By Sarah Taylor

Having the Nine of Swords and the Ace of Cups side-by-side is to see what happens when one state of mind meets its polar opposite. I can’t think of two other tarot cards that are as perfect a counterpoint to each other as these.

Nine of Swords, Ace of Cups, The Sun from The Röhrig Tarot deck, created by Carl-W. Röhrig. Click on the image for a larger version.

You’re definitely no stranger to the Nine of Swords. It has come up several times recently — most recently of all on Oct. 25.

It might be useful to look back and see what was going on then and whether there is a connection to what’s happening now. With one significant difference: here, the Nine of Swords is in the near-past position, and it is the Ace of Cups that’s taking centre stage.

You, too, can choose whether to have the Ace take centre stage, or whether you want to continue in some same-old, same-old battle you have with yourself — those nicks, scratches, cuts that you inflict through self-judgment and self-talk. Some, you’ll know well; they tend to be the larger ones, part of a pattern of recriminations that often take on the voices of earlier authority figures. They’re the big-hitters. They pick up where your family of origin left off; they keep the story going.

Others are smaller. Maybe you don’t think they matter. Maybe you think they matter so little that you don’t notice them. They are the thieves in the night that steal into your psyche and exact their wounding — the death by a thousand cuts. Frequently they pass off as self-deprecating humour, when in reality they’re really not that funny at all. “I’m such a clutz!” “Oh, don’t mind me!” “C’mon, [insert your name here]! Get a fucking grip!”

The Nine of Swords is dis-ease — some experiences of it more concrete than others. When it appears, it speaks of the kind of unforgiving nature that we assume with ourselves rather than anyone else. The illusory bonds that are shaken off with a change of perspective in the Eight have become the sharpened barbs that wrap themselves around us so we feel their points digging into our skin.

Haven’t you suffered enough that you no longer need to pick up where others left off? You are entirely empowered to put those swords down. You don’t need them any more.

You never needed them.

Look to the centre card. The Ace of Cups is what is available to you when you stop pointing the finger of blame at yourself, and start to accept yourself wholly for who you are. In that moment that you begin to practise self-acceptance, something happens: you let go. You let go of those swords and instead you radiate. Ease, acceptance, forgiveness. Love.

This happens first through what you don’t do rather than what you do do. You can’t love yourself into the Ace if you’re not first able to unravel the patterns that underlie the Nine of Swords. What you stop doing is the negative self-talk. You catch yourself — not like a thief in the night, but like a child who deserves all the love in the world. The love you can now give yourself.

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If you need to off-load those swords, sometimes it’s best to do that in a setting that’s designed for just that purpose, whether therapy or some kind of practice that disarms you. You do not need to do this alone. Maybe feeling alone was what got you into this pickle in the first place.

Entrust yourself not only to your own acceptance, but to someone else’s too: someone who has earned your trust, or someone who you feel is up to earning it. It may feel like a risk, but it will be a risk that feels worth it — your body will exhale into it.

What you then meet is The Sun. Look at the figure of the woman in the Ace, and then look at her in miniature in The Sun, standing on top of that hill, in the same position, the same halo of light around her head. Except now you see that your halo, and the Sun’s halo, are one. It’s not that the pain disappears either. It is that the Sun encompasses everything — all experiences — and sees them in the light of awareness.

The embrace of who you are as the Ace becomes the embrace of who you are under the canopy of an intelligence that reflects your own acceptance back to you. And in that moment, you realise: you, and it, are one.

And you are enough.

Astrology/Elemental correspondences: Nine of Swords (Mars in Gemini), Ace of Cups (the pure, limitless potential of water), The Sun (Sun)

If you want to experiment with tarot cards and don’t have any, we provide a free tarot spread generator using the Celtic Wings spread, which is based on the traditional Celtic Cross spread. This article explains how to use the spread.

By Amanda Moreno

I’ve been hosting a monthly AstroCircle for the past several months. After going back and forth about how to best present an ongoing astrological workshop in a way that caters to varying levels of experience, I decided this format would be the best way to go.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Each month we look at a particular theme, typically chosen based on current transits. I do some lecture, we do a lot of imaginal exercises, some personal sharing and storytelling, we involve oils and stones and images, and have some time for open discussion. I leave each session excited and inspired.

When pondering what to teach for the October circle, I decided to just ask the universe for direct insight. Direct insight seems to be pretty rare, so when it happens — especially when I ask for it — I pay attention. It became quite clear that the universal request was that I teach about Uranus. I didn’t quite understand why, as recent circles have been very current-transit oriented, but went about preparing anyway.

Uranus is probably my favorite planet, although I do have to give the disclaimer that I am a person who throws around the terms ‘favorite’ and ‘love’ quite freely and enthusiastically. I do identify as non-monogamous, after all. Plenty of love to go around.

Uranus aspects pretty much all of the major planets, the angles and some asteroids in my chart. My sun is in Aquarius, which is co-ruled by Uranus and Saturn, a planetary pair that is integral to bringing structures to conscious form and then testing the limits of what we think is possible in order to grow. I would consider myself to be a Uranian type. But what does that mean?

When I think of Uranus and Aquarius, I tend to think first about liberation, de-conditioning and individuation. Jung’s theory of individuation speaks to the process of hearing the call of the soul, answering the call, and then integrating unconscious and conscious contents in order to become “who we are meant to be.” This involves liberating from the Saturnian structures and conditioning that are not in alignment with this call.

The concept of hearing the call of the soul sounds somewhat romantic, but it’s often uncomfortable, isolating and therefore avoided entirely. How many people do you know who embrace their difference willfully and enthusiastically, especially those who buck societal conventions in big ways?

The process of individuation, therefore, is associated with de-conditioning and liberating from the known. At the same time, and perhaps because of this de-conditioning process, individuation can be an isolating and lonely experience. Many people do not respond consciously to the pull to individuate because the response can create a lot of insecurity, as breaking down Saturnian structures is wont to do. Here we can see the Aquarian themes of the rebel or outsider coming to the surface.

As the higher octave of Mercury, Uranus represents long-term memory and is therefore also associated with past life memories. Whereas Saturn represents the boundaries of our conscious awareness, Uranus represents the higher mind or personal unconscious — the long view of the memories of our soul’s individuation process.

In the natal chart, the placement of Uranus can indicate where these de-conditioning or liberation processes can be worked through in our lives in a unique way. It is where we can create our own mythology. It is also where we can see karmic triggers that have been traveling with us for many lifetimes.

In Evolutionary Astrology, aspects to Uranus, the 11th house and Aquarius are all indicators of mental trauma. This is different from Plutonian trauma, which is primarily seen as emotional and psychological, although there is some overlap. Uranus represents the shock that takes us out of ourselves, the disassociation connected with the ‘flight’ side of the ‘fight or flight’ response. In less trauma-focused Aquarian terms, it is known as gaining perspective and taking the long view.

Quite honestly, I’m sometimes hesitant to write about trauma especially to a general audience. Therefore it might be worthwhile here to mention two things. First, it’s always helpful to keep in mind that when we are looking at a chart through a specific lens, it is not the only lens.

Second, the reincarnation or karmic lens invites us to bear in mind the fact that human history is full of some pretty horrific events. In my belief system, that helps me to understand that many people are born with a certain amount of PTSD. Perhaps some of us are here to work through that, and some are not. For those who fall in the former category, the Uranus-as-trauma-signature filter can be a useful way of bringing awareness to patterns. Mark Jones’ Healing the Soul and Patricia Walsh’s Understanding Karmic Complexes are fantastic resources for understanding Uranus in this way.

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The other day I was pondering Uranus’ correspondence with The Fool in the tarot. A tarot mentor of mine once told me that she sees The Fool as the scariest card in the tarot because it indicates an entirely new beginning and stepping off into the unknown.

As the card in the deck that is numbered zero and therefore falls at the end as well as the beginning, it completes the circle. The Fool arrives just after the mastery signified by the final card in the tarot, The Universe, which is a card also corresponding with Saturn. The structures have been identified and are ready to be tested, the limits are once again ready to be pushed beyond; and The Fool, that fantastic Uranian complex, is either greeted willfully and with conscious intention, or else a lightning strike bolts us in the next phase.

In my natal chart, Uranus lies in the 4th house in Scorpio. Themes of sudden loss of family members through traumatic death have been consistent since my early childhood. My life seems in many ways to be an experiment in shrugging off conditioning about what family looks like. Whether I’m inherently the black sheep or have consciously chosen to be so, in this life I get to create a new myth of what ‘blood ties’ look like. I am learning a lot about sudden loss and change.

Two days before I was set to lead the Uranus AstroCircle, I got a call from my mom who let me know that a family member had died, suddenly and traumatically. I was plunged back into the Uranian realm, with transiting Saturn having just moved away from my natal Uranus, which lies in Scorpio.

I then understood a bit more about the universe’s directive to have me focus once again on a Uranian configuration that really is at the crux of my natal chart. The AstroCircle was rescheduled, and I had a chance once again to revisit the archetype and my lived experience of it.

I’m not actually at a point in my life where writing out all of my Uranus stories seems like a great idea. I was, however, compelled to type out my thoughts, once again not entirely sure why, but trusting in the process. Hopefully it’s helpful in some way; I’d love to hear your thoughts on the topic.

After today, Mars will spend the rest of this year being symbolically moderated in Libra. If you correlate that Martian placement with Mercury moving to share the same degree of Scorpio with the Sun on Tuesday, indications are that your life will pose a question for you.

In essence, that question asks how you should modulate your own energies over the handful of days. Would it be more noble to tone down in sympathy with what appears to be a more thoughtful cosmic background?

Or will it be better to step on the gas and take action against any circumstances or conditions that might keep you from gathering momentum and making progress?

It’s not an easy question to answer. The astrology is not explicit one way or the other. In all probability what works for you will not work for everybody (or even anybody) else. The only apparent certainty is that maintaining inertia is not the answer. One way or the other, you will be called upon to make adjustments of some kind between today and Tuesday in order not to be left behind altogether.

In other words, being unable or unwilling to make at least some changes in your life as this week becomes next appears to be the only inappropriate reaction to what astrology implies the near future will hold. After that, it will be a matter of how you discern and define what it means to follow through.

One thing to keep in mind is that all of us have just started a new lunar cycle with yesterday’s New Moon in Scorpio. Hence you implicitly have a fresh start on your hands, which is good thing so long as you can open your mind and heart to a fresh approaches. So pause occasionally, take a breath and either look or ask for alternatives. For all you know what worked for you last Friday might have become a second-best strategy by tomorrow.  

With the Moon waxing and returning to visibility in mutable Sagittarius today, it should be instinctively easier to accept the need for change. That’s also a good thing so long as you are present to the difference between being instinctual versus being habitual.

Acting on instinct means trusting yourself. Acting on habit means trusting to routine. Therefore, experiment a bit. Try breaking with some of your more trivial habits and routines over the weekend. You will probably find that you gain in confidence whatever you lose in comfort.

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Once you find that your instincts can indeed be trusted, the Moon’s ingress to Capricorn on Sunday should set you up to initiate come constructive and grounded changes.

After that, the key will be to discern whether and when following through with one change means making another.

Since the Sun’s conjunction with Mercury on Tuesday will be accompanied by a fixed Aquarius Moon, you will once again be facing the same question we started with today: whether to be or not to be one with moderation and modulation.

For when you consider how every conjunction the Sun makes with Mercury means that Mercury will soon appear on a new horizon, you can see how Tuesday will represent a fork in the road. The Moon will take you one way, towards setting and sticking to the new course you settled upon over the weekend. Mercury will take you the other way, into a process of ongoing and additional change. Whatever choice you make, may it serve you well.

Between now and then, however, remember that any initiative you take, however small, will almost certainly trump inertia.

Offered In Service        

Dear Madame Z,

I am writing to you as I’m concerned for my very creative Pisces daughter. She is so artistic and I’ve always been supportive of her following her dreams. Her father (who is a Capricorn) can be demanding and not very supportive. She wants to go to the Art Institute and her father wants her to go to a big-name college. While she has the grades to get in, I know it isn’t her passion. What should I do?

— Supportive Mom

Dear Support Service,

Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to fine arts majors… That’s the tune, right? I guess you haven’t heard it. Anyway, I don’t usually take advice from country songs, and so forged on and got a B.F.A., anyway.

So it’s with a certain degree of sympathy that I read about your conflict. You’ve got a classic college conundrum on your hands:

Will the bright, young artist continue to feed her inner light and shine her personal vision out to the world; or will the Paine’s grey cloud of her father’s fears overshadow our heroine’s dreams, until she doubts herself so thoroughly she burns her brushes in the homecoming bonfire one night, and the next day enrolls herself in Quantitative Analysis of Virtual Consumer Outcomes 103?

It has great appeal, this conflict. The makings of a quintessential David vs. Goliath tale. Possibly a mini-series.

And yet much mystifies me about this letter. You’re very free with offering everyone else’s Sun sign, but forgot to include your own. Why? Just an oversight? Could be.

Here are other questions: Is this a split within an otherwise solid home front, or are we talking about divorced parents? And what’s at stake, financially? Who pays, and from what source(s)?

I ask because I wonder if you’d like me to pick a side: specifically, yours. This happens to astrologers occasionally. Dad is a mean and demanding GoatMan, but you are the opposite — supportive and compassionate. Of course, I can’t check that claim, because you’ve left out the bit that would allow me a peek into your motives and mind. Not exactly fair play, is that? Character assassination by Sun sign does no one any favors, least of all astrology. Without all the particulars it’d be unfair (not to mention inaccurate) of me to offer advice.

But let’s assume that in the rush to write this, you forgot to leave out your own Sun sign. Here are a few thoughts for you, not to be construed as strict advice.

Thought one: have you checked out the cost of college these days? Unless you’re laying out cold cash for your credits, look for creative options to get her studio hours in without sacrificing her financial future. Double major? Private internship? Look for option-itunity.

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Thought two: all Pisces, no matter their college major, have Saturn hanging out in their public service and career zone for the next two years. No matter your daughter’s education choice, she’s gonna work hard for credits.

Whether it’s dear old Dad, her portfolio review mentor, or the TA from Chem 101, someone from on high will expect much from her — and at times this expectation will feel onerous. Is dear daughter ready for old-fashioned hard work? If so, there’s a reward for her in a couple of years.

Thought three: “Passion” is a ready buzzword these days in parenting and education circles, where kids are continually taught and coached to “find their passions.” You say art is your daughter’s “passion.” The truth about most “passions” (even with self-described passionate people) is that intensity and focus waxes and wanes throughout a lifetime, a year, even a day! What happens when she gets to school, hits the brick wall of an indifferent (or unkind) prof, and suddenly loses her “passion” for mixed media?

The problem is that Passion is undeniably motivating, but like inspiration, it doesn’t always arrive when it’s convenient. Instead of relying on some generic, pre-packaged-in-convenient-doses form of personal “passion,” help her get to know her real feelings and experiment with the idea of passion. This may lead you both to new understanding about her college path.

All out of thoughts now,

Madame Z