The Thoth 9 of Wands: Strength in Opposition
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve never been entirely satisfied with the title “Strength” (or its precursor, the Golden Dawn’s “Lord of Great Strength”) for the Thoth 9 of Wands as signifying the Moon in Sagittarius. The Moon is not particularly forceful at the best of times and Sagittarius is the most muted of the Fire signs. Crowley himself said “Here the Moon, the weakest of the planets, is in Sagittarius, the most elusive of the Signs; yet it dares call itself Strength. Defence, to be effective must be mobile.” By invoking the formula “Change equals stability; stability equals change” and using the analogy of learning to ride a bicycle, he implied that mobility and momentum are the twin keys to maintaining one’s equilibrium in unsettled conditions (as well as assuring the integrity of the entire operation). If we appreciate the duality inherent in the aphorism “The more things change, they more they remain the same,” we will have a good grasp of what Crowley meant. I suppose this could impart a degree of stabilizing strength, but to me it seems more like agility and adaptability. Anyone who has played a game of dodge-ball might well agree with me.
But Michael Snuffin, in The Thoth Companion, helped set me straight on the subject. I’ve always understood that this card is a glyph of the Sun in Tiphareth and the Moon in Yesod connected by the path of Temperance (Sagittarius, corresponding to the Hebrew letter Samekh); but the Sun seems to hold the power in this configuration while the Moon is merely receptive and reflective of its rays, hardly a reservoir of “strength,” and Temperance dispassionately mediates their interaction. The “unshakable force” described in the Golden Dawn’s Liber T seems to be better expressed by the Waite-Smith 9 of Wands, which also delivers a more accurate portrayal of the idea of “Great success, but with strife and energy. Victory preceded by apprehension and fear.” (I call it the “bloodied but unbowed” card in reference to the verse from William Ernest Henley’s poem Invictus: “Under the bludgeonings of chance/My head is bloody, but unbowed.”) Where the Waite/Smith card is redolent of angst and desperate courage that cast doubt on success, the Crowley/Harris version is much calmer and more cerebral in tone, befitting the Moon in Sagittarius despite the apparently misleading title.
Snuffin points out (without actually saying it) that the achievement of parity between the powers of these two major “lights” generates a significant increase in self-awareness. He writes: “The strength embodied within this card comes from the alignment and connection of the Sun, or conscious mind, with the Moon, the unconscious. This is accomplished through the path of Samekh, the directed will symbolized by the arrow of Sagittarius.” As far back as Papus, the arrow as a weapon of ranged attack was identified with the “directed will,” which one might reasonably suppose would originate in the Sun and terminate in the Moon. But on the Way of Return (e.g. from Malkuth at the bottom of the Tree of Life to Kether at the top) the flow of consciousness ascends the paths, and the role of Sagittarius is to elevate and illuminate the lunar subjectivity of Yesod by reuniting it with the solar objectivity of Tiphareth. Thus it reconciles the opposition of the two extremes shown in this card by drawing them together in a harmonious bond. (An old definition of the verb “to temper” meant to increase the toughness and durability of a metal, thereby enhancing its tensile strength and functional utility; this was obtained by repeatedly heating it in a furnace [Sun] and quenching it in water [Moon], with a bit of intermittent pounding or forging until the molecular structure was stabilized. You don’t want your sword shattering in the middle of combat.)
The Twos are associated with the sephira Chokmah (Wisdom) on the Pillar of Mercy and in the case of the 2 of Disks and the 2 of Cups are also relatable — through Jupiter and Venus — to Chesed and Netzach on the same pillar, creating a “symphony of parts.” The Queens are avatars of Binah (Understanding) on the Pillar of Severity, which is also the abode of Saturn; this gives the Queen of Cups and the Queen of Disks a slightly harder edge than might be assumed from their passive elements. I was once told by a love interest that I possess “a vast ocean of understanding,” but her hard-bitten Capricorn nature did not find it sufficiently compelling to prolong the relationship. (Oh, well, that was almost 50 years ago; my current Gemini/Libra wife appreciates me for my intellect.)
Because I have a dominant (Cardinal) opposition between the Sun and Moon in my astrological birth chart, I enlisted this premise to emphasize the relationship between the two as an embodiment of strength in my personality. An angular opposition can introduce friction between the energies of the planets involved because it can pull them in opposite directions, but it can also create an opportunity for enhanced visibility of their differences with an eye toward optimizing their cooperation. (One of the objectives of astrological delineation is to synthesize the components of the horoscope as a way to better understand their potential synergy.)
My Sun is in the first decan of Cancer, represented by the 2 of Cups (Love) under the umbrella of the Queen of Cups (Water of Water), while my Moon is in the first decan of Capricorn, reflected in the 2 of Disks (Change) surmounted by the Queen of Disks (Water of Earth). Below is a graphic display of their alignment; I placed the 9 of Wands between them to convey the idea of a covenant of strength linking the pairs. The Water cards occupy the solar end of the array while the Earth cards sit at the lunar end. (All images are copyright of US Games Systems Inc, Stamford, CT.)
The first thing of note is that the two Queens and the pair of Twos are elementally friendly even though their signs are at odds. This is one of the secrets of synthesizing an opposition: diametrically opposed signs always involve highly compatible elements, creating common ground for cooperation of any planets that reside in them. In this case both Queens are patient and contemplative while both Twos are changeable without being unstable; these Twos represent the Greater and Lesser Benefics of astrology: Jupiter in the 2 of Disks and Venus in the 2 of Cups, both of which bestow a congenial temperament.
Attaching the four to the 9 of Wands, the denser cards are softened by the mystical lunar embrace while the more fluid cards are volatilized by the solar heat. By expanding upon Aleister Crowley’s model of “natural forces” for the court cards, we could say that both Earth cards take on the quality of malleable clay while the Water cards are transformed into the motive force of steam. The 2 of Disks is already pliable even though — as Crowley notes — Jupiter has a hard time introducing ductility into flinty Capricorn, while the Queen of Disks can be conveniently tractable in her composure when it suits her purpose. The 2 of Cups is easily animated by emotional exuberance under the influence of the Sun, and the Queen of Cups can get “hot-and-bothered,” perhaps acting with uncharacteristic rashness.
Although I didn’t include it in the graphic, if I perform a “quintesssence” calculation by adding together the two instances of “13” (the Queens) and the pair of “Twos” I come up with “30,” which reduces to “3,” the Empress. Including the purely hypothetical 9 of Wands brings it to “39,” which also reduces to “3.” I really like this symbolism as an indication of my creative focus in life and (it is to be hoped) my talent for expressing it.
The upshot of this tableau is that the Earth cards are most likely the best place to seek strength in moral rectitude while the Cancer cards are decidedly more fun. Capricorn can use all the fun it can get while Cancer can benefit from a little more backbone; properly managed, their opposition can help to fill these voids. The equation of “Strength” is clearly skewed in favor of the responsible Moon in Capricorn and away from the less fastidious Sun in Cancer, which I believe is what Crowley intended for the 9 of Wands anyway. Let’s consider the Capricorn Moon as symbolizing the “strong, silent type;” now I just have to make the best use of it without intensifying the guarded coolness and secretiveness of my Scorpio Ascendant. But as Marty Feldman said to Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein, it’s probably “Too late!”
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on March 11, 2024.
