AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here I’m merging astrological principles (natal planets and rising sign) with tarot cards and insights from the casebook of psycho-spiritual mind/body awareness to create a self-appraisal tool that is intended to identify any strengths and weaknesses in one’s personality that may not stand out clearly from horoscopic delineation or cartomantic examination alone. While conceptually it skirts the edge of chaos, it seems to have come together reasonably well in the example reading.

Begin by using the querent’s astrological birth chart to locate all of the sign placements for the seven “classical” planets and the Ascendant (aka “rising degree”). Mentally insert these into the layout shown above or place position markers on the reading table to identify them.

While concentrating on the objectives of self-appraisal and self-awareness, shuffle a deck of tarot cards and deal eight of them face-up in the pattern shown, four cards from top-to-bottom down the central column and then four more from left-to-right across the horizontal rows. Reversals are not used.

Compare the planetary correspondences and zodiacal signs for the cards to the astrological placements that were made according to the above map and determine the degree of hierarchical, elemental and qualitative alignment that exists between them. When mutually agreeable these attributes will normally translate into character strengths (or at least competencies) that don’t require remedial attention. When they are less favorably-disposed toward one another, shortcomings in self-understanding and self-application may be suspected that would benefit from further analysis, perhaps by performing another tarot reading specifically focused on any identified misalignment that could constitute weakness or unfulfilled potential.

Below is an example reading based on my own horoscope. In the photo, my natal planets and Ascendant are portrayed in white and the correspondences for the cards I pulled are displayed in yellow.

As the court card representing Water of Fire, the Queen of Wands corresponds to Mars in Pisces, Mars in Aries and Sun in Aries. Mars is also the traditional ruler of Scorpio, and there is some elemental commonality between its rising-sign rulership in my chart and its late 12^th House Pisces correlation with the Queen on the Ascendant, both in the “natural” Aries-rising zodiac and in this tarot reading. It’s fair to say that at this point in my life I don’t have a whole lot of difficulty with positive self-image even though on the surface Fire and Water are hostile to one another and should butt heads, while behind-the-scenes Mars is more than slightly wimpy in Pisces. But the degree of confidence signified by the Queen of Wands wasn’t always present when I was much younger; I had to grow into it.

Although it’s an Air sign, Aquarius as the mythological “Water-bearer” has a nodding acquaintance with the Water of Cancer, my Sun sign, and the two are at least elementally compatible if not exactly friendly. Furthermore, in one system of esoteric numerology, the trump card associated with Aquarius (the Star [XVII] as seen here) is a numerological counterpart of the Cancer trump, the Chariot [VII], since both are expressions of the number 7. The Star is also one of the three “Lights” among the tarot trumps, along with the Moon and the Sun and thus has a further affinity for the latter. But in reality, as Dark Helmet said to Lone Star in the Mel Brook’s comedy Spaceballs, one card might as well be the “father’s, brother’s, nephew’s, cousin’s, former roommate” to the other, making them “absolutely nothing.”

It just so happens that the Chariot is next in the vertical series, and it sits with my natal Moon in Capricorn, its polar opposite in the “natural” zodiac. Still, there is that Water connection between the two as we saw with the Star and the Cancer Sun, this time more pronounced due to the card’s Cancer correspondence and its rulership by the Moon. Astrologically, I owe my hard-headed side to that Capricorn Moon, but in this analysis it is softened by the Moon’s harmonious engagement with the card bearing its own sign. However, Capricorn bolsters the hard shell of the Moon’s emotional self-preservation apparatus, so there is the feel of an “iron demeanor” shielding “velvet-glove” sensibilities to the combination. If the Chariot signifies “triumph,” the Moon is its well-guarded “soft spot.”

Venus in Cancer is an excellent (or perhaps cautionary is a better word) placement for all kinds of self-indulgence, and here it is linked to the 6 of Cups (Pleasure) corresponding to the Sun in Scorpio, and is also conjunct the natal Sun in Cancer (Water abounds and the imagination runs wild!) But I’m not an alcoholic, a drug-user or a sex addict and I partake of less lurid amusements since the Venus position is also opposed by the “wet-blanket” Moon in Capricorn.

Natal Mars, the “dominant-hand” planet in my model, is in Virgo, the sign of manual dexterity as well as technical acumen. But here it is bound to the 2 of Cups (Love) and its tie to Venus in Cancer. Mercurial Virgo is not quite the emotional “buzzkill” that Saturnian Capricorn is, but it’s a close second; only Venus-ruled Taurus displays the kind of sensuality that Venus exemplifies (they are on the same wavelength), so planetary Mars conjoined to the card of Venus feels more than a little “pinched.”

Mercury in Cancer, the “recessive-hand” planet, is more rigorously self-analytical than the freewheeling Mars, and here it is blended with the 3 of Disks (Work). This card relates to Mars in Capricorn, once again bringing that planet and sign into the equation by association and making intellectual prowess Mercury’s occupational forte as a counterpart to mechanically-inclined Mars in Virgo. (As evidence of this, I had a 31-year career as an engineer and manager in a technological industry.)

.Jupiter in its own sign of Sagittarius is stepping out with what I’m calling the “leading foot,” a metaphor for superlative self-confidence, which doesn’t get any better than the Greater Benefic in the sign it rules, and in my natal 1^st House to boot, putting its “best foot forward.” In this case it has been assigned the Moon trump card by the random pull, and the Moon corresponds to Pisces, Jupiter’s traditional sign of rulership. The Moon is usually viewed as problematic, but hooking it to the rule of Jupiter in this way brings together the old and the new in seamless union. My bet is that Jupiter in Sagittarius is too sure-footed to be derailed by the Moon’s nebulous reputation.

Saturn is in Leo, which I recently called an “autocratic” combination, and it is known esoterically as the Taskmaster and the Great Teacher. I might have been a slave-driver at one time if I’d had the chance (especially with the Saturn-Pluto-Mars alignment that I won’t go into here), but I’ve never sought it out even when I was a business manager and previously an Army NCO, and in my chart Saturn is trine to Jupiter, lending it a veneer of tolerance. (My younger brother stepped into those shoes with our siblings when I left home.) I’m calling this position the “trailing foot,” and Saturn is ideally suited to foot-dragging when it sees the need. Saturn is paired with the other Moon trump, the Priestess, adding a fifth Water card to the tally along with their two “distant cousins,” the Star as “Water-bearer” and the Queen of Wands as “Water of Fire.” In that sense, both Saturn and Jupiter are wading through the Lunar mists, a place you would expect to find a consummate mystic and not the analytically-inclined social gadfly who stands before you. But this is after all the province of the two primary social planets, and they are perfectly capable of bringing the Moon to heel in their own domain.

The upshot of all this metaphysical daisy-chaining is “Water, water everywhere but barely a breath of air” (just the Star), and only the semi-arid, hard-packed ground of Capricorn and Virgo to stand on. The symbolic absence of Air in both my horoscope and the cards is offset by the powerful Mercury-Mars-Jupiter-Saturn complex that substitutes utilitarian self-discipline for the expansive mental emphasis that would come with an abundance of Air. Fire is also in short supply in the cards but is better-represented in the horoscope.

To summarize what I’ve learned from this exercise, the Sun-Moon-Venus core of the reading is a bit on the “mellow” side compared to the rest, perhaps fading into impracticality, but in that regard the ball is picked up by the Mercury-Mars axis, and the opportunity for pragmatic forays into the social sphere is further developed by the Jupiter-Saturn trine in Fire that manages to exhibit a sheen of mystical sensitivity as shown by the two Moon trumps. It’s the “half mad-scientist/half mystic” mentality that I’m fond of bringing up whenever I discuss my own astro-tarot “footprint.” However, it seems that I might want to work on the aura of intellectual “intimidation” I apparently impart to my tarot writing without “dumbing it down” to the point of blandness.