50: The Tarot • Part I: Tarot’s Origins & The Archetypes of The Collective Unconscious

The story of The Tarot begins in Egypt, over two thousand years ago, in the fabled city of Alexandria.

The locals call it: The Bride of the Mediterranean, for the way it marries the trade routes between East & West together. Making it one of the most important cities of the ancient world.

Founded in 331 BC by Alexander the Great, Alexandria is a melting pot of culture, home to Greeks, Christians, Jews, Egyptians and even the Gnostics, such as the sect of the infamous prophet, Basilides. It is also where the first writings of Hermeticism likely originate and the esoteric figure of Hermes Trismegistus begins.

This special place, which is so overflowing with culture and philosophy provided the rich black soil from which a tradition like The Tarot could be born.

And the material wealth of the city is equally revered by travelers. If you are approaching Alexandria by steed or by ship the first thing you see on the horizon is The Lighthouse of Alexandria piercing the sun. Considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, it is one of the tallest manmade structures of its time, greeting approaching ships with towering magnificence.

Each of the stone building’s four corners is adorned by a statue of Triton, son of Poseidon, depicted as a merman with a conch shell and a winding serpentine tail. Just above him is an enormous curved mirror which reflects the sun’s rays in the day, and under which, a fire blazes through the night.

At the peak of the lighthouse stands Zeus, watching over all the dramas of mortal life.

But the jewel of the city which makes it the intellectual capital of the world is The Great Library of Alexandria. Its notoriety is a beacon to scholars from every corner of the globe. More than just a library, it is called a Mouseion—meaning the ‘Seat of the Muses’. It’s from this word, mouseion, that in modern times we derive the name museum. In ancient times, such a place was dedicated to the nine muses, and we, by continuing to use the term, unknowingly carry on that tradition.

Though for the Greeks, the responsibility of dedicating a building to the muses is taken much more seriously. The Great Library is like a Temple to the arts—including lecture areas, gardens, and dedicated shrines for each of the nine muses. As such, we can assume it has priests, priestesses, and elders of wisdom within its walls.

The collection of scrolls, parchments, and documents which The Great Library holds is beyond impressive—estimates state that the full collection contains up to 400,000 scrolls—texts in every language, gathered over centuries, and from every country. An enormous wealth of knowledge. The Great Library employs 100 scholars throughout the year to analyze and translate these documents. Perhaps its there we could even find scrolls describing the engineering methods of the ancient Egyptians and how the pyramids were built. 

But all is not well outside the library’s illustrious walls. Wars, conquests, and struggles for land & power are a constant threat to Alexandria. The city would make for a fine jewel in the crown of any empire.

One such threat occurs in 78 BC, when Julius Caesar’s army, while fighting a civil war against the people of Alexandria, sets fire to the ships in the dock. The fire spreads through the city and even burns one of the buildings of the Great Library complex.

In the aftermath, the elders of wisdom—who are charged with protecting the treasures of the library—see where the shifting social and political tides are heading. If-and-when the city should fall into the hands of invaders, the library will surely be destroyed. The elders must now preserve the most important works of the collection.

Among of the Great Library’s prized items is an Egyptian book which contains the philosophies and symbols of the spiritual traditions of ancient Egypt—known as The Book of Thoth. It is a book of bound parchment pages rich with symbolic paintings showing pharaohs, priestesses, Gods, and figures of folklore. The elders know that should this rare book fall into the wrong hands it will be cast into the fire.

They hold a secret conclave to discuss the issue: how can they ensure the safety of this wisdom? How can they guarantee that even after the city falls, after they pass away, and the book is without their protection, that it will remain as a guide for future generations?

After much debate, they agree on the solution. 

The pages of the manuscript are torn out. The text is stacked in one pile and the paintings in another.

It is decided that the book’s symbolic art is sufficiently rich and universal to the human condition, such that the text is unnecessary. Anyone who approaches the artwork with curiosity and respect will unlock their teachings.

And so, they conceal the book of wisdom as a simple card game. That way, its teachings will be forever hidden in plain sight, but always available for seekers worthy of its mysteries.

It is no longer just a book—restricted to bound pages on a dusty library shelf. Now, it is something much more powerful: an idea. One which can have a life of its own—it can be reinvented and rediscovered with each generation. 

For ideas can survive even the fall of empires.

And thus the story of The Tarot begins.

Welcome to Creative Codex. I am your host, MJDorian.

On this episode we are going to explore the strange & profound tradition of The Tarot. It’s my hope that this episode will serve as both an introduction to The Tarot, for those new to the tradition, and an insightful exploration for those Tarot experts out there. So, wherever you are in your journey, I welcome you and thank you for joining us.

The core purposes of this episode will be to introduce The Tarot through its history. Where does the Tarot truly begin? Can it be traced back to Egypt or is the tradition much more recent in origin?

And secondly, we will attempt to answer the question: How do we understand the symbols of the cards? And why do they provoke such intense reactions from us? Throughout its history the cards have variously been claimed as a simple card game, a powerful divination tool, a creation of the devil, and a book of wisdom that compels your spiritual growth.

At the heart of all of these claims there is one uniting thread—the symbols themselves.

How do we understand them and why do they provoke us so much?

For this second objective, as we often do on this podcast, we will rely on the work of Dr. Carl Gustave Jung.

This is Codex 50: The Tarot • Part 1: Tarot’s Origins & The Archetypes of The Collective Unconscious.

Let’s begin.

 

Chapter 1: The Fool’s Journey

The story which opens this episode, is just that—a story. It is not historical fact. It is the myth of The Tarot.

Though all the other details about the fabled city of Alexandria, Egypt are true. Everything from the details involving the Lighthouse to the Great Library and the 400,000 scrolls, to the dedicated shrines of the nine muses within its complex—all true. And it is also true that in 78 BC, a fire started by Julius Caesar reached the Library complex. And finally, that The Great Library of Alexandria was destroyed and its contents burned sometime after 642 CE, when it was conquered by the Arab army led by commander Amr ibn al-As, a companion of Muhammad. Meaning we will never truly know how valuable its contents were—though all indications are, it was pretty priceless.

But what is not historical fact, and what we can’t verify is whether The Tarot truly started as an Egyptian Book of Wisdom. It is a myth—which livens debate and gives Tarot a soul rooted in the romanticized lands of Egypt. But like all myths, there is some grain of truth within the story which captivates us, and that’s why it persists.

Perhaps it’s the implication it presents—about the cruelty and idiocy of humans when at war. That given those circumstances we will destroy even the greatest wisdom of a people. So that we can say we have completely conquered them, by stomping out what they held most dear.

Or perhaps the truth in the myth is this sense that, when you handle the cards, there is something timeless at play. The symbols resonate above the dramas of mortal life. And hence, this feeling arises that they must come from a remote place in history like ancient Egypt.

So how do we attack this problem of Tarot’s origin?

We can start with these questions:

What is the earliest mention of Tarot in historical documents?

And: What are the earliest surviving Tarot cards and what do they look like?

The earliest mention of The Tarot comes to us from an unlikely source: a sermon by a Catholic priest warning against the vices of gambling. He lists all the various games of chance: dice throwing, playing cards, and Tarot cards.

As we listen to the text, make note that the priest does not use the Italian term tarocchi—which was likely a later name for the cards—but instead he uses the Latin term Triumphorum. In English we would translate this term as the Triumphs—and that’s how you will hear them referred to in this translation—Triumphs. The official title of this sermon is Sermones de Ludo cum Aliis, which roughly translates as Sermons About Games. It is from the mid-1400’s. You can imagine a priest giving this sermon to a congregation around the 1450’s in Renaissance Italy. It states:

“…there are three kinds of games of chance, namely: dice, cards, and triumphs.

All of these, according to Thomas and many others, were invented by the devil…

(…as can be demonstrated by examining each one in the following manner. In the primitive Church, throughout all cities, episcopal sees, parish churches, and chapels were built, and bishops, parish priests, chaplains, and sacristans were appointed to preserve the relics of saints, altars, chalices, and hosts. All the faithful flocked to the churches, especially on Christmas.

Such was the divine praise with songs, organs, etc., that the whole world and the air were filled with praises. Consequently, the demons fled to hell. Lucifer, the great demon, asked them why they had fled. Then a certain demon named Azarus rose and parabolically explained the entire cause of the flight, saying:

“But if you obey me, I will subvert everything they have done, turning it into an insult to God and into your own glory.”

“And what will you do?” Lucifer asked.

“I will establish,” replied Azarus, “in cities, castles, and villages, an episcopate or fraudulency, along with a fraudulent bishop. And on Christmas night, more people will come to my church than God’s. Our parish churches shall be taverns. Our priests shall be innkeepers. Our chapels shall be shops, and the chaplains shopkeepers.

Our sacristies shall be butcher shops where our relics, namely dice, the bones of our sacred beasts, will be kept. Cards will become images. The altar will be a table. The consecrated stone will be a gaming board. The chalice will be a wine cup. The host will be a gold coin. Our missal will be the dice: the pages and triumphs of this missal will be the cards.)

…Regarding the second kind of games, namely cards, I say that if players pondered their meanings, they might avoid them. In cards, there are four suits: coins, symbolizing monetary instability for gamblers; cups, showing the poverty to which players often descend, lacking even a cup; clubs, standing for spiritual desolation; and swords, representing the shortness of the gambler’s life, as they often end in violence. Gamblers are among the most despairing sinners. When frustrated by lost games or failure to obtain the desired result, they blaspheme God, pound dice, and curse themselves or their associates with violent rage.

Concerning the third type of games, triumphs, there is no activity in this world more hateful to God. In these games, every shame to Christian faith is manifest, as will be shown. These cards, labeled “triumphs,” were named by their infernal inventor, as in no other game does the devil triumph this much in soul destruction. Not only are God, angels, planets, and the cardinal virtues disgracefully depicted and named, but the highest luminaries of the world—the Pope and the Emperor—are insultingly forced into play. This is absurd and a great insult to Christians. There are 21 Triumphs, matching the 21 steps of the aforementioned ladder descending to hell.

The cards are numbered as follows:

The Juggler; The Empress; The Emperor; The High Priestess; The Pope; Temperance; Love; The Triumphal Chariot; Strength; The Wheel; The Hermit; The Hanged Man; Death; The Devil; The Arrow; The Star; The Moon; The Sun; The Angel; Justice; The World; The Fool.

Such is the descent of these games into perdition.”

And there you have it. Not only is this sermon a denunciation of gambling, but the priest places a marked emphasis on the cards of the Tarot themselves—specifically in their role as a game—saying ‘there is no activity in this world more hateful to God.’

Wow, really? Not even sexual assault of children by members of the clergy? Or decades of coverups by the highest offices of the church? That’s a little lower on God’s No-No List than some drawings on card-stock? Oooook.

But we digress.

This sermon from the 1400’s provides us, rather ironically, with valuable insights into the early history of The Tarot. I’m sure that wasn’t his intention when penning this screed.

For one, the priest seems to make a distinction between the traditional playing cards and the Triumphs as he calls them. This is strange, because modern Tarot decks are 78 cards, not only 22, yet it seems the priest is referring to Tarot in only 22 cards and the other 56 cards as a separate game. He mentions the playing cards having four suits, and note how these suits don’t match up with the suits of modern playing cards, they are: coins, cups, clubs, and swords. These are the same suits used in the full standard 78 card Tarot decks.

We can now see a picture forming: it is possible that in its earliest form, The Tarot began as a game called The Triumphs, which only included the 22 cards known today as the Major Arcana. While the 56 cards we know as the Minor Arcana, which share the same suits, was a separate game. Could it be that it was sometime in the 1400’s when people began to mix the two sets of cards together for games or divination? We’ll revisit this soon.

Now, not only does the sermon confirm the existence of The Tarot as a card game during The Renaissance period, but it also provides us with a confirmation that The Tarot’s most famous cards existed as part of the deck even in this early form—600 years ago. Cards such as:

The Emperor, The Empress, The Pope, The Popess, Temperance, Love, The Chariot, Strength, The Wheel, The Devil, The Hermit, The Hanged Man, The Fool, and even The World.

Think about that—we have confirmation that this series of 22 cards has not changed in 600 years. Despite it being exported from Italy to France to England to the Americas, these 22 cards have remained in tact, with only minor aesthetic variations—such as the way in which the figures are depicted, but not their allegorical signature.

Think about it: The Tarot is older than the United States, older than Great Britain, and very likely predates this particular sermon by at least a hundred years. It’s my impression that The Tarot did not originate in the royal courts, but they were first cards used by peasants and the working class. In that regard, they provided value to the local communities as both a game and a rich divination tool which eventually made its way up to the aristocracy. Which is precisely when the Catholic church began to take notice—and it was relegated to God’s No-No List.

Now, before we can unearth the earliest surviving Tarot cards, we have to ask:

What constitutes a Tarot deck? What is its structure? And furthermore, what distinguishes it from a regular deck of playing cards?

A standard deck of Tarot is 78 cards. That’s a lot, but that’s it. And that’s the way it’s been since the 1400’s.

These 78 cards are divided into two sections or smaller decks: the Major Arcana & the Minor Arcana. The word arcana is Latin for secret. So within the very names of the deck we already have implications of secret wisdom or keys to wisdom.

The Major Arcana is composed of 22 cards, these are numbered in sequential order with Roman numerals from I to XXI, with The Fool being 0 or remaining unlabeled. These are the cards mentioned by name in the gambling sermon.

Think back and remember the first time you handled a deck of Tarot cards. If you recall the effect they had on, then you can’t really fault Catholic priests for thinking they contain some kind of power.

I remember the first time I flipped through the 22 Major Arcana cards about 22 years ago. The array of symbolism that continuously hit my eyes was honestly overwhelming. I felt like I was trying to grasp a tradition foreign to me—22 doors for which I had no keys.

But the longer I spent reflecting on even one card—the longer I let my consciousness soak in it—the more the cards drew out of me. In The Emperor I saw my father. In the Empress, my mother. In the Hierophant I saw a Catholic priest from my upbringing. In The High Priestess, one of my first girlfriends. In The Hermit I saw…myself…alone in my room, working through songs and books. Coming home after work on a Friday night instead of going out with coworkers, much preferring the company of a good movie and a beer in my solitude. These cards were quite literally the cast of characters in the drama of my life.

Then there are less obvious figures who represent some larger concepts: cards such as The Wheel of Fortune, The Sun, Strength, Temperance, Death, The Tower, Justice, and so on. And for some unknown reason, a reason lost to us which we can only theorize on, each card of the Major Arcana has a Roman numeral, which places them in a specific ascending order—except for The Fool.

Curiously, although The Fool is mentioned in the sermon when listing all the cards of The Triumphs, it is not included when the priest tells us the number of cards—he says 21 instead of 22. This further implies the strange status of The Fool in even the earliest decks—he is a liminal figure, phasing in and out of existence. Much like our soul in stages of reincarnation.

In modern Tarot decks, The Fool is placed at the start of the Major Arcana, to symbolize the beginning of a journey—both in the spiritual and psychological sense.

But traditionally, the further back one looks at older Tarot cards, we see The Fool without even the number 0, and his position is sometimes at the end of the Major Arcana, or before The World, or considered a separate entity entirely, which can appear anywhere in the sequence like a wild card. This beautiful uncertainty leaves the door open for our own narratives to emerge.

Now, each of the cards of the Major Arcana have a unique identity of their own—a kind of essence—with an allegorical signature, which Tarot readers, Qabalists, and occultists study.

There are many theories about how to understand the progression from Fool to The World in the 22 card layout. One popular method is to arrange the cards in three horizontal rows of seven cards each. With The Fool placed above or to the left side, in both cases separate from the three rows, representing the individual or the soul in its journey through the allegories of the Major Arcana. This calls to mind William Blake’s statement that allegory is the most sublime form of poetry.

What is allegory? It’s metaphorical imagery used to convey wisdom or moral teachings. This is one of the most ancient functions of art. When you look at Medieval paintings in a church or Roman sculptures in a museum, you are seeing allegory, when you listen to Native American folk tales or admiring the carvings on the walls of Egyptian pyramids—these are allegory—metaphorical imagery used to convey wisdom or moral teachings.

This is also the method used by Western Esoteric traditions such as alchemy, Freemasonry and the Hermetic tradition—these all use allegory in their art. And this is the same method by which The Tarot cards are designed.

Now, if you have a Tarot deck on hand, I really recommend you try this next part. We’ll try something together to understand the deeper significance of these Triumph cards. For those of you who may not have a Tarot deck, I’ve included some useful diagrams in the companion gallery for this episode at mjdorian.com/tarot

A link for that is also in the episode description.

Take the 22 cards of the Major Arcana, separate The Fool, and arrange them in sequential order in three rows of seven. So cards 1 through 7 in the top row, cards 8 through 14 in the second row underneath, and cards 15 through 21 in the third row. You should now have three rows of seven with each of the first row’s cards lining up with two cards below them.

For example: on the leftmost column you’ll have cards I, VIII, and XV—The Magician, Strength, and The Devil—lining up vertically.

Once you’ve arranged the Major Arcana like this, imagine each row as a level of progression in your psychological or spiritual growth. We can see them as domains of experience.

Starting from the top row followed by the two rows beneath it we can interpret the cards as: the material, the psychological, and the spiritual. Or some see it as: conscious mind, unconscious, and super-conscious.

Using this framework of three rows of seven, we have in the first row, in ascending order: The Magician, The High Priestess, The Empress, The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Lovers, The Chariot. These representing aspects of the conscious mind or progress on the material plane.

The second row: Strength, The Hermit, The Wheel of Fortune, Justice, The Hanged Man, Death, and Temperance. These representing aspects of the unconscious or progress in deeper psychological growth.

In the third row: The Devil, The Tower, The Star, The Moon, The Sun, Judgement, and The World. These representing aspects of the soul or one’s spiritual progress.

This is one popular way to understand the Major Arcana but there are yet other useful frameworks with which to view this series of 22 cards. Some Tarot practitioners see the progression of the Major Arcana as the embodiment of a hero’s journey with The Fool representing the hero and ending with The World, a symbol of completion. And still others use the theories of Dr. Carl Jung to posit that the 22 sequential cards depict the psychological process of individuation.

All of these are equally valid ways of framing the cards. Very much like a spiritual practice, religion, ideology, or philosophy gives one a framework with which to make sense out of the complexity of life. These frameworks help make sense out of the complexity of The Tarot.

I think that’s what we fail to notice about both life and The Tarot. What we often call chaos is really another name for a complexity outside our comprehension.

Now, what about the Minor Arcana?

This subsection of the Tarot is composed of 56 cards, which are distinguished from the Major Arcana by four suits which we mentioned earlier: pentacles, wands, cups, and swords. In Tarot reading, it is generally understood that each suit corresponds with certain domains of the individual’s life.

Pentacles correspond with all material matters, such as money.

Wands correspond with ruling desires, such as one’s passions and creativity.

Cups correspond with emotions and relationships.

Swords correspond with thoughts, reason and the intellect.

As you can see, the interplay between these associations in the suits of the Minor Arcana combined with the allegorical imagery of the Major Arcana creates a rich tapestry of potential associations—all the more perfect for the practice of divination.

Now, each of the suits in the Minor Arcana has 14 cards, which are grouped as ten number cards, going from Ace to Ten, and four court cards: Page, Knight, Queen, and King. Unlike the Major Arcana, none of these include Roman Numerals on the cards—this is perhaps another clue as to the theory that The Tarot was originally two separate decks.

There are yet other frameworks with which to view the cards. Some Tarot theorists, like Alejandro Jodorowsky—the famed director of films like Holy Mountain—go so far as to say that the entire 78 card structure of The Tarot forms a three dimensional mandala. He wrote an entire book elaborating this concept and I have say its pretty convincing, check out The Way of Tarot by Alejandro Jodorowsky for more on that.

With all of that in mind, you can perhaps see that there is no one dogmatic and linear interpretation for understanding the cards—but this is the great strength of The Tarot—it is, by its nature, irrational. It is not fixed in place. Allowing it to be reborn with each generation. The rich symbols and allegories of the cards draw these associations and narratives out of us.

So when is the earliest surviving deck of Tarot cards from and what does it look like?

The earliest set of cards that historians agree is a Tarot deck is the Visconti-Sforza deck. It was commissioned by the Duke of Milan and created sometime in the 1440’s in Milan, Italy. Notably, 15 versions of this deck survive which are located in museum collections around the world. But each deck is incomplete in varying degrees, for example: one deck contains 48 cards while another 74, and still in others only one card has survived.

What makes the Visconti-Sforza decks special is that each card was hand painted 600 years ago.

This was long before the printing methods we are accustomed to today, so if more than one person wanted to have such a richly illustrated Tarot deck, the artist would have to create another from scratch. The Visconti-Sforza deck was created during the Renaissance in Italy, a time when craftsmanship was a highly prized commodity. The original cards even had gold and silver leaf accents.

The deck bears its name from the two Dukes of Milan who are credited with commissioning it: Filippo Maria Visconti and his successor from 1450, Francesco Sforza. Some historians believe that the Tarot deck may have been first commissioned by Visconti for his son-in-law Sforza as a wedding present in the 1440’s, as the timelines do matchup.

Sforza was marrying into the Visconti noble family, by wedding Bianca Maria Visconti, who was Filippo Visconti’s daughter. Sforza and Bianca would go on to have 9 children. The history of the Visconti and Sforza families of Milan is so bizarre that it could give Game of Thrones a run for its money. The book, The Encyclopedia of Tarot gives us some background, here are the main takeaways:

First, in 1350, there was Bernabo Visconti, Lord of Milan, considered one of the most ruthless tyrants of the century. He had 15 children with his wife and 20 children with his mistresses. In 1385, Bernabo was overthrown in a coup by his nephew, Giangaleazzo Visconti, who locked his uncle up in prison—and poisoned him good measure. That was the end of Bernabo.

Now in power, Giangaleazzo extended his reign into regions of northern Italy, he also purchased the hereditary title of Duke from the emperor of Germany, King Wenceslas, and then…died of the plague in 1402. That was the end of Giangaleazzo.

His successor, Giovanni Maria Visconti, was, by all accounts—a vicious bastard. Surprise surprise. But his reign only lasted ten years—when he was assassinated in front of a church in 1412. Bye bye Giovanni.

Finally, the third Duke of Milan was then Filippo Maria Visconti. Perhaps an exception in the Viscont line he was a charming fellow. He married a woman twice his age—very nice—but this was mainly to ’secure her wealth and the loyalty of her dead husband’s troops’. Aaaand shortly after, he had her beheaded in 1418 on charges of adultery. :: draw breath :: Ouch.

And so, as Filippo Visconti was nearing the end of his years he arranged the marriage of one of his illegitimate daughters, Bianca Maria with Francesco Sforza. And it is possibly  their wedding present which provides us with our first surviving Tarot cards: The Visconti-Sforza deck.

It’s quite a history. And kind of reassuring to know that looking back from our seemingly troubled times, we see that coups, assassinations, and betrayals have always been a part of civilization. Maybe we should aim a little higher.

But we digress.

We’ve come to a point in our Tarot journey where we have to face the question: Is it a game, is it a divination tool, or is it a Book of Wisdom?

Well, for the sake of argument, let’s say we use the Visconti-Sforza deck as our starting point. Is there any symbolism on this deck which would imply we are dealing with an esoteric tradition?

Throughout the cards, there do appear to be unexplained symbols which appear on the fabrics, shields, and hats of the figures depicted. I’ve included examples of these on the companion gallery for this episode, which you can view at mjdorian.com/tarot

For example: The Emperor’s crown includes a black eagle, the Empresses gown includes a repeating motif of three interlocking circles, and the King of Sword’s shield depicts a haloed lion. What are these symbols? At first glance it would appear they have esoteric significance.

Though historians of The Tarot, such as author, Stuart R. Kaplan, point us in a different direction. They argue that these are heraldic devices—meaning, they are symbols, which in that time period functioned as visual signatures of certain noble families. If you were part of a noble family, you would want to distinguish your home and prized possessions with your symbol—oftentimes it would be an animal denoting strength. Everyone would then recognize this royal mark.

In Kaplan’s book, The Encyclopedia of Tarot, he writes this about the heraldic devices shown on The Empress card:

“She wears a gold crown over a head scarf that drapes softly across her shoulders. In her left hand is a shield—possibly just decorative or her husband’s jousting shield. It is emblazoned with the black eagle of the Emperor Wenceslas, a device the Viscontis and later the Sforzas adopted. The heraldic device of three interlaced diamond rings is repeated on her royal robe; the rings symbolize eternity, and the diamonds, invincibility.”

This is an interesting point. But why would the Visconti and Sforza families adopt the black eagle of the German King Wenceslas? Well, it was Giangaleazzo Visconti, in the late 1300’s who purchased the royal title of Duke from King Wenceslas—thereby establishing the Viscontis as royalty.

You also see this black eagle depicted on the ornate hat worn by the emperor in The Emperor card. And Kaplan argues there are yet more heraldic devices such as the fountain and the lion which appear throughout the deck. This is interesting because most Tarot decks show the Ace of Cups as a fountain and the court cards as holding such a fountain in minature, but Kaplan writes:

“The sixty-seven card Cary-Yale pack contains the heraldic device of a large fountain decorating the garments of the queen, female knight and male page in the suit of staves. This fountain is believed to have been a heraldic device bestowed on Francesco Sforza after he successfully completed the campaign during which his father drowned.”

Could it be that the Visconti-Sforza deck was so well known in its time that it influenced the use of a fountain for all succeeding depictions of the cups suit?

Or would Tarot artists have used the fountain regardless of whether it appeared as a heraldic symbol related to Sforza?

It’s clear that the fountain is a loaded image that carries with it a depth of symbolism and myth—think baptismal fountain or the fabled fountain of youth. So I think it’s likely that even if the Visconti-Sforza deck was never created, artists would’ve still utilized that powerful symbol in future Tarot designs.

In my personal opinion, having studied the Visconti-Sforza deck, I suspect it was intended for use as a card game that was branded, in a sense, with the heraldic imagery of the two noble families intended as its recipients. But we have to agree that the chances the Visconti-Sforza deck is the first Tarot deck are very very low. It’s much more likely that The Tarot was already being used by peasants and the working class long before it became popular enough with nobility to warrant a golden deck. But of course, those decks belonging to common people would have been made with cheaper paper and materials—and that is why no examples of Tarot exist before 1450.

Let’s for a second, assume the historians are right, and entertain this notion that Tarot was initially designed as only a card game which doesn’t have roots in ancient Egypt. If this is the origin story of the Tarot, it doesn’t solve the entire puzzle. We still have to contend with this paradox:

What is it about the symbols in this specific deck of cards — this game — that provokes so much emotion out of us? And what makes it so ideal for divination practices?

We’ll explore that right after the break.

INTERMISSION

And now it’s time for a brief intermission.

I hope you’re enjoying this deep dive expedition into The Tarot. I really wanted to approach this series with the same passion as I approach the life and work of any of the creative geniuses we usually cover on the show. Likewise, The Tarot is a work of genius, and it has many stories to tell.

If you’re enjoying this episode please—share it with someone. It could be a friend, a family member, or a coworker—perhaps your office buddy in macrodata refinement—if you remember that is.

Whoever you share it with just know that you are helping this little independent show succeed. This is not a podcast with Russian oligarch sponsors or even American oligarch sponsors. I built this thing from the ground up, brick by brick, but it is you—the listener—who helps keep this show growing. And I thank you in advance for that.

On that note, a few months from now, you may begin to start hearing an ad read on the long-form Creative Codex episodes. I’ve been trying to put this off for as long as possible, in fact, almost seven years. But we’re approaching a point where I want to dedicate more of my time and energy to the Creative Codex vision.

I want to produce and release these episodes more frequently, I want to do more video specials on YouTube, more Patreon exclusives, I want to write several books on subjects covered in the show, and I want to create a Creative Codex live show. I’ve reached a point now where I understand that I can’t physically do all of these things unless I have more free time to do them. It’s not a question of inspiration or motivation—it’s a question of time.

Right now I work three part-time jobs to pay the bills. If I can drop even one of those part-time jobs I can dedicate three more days of my week to fulfilling this vision. There’s two things which will help me accomplish that: more Patreon supporters and some ad sponsors. The income support of those two things combined will allow me to quit one of my jobs and bring even more of this vision to life. So that’s where we are right now.

Rest assured, I’m not planning to throw twenty ads in per episode. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your listening experience. It will be done as thoughtfully as everything with this show is. And as an added bonus for Patreon supporters, the episodes will also be made available ad-free on my Patreon.

On the flip-side, if my Patreon grows to double what it is now by the middle of this year I will forego ads entirely. Unlike most shows, I don’t hide how much my Patreon is making at any given time, you can check it out for yourself. Patreon.com/mjdorian. Right now it’s at $1,730 per month. If we get that to $3,500 by the middle of this year, then I won’t need to do ads and I’ll quit one of my jobs. So that’s the other possibility.

On the topic of my Patreon, a few days after the release of this Tarot episode, I’m going to post a special episode exclusive on there which will be an analysis of the cards of the Major Arcana. As I was working on this series I realized how useful it would be to also have a guide for the meanings of the Major Arcana—especially for listeners new to the cards.

This guide will be released in three parts, each of those episodes will run through roughly seven cards. And the meanings of each card will be compiled from the best interpretations of the Major Arcana cards that I’ve found. I will be sharing direct quotes from the writings of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s book The Way of Tarot, Rachel Pollack’s Tarot classic Seventy Eight Degrees of Wisdom, and the Jungian approach to Tarot’s symbolism by Sallie Nichols from her book Tarot and the Archetypal Journey. There will also be a text version of these breakdowns available.

Using these three sources will help us to triangulate the meaning and importance of each card. Those exclusive episodes will be titled The Tarot: An Exegesis of the Major Arcana. And you can find them on my Patreon at patreon.com/mjdorian. It’s gonna be a blast. This is in addition to the other goodies such as the monthly Red Book Reading series, and the Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison episodes.

With that, I thank you in advance for your support. Now let’s get back to it.

Without further ado, we return to Tarot’s Origins and The Archetypes of The Collective Unconscious.

 

Chapter 2: The Archetypes of The Tarot

As we confirmed in the last chapter, The Major Arcana—as a system of symbols—has not changed in 600 years. If you compare the Visconti-Tarot to any modern Tarot deck, such as the Waite-Smith, you will not only notice their structural similarities—78 cards, two subsections of 56 and 22, four suits, four court cards, etc. but you will also see that the characters of the Major Arcana remain consistent. There is something that feels right about them and at the same time something that feels timeless. It is this impression of timelessness which is a hint to their true nature—they are archetypes.

In Analytical Psychology—the school of thought developed by Dr. Carl Jung—it is often said that one can recognize the presence of an archetype in your dreams by its numinous and timeless quality. The figure before you seems to radiate with an energy of its own, as if it’s not wholly contained in the domain of the conscious mind, but is visiting from elsewhere. Perhaps you’ve had dreams like this, where you interact with a person or an animal that seems to vibrate with a presence. And we are not talking metaphysically here, this effect describes the lasting psychological impression that the figure leaves.

As you spend time with the cards of the Major Arcana, you eventually notice a similar effect. And it’s also this effect, which perhaps makes some people fear the cards—like that priest from the gambling sermon. They sense an energy they don’t understand, one which their ideologies and / or religion has not given them a framework to engage with.

So, to help us better understand what we are dealing with here we need to reacquaint ourselves with archetypes: What are they? And where do they come from?

And for that, we return to Jung.

In his book, Man & His Symbols, Jung mentions that it was Sigmund Freud who first noticed certain patterns in the dreams of patients which did not belong to the personal realm. Freud referred to these as ‘archaic remnants’. In Man & His Symbols, Jung writes:

“…we have to take into consideration the fact (first observed and commented on by Freud) that elements often occur in a dream that are not individual and that cannot be derived from the dreamer’s personal experience. These elements, as I have previously mentioned, are what Freud called “archaic remnants” mental forms whose presence cannot be explained by anything in the individual’s own life and which seem to be aboriginal, innate, and inherited shapes of the human mind.”

Jung elevates these ‘archaic remnants’ in his psychological theories into much greater importance than Freud, and he renames as archetypes. He goes on in the following text to state that the archetypes are synonymous with our instincts. This is a pivotal argument as it takes something skeptics may at first see as vague terminology and he grounds it in the fibers of our being. We all know the compulsions of instinct, we often feel them on a daily basis: the instinct to eat, the instinct to move ourselves in the environment and not sit still, the survival instinct that kicks in when you feel physically or socially threatened, the instinct for sex, and so on.

These have their influence on us, often whether we like them to or not. It brings to mind a phrase from the poet W.H. Auden, who wrote: “We are lived by powers we pretend to understand.”

Jung uses the instincts as an example of a pattern of behavior which falls outside of our conscious control. These tendencies are something inherited not something learned. And if we accept that those things influence our physical action in the exterior world, is it really such a stretch to consider that there are also instinctual patterns of thought shared by all humans which we can recognize in our dreams, myths, and decisive life moments. And when these patterns of thought make their way into our conscious view, they become represented symbolically. These are archetypes.

Jung continues in Man & His Symbols, saying:

“My critics have incorrectly assumed that I am dealing with “inherited representations,” and

on that ground they have dismissed the idea of the archetype as mere superstition. They have failed to take into account the fact that if archetypes were representations that originated in our consciousness (or were acquired by consciousness), we should surely understand them, and not be bewildered and astonished when they present themselves in our consciousness. They are, indeed, an instinctive trend, as marked as the impulse of birds to build nests, or ants to form organized colonies.”

In his book The Archetypes and The Collective Unconscious, Jung reiterates this point, saying:

“…there is good reason for supposing that the archetypes are the unconscious images of the instincts themselves, in other words, that they are patterns of instinctual behavior.”

So if the archetypes are not thought patterns we acquire from the external world, where do they originate from?

Enter one of Jung’s most misunderstood theories: the collective unconscious. We spent a good deal of time exploring the subject of the collective unconscious in my Jung & Alchemy series, those are episodes 39 through 42 in the main podcast feed—it’s chockfull of explorations of every one of Jung’s theories so I highly recommend you give that a listen.

Now, what is the collective unconscious?

In the book, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Jung writes:

“My thesis, then, is as follows: In addition to our immediate consciousness, which is of a thoroughly personal nature and which we believe to be the only empirical psyche (even if we tack on the personal unconscious as an appendix), there exists a second psychic system of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature which is identical in all individuals. This collective unconscious does not develop individually but is inherited. It consist of pre-existent forms, the archetypes, which can only become conscious secondarily and which give definite form to certain psychic contents.”

Jung developed this theory from researching the myths, religions, and dream material of people around the world. What you find when you do this is that even when cultures are remote and have no foreign influences, there are universal themes and figures which they share in their myths, religions, and dreams. There are figures like the hero, the magician, the divine mother, the God, nature, death, the warrior, the witch, the maiden, demonic figures, and so on.

They are not born of culture. We could instead say ‘the bones of culture are made of the archetypes.’ If you look at the goddess Kali in Hinduism, you will see a representation of the dark feminine, if you look at the demon-goddess Lilith in Judaism, you will see a representation of the dark feminine. The similarities they share are not in their outward aesthetic appearance, but in the essence of what they represent.

To Jung, this is no coincidence, it is instead an example of the existence of inherited forms in our psyche—deep down in the substrata layers. And when we read a good story or watch a good movie, these forms resonate and are called upward—their stories come alive again.

Likewise when we flip through the Major Arcana of The Tarot, and one card seems to draw us in more than the others, a similar effect is occurring. Perhaps in that period of our lives we are more aligned with a certain archetype and notice this sensation of curiosity through a sympathetic resonance.

For example, I’ve always felt an affinity for The Hermit card—I feel there is a sacredness to solitude which is hard to find when other people are around. Solitude is also an ideal space for creative work. In that regard, I recognize this symbolic form of the hermit or the ascetic and its pronounced presence in me.

Or if you are going through a tumultuous time in your life, perhaps a painful breakup or losing your job, and while flipping through the cards you notice The Tower card. You point to it and you say “Yes, this is how I feel right now…” The Tower resonates with this archetype of a cataclysm event or apocalypse. This is an archetypal experience.

And it’s true, when we are experiencing some intense emotional pain, grief, or uncertainty we say things like “I feel like my entire world is crashing down…” It draws on that archetypal experience of a cataclysm. And if you examine your dreams around that time, or leading up to that time, you will likely find indications of cataclysmic events your unconscious is presenting in the theatre of your mind: a flood, your house on fire, a monster rampaging through town, etc. Something about the structure of your reality being upended.

But it’s important to point out, in the context of Tarot reading, something like The Tower card is not strictly negative. The cards are often seen in context. The Tower is most often interpreted as a major change or a paradigm shift. The crown—a symbol of traditional hierarchies—has been forcefully ejected from the top of the tower by lightning, and the man and woman fall out onto the cliffs. It is about societal structures and hierarchies in one sense but you’ll also often see it interpreted as a spiritual awakening. Contrary to popular belief, a spiritual awakening isn’t always a pleasant experience.

So what is the benefit of these images? And why can’t the unconscious just come out and speak to us in English? Haha, I feel like Philomena Cunk. But it’s a valid question.

Why can’t the unconscious just tell us “hey, your issues with your father are mucking up your ability to have self confidence.” Why does it instead choose to speak to us through nightly interactive theatre productions?

In my understanding from reading Jung’s many works, this facet of the unconscious to speak through metaphor and imagery is not just a theory—it’s an observable phenomenon. Over the course of his entire life, Jung analyzed thousands of dreams of patients, myths of indigenous cultures, and the visions of people suffering from schizophrenia, and he found that the unconscious communicates in this way—through imagery and metaphor.

We can argue, of course, about the efficiency of such a system all we want, we can say “Mr. Unconscious this is very outdated, we need to upgrade you to the language of chat-bots now.”

We can fight it all we want…but at the end of the day, we all lay our head on our pillow every night and pay a visit to our unconscious—where we live in its world for a bit. Try to bring your commonsense and rationality in there, see what happens.

This is the domain of The Tarot. This is why some people have a violent aversion to the practice of Tarot. It is inherently an irrational act. You have to accept that you are engaging in something that makes no logical sense. That makes some people very uncomfortable.

To believe in Tarot is to believe in the merits of the irrational.

I read my cards routinely and I will be the first to admit this. It makes absolutely zero sense how asking a question directed at a deck of cards, then drawing three cards from 78 and flipping them over will produce any meaningful answers. I know—it is an inherently irrational act. But you know what—so is art.

And if you are a rigidly logical person it will all seem like silly business to you. But in the soup of that irrationality is found real insight and inspiration. Why? Because symbol and metaphor are the language of the unconscious. This includes the act of ritual—which is symbolic action or physical metaphor.

So yeah, if you are one of those rigidly logical people…maybe The Tarot is your invitation into the domain of the unconscious.

Something to think about.

If you are ready to try using the Tarot for self exploration I have the perfect exercise for you to try. This one works equally well for beginners and Tarot experts.

The setup is simple: get yourself a Tarot deck—if you are a beginner I recommend the Waite-Smith deck, this is a staple of the Tarot tradition. And the Waite-Smith also serves as a great entryway into the esoteric side of Tarot.

Now, with your cards at hand, cut the deck, shuffle the two piles of cards, then bring them back together. Cut the deck, and shuffle the two piles again, and bring them back together.

Next, fan out all of the cards face down, I often do this in two rows.

At this point, pause for a moment to gather your breath and clear your mind.

Ask The Tarot a question. I often use this one:

“Tarot, what must I learn about myself?”

Then, let your hand hover over the facedown cards, scanning from one side to the other, first one row and then the other. Notice if you feel drawn to any area…and to any card. Don’t overthink it. If you feel drawn to a card without any conscious explanation, that is the card.

Draw three cards in this way. Keep them face down. Put the deck back together and set it aside.

Now flip the three cards you chose in the order you drew them. And reflect on their symbolism, their meanings, and the story which the three cards seem to tell. You will likely need to look up the meanings of each card either in a book or through Google. But don’t restrict yourself to only this rational interpretation…really see the cards, see how the dynamic between the three cards tells a story or conveys a scenario. I’ve found this to be even more insightful that simply looking up the meaning. Let your mind struggle with the mystery. Give the cards the benefit of the doubt that what is in front of you contains an answer.

This is a simple but powerful method. And you don’t need to be a Tarot expert to do it. In fact, it may even be easier as a novice as your judgement of the cards is not clouded by preconceived interpretations—you will look at the cards and their relationship to one another with fresh eyes.

To finish your reading, grab a journal and note down the question you asked and the cards that were shown to you as an answer. A remarkable thing will happen if you practice this at night before going to bed. The meaning of the three cards in relation to your question often won’t be immediately clear—that’s ok. Don’t assume it didn’t work, assume the answer is in there.

Go to bed and recall the symbolic images again in the morning. It is often in that moment that you will have your answer. Something significant happens in the night, like you have relinquished the images to the unconscious, and from there, an answer will be sent back.

I have experienced this many times, and I am always startled at how obvious and on-the-money the insight is in the three card’s answer in the morning. I’ve even brought some of these Tarot draws to my next psychoanalysis session, and they provided a good springboard for analysis.

My challenge to you for this three card draw is do it every night or every other night for a week. Make sure you write in a journal what the question and answers were for each draw, and in the next day, notice what further insights come up. 

And my final advice, begin your relationship with the Tarot cards with a certain earnestness. Approach them with curiosity and a touch of reverence—a desire to engage with the mystery. Setting that intention will bring you the greatest results.

Now, back to the topic at hand: the archetypes of the collective unconscious.

What archetypes do we find in The Tarot?

Using the Major Arcana of the standard Waite-Smith deck as reference, we see an impressive array of archetypes. And in some cases the name of the card matches up with the archetype it represents, such as:

The Lovers: which represents the Lover archetype in the singular or Lovers in the plural. 

If you’ve ever felt a deep physical and emotional affection for someone, you are living out the story of the lover archetype.

Think of how strange and beautiful that is: that no matter what country, religion, or time period we are talking about, two people in love will behave the same way universally—the furtive glances, the hand holding, the obsessive fixation on the other person. These aren’t learned behaviors, they are inherited. As Jung said, akin to the ‘impulses of birds to build nests.’

Or how about The Magician card: which represents the Magician or Sorceror archetype. This is a person who has dedicated themselves to becoming a bridge between the material and metaphysical realms—and thereby has acquired special abilities. This is a figure that appears in the folktales of every culture in the world. Whether it’s a Chi master in ancient China or a nagual in native Mesoamerican traditions.

Or how about The Emperor card: which represents the King archetype.

We no longer live in a world of Kings & Queens, yet something about these royal symbols still capture our imagination—why?

Because they are evocative symbols of our lived experiences. We are the kings of our immediate environment, in both inner and outer terrains. Our ego fills the executive role in our lives—what he says, goes. And when something doesn’t work out, the King becomes unruly, his territory is disobeying his wishes. In a very functional way, we are each the King of our domain—until, of course, our domain encroaches on someone else’s, and then we have a turf war.

We are each the King of our domain.

And some people truly seem possessed by this King archetype. We have all seen bosses, celebrities, or presidents who behave like Kings and expect everyone in their vicinity to acknowledge them as such. And it need not even be in the public eye. You may know someone in your personal life who sees him or herself as the King / Queen of the household or family. What they say goes, and so on.

To be living the story of a King archetype is an empowering and ego inflating experience. To disarm it and break its spell often requires something drastic like The Tower card—a total cataclysmic event in one’s personal life that acts as a force of lightning blasting the crown off and ejecting one from the highest tower.

You see, these archetypes aren’t only for books and movies. We are living these stories. And once one has its hooks in you it has a directionality of its own—they have a way of telling their story, whether we believe in them or not. And their influence on us is even greater if we don’t believe in them because then we don’t recognize their hold on us.

But it’s not always a negative thing, at times we need to feel empowered by something like a warrior archetype when we need to be courageous, such as going to compete in something like an MMA match, or the mother archetype when we have a newborn child. Though in other cases, someone may willingly embody something like a King archetype to empower themselves because they grew up disempowered or in an abusive background. The fear of reliving those traumas may then push them into the dark aspect of the archetype: the tyrannical King.

And personally, this is why I feel we still love to watch all these shows about Kings & Queens despite us not having them anymore. Because there is great metaphorical truth there for our lived inner experiences and our interactions with other personalities. We recognize the executive role of the King as our own ego, and we sympathize with the turmoils of bringing order to our territory.

Now, we could run through all of the symbols and archetypes of the Major Arcana, but that is beyond the scope of this episode. For that, as I mentioned earlier, I am releasing three special Patreon exclusives called The Tarot: An Exegesis of The Major Arcana. So if you’re interested in hearing that, including the many quotes from supporting texts, be sure to join my Patreon at patreon.com/mjdorian. A link is also in the episode description.

And so, we have arrived at our final point for today in our exploration of the archetypes, the collective unconscious, and The Tarot. Where we must face the question:

Is The Tarot a complete list of archetypes?

Well, we would first have to consider what a full account of the archetypes would look like. I have seen some people try to make the attempt and the list usually numbers in the realm of 300. As you need to account for both archetypal figures and archetypal experiences like Birth and Death. Which at that point—in the 300s—starts to become a bit impractical.

Some of you may be wondering: did Jung ever create a master list of archetypes?

He did not. Which is surprising for such a studious mind. The sentiment found throughout his writings seems to imply that he would view such an endeavor as foolish. I suspect it would be because it leads to a type of reductionist thinking about the psyche.

Jung’s entire career was based on his work as a clinician and researcher whose theories were intended for the benefit of other clinicians dealing with patients who suffered from every conceivable mental affliction and complex. It was only in the last few years of his life that he was convinced by colleagues to write some work for the general public.

In his books and lectures meant for fellow psychoanalysts, he very clearly affirms that every analysand (that is a patient in psychoanalysis) should be viewed on their own terms with a holistic approach that takes into consideration all aspects of their life including their personal unconscious material. Each-psyche-is-unique.

Jung’s aversion to counting up all the archetypes was no doubt linked with his philosophy as a therapist. He understood that lists tended to lead to reductionist thinking and classification rather than meeting the patient where they are—to respect the full complexity of the psyche—and in that sense, if one begins fresh with every person, it discourages quick jumps to ready made conclusions.

A master list of archetypes would encourage the opposite—reductionist thinking and simplification of the mind. We should remind ourselves that the mind is part of the most complex structure in the known universe: the human brain. Let’s not take this for granted. So yeah, Jung wasn’t a fan of simplifying things related to the mind for the sake of formulas and theories.

So let’s rephrase the question: Could The Tarot be a complete list of archetypes?

Hmm, personally, I don’t think so. Because as you spend time studying the Major Arcana you start to notice a strange phenomena: a conflation of archetypes on certain cards. Take The Empress card for example. I have seen The Empress interpreted as: the divine mother, sensuality, pregnancy, and mother nature.

These are four separate archetypes. I mean, there is nothing inherently wrong with giving one card more than one association, as it does enrich the possibilities for insights during readings, but I feel it also points to a limit in the cards. Where an archetype does not already appear on its own card, it becomes conflated with related archetypes on the same card.

Another example of this would be asking: what archetypes are not clearly represented in The Tarot?

One that comes to mind is The Artist. Where is The Artist archetype?

I would say that it is best represented by The Magician of The Major Arcana. In that an artist is a bridge between worlds and sees matter as a workable substance—much the same way as a Magician. So here again, we see a conflation of archetypes, where the cards are lacking in overt representation.

But rather than seeing this as a weakness of the cards, we can flip the argument into a strength. By finding more than one archetype on certain cards we engage with much more complex structures, where archetypes overlap in concentric circles—inviting more synchronicities. And even where one symbol becomes a visual metaphor for another—such as The Magician representing The Artist.

It’s really a beautiful system. And the more time you spend with it the more complexity you see in its architecture. (Which mirrors the human mind.)

We will never truly know how old these cards are; maybe 600 years, maybe two thousand, maybe ten thousand. But we know that the archetypes of The Tarot have been with us for tens of thousands of years, because they correspond with our natural instincts.

In this regard, the symbols of The Tarot don’t belong to some distant Egyptian land—they belong…to us.

On the next Creative Codex:

We follow the Tarot’s path deeper into the wilderness, where we are confronted with new questions. If The Tarot is a work of creative genius, then who created it? Looking back on centuries of its history, there is no single individual that can be credited. It appears a different force is at play—the spirit of creative genius. If the implications of this prove true, we will need to rethink our entire understanding of creativity.

We will then follow Tarot’s path further down, to a cavernous depth where another question awaits: by what function does Tarot work? Does Dr. Carl Jung’s theory of synchronicity sufficiently account for the processes taking place in a reading? The inquiry will lead us further into exploring ancient traditions of divination through the writings of Marie Louise von Franz—and much more. Join me next time on The Tarot Part 2: Synchronicity & The Spirit of Creative Genius.

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