Predicting The Present

by Daniel Kelley

  Whenever you see two or more people conscious of their True Will, you'll rarely see any friction between them. They'll never allow someone to distract them nor will they seek to distract anyone else. The Hanged Man teaches us, not how to solve our problems, but how not to create them in the first place. Don't create problems. Simply relax, be at ease in your own skin, and for God's sake allow others the same!

  That’s the essential message of The Hanged Man.

  Death:

  The Child of the Great Transformers

  The Lord of the Gate of Death

  Trump #13

  Zodiacal Trump of Scorpio

  Mars Rules—Pluto Exalted

  Path: #24 (Tiphareth to Netzach) *(Numerical value, #50)

  Letter: Nun (fish)

  Tempus Eversionis—"Time of Destruction." *(Aurum Solis name for season of Winter.)

  Helpful Quotes: (Parentheses mine)

  "The Universe is Change; every Change is the effect of an Act of Love; all Acts of Love contain Pure Joy. Die daily! Death is the apex of one curve of the snake Life: behold all opposites as necessary complements, and rejoice."

  -Aleister Crowley

  "As we learn to acknowledge each state, name each state, and meet it with mindfulness; we discover that we are dying over and over again. What we are being asked to do is to open to this death and become someone who has entered the realm of death and awakened in the face of it."

  -Jack Kornfield

  "For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt in the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

  -Kahlil Gibran

  Contemplation

  Most people are terrified by the prospect of Death turning up in a Tarot reading. In one sense their fear is justified, for death implies great change. Death doesn't mean temporary change or lay-off. Death is the permanent destruction of whatever it points to.

  Whenever this card comes up in a reading it's very helpful to remember The Fool. The aspect of The Fool to which I'm referring is the ability to roll with the punches, to realize that it's never too late, and to be open to trying new things; sometimes the same things with a different twist.

  When Death comes up as the main topic in a reading, the question of what you’re clinging to must be examined. It's by going into such a question, not just analytically but essentially, that you can be liberated from it. The finding of the answer is in the intensity of the question itself, not otherwise. You won't find the answer to a problem by hammering out platitudes and affirmations, but rather, by going so deeply into a question that the answer becomes completely uninteresting; only the question is all-important. Keeping this in mind will shed much light on this fearsome trump.

  Death is arguably the greatest mystery in life. It’s simultaneously the great Unknown and the only certainty (other than taxes of course!). In Gautama Buddha's vision, death is the only reality. For Buddha, life is like an island in an ocean of death, a small island in a vast ocean of emptiness. In fact, as Buddha saw it, you're already dead! Not that you're undead, but rather, unborn. For example, between two thoughts there's a gap in which thought is absent, but you never become aware of the gap for the simple fact that you identify with the thought and not the gap. Consequently, you cling to thought and avoid the gap. Furthermore, because you identify with the thought, you tend to react to it, which creates problems because thought, by its very nature, is impermanent. In fact, the consequences of acting upon thoughts are more enduring than thoughts themselves!

  Most people are completely unaware that such a gap exists, though they vaguely sense it. This is why they make it their first priority to remain forever occupied with something or someone: to avoid the dreadful silence. Just a few minutes of solitude and the self-image begins to crumble. With nobody there to mirror you back to yourself, who are you? Are you virtuous or vicious? Are you strong or weak? Are you a theist or an atheist? There'll be no way to know. In silence there's no provocation to be this way or that. The reason for this is simple:

  In reality you don't have a name!

  While you were in your mother's womb you were nameless. You didn't belong to any religion, nation, or creed. These things aren’t intrinsic parts of your being, but consciousness is. Without the content of consciousness, who are you? You won't know! This is what Buddha meant when he said that man is already dead: that he was never born, and therefore, he’ll never die. Life exists against the background of death and, at the same time, there is no background, no difference between life and death. Each moment you're dying so that you can remain alive. All the other trumps of Tarot are but servants to this:

  If you’re not in right-relationship with Death, then your relationship to everything else is bound to be wrong.

  Says Death in the sixteenth century morality play called "Everyman":

  "I am Death, that dreads no man. That catches every man and spares no one, for God's commandment is that all to me must be obedient. I heed neither gold, silver or riches, nor Pope, Emperor, King, Duke, nor Princes; for if I were to receive great gifts, I might gain the world."

  Mystically speaking, Death is the negation of all attachments, fixations, and identifications, so that you’ll learn to be in the world but not of it. In the card, the Grim Reaper is attached to many strings, the severing of which leads you to Liberation, symbolized by the dancing figures rising from the muck (The Star) and by the eagle (Aquarius) in the upper-left corner. To become aware of the impermanence of life is to become mature. To remain constantly aware of the fact that at any moment you may die is to make your life a flame. To die each moment to the burden of the past is to be perpetually innocent. *(The eagle in the upper-left corner is also the immolated Phoenix reborn from its ashes, which is also a mystery pertaining to Scorpio.)

  All self-imposed (as opposed to natural) suffering arises from three tendencies:

  ● Grasping

  ● Avoiding

  ● Defining.

  We grasp, cling to, and covet, only those experiences that are defined by us as pleasurable. Consequently, anything which threatens the repetition of pleasure is deemed unworthy, hostile, and evil. It's only through the repeated annihilation of the pleasure-state that you’ll come to view both pleasure and pain with equanimity. When you see that by grasping and clinging you’ve been setting yourself up for failure the energy that was bound up in clinging becomes available. You begin to see that your habitual responses to pleasure and pain set up a standard by which you judge everything. For instance, if you adhere to a strict religion---the doctrine of which compels you to "behave" in situations of the sort that cause your human nature to rebel---and you then act contrarily to what you’ve been taught, you’ll suffer or otherwise justify your actions as having been the work of the Devil.

  We humans rarely look the truth squarely in the eye. If we did, we'd see that there's no such thing as my anger, my joy, my greed. There's only anger, joy, and greed; or, as the band The Smashing Pumpkins put it, "The killer in me is the killer in you."

  Another interesting level of interpretation for the Death trump pertains to the paranormal. For centuries, mankind has been devising ways of communicating with the dead. There are even accounts of such practices in the Bible. E.V.P. (electronic voice phenomenon) is just one example of a contemporary attempt at spirit communication. Spiritualism, a movement that began in the early nineteenth century, at one point almost usurped Christianity's post as the mainstream American religion! The Ouija Board is probably the most recognizable "psionic" device in Western culture. Séances, crystal balls, pendulums, skrying mirrors, and magickal evocation, all belong to the twenty-fourth path on the Tree of Life: the path of Death.

  And then there’s the issue of Vampirism…

  Anyone who's encountered the esoteric form of this phenomenon will agree that the relevance of vampirism to the thirteenth trump is undeniable. It's both shocking and profound that
this seemingly timeless archetype has become the repository of all things Shadow. For this reason and others, I feel that this subject should receive more serious attention. I'm not referring to the plutonian antihero of gothic romance but to the actual craft called psychic vampirism.

  True initiatic vampirism has as its goal the stealing of psychic energy from other living beings in order to achieve longevity and spiritual life beyond the grave. Whether it's a person, an animal, or a tree, the "vampiric reflex" is to drain the other of psychic reserves so that the vampire may store it for her own personal use. The vampiric reflex is attained when the Etheric Body of the practitioner spontaneously drains others of energy without the need for technique. In the teachings of initiatic vampirism this tendency must be transcended, the "wound" healed, and the feeding done on oneself as a means of spiritual Liberation.

  Kabbalistically speaking, this is a quantum leap from the paths of Nun, Tzaddi, and Tau, to the path of Samekh. The entire process can be seen illustrated in The Moon trump, a process which leads to the path of Gimel, and is exactly where the "enlightenment" of vampirism resides. I refer to this branch of vampirism, which is in essence indistinguishable from the left-hand path of Tantra, as Uroboric Vampirism; whereas the branch of vampirism most easily recognized by practitioners today—what many refer to a "psi" or "energy" vampirism"—I call Cathexis Vampirism.

  At early stages of practice, the vampiric reflex is most likely non-existent, and the initiate must develop certain practices to facilitate the transition. These usually involve the development of intense visualization abilities accompanied by breathing techniques. These techniques are then used in certain situations in which the psychic energy of the "victim" is most vulnerable. In the Uroboric approach, the quantity of the vampire's libido is key to success, for it's the correct balance and proper distribution of the latter which is the aim of the Uroboric method. In the more common Cathexis approach, however, the practitioner is quite literally addicted to the energies of those around her who demonstrate a comparatively higher level of libido. It is therefore the work of the vampire at this level to localize the libido of the victim—typically in the heart or genital region—so that the energies become vulnerable and easy to siphon. In fact, in Uroboric Vampirism, this natural gift for strong visualization and concentration is a prerequisite to becoming a candidate for entry into the higher levels. In one system I know of, the lower grades involve practices centered on the siphoning of sexual and emotional energy---a practice that has been accurately attributed to the paths of Tau, Tzaddi, and Nun---and sometimes combine elements of scatology (blood drinking, and all things taboo) and invocation (the channeling of incorporeal forces, entities, or deities).

  An important thing to remember about the vampiric reflex is that it's not always done intentionally. We all know what it's like to feel drained around certain individuals and locations. Usually the person is sick, tired, or emotionally disturbed. In addition, certain locations are marked by their negative psychic energy. We may stay in a hotel room for a few nights and notice at the end of our stay that we feel more exhausted than when we arrived. Furthermore, there’s the infamous "hag attack": that paralyzing night-terror wherein one feels as though something, or someone, is sitting on one's chest. Often times a shape is perceived as standing at the end of the bed or lying on top of the victim's body. Sometimes this is a recognizable face, other times it's not. There are people who can do this to others consciously.

  In the card, we see this "feeding" ability portrayed by the strings attached to the Grim Reaper. These strings---called "tendrils" among vampiric initiates---are what the aspiring vampire labors to attain. The "incubus" and "succubus" method of sexual attack is illustrated by the dancing figures in the background. These figures give the same gestures as those of Nuith in The Star, a card which originally occupied the path of Tzaddi, and could easily be compared to the succubus, or female vampire. In this deck however, The Emperor occupies the latter path and is sometimes attributed to Pluto: Lord of the Underworld and archetype of the male Vampire.

  To deduce whether a vampiric attack is what the Death card is suggesting in a reading, look for Death paired with such cards as The Moon, The Devil, The Star, The Universe, The Priestess, Indolence, Debauch, Disappointment, or Luxury; specifically if these cards fall under the position of "that which is not you”. For an interesting Biblical reference to psychic vampirism, see the Gospel of St. Mark, Ch.5; V.25-34: "The Woman in the Throng."

  Vampirism has become a viable method of mobilizing two very ambivalent existential impulses (specifically for today's gothic youth) ---Eros and Thanatos, that is, the Will to live and Love and the Will to degenerate and/or Die. Sex, Death, and Enlightenment: they're not existentially incompatible! It just so happens that these issues have been embodied to a remarkable degree in the archetype of the vampire, and I find that incredibly fascinating.

  In the Thoth deck, whenever the transcendental and paradoxical issues of death, sex, and transformation are present, we'll always encounter the image of a serpent.

  The serpent, like any good symbol, is a container of opposites. As a phallic symbol, it contains the male polarity of sexuality. Also, because of its curvaceous movements, the serpent is a wonderful representative of the female polarity as well. On the highest level of interpretation, the serpent contains the wisdom of Chokmah (its head), and the understanding of Binah (its body). The head and lower half of the serpent's body have been in many ways torn asunder. For example, there's the Abyss that lies between the Supernal Triad and the rest of the Tree of Life. We experience this division as the illusionary rift between body and mind, our bodymind and soul, and our individual self and the environment. The Abraxas Serpent, seen in both Lust and The Tower, is a beautiful example of the nondual unity of the aforementioned dualities. We see that around the serpent’s head there's a solar halo. This, combined with the serpent itself, reveals the unity of Sun and Moon: an operation taking place within the Orphic Egg.

  Using the common example of romantic love, we can provide a template for our understanding of this dualistic perception, thus mending it.

  Looking at The Lovers, we see the serpent entwined around the Orphic Egg, keeping it nice and warm. Biologically speaking, this suggests that sexuality---another popular attribute of the snake---is the very stuff which fuels the fires of love. It's the base metal that's transformed into gold. What couple isn't familiar with passion, and how the lack of it heralds the disintegration of love? Can love exist without sex? Most certainly, yes, when time brings the pot from a steamy boil down to a tempered simmering. Taking it one step further, can love exist without death? If not for the fact that love can end at any moment, would love be passionate at all? Better yet, if not for the fact that life can end at any moment, would love be passionate at all?

  There's a beautiful story about a Hindu goddess:

  She becomes bored with heavenly life and decides that she'd like to go to earth and experience the love of a mortal man. She approaches Lord Vishnu and requests to be sent to earth to find love. Vishnu protests, arguing that the men of earth are nothing in comparison to the men of paradise. He reminds her that heavenly men never age past twenty, they never get sick, and they never die. The goddess proclaims that this is her very reason for wanting to go to earth to love a human. She makes the enlightened observation that heavenly love is not possible for the very reason that the men of paradise don't die. Because earthly life is so fragile and short, love is very passionate. So Vishnu agrees to send her, but on one condition: the earthling must never ask about her origin, and neither can she tell him. If he asks or she tells, she must immediately return to heaven.

  She agrees.

  So the goddess moves to earth and falls in love with a carpenter. She tells him that he can never ask her about her past, where she comes from, or she'll have to leave immediately. The carpenter couldn't sleep. He could think of nothing else. She was so beautiful, so otherworldly, that his curiosity was piqued. The
goddess slept every night in a certain gown with a scarf around her neck. The man would hold it firmly in his hand throughout the night, afraid that he'd unconsciously ask the forbidden question, perhaps in a dream. Then, one night, when he was feeling confident that she wouldn't leave, he asked the question. Just as preordained, the goddess disappeared in a sudden blaze of glory. The only thing that remained of her was her scarf, which he held in his hand. And it's said that even to this day he's roaming the earth looking for her, still holding her scarf.

  Something similar happens to us when we lose someone we love to the hands of death. The only difference is that we don't ask where our beloved comes from, but rather, to where he or she has gone. Just like our poor carpenter left holding the goddess’s scarf, we're left holding the silk rags of our memories, and often times we roam about for the rest of our lives trying to find some trace of what once was. But this is when our love is given the possibility to become unfocussed upon the entirety of existence! From the wind, rocks, and trees, the blissful embrace of lovers, even in the sorrow of the world, we see mirrored back to us the face of our beloved. Similar to this is the mending of the illusionary rift between all dualisms, between mind and body, bodymind and soul, between two persons, and between existence and us.

  When Death comes up in a reading it's usually not referring to mortal doom. Of course there are times when it is referring to actual death, but as a rule it's rarely interpreted along those lines. The reasons for this are obvious to anyone possessing a modicum of empathy. To tell someone that they're going to die isn't exactly a good way to make friends! It's also a moot point. Everyone knows that they're going to die; only the hour of death is uncertain. The real problem is due to the taboo nature of the issue.