its worth.

The Devil’s the guy that comes to you with a deal: if you do X, I’ll give you Y. “Y”, in this scenario, is almost always equivalent to some sort of earthly power. In a sense, this is what almost all of us do every single day: a large devil has offered us the chance to work for eight hours each day so we can retain some measure of earthly power. We don’t necessarily want to do the things we’re doing in order to get “Y”, but The Devil wants them done, and that’s the deal, because he’s in control of all the material power. We shouldn’t be striving for material power, of course...like all good little Neoplatonists, we should be investing in the spiritual, right? But we all have to eat, and that means dealing with devils.

Lord Tywin is a ruthless and powerful lord, one of the most powerful men in all of Westeros. He’s sitting on the continent’s material power just as surely as The Devil of the card, so much so that he is financing the Iron Throne, which blew through its treasury long ago. It has been said behind his back that Lord Tywin shits gold.

The Devil is typically given to Capricorn, Cardinal Earth, which at its most active, is the most acquisitive and ladder-climbing of the twelve signs. Lord Tywin is certainly all about making deals, bringing the most valuable players and properties to his side and expunging anything of no value. This is even reflected in his family life: Tywin treasures Jaime and Cersei, but detests Tyrion. The pretense for this is that his wife died birthing Tyrion, but if Tyrion had not been born an imp, I think we all know that Tywin’s attitude toward him would have differed. Still, Tywin does eventually come to recognize Tyrion’s value, and eventually appoints him to watch over King Joffrey as his Hand.

Lord Tywin is so fixated on ridding himself of value-less properties that (in the novels) he began to shave his head at the first sign of balding, and has done so ever since.

It should be noted, however, that the bonds of The Devil are very different from the vows of Justice. Whereas a man like Eddard Stark would hold true to his word at great personal risk and cost, The Devil does what is reasonable and profitable. Despite being long-time supporters of King Aerys, Tywin turned on him as soon as he was sure he was about to lose, and offered the royal family’s bodies and Cersei’s hand in marriage as a peace offering to Robert. Words are wind and matter is matter, and holding to one’s power is more important than holding to one’s word.

Still, “a Lannister always pays his debts” is a phrase proliferated by Tywin and his kin, who seem to try to hold firm to a set of business ethics, if not true honor. In this case, it’s a question of showing value by not being dishonorable, but it is still primarily a question of value.


XVI The Tower - Jon Snow & The Wall

 

The Tower is a devastating, violent scene - lightning from heaven strikes its top, engulfing the structure in flames and causing its occupants to leap screaming to their deaths. It’s the most outwardly violent card in the major arcana, and symbolizes the moment where structures in our life that we’ve outgrown, or which no longer serve their purpose, come crashing down around us so that the energy we’ve put into them can be re-allocated into more worthwhile activities. This sounds relatively positive and innocuous, but it can mean the end of a marriage, the loss of a job, or in Jon Snow’s case, a total departure from the world as you know it.

The Tower is given to Mars, the war planet, the vigorous force in our lives that allows us to accomplish our goals and to cut ourselves off from harmful elements. While Venus is a force that creates connections, Mars is the force that severs those connections. Martial characters in pop culture are typically action heroes, and Jon’s one of the most clear-cut, good guy action heroes we get in the series. Much like the Olympian Ares and Hephaestus, who are mythological components of this archetype, he’s looked down upon by much of the rest of his society, labelled a bastard and deprived the use of his father’s name. The beginning of the series sees him severing his connection to the world he’s grown up with, cutting himself off from Winterfell to start a new life in the largest “Tower” in Westeros, The Wall.

Jon’s a born fighter and is brimming with courage. Like most young men of this archetype, he’s also very angry at the hand he’s been dealt, which results in what I like to call Jon’s “bastard angst,” which makes him prone to whining about his base-born status, among other things.  However, much like his impulses to rejoin the Starks when trouble strikes, this angst is indicative of Jon’s inability to accept events as they are. The Tower has already fallen - the life he had at Winterfell is gone now. As a member of the Night’s Watch, he’s no longer a bastard any more than the guy on his right is a pimp, any more than the guy on his left is a Southron noble - they’re all crows now.

I like the designation of “crows” for The Night’s Watch a lot, too - they’re cloaked all in black, one of the most martial colors, and are known by the name of the bird most known to flock (“known to murder”?) to the battlefield.       

TO BE CONCLUDED...