And yet, the seductive draw of The Devil is undeniable. Its message is that we are in bondage, and sometimes that’s really fucking hot. With the constant demands, pressure and responsibilities that accompany being a grown-up person, there is an innate craving to just give in to what feels good—to give up control or to wield complete control. To do so can allow for intense creative expression and sexual energy. BDSM culture, for example, builds a container for the shadow aspect of our selves craving that power dynamic. But that is a conscious and consensual exploit. The Devil does not ask our permission. Often, we don’t even know he is there, pulling our strings from the shadows.
When we get to the bottom of The Devil’s manifestation in our life, we will often find a hurt inner child. A wounded fragment of ourselves that chipped off and got amber-trapped in time. It may still be active in our life because we have denied its existence, or met it with hostility when nurturing was called for.
The Devil’s origin is a natural one, a need or desire that has grown out of control. A love of the sun can lead to cancer if used to excess. When we identify our false needs (for example, an alcoholic does not need alcohol, even though they may truly believe they do), we find our shadow selves. In Jungian psychology, the shadow is defined as any part of ourselves that dwells beyond our conscious minds. This can include our primal nature, taboo desires, creative aspirations, a feeling of lack. Anything that we deem unacceptable, that we cannot reconcile with our sense of self, gets stored in the shadow. In Jung’s words, “The less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” The Devil marks the inevitable point where the shadow refuses to remain suppressed, often to destructive results. There are healthy expressions of the shadow self if we are willing to accept it and get to know that part of ourselves.
The Devil begs a question, and it’s a sexy one. Does he want us to pass the test he gives us? My feeling is that he does. He reveals us to ourselves in a way that no card preceding it could. He brings us to our knees, connects us to a sense of humility that we both violently reject and essentially require. He excavates his manifestations for us to clear should we wish to continue on.
Anecdote
The first time I smoked a cigarette, I was fifteen years old, in my boyfriend’s garage in the middle of an especially brutal Chicago winter. He and his friends would migrate from the basement to the garage to smoke cigarettes in the bitter cold, and anyone who has endured a Midwest winter will tell you that you do not go outside in the minus 20–degree windchill for no reason. So I decided, what the hell, I might as well just smoke one of the things as an excuse to go outside with them.
Dear fifteen-year-old Bakara, you are an idiot. I honestly hate you for this shortsighted, reckless, irreversible decision you made to fit in with a guy who would fade into obscurity a few months later. Out of all the stupid, dangerous shit you did in your dumbass teenage years, this is the one I most wish I could have saved you from.
A very short while after my first cigarette, this dude was gone. But twelve years later, I’m still a smoker. A real smoker. Like if I leave the house and don’t have them with me I’ll go out and buy a pack kind of smoker. Like even if I’m around people who I know hate smoking and will think less of me for doing it I’ll still smoke type of smoker.
Most of the time I think of cigarettes as a punctuation mark in my day. It is my reward for finishing a task, my respite when I need some time to myself, a peaceful break after a meal, a ritual before bed. Over the years I have probably contextualized my smoking in a thousand different ways. But in the occasional, lucid moments, I know it is none of those things. It is a toxin that I am viciously dependent on, something that hurts me every time I use it, a fuck you to myself, a way of saying no to life. It is a means of indulging the vague resentment I feel about the drudgery of being alive, a rebelling against myself to no end. And then I go unconscious again because the genesis of this behavior is so complicated that I am scared of what will be unearthed if I try to uproot it.
I’ve kicked a lot of addictions, broken some bad habits, put old patterns to bed. But my relationship with cigarettes continues to have an ironclad stronghold on my psyche.
In a Reading
The topic in question has become toxic. Addiction. Excess and overindulgence. Obsession. An abusive relationship. Materialism. Hedonism. Destructive behavior. False need. Saying no to life. Disconnected from spirituality and our divine source. Surrendering to pleasure, vices and indulgence. The shadow self at play. Powerlessness. Feeling trapped or denial of being trapped. Though denial is a common defense to further The Devil’s workings, it does not appear in a reading unless we are ready to see it.
16—THE TOWER
Enlightenment is a destructive process. It has nothing to do with becoming better or being happier. Enlightenment is the crumbling away of untruth. It’s seeing through the facade of pretence.
It’s the complete eradication of everything we imagined to be true.
—Adyashanti
destruction / burn / purification / release / upheaval / liberation / enlightenment / cataclysmic / transform / uproot / disintegration / apocalyptic / extreme / helplessness / chaos / turbulence / dismantling / calamity / violence
Card Meaning
Okay guys, shit is hitting the fan. There is no way around it. The Tower offers no quick fix, no neat solution, no way of pretending that everything is okay. Our life is ablaze, and the only option is to offer ourselves to the fire.
We are aware of how The Devil is holding us back. We maybe have stewed in it, faced extreme consequences because of it, felt how our well-being is compromised due to its presence or hit bottom as a result of its manifestations. The Tower is the prayer for freedom answered, whatever it takes. The willingness to do anything necessary is requisite, because The Devil’s wounds are deep, and The Tower will rip us open to our core to extract them.
As I write this, forest fires are eviscerating the western part of my state. Whole mountains, old woods, people’s homes, entire ecosystems and habitats are burning. It’s been weeks of this. Wind has carried the smoke over two hundred miles east, and it looms over our city. The best efforts of thousands of people and the marvels of modern technology have not been able to extinguish it. We are all praying for rain.
This fire is awesome in its scope, non-negotiable, destructive beyond belief and a nightmare for the ones who are experiencing loss as a result. And yet, the fire is not cruel. The fire has no malice. In fact, the ecological benefits of forest fires are numerous. It burns away undergrowth, allowing sunlight to reach the forest floor, removes alien and parasitic species competing with native plants; replenishes and fertilizes soil. In fact, they are essential catalysts for supporting healthy ecosystems and biological diversity. The destruction ultimately facilitates the expansion of wildlife populations and provides a nutrient base for new growth.
This doesn’t mean we cannot hate The Tower while it is happening. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t struggle with this extreme energy. But when we step out of it, when we get some distance for it, we maybe find ourselves grateful. At the very least, we are not the same person we were when we entered it. The Tower is best appreciated in hindsight because in this urgent space we cannot reflect or search for greater meaning. It may be the greatest teacher of true and undivided presence because of its absolute consumption. If god dwells only in the present moment, it could be said that, for better or worse, we are never closer to the divine than we are when experiencing The Tower.
If Death is the peaceful passing of an old relative, then The Tower is the unexpected death of a young friend. For all of the purification properties of this archetype, we do not do it justice if we overlook the tragedy, calamity and shock this card can bring with it. Even the staunchest believers in “everything happens for a reason” will have their faith tested in The Tower. It can show up in ways that feel inexplicable, unfair and impossible. And yet, it’s not the end, and there is greater light
ahead as we move on to the final few cards of the Major Arcana.
Seneca the Younger said, “Fire proves gold, adversity proves men,” and in The Tower, we walk through the fire. Whether we entered willingly or were forced in kicking and screaming, the effect is the same. It scorches off everything flammable, all that did not truly belong to us. Everything false is destroyed. We are left only with ourselves.
Anecdote
There are a few rules in rehab. Actually there’s only two. While in rehab, don’t sleep with any of your fellow rehab inmates and don’t do drugs. Considering most people come to rehab with fried brains and ruined psyches, I appreciate them keeping it simple. However, I was incapable of following even these basic instructions. It took approximately a week for me to hook up with your friendly neighborhood heroin addict, and it took two and a half for me to go over to Jenna’s house and drop acid with her.
If you’ve never done acid before, first of all, good for you, and second of all, the effects can last up to twelve hours, and I was in hell for every single one of them. I resolved to be substance free for the duration of my rehab program, to show everyone that I was so fine and totally not addicted to drugs and could stop whenever I wanted. And there I was, lying on the floor of her basement, tripping absolute balls and waiting for it to end.
When it finally did end, I drove home. It was a snowy December morning, and so bone-chillingly cold outside I could feel it creeping into the windows even with the heat on full blast. Who did I need to lie to? What did I tell my parents to explain me getting home at 7 a.m., an hour I was (and still am) rarely awake for? How did I hide this from my rehab?
I went through it in my head. Acid doesn’t show up on a drug test. I crafted a passable lie to tell my parents. No one needed to know this happened. It could just be another fuckup, another lie, another thing that I had to lock up in the box of secrets I carried around with me. I was so tired, so broken, so short-circuited from the nightmare of the evening’s events, I planned on going home and sleeping into the next morning.
Less than a block away from my house is a train track, and as I pulled up to it, the crossing guards came down. I cursed the gods and hoped it wasn’t a freight. But nothing came. At all. For well over thirty minutes, the gates stayed down to protect us from a ghost train that never came.
I’d already been arrested, kicked out of school and forced into rehab. Before that I’d lost weight, friendships and the perfect GPA that mattered so much to me in school. My writing was at a standstill, and my college applications were in jeopardy because of the legal trouble I found myself in. The Tower went into effect before this exact moment, but in that car, that freezing morning, a block away from home—I finally felt it. I didn’t want another secret to keep, another lie to tell. I didn’t want it to be like this anymore. And all of a sudden, for the first time, it was apparent that it didn’t have to be. Everything would have to change, but it could be different.
Everything did change that morning. It marked the beginning of a seven-year period of sobriety and an exorcism of the dark thing in me. It has not returned since.
In a Reading
Major disruption and upheaval. Shit’s going down. Sudden change. Being brought to your knees. Humility/humiliation. Spiritual awakening. A massive energetic release—explosion or outburst. Annihilation of the ego. Destruction of the false self. The thing in question is not long for this world; it is meant to burn. Crisis. Tragedy. Freeing yourself from something at all costs. A burst of awareness. A realization that requires dismantling your current reality.
17—THE STAR
A philosopher once said, “Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?” Pointless, really. Do the stars gaze back? Now, THAT’s a question.
—Neil Gaiman, Stardust
healing / hope / connection / altruism / wish / divine navigation / rebuild / wellspring / salvage / inspiration / recovery / new dawn / illuminating / cleansing / destiny / guided
Card Meaning
We just got the shit kicked out of us by The Tower. We are tired and broken and probably still covered in ash. When the last ember extinguishes itself, when the smoke clears, when the dust settles, we enter into The Star. She is shimmering, hydrating, healing. She gives us water, puts salve on our burns and offers us refuge. If it is always darkest before the dawn, then The Star is that dawn. Think about the hardest you’ve ever cried in your life, and then the moment you took a deep breath, wiped the snot off your face and decided you were done crying. You feel lighter. And clean. That is The Star.
This doesn’t mean that everything is better, that all problems are solved and questions answered. But the problems and questions that seemed baffling up until this point don’t feel so unfathomable anymore. We know how to proceed, we know what we need to do, and we feel connected to a newfound sense of purpose. We fought hard for this wisdom. We cleaned out the gutters of our ego so that water may flow freely through it. We found the “on” button to the divine navigation system we didn’t know came with the basic model. And while we’re so fucking exhausted, we’re also hopeful, even exhilarated, basking in The Star’s peaceful glow.
After the rapid-fire action of the preceding cards, The Star asks us to chill for a sec and nourish ourselves. We know we’re going to be okay, we know we’re going to regroup and rebuild, but here we recover. If we didn’t know how to take care of ourselves before, this is where we learn.
The Star is a gorgeous card, one that offers us respite and renewal while allowing us to reflect on our resilience. In The Tower, we might have been sure we wouldn’t survive it, that it took everything and left us bare. But if The Tower is the difficult and excruciating labor, then The Star is the merciful birth. And here we are, fortified and clear, not broken and empty. We may feel a quiet sense of fearlessness as we are baptized in The Star’s healing waters.
The Star gives us a glimpse into an unknown part of ourselves which we can have faith in and depend upon. We opted for Death, faced The Devil and released it in The Tower. This is not for nothing. The payoff we go on to find is our capacity to irrigate and nourish the world around us. We are strong in our purpose. We sense our creator’s presence in all that we do. We sense our intended contribution to the world and feel drawn to manifest it. We have identified a North Star, and although its directions may frighten us, we know it will never, ever steer us wrong.
Anecdote
I was invited to sit in a Shamanic medicine ceremony after years of hoping for the opportunity to participate in one. Long story short, I came excited and left half-dead. It was, without question, the most terrifying, painful, guttingly soul-wrenching evening of my life. Every nightmare I ever had, every fear that dwelled in my unconscious, every unresolved thing in my heart was brutally excavated and then experienced. There were whole swaths of time where my grasp on reality was lost, and I was convinced I would never escape this fever dream. Never in my life have I been stripped so bare. I prayed for the medicine to kill me.
The medicine ran through me, the sun rose and sanity returned. I felt empty and light.
The horror of the night before was so intense I was convinced I would never live through it, and yet it was already leaving me. The horror was replaced with relief and then exhilaration. Though it was in a safe container, it was the first time I experienced surviving something I thought I wouldn’t. Wrapped in a blanket at sunrise, warmed by a bonfire, I kept thinking, “If I can get through that, there is nothing left to be afraid of.”
In a Reading
Regaining hope. Looking toward the future. Light at the end of the tunnel. Seeing your strength in hindsight. When you feel guided, something maybe should feel crazy or scary but it doesn’t. Divine navigation system. Renewal of energy to continue on. Taking time to recover. Feeling like you are in the right place in the world. Connecting with true purpose. Generosity. Feeling what you have to offer others. A period of peace, calm, tranquility and serenity—especially pronounced
due to how starkly it contrasts with the chaos that preceded it.
18—THE MOON
We need the tonic of wildness … At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable, that land and sea be indefinitely wild, unsurveyed and unfathomed by us because unfathomable. We can never have enough of nature.
—Henry David Thoreau, Walden
reflection / receptivity / wild feminine / subconscious / mother / intuition / phases / mystery / night / wildness / lunacy / madness / shadow / illogical / complex / darkness / nature / hidden / dreams / instinct
Card Meaning
I have heard that the last row of the Major Arcana speaks more to overall environments than individual energies. It is an interesting idea, and one that makes sense given the fact that the further we travel down The Fool’s Journey, the more expansive and ethereal the archetypes become. If we accept this theory, it is worth assessing who lives in these final few cards. The Wheel of Fortune’s taunting repetition could reign from The Devil. The Hanged man, with his uncomfortable transformation could call The Tower his home. The Lovers could reside in the optimism and warmth of The Star. But the essentially feminine cards—The High Priestess and The Empress—belong to The Moon. She is their mother, their wellspring and the highest and vastest manifestation of the wild feminine.
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