Numerological Counterparts and the “Blueprint for Perfection”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Mirroring the principles of natal astrology, it could be said with some justification that the basic “blueprint for self-realization” resides in the planetary correspondences for the first four numbered trumps of the tarot: the Magician (1) as Mercury, the High Priestess (2) as the Moon, the Empress (3) as Venus, and the Emperor (4) as Mars in the form of Aries (together comprising Air, Water, Earth and Fire), with the spiritual Sun in the Fool (0) as the animating “spark.” (These five qualities are the astrological “building-blocks” of the human psyche.) Jupiter as the Wheel of Fortune (10) comes along for the ride as the “quintessence” for this series (0+1+2+3+4=10), suggesting the development of the individual into a social being and the evolution of the Fool into double-digit diversity. This equation reflects the Pythagorean premise that the number Ten is “hidden” in the Four by way of addition. A more fanciful take on the Wheel of Fortune is my metaphor for the assertion of James Wanless that all of the trump cards in the form of “1x” have the Magician as a common “conductor” for their advancement: “The Magician is driving with the Fool in the back seat.”
Here I’m applying the concept of “numerological counterparts” to put a slightly different spin on this paradigm. Bear with me, it could take a couple of unexpected metaphysical detours.
The Magician as “1” has two numerological counterparts produced by “Theosophical reduction,” the Wheel of Fortune (10=1+0=1) and the Sun (19=1+9=10; 1+0=1). The initial “1” represents the “activated Self” or incipient identity as it takes its first purposeful step on the path to individuaton (consider it the opening “I” in that Jungian expression), with all of the tools for success laid out on the Magician’s table. The second “1” embodied in the Wheel of Fortune denotes the “applied Self” with a fully-formed goal in mind and the motivation to get there, while the final “1” of the Sun might be called the “authenticated Self” firing on all cylinders. These aspirations come together in a burst of creative achievement as the “perfected Self” (at least on the mundane plane of existence) in the Empress, the quintessence for the numerological sequence (1+10+19=30; 3+0=3). See the layout below.
Just a side note on the Wheel of Fortune. It was assigned the esoteric correspondence of Jupiter by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, apparently based on the role of Jupiter as the “Greater Benefic,” an augury of good fortune in traditional astrology. In modern terms, Jupiter is considered a planet of elemental Fire due to its rulership of Sagittarius and also because of its buoyant, expansive nature, but at various times during the evolution of classical astrology it was related to Air and even to Water (as ruler of Pisces) in the system of elemental “humours” (e.g. it is more temperately “sanguine” than “choleric” or “hot under the collar”). In my rethinking of the astrological correspondences for the Major Arcana, I shifted the Water sign Cancer from the Chariot to the Wheel of Fortune since its characteristic mood swings and the current opinion of the card share a similar “yin-and-yang” changeability, and I moved Jupiter to the Chariot as being more in line with that card’s goal-oriented nature. This is not as far out as it seems since Jupiter is exalted in Cancer and therein gains the flexibility and sensitivity of the Moon, so the correlation of symbolism dovetails rather neatly. But that is not my main focus here, and I will leave Jupiter where it is while realigning it elementally in accordance with its traditional rulership of the Water sign Pisces.
In this exercise, the reassignment of Water to Jupiter completes the elemental quadrature for my model of numerological perfection: the Magician as Mercury represents Air; the Wheel of Fortune as Jupiter stands for Water; the Sun is obviously Fire; and the Empress as an avatar of fertility signifies Earth. Metaphorically speaking, Fire and Air strive for the heights and Earth sinks to the depths but Water is capable of inhabiting both realms simultaneously, as evaporation at one extreme and as condensation (filling the cup of Earth, as it were) at the other, thus emulating the cyclical highs-and-lows of the Wheel’s rotation. This endless turning is reminiscent of the momentum of a waterwheel that drives the operation of an old-time grist mill, an analogy that places the Wheel of Fortune at a pivotal point in the three-card evolution. I appreciate the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in this regard, which elaborate on those of third-century Greek philosopher Sextus Empiricus:
“Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds He all.”
By “grinding off the rough exterior,” the mill symbolized by the Wheel of Fortune could be said to prepare the emerging individuality for its “place in the Sun.” The Wheel is interpreted as “cutting both ways” in current usage, sometimes fortunate but just as often unfortunate, which is at odds with the Golden Dawn’s assumption of its benevolence. However, this dual nature jibes perfectly with the notion of a “trial by fire” (umm, water?) as a necessity for personal sublimation. Putting this into practical form, let us suppose that a middle-aged man is at a turning point in life and wants some insight into what will come of an initiative that he is hoping will take him to another level. He will already have experienced some of the “surface grinding” mentioned above and now wants to put that forcibly streamlined profile to work. First I laid out the four archetypal factors of my model, then drew three cards and calculated the “quintessence” to match the template. My lengthy association with the tarot has convinced me that no combination of the 78 cards is unreadable, and this one is no exception.
The 3 of Pentacles as the “real-life” counterpart of the Magician reveals that the seeker is still very much in the planning stages of his metamorphosis (my “tarot euphemism” for this card is “Plan the work and work the plan”). He is not yet ready to distance himself from his support system but he has his eye on the door. If he remains clear-eyed and cool-headed like the Magician, all he has to do is await his opportunity.
The 8 of Cups suggests that what he used to value no longer pleases him (this disaffection could be his emotional “trial by water”). The array of Cups has always reminded me of a “gap-toothed grin” that is in desperate need of a dentist, and the man in the picture is heading off over the hill to find one in the 9 of Cups, which seems to have “teeth” to spare. I think what is important here is the quest and not the morose tableau. He has gotten past the point of feeling dismayed, and — having just navigated the low point in the situation — he has taken the first tentative steps away from desolation by plotting his withdrawal. It is strongly reminiscent of this verse from Tolkien’s song of the dwarves in The Hobbit:
“Far over the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold.”
The King of Cups strikes me as the “Mr. Nice Guy” of the tarot court, without a mean bone in his body. This King is related to the gentle, mystical sign of Pisces so it looks like an ideal “soft landing place” when fleeing the dismal 8 of Cups. But the King has one foot off the dais, implying restlessness, and he is gazing longingly at the Chariot, so the vision of salvation is only a comfortable rest-stop along the road and not a final destination. Its main danger is complacency engendered by the “siren call” of fleeting happiness that is “just passing through.”
The Chariot* as the quintessence card has echoes of the Wheel of Fortune in the archetypal sequence but it is more resolute. This guy is going someplace and is not just spinning his wheels. Progress in the Wheel is implied but not guaranteed; the Chariot has no “reverse gear” and success is more certain as long as he keep his foot on the gas, his eyes on the road and the rubber side down. The advice for the sitter in this case would be to stay focused on the objective since nothing but his own downtrodden attitude stands in his way. Better days are coming!
*Note that in my personal approach to the quintessence calculation I treat the Kings as “14.” If the King of Cups is left as unnumbered, the “quint” card becomes “11” (3+8=11), or Justice in the RWS deck. This works just as well for delivering the seeker’s “just desserts” as promised by the Wheel of Fortune, although it is a little more ambiguous.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on April 17, 2023.
