The Tarotcast - Week of October 17, 2016

Something's shifting. Can you feel it? You might not be able to see it yet. But can you feel or sense it?

On September 26, the Seven of Swords -- Futility -- showed up in the near future. On October 3, it came fully present, at centre. Today, October 17, two weeks after its last appearance, it moves one step further to the left still, into the foundational, or near-past, position. It is still making itself known as the influencing force behind what's happening now, but this particular Seven of Swords experience is now background noise -- a hint of perfume from someone or something who has left the room (and probably made quite an impression while they were around).
seven_swords_moon_eight_wands_rohrig_sm Seven of Swords, The Moon, Eight of Wands from The Röhrig Tarot deck, created by Carl-W. Röhrig © US Games, Inc. Click on the image for a larger version.
Whatever it was, it caused you to question yourself. Questions such as, "What am I doing here?" "Where am I really headed? And do I want to keep travelling in the same direction, doing the same thing, choosing the same things?" "Is there another way? Can I do this another way?" Now, here you are, facing a kind of muted aftermath of that experience. Things are not yet clear; what you are trying to make out is still shrouded in shadows. That is as it should be. It must be this way for a while. There is a reason for this -- and that is held in The Moon.

You are now in a phase where you are separating truth from fiction.

The Seven of Swords was the moment where you saw your situation clearly, for perhaps the first time: that you didn't have to continue choosing what you were choosing; that your life in some area was not your own; that you were handing heart and soul over to something that didn't particularly care about either, only the energy that could be squeezed from them. The Moon is now the time where you get to decipher where the path for you really lies.

A catch, however: this is not something you can think your way through. The Moon is not interested your powers of analysis or reasoned arguments for or against.

In fact, The Moon is an interference to both. Imagine that the conscious mind is The Sun, shedding light on everything around it. The Sun represents illumination and clarity. Things have sharp edges and definition, you can discern one thing from another. The Moon is the shadowland of the Soul. If you try to see with your mind, you won't be able to. As soon as you look at something directly, it disappears, just as it does when you try to focus on something in the half-light. What you have to do is look with different eyes: your inner eyes. Your powers of intuition, instinct, and subtle sensing through the body. Much like our moon pulls water into tides, The Moon pulls at you in ways you cannot directly see, but you can absolutely experience them if you attune yourself to the ebb and flow of your energy levels, where something makes you shrink back internally or expand towards it, where the hackles rise on the back of your neck or where, in the Sufi poet Rumi's words, you "Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love." If you try to use your daytime senses and approaches to path-finding, however, they will not work.

There is no map; no-one has walked this specific way before you, therefore no-one can tell you that what you're doing is wrong, nor can they confirm you're doing it right. (Does that make you feel a little uneasy? I hope it does. Then you're in Moon territory.)

There is no light guiding you other than the soft glow of your intuitive process. You cannot look several steps ahead and be sure that you're seeing something correctly. It's more likely that you won't see much at all. And, again, that's as it should be. When you navigate in Moon-land, you are taking one sensate, intuitive, instinctual, body-focussed step at a time. Imagine walking through an unknown landscape during full moon. That's what navigating Moon-land feels like: One considered, aware step after another, attending to what's right under your feet and directly around you. Looking at cues, at hints, sniffing the air to guide you. Becoming animal -- alert, economical, precise.

You are not a stranger in a strange land. You become one with the strange land.

And so you find your way through. This is your own path. You are tapping into something that no-one else has access to because this journey is yours. It has the capacity to shift you away from a slavishness to routine, or obligation (whether internally or externally imposed). It can put an end to a particular feeling of helplessness that has been all-too-familiar to you -- and perhaps for a long, long time. But don't let anyone tell you what you're doing is wrong, or mad; don't swallow their words whole and unquestioned. Including these ones. Use your wiles, your divining-rod that responds to the movements of your inner currents as they connect with a larger flow -- the one that pulls you strangely. Because, soon, that current is going to quicken, and it is going to change form -- from pooled moonlight to greased lightning. And then you're off, on a trajectory, and that draw becomes magnetic. Your Moon time -- subtle, diffuse, interior, ruminating -- segues into a burst of activity that is both powerful and directed. It is as if, on your travels in the nocturnal landscapes of your Soul, you find a doorway that rollercoasters you into a new dimension. You are not alone in this. You suddenly find yourself looking up and into the eyes of something or someone else, and the connection is compelling.

This connection serves a purpose, but that purpose may not reveal itself for some time. It is the connection itself, the joining of the current (more electric than water in sensation), that sweeps into centre-stage.

Whatever magic carpet ride you find yourself on, whether you have accomplices on your mission, or you are a one-wo/man show-with-a-knockout-plan, the secret here is to keep things as steady as possible. This might be a challenge with the zingy nature of the Eight of Wands, given that the path has already been set, and everything is on the move. But it will behove you to maintain as much equilibrium as possible so that, where and when things land and ground themselves, you are able to adjust and adapt as necessary. Sometimes a period of intense, kinetic activity can destabilise. Holding to the kind of intuitive centre that you found in The Moon -- fluid yet paradoxically contained, as if being anchored to a buoy on the open sea -- will serve you well so that no matter how energised the activity, you can still plant your feet firmly on the ground when it rematerialises under you. Astrology Correspondences: Seven of Swords (Moon in Aquarius), The Moon (Pisces), Eight of Wands (Mercury in Sagittarius)