AUTHOR’S NOTE: The Golden Dawn’s astrological correspondences for the tarot cards often reveal interesting parallels and tangents between the Major Arcana. Here is one example.

Both the Sun and Strength (originally titled “Fortitude” and later called “Lust” by Aleister Crowley) are associated with the potent solar light that radiates with uniform intensity throughout the firmament, casting its glow equally on all things unless it is: a) locally obscured by clouds; b) eclipsed; or c) banished by the onset of night that favors those who deliberately seek the shadows, in which case the Moon presides).

My own interpretation is that the metaphysical Sun confers boundless willpower and vitality that can translate into unqualified success (or at least bright prospects) with no distracting qualifiers or caveats to worry about, while Strength, with its connection to the “Fixed” sign Leo and consequently to its ruler, the Sun, manifests “applied solar power.” Traditionally, Strength symbolizes abundant self-confidence and the courage to overcome adversity. Whereas the Sun might promise an easy victory, Strength delivers a swift, motivating “kick in the pants.” One is unregulated in its operation and can scorch as easily as comfort, while the other is results-oriented and focused on well-honed execution.

In his book Tarot Master-Class, which is transparently based on the opinions of A.E. Waite presented in The Pictorial Key to the Tarot, Paul Fenton-Smith makes some assertions about Strength with which I don’t agree. He observes that the woman “soothes the lion using her mental courage” when referring to Pamela Colman Smith’s image, in which the woman’s left hand appears to be gently but firmly pushing down on the lion’s muzzle while the right hand pulls up, coaxing its jaws closed (and perhaps amputating its lolling tongue in the process, not an undesirable outcome if one’s purpose is to silence its outrage at this indignity). This symbolic vignette illustrates Waite’s text that describes suppressing the animal nature in deference to more noble pursuits,

Fenton-Smith goes on to mention the Thoth title of “Lust” for this card, saying that it “represents the challenge of overcoming the lust for . . . (that) which the beast within us craves” . . . those unseemly desires “that must be cast aside” if we are to advance beyond mere self-gratification. But it has always struck me that Crowley’s “Scarlet Woman” isn’t cowing the Beast into submission but has triumphantly mounted it and is steering its aggressive behavior toward her own ends. (While Fenton-Smith doesn’t get into Crowley’s “lust for result,” that thought unavoidably lurks in the background.)

Crowley suggests a symbiotic relationship, but I see it more as dominion over our unruly passions that is aimed at consciously controlling and directing them without unduly weakening their “bite.” (We shouldn’t unwisely “pull the teeth” of something that could serve us well in a pinch.) The 7 of Wands (Mars in Leo) from the Minor Arcana can be understood as an energetic “boots-on-the-ground” way to do this.

In The Tarot: Key to the Wisdom of the Ages, Paul Foster Case takes the concept of Strength back to its Tarot de Marseille roots, wherein the woman’s intention is quite clear to him from a couple of telling details: 1) the fingers of her right hand are prying the lion’s upper jaw open while her palm is not making contact with the snout as would be the case if she were pressing down on it; 2) her right shoulder is retracted more than that of the RWS woman, which suggests pulling rather than pushing, and 3) her left hand is not gripping the lower jaw but is moving into position to assist the right hand in its effort.

Case assumed from these observations that she is trying to free the lion’s mouth so it can unleash its potential under close supervision. (I’ve had some push-back from RWS purists on this view but the contrasting paradigms seem obvious to me from the annotated images below, so I agree with Case.) I’m reminded of the proud exultation from the annals of 20^th Century feminism that today we would probably call a meme: “I am Woman. Hear me roar!” This seems to be the essence of the Thoth depiction: we must encourage and exploit our uncivilized side in ways that discipline and amend its actions, not blindly do battle with it simply because we’ve been told by religious types (like Waite) that our vulgar appetites are inherently evil. (Crowley presents his Devil in similar terms of raw creative power that is neither good nor bad until used or abused.)

Waite’s agenda was entirely one of pacification, but the TdM scenario looks more like a “point-and-shoot” strategy (shall we call the lion a “muzzle-loader” awaiting its charge?) targeting whatever it is the woman has her unwavering gaze fixed on. As Case proposed, our goal should be to enlist our primal instincts in the service of creative self-realization (a hallmark of Leo), not to intentionally dissociate ourselves from them or expunge them from our psyche.

Any visual artist who deals with symbolic expressionism understands perfectly how this dramatic surge of often-edgy inspiration works: take a look at Edvard Munch’s The Scream, which we might equate with Strength reversed as “the Lion Unbound.” (Anyone else remember Arthur Janov’s “primal-scream therapy?”) In more modern culture we have the Metallica song (and album) “Ride the Lightning, which Crowley’s Amazonian “Babalon” is certainly doing.