Negative Energies and the “Dance of Liberation”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Despite the Zen-like title, I’m not going to take this essay in a philosophical direction (at least not entirely); my objective is to “normalize” (i.e. standardize) our approach to patently inauspicious tarot cards that will offer more substance than simply insisting “There are no bad cards.”
In her discussion of the Hanged Man in Tarot and the Archetypal Journey, Sallie Nichols hints at a unique solution to the conundrum of traditionally negative cards. Rather than being “hung out to dry and twisting in the wind” of an ignominious Fate, the dangling victim might be viewed as performing a “dance of liberation;” he has been relieved of external obligations by the fact of his involuntary suspension and can now plunge into the depths of his Unconscious to seek enlightenment. Nichols goes on to question why our reaction to such situations must invariably be “Woe is me, why did this happen?” Instead, we should ask ourselves “Why am I worthy of this opportunity?” She brings in Jung’s observation that “sacrifice” means “making sacred,” and also notes that inverting our physical posture to emulate the Hanged Man will bring a rush of blood to our head, oxygenating our brain and energizing our consciousness.
In his book, The Way of Tarot, Alejandro Jodorowsky takes a similar stance regarding the Tower; he sees it as depicting a liberating epiphany (or “bolt from the blue”) that frees us from past constraints. He goes so far as to ask himself “What shall I celebrate today?” when it shows up in a reading. If we expand this idea into other difficult cards, we begin to observe an interesting pattern. Whenever one appears in a spread, we might contemplate what we did (or failed to do) to bring ourselves to the point of being given a second chance to critically examine our previous misconceptions and thereby attempt to release ourselves from their iron grip. The goal should be to look back on any enabling precursors to our present dilemma as reflected in the card, process their message, and then — with that awareness in hand — move forward into what comes next. A challenging card can represent a sensitive turning-point in a situation where we realize just how far we’ve strayed from our intended path. We can then make a “mid-course correction” to get back on track. It might not provide a cause for celebration (I doubt the 10 of Swords would make anyone want to dance a jig), but it can proactively deflect us from merely dwelling on the negativity. (As James Wanless once said, “There are no bad cards, only opportunities.”)
Nichols presents a further insight that pointed me toward yet another foray into the significance of reversed cards, which many readers view as unfavorable (the cards, hopefully not my efforts). She mentions that some versions of the Hanged Man show coins falling from his pockets, suggesting that he must rid himself of external encumbrances to refocus his attention. Any reversed card in a reading could indicate that we must do the same with our preconceptions about how we should handle that card’s energy. Perhaps we have been trying to squeeze too much value out of its upright expression and now need to backtrack, revisiting our motives and intentions for wanting to do so and determining whether they were well-founded and fairly appraised. Reversal creates an opportunity to shake the accumulated debris out of our pockets and the cobwebs out of our brain, giving us a unique (although possibly oblique) perspective on our circumstances. In fact, I once characterized reversal as “having a Hanged-Man moment;” we must shelve our cherished assumptions about “how things ought to be” and give the situation a fresh look from a different angle.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on November 17, 2023.
