by Paul Greer
Knickelbine’s reflections can also be applied to some extent to the Buddha’s realization in the “second watch of the night,” known as the attainment of The Divine Eye or sometimes Omniscience. This is perhaps not omniscience in the sense of knowing all things in the universe, whether past, present and future, but an awareness of how beings come into and out of existence, according to their karmic qualities. In the Bhayabherava Sutta the Buddha recounts that with the Divine Eye he saw all manner of beings pass away and reappear, and understood how they move from one life to another “according to their actions.”9
In the “third watch,” as the first morning star was appearing in the sky, the Buddha’s mind fathomed Dependent Origination – the twelve causal factors that keep beings bound to the cycle of Samsara. At this moment, according the Jataka narrative - in words that recall both Jesus’ mission statement in Luke’s Gospel, and our two prisoners from the Death card - “[t]he blind from birth received their sight; the deaf from birth their hearing; the cripples from birth the use of their limbs; and the bonds and fetters of captives broke and fell off.”10
A Buddhist Reflection: The Vajra of Enlightenment
When reading interpretations of the Buddha’s life, the victory over Mara is often considered as a prelude to the Future Buddha’s enlightenment. Thus Keown et al. argue that his “deep meditations” and subsequent realizations were all made possible because he was set free from the “spiritual hindrances represented by Mara.”11 Yet, it could be read that it was precisely in his victory over Khandha-Mara, over his clinging to the aggregates of self – symbolized in The Tower as a tumbling crown - that the Future Buddha severed his ties to the realm of death, and achieved enlightenment. In the “leaving of desire,” says the Buddha, “Nibbana is said to be.” Through severing all attachments to the aggregates, one has “destroyed the view of oneself (as really existing), so one may overcome death; the king of death will not see him who thus regards the world.”12 With a metaphor that is particularly appropriate to our image of the blasted Tower, the Buddha compares his victory over Mara to a house being torn down, its architect both recognized and understood:
“Many births have I traversed seeking the builder; in vain! Weary is the round of births. Now art thou seen, O Builder. Nevermore shalt thou build the house! All thy beams are broken; cast down is thy cornerstone. My mind is set upon Nirvana; it has attained the extinction of desire.”13
From this perspective, the subsequent realizations experienced by the Buddha constitute deepening insights into this new state of freedom that he discovered in his liberation from Khandha-Mara.
Like color to a blind person, this new state lies outside the parameters of conceptual communication. It has to be experienced to be understood. Nevertheless, Buddhism offers a number of evocative metaphors to help grasp this elusive state of being. It is a “cooling” or “blowing out” of a raging fire (Nirvana). It is the extinction of desire and craving (Tanhakkhaya). In the Samyutta Nikaya, the Buddha offers a comprehensive list of synonyms, including “the truth,” “the deathless,” “freedom,” and “the refuge.”14
One of the most evocative Buddhist symbols for enlightenment is the Sanskrit term Vajra, translated as both “diamond” and “thunderbolt,” clearly seen in The Tower card, and suggesting both the indestructible and instantaneous or sudden nature of awakening. This “thunderbolt” mirrors the satori experience of Zen Buddhism, where the mind, grappling with the impossible logic of the koan, suddenly breaks through into an intuitive grasp of reality.
The Thunderbolt as symbol of power has its origins in the Rig-Veda, where it is described as the weapon of the Rain-God Indra, who uses it to chastise the wicked. According to tradition, the Buddha is said to have taken this weapon of destruction, and bent its prongs to form the shape of a sceptre – the dorje of Tibetan or Vajrayana Buddhism.15 As a ritual tool, the dorje usually takes the form of a scepter with a spherical central section, with ribbed-shaped prongs at the ends. The dorje can be single-sided, but most are double-sided, and a few are quadruple-sided. The central section is said to represent Sunyata – the primordial nature of the universe and the mind – while the double-ends represent Samsara and Nirvana. In ritual practice, the dorje is often used in conjunction with a bell (ghanta). These two objects symbolize a variety of things for the practitioner – in particular, the union of the masculine forces of skillful means or compassion (dorje) with the feminine force of wisdom (ghanta).
The Vajra is associated with a number of yidam deities, in particular, Vajrasattva – the Thunderbolt Being invoked during purification rituals, and depicted as holding a dorje to his heart. In relation to our card, it is an interesting coincidence that Vajrasattva was said to reside within a dark iron tower or stupa located in Southern India, and that the Buddhist philosopher Nagarjuna – the founder of the Middle Way school – journeyed there to receive Tantric teachings from the deity within. There are many Vajrasattva stupas which remain in central Java to this day.
The Return:
From The Star to The World
Introduction
One of the sustained criticisms of Jungian-inspired psycho-spirituality is its apparent lack of social perspective, critique and engagement; its devout focus upon The Self. The world of nature and others is ignored; or worse, utilized as a solipsistic mirror to gauge one’s own progress towards individuation. As Maurice Friedman pointed out in the 1970s, there is a danger in Jung’s conception of individuation that the world and the people outside become either “an obstacle to or a function of the inner”; the means towards “the becoming of one’s self.”1 A typical example of such inner focus is Nichols, who restricts considerations of the social relevance of the Hero’s Journey to one paragraph within her review of The World card.2 As such, much contemporary Tarot practice and interpretation appears to conform to what Carl Raschke recognized as the link between cultural disintegration and the rise of Gnosticism – the periodic emergence of private symbol-systems indicating attempts by a disinherited aristocracy (and now middle-class) to hold onto some semblance of control or meaning through a turn to the world within.3
However, while there is certainly a “danger” of the world disappearing with Jungian-inspired approaches, this does not negate the view that “inner alchemy” may serve as a necessary prequel to transformative engagement with the world. Indeed, what both Jung and Buddhism share at heart is the recognition that the social structures we create are really reflections of the minds that built them. “All that we are” said the Buddha (including the world we create), “is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts.”4 Indeed, the grotesqueries of the last century are apt reminders that radical shifts to either Right or Left solve little when they are driven by those with darkened mindscapes.
Moreover, the view that individuation takes us away from the world is in fact a misinterpretation of Jung’s ideas. It is clear that Jung saw self-realization as a process which carried within itself certain social and moral implications. It was Jung’s opinion, according to an interview he gave with the BBC in 1946, that individuation necessitated “ethical responsibility,” and that the “maintenance and further development” of society depended upon the influence of individuated “moral leaders.”5 This rise to “ethical responsibility” relates to Jung’s understanding of individuation itself, which contrary to often individualistic interpretations, demands the expansion of the self into wider fields of identification. The individuated self says Jung is no longer incarcerated in the trivial, touchy and private world of the ego, but participates in a wider sphere of interest, bringing the individual into a “binding, and indissoluble communion with the world at large.”6
This movement into “the world at large” was also recognized by Campbell in his understanding of The Return element within the Hero’s Journey. For Campbell, a return to society is a natural and archetypal aspect of the individuation process. It represents a deep human longing to s
hare and teach what one has discovered, in order to be of benefit to the community or the world at large. The “norm of the monomyth” says Campbell requires that the hero return from his or her seclusion, and with the new wisdom that has been attained, begin a process that will renew “the nation, the planet, or the ten thousand worlds.”7
Unfortunately, one of the most glaring omissions in Tarot literature has been any form of development on this third and final aspect of the journey – the “return” to renew “the nation, the planet.” Most of this comes down to world-ignoring presentations of individuation, and dualistic interpretations of “spirituality.” In this final section, I will endeavor to present a more expansive and engaged vision of The Return; one that that accords more with both Campbell’s and Jung’s ethically and socially-relevant understanding of individuation. The Buddha’s story, as we shall see, is one which appears in harmony which such a widened vision of transformation. In exploring the Buddha’s return to society, we will begin with his initial refusal to teach, leading to the eventual setting-up of the Sangha. We will then move on to consider the nature of the Buddha’s teaching and its effects, and end with some reflections of the Buddha’s Parinirvana – his Great Extinction.
The Star (17)
General Overview
The RWS version of The Star shows a naked kneeling woman, pouring liquid from two pitchers; one into a pool of water, and the other onto land. Her right foots rests on top of the water, while the left is on the ground. Above her in the sky are eight eight-pointed stars. Seven of these are white, while the eighth and largest central star is yellow. In the background and to the right of the woman, a small bird sits perched on a tree.
The Star is often associated with the idea of “hope”; of truth, light and life overcoming darkness and despair. In this card we find, as Papus says, a “mysterious voice” which “whispers courage.”1 Jayanti agrees, and equates the central star with the “Star of Bethlehem” and the birth of Jesus, who “brought hope” to a distressed and fearful world.2 Similarly for Waite the card represents “Sirius, also called fantastically the Star of the Magi.”3 This theme of hope is expressed in the nativity narratives themselves, declaring that “a day shall dawn upon us from on high” when an infant shall be born who will “give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (Lk. 1: 78-9).
Another associated theme is that of renewal or regeneration. Although Waite offers little in the way of explanation as to why he chose these stars, the number eight is traditionally associated with revitalization and rebirth. We are reminded for example that God saved eight individuals in the ark in order to initiate a new covenant between Himself and creation. Or, that male Jewish infants are brought into the covenant eight days after birth. Or, that the baptismal font, symbolizing new life in Christ, is traditionally octagonal in shape. Moreover, there are also eight beatitudes - eight elements of ethical alchemy that generate human flourishing and the right to be called a “son/daughter of God.” Overall it seems, The Star card’s numerical value (17 = 1+7 = 8) is not purely coincidental.
The biblical texts themselves look forward to a day when God will establish a New Covenant between himself and the world; a universal covenant based upon inner trust and a conscious awareness of the divine: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it upon their hearts” (Jer. 31: 33). This is a time, according to the prophet Joel, when God shall “pour out … [his] spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions” (Joel 2: 28). This of course was the ancient prophetic passage utilized by Peter at Pentecost, when Jesus' followers were filled with the power of the Spirit. He told the crowds gathered that day that Jesus, whom “you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men” had been raised up, “having loosed the pangs of death.” His resurrection meant that the humanity was no longer “abandoned to Hades,” and that the “ways of life” had now been revealed to any who would listen. “[B]e baptised,” he urged, and “you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2: 14-8, 27-8, 38). For the New Testament writer Paul, this new order is one in which there is “neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female” (Gal. 3: 28). It is a new order based upon “the law of the Spirit of life” which frees us from “the law of sin and death.” It is a new order towards which “the whole creation has been groaning in travail” (Rom. 8: 2, 22).
Peter’s and Paul’s ecstatic insights into the nature of the New Covenant conform in some respects to Joachim of Fiore's vision of the Age of Spirit, which replaces both the Age of the Father and the Age of the Son; or, in astrological lore, the Age of Aquarius which succeeds both those of Aries and Pisces. Traditional depictions of Aquarius the Water-Bearer - usually shown amidst the stars, pouring water from a pitcher - do of course bear more than a passing resemblance to the woman from The Star card. Within the more serious elements of the New Age Movement4 the figure of Aquarius is associated with a distinct set of humanistic and environmental ideals, including democracy, feminism, equality, holism, simplicity, conservation, and new forms of spirituality based upon a growing sense of global connectedness.
An integral part of this Aquarian hope is the birth of a renewed and revitalized civilization, grounded in wisdom and a fresh understanding of our connection with nature and the earth. This movement toward a new unity of wisdom and “earthiness” is reflected in Pollack’s interpretation of The Star, which considers the water-bearer as embracing both the “inner sensitivity” of the High Priestess and the “passion” of the Empress.5 This new unity is also suggested in the card’s obvious relationship with the ancient Mesopotamian Goddess Inanna (Lady of the Heavens), often depicted with an eight-pointed star, perhaps representing Venus’ eight-year synodic cycle. Inanna is associated with sexuality, fertility, creation, and strength; but also with resurrection from death in the underworld, and the wresting of power (the mes) from Enki, the god of Wisdom, which she uses to establish civilization. A renewed connection with creation and the world is also suggested in the card’s seven minor stars, which, as we discussed with The Empress, may represent the “seven mothers” of the Pleiades – the nurturing and consuming forces of life within the phenomenal world. Alternatively, the eight stars as a collective may represent the Egyptian Ogdoad – the eight primal deities responsible for bringing creation out of chaos. It is interesting to note that the eight stars generate forty-eight points in total – a number that can be reduced to 12 (The Hanged Man) and further to 3 (The Empress). Perhaps this indicates new perspectives on the “Great Mother” gained through the sacrificial act of our hanged king of kings.
Another important theme of the card is that of “communication.” For Waite, the act of pouring represents the Great Mother “communicating to those below in the measure that they can receive her understanding.”6 Likewise, Pollack argues that the Goddess pouring her pitchers onto both water and land points to the liberated energy of The Tower moving simultaneously between “inner transformation” and “the physical world.”7 This theme is reinforced with the appearance of the small bird usually considered to be an Ibis – a symbol of Thoth, the Egyptian God of communication, language and writing. (Incidentally, Thoth was viewed as the one who impelled and led the Ogdoad in the act of creating the cosmos.) For Papus similarly, this card, which he connects with the Hebrew letter Peh, indicates “the sign of speech” and thus the “Word in action in nature.”8
In the Story of the Buddha: The Decision to Teach
According to tradition, the morning star appeared in the sky as the Buddha’s mind fathomed the cycle of dependent origination. The Buddha then remained under or near the Bodhi tree for seven week after this, contemplating what to do. At one point Mara returns along with his daughters, applauding him for his achievement, and urging him that he should now take up his full responsibilities as a mighty ruler according to his caste dharma; or alternatively, die in the full knowledg
e of Nirvana: “‘O holy one, be pleased to enter Nirvana, thy desires are accomplished.’” The Buddha refuses, declaring that he will “‘first establish in perfect wisdom worlds as numerous as the sand, and then I will enter Nirvana.’” With a shriek, Mara “went to his home.” During the sixth week of his enlightenment, the Buddha meditated at the foot of a Mucalinda tree. It began to rain heavily, and so, the giant king cobra, Naga Mucalinda, offered to shelter the Buddha from the elements, raising his hood above his head. The King of the Nagas “protected the Buddha, who is himself the source of all protection, from the rain, wind, and darkness, covering his body with his own hood.”9 According to Campbell, the serpent represents the power and energy of nature. This scene thus reveals a perhaps overlooked aspect of the Buddha’s experience of awakening, namely: “reconciliation with the force of nature that supports the world.”10
However, according to the Ariyapariyesana Sutta the Buddha remained “inclined to inaction”; a “refusal” as Campbell would say, grounded in his awareness that his discovery might be too difficult to comprehend by those living in “lust and hate.” The creator god Brahma Sahamapati, perceiving the Buddha’s thoughts, appears before him and urges him to teach for the sake of those with “little dust in their eyes”; those who will understand what he has to say.11
