AUTHOR’S NOTE: In The Discarded Image (a seemingly bottomless source of inspiration for this blog), C.S. Lewis describes the insertion of astrological principles into Medieval literature and architecture as, in the best cases, being “woven into the plot,” while in the less salutary examples the addition amounts to an “overload of philosophy.” These observations offer food for thought when contemplating the application of esoteric correspondences to a tarot reading.

Lewis notes that universal reality does not automatically hold subjective salience for modern man since its transcendent vastness displays neither unique meaning nor sensible form for the individual, attributes that must be supplied from one’s personal perspective. Therefore, the question of whether reality has significance “is itself a meaningless question,” since the local influence of absolute truth stems from how we relate to it. For those of us with no interest in quantum mechanics, reality is a private affair shaped by our experience of its consequences (or, as Aleister Crowley put it more mystically, “Every Man and Woman is a Star” not to be replicated). But for the Medieval mind reality possessed a pervasive “built-in” relevance, with no hint of solipsism or existential ambiguity; as such it anticipated the stoical modern aphorism “It is what it is” (with its implied shrug) by almost two millennia.

Lewis goes on to suggest that the most compelling Medieval writing exhibits a total “absence of strain;” it is “so limpid and effortless that the story seems to be telling itself.” I believe that we should strive for the same flowing clarity in our tarot readings, particularly when trying to bring esoteric correspondences into the mix. We must avoid introducing an “overload of philosophy,” instead letting the obscure insights whisper sotto voce from the wings of the stage, prompting our monologue but not leading us by the nose like a politician with a teleprompter. When properly “woven into the plot,” they should be invisible to our sitters but pregnant with import for our presentation.

The most useful of these reside in allusive suit meaning, number theory, elemental assignment, astrological affiliation and hierarchical structure, with archetypal essence as a separate division. There are diviners who disdain their use, considering such embellishments to be foreign to the spirit of the tarot. I can understand that point of view, and when working with the Tarot de Marseille I dispense with all but suit-and-number correlation, instead deriving metaphysical inspiration from the abstract imagery. But with any other deck they can provide a valuable asset in the form of secondary insights that flesh out the analysis in unexpected and revealing ways.

Granted, it’s just one more thing (or several things) to absorb, but the payback is well worth the effort. The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn’s tarot curriculum, Liber T, arguably furnishes the best primer for this study. The Golden Dawn also created a “Chaldean” horoscope (which can be found in Robert Wang’s Qabalistic Tarot) that links all but ten of the 78 tarot cards to astrological factors according to planetary, zodiacal and/or celestial association; the rest (specifically the seven planetary and three primal trumps) must be incorporated via elemental rulership. However, the numerological, astrological and elemental connections have to be learned independently. In use, I treat all of this like a sportscaster’s “color commentary,” filling in pertinent background details on the “players” in the reading without citing my sources for the audience.