- Paperback: 312 pages
- Publisher: Llewellyn Publications (Sept. 8 2002)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 1567185339
- ISBN-13: 978-1567185331
- Product Dimensions: 14.6 x 1.9 x 22.2 cm
- Shipping Weight: 386 g
- Average Customer Review: 7 customer reviews
- Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #642,972 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
The Forest of Souls: A Walk Through the Tarot Paperback – Sep 8 2002
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About the Author
Rachel is considered one of the World’s foremost authorities on the modern interpretation of the Tarot. She is also a poet, an award-winning novelist, and a Tarot card and comic book artist. She has published 12 books on the Tarot, including 78 Degrees of Wisdom (Thorsons, 1998), considered a modern classic and “the Bible of Tarot reading.” Its’ marriage of common sense, wide-ranging knowledge, and esoteric awareness have inspired many tens of thousands of readers worldwide to a deeper knowledge of the Tarot.
She is a member of the American Tarot Association, the International Tarot Society, and the Tarot Guild of Australia. With fellow Tarot author Mary Greer, she has taught at the famed Omega Institute for the past twelve years. She has been conferred the title of “Tarot Grand Master” by the Tarot Certification Board, an independent body located in Las Vegas, Nevada.
As a fiction writer, Pollack has been bestowed many honors and awards, among them the famed Arthur C. Clarke Award for Science Fiction (for Unquenchable Fire) and the World Fantasy Award (for Godmother Night). She is a recommended member of PEN International, and has written for numerous publications.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Myths of Origin
Where does it come from? No matter how we treat the subject--whether we dive deep into the symbolic mysteries, or recite formulas for fortunetelling, or play with the pictures--we cannot escape the question. There are certainly enough answers. Enter the world of Tarot and stories of its origin move around you like excited birds. Here is a sample.
The Tarot depicts the sacred myths of the Romany (or Gypsies), disguised in cards for the centuries of exile from the Rom homeland in India--or Egypt--or outer space. The Tarot is a Renaissance card game inspired by annual carnival processions called triumphs. The Tarot is a card game derived from annual processions called thriambs, in honor of the God Dionysus, the creator of wine. The Tarot conceals/reveals the secret number teachings of Pythagoras, a Greek mystic who lived at the time of Moses, and who influenced Plato. The Tarot depicts the secret oral teachings of Moses, who received them directly from God. The Tarot contains the lost knowledge of Atlantis, a drowned continent first described by Plato. The Tarot is a card game imported from Palestine and Egypt during the Crusades. The Tarot is a vast memory system for the Tree of Life, a diagram of the laws of creation. The Tarot hides in plain sight the wisdom of the Egyptian God Thoth, master of all knowledge. The Tarot shows Egyptian temple initiations. The Tarot shows Tantric temple initiations. The Tarot preserves the wisdom of Goddess-initiated witches during the long, dark centuries of patriarchal religion. The Tarot maps the patterns of the Moon in Chaldean astrology. The Tarot was created by papermaker guilds who were the last remnants of the Cathars, Christian heretics brutally suppressed by the Church of Rome.
All of the above, and more, Tarot writers have proclaimed as the one, true, authentic origin of the Tarot.
The great mythographer Joseph Campbell once commented that the world is full of creation stories and all of them are wrong. The Tarot is like that: full of origin stories, and probably all of them wrong. They are wrong because they take a compelling idea as literal truth. Wrong because they need that literal belief to take the idea seriously, and if someone should disprove once and for all these origin tales they will have lost their hold on its meaning and value. But if we can learn to take these origin tales as myths, as divine play, then not only can we let go of this need to prove the superiority of one to all others, we also can appreciate the poetic truth of each one. And we can marvel at this amazing work, this pack of seventy-eight pictures that somehow adapts itself to so many spiritual and historical traditions.
The Tarot''s Secret Origin is part of its myth. One of the most remarkable things about the cards is the way people snapped at this idea the moment it appeared and have clung to it tenaciously ever since. Here is a personal story. Years ago I was in Denmark shortly after the publication of the Danish edition of my book Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom. Two radio stations wanted to interview me. The first, on national radio, went very well. The second was for a New Age program and I looked forward to it as a chance to discuss the Tarot in some more depth. The day before, the host called me to go over some topics. When I told him that I did not believe the Tarot came from Atlantis, or that secret occult masters crafted it and disguised it as a game, he canceled my appearance.
Though we cannot determine the exact origin of the cards, we can, in fact, pinpoint the origin of the myth. In the 1770s and 80s a man named Antoine Court de Gébelin published a nine-volume study of esoteric ideas called Le Monde Primitif (The Primitive World). The very idea of a primitive human state is itself a myth. In our time, the term "primitive" suggests people unformed, ignorant, savage. In earlier times it meant the opposite, a supposed golden age in which people knew spiritual truth and lived in perfect peace. The Garden of Eden is a variation on this myth.
In the course of his work, Court de Gébelin visited a friend, Madame la C. d''H., who showed him the latest fad, an Italian card game popular in the southern countries, called in Italy tarocchi, and in France les tarots. Court de Gébelin looked through the bright pictures and had an epiphany. The ordinary card game was, in fact, a disguised great work of occult mystery. He called it the Book of Thoth, the very sum of all knowledge.
Thoth was an Egyptian God, the quintessential master of wisdom. Thoth guided the boat of the Sun God Ra across the sky, he invented mummification to resurrect the slain God Osiris, he helped judge dead souls for the afterlife, he even gambled with the Moon to create extra days for the year (more about that story in awhile). The Greeks linked Thoth with their own Hermes, God of magic, healing, wisdom, science, commerce, and, not incidentally, patron of swindlers and thieves (you have to love a religion with a God of swindlers).
Much of the esoteric tradition originates with a shadowy figure known as Hermes Trismegistus, or Thrice-great Hermes, author of The Emerald Tablet, a work composed in Alexandrian Egypt in the early Christian era. The myth of the Emerald Tablet considers Hermes Trismegistus another name for Thoth. Now Antoine Court de Gébelin had described the Tarot as an even more fundamental divine work than the Emerald Tablet itself. Thoth, he said, had given the symbolic pictures to his human disciples and disguised them as a game so it could move through the centuries undetected.
What a wonderful idea! And how amazing that this moment''s inspiration took such a powerful hold on people''s imaginations that it reverberates to this day. Court de Gébelin and his nine volumes would be long forgotten were it not for this one short essay in volume eight. The compelling part of the myth was not really the claim of Egyptian beginning. That was just the particulars. The core idea, the one that took hold so powerfully it dominates subsequent origin stories (at least the occult ones), is that the Tarot forms the basis of all knowledge, the key of keys, or "clavicle," as occultists sometimes call it. In other words, the Tarot lies behind all other knowledge systems. The Tarot summarizes all the mysteries and discoveries of ancient masters. Know the Tarot, understand it correctly, and you will know everything. When Tarot interpreters say it is not Egyptian but Hebrew, or not Hebrew but Tantric, or Chaldean, or heretical Christian, or Wiccan, they begin with the same assumption--that whatever the origin, the Tarot must contain ultimate secrets. They may argue over just which secrets it contains, but they never doubt its esoteric significance.
If we let go of literal belief in all these stories, if we accept the strong likelihood that the Tarot began in the fifteenth century as a popular card game with common allegorical images, do we lose the value of the myth? Can we play with myth rather than believe in it? It seems to me, and to many modern Tarotists, that we actually gain when we see the Tarot''s multiple origins as stories rather than history. For one thing, we can stop arguing, stop trying to prove our version of the origin is correct. Instead, we can look at the subtle beauty and inner truths of the varied esoteric systems entwined with the Tarot.
One of the major traditions looks at the Tarot as a representation of Kabbalah, a vast system of Jewish mystical ideas and practices. We will look at how this idea originated in a moment, but for now there is a Kabbalist myth that illuminates the question of literal belief. The Kabbalists teach that the universe exists in ten levels of divine energy, called sephiroth (the word is connected to "sapphire"). They picture these sephiroth in various ways, sometimes as concentric circles with God in the center and the physical world at the outermost circle, or more commonly with the sephiroth arranged as small circles on a Tree of Life, with the ultimate energy at the top sephirah, called Kether (Hebrew for "crown"), and the material universe at the bottom, called Malkuth ("kingdom"). God created Adam, the first human, with the ability to see and understand all the levels. However, Adam looked at the beauty of Malkuth and allowed himself to mistake it for all creation. And so Adam "sinned," and lost the closeness to God, and took us all with him. Or maybe we ourselves repeat Adam''s error of our own free will, and continuously confuse the material world with the whole of existence.
A literal belief in any particular origin for the Tarot seems to me a little like Adam''s great mistake. We become entranced by the claim and lose sight of the poetic levels and what they actually can teach us. Similarly, if we debunk the specific assertions--if we say no, the Tarot did not come from Egypt, or Atlantis, or ancient rabbis--we would make a great error to think such beliefs no longer mean anything.
The link of Tarot and Kabbalah also goes back to Le Monde Primitif, and a certain Comte (Count) de Mellet, who wrote a backup essay to Court de Gébelin''s comments on the Tarot. Court de Gébelin wrote that "the set of XXI or XXII trumps, the XXII letters of the Egyptian alphabet common to the Hebrews and the Orientals, which also served as numerals, are necessary in order to keep count of so many countries" (quoted in A Wicked Pack of Cards, Decker, Depaulis, and Dummett). Contrary to popular belief about the Egyptian hieroglyphs, they are indeed an alphabet, and not picture writing. However, there are not twenty-two of them. Nor can we determine just who "the Orientals" might be. The Hebrew alphabet, on the other hand, does indeed have twenty-two letters, and Jewish mystical thought considers them the very basis of existence. They link up the sephiroth emanations on the Tree of Life via twenty-two pathways, each with the special quality of one of the letters. Just as Court de Gébelin said, they have numerical value, so that each word adds up to a number, and we can discover secret connections in pairs of words that have the same numbers (this practice is called gematria). We also can move through mystical worlds with the letters and perform acts of magic using the divine names and other letter combinations. It was the Comte de Mellet''s idea to link each Tarot trump to a particular Hebrew letter, so that the individual cards would take on the magical powers of the letters.
Tarot scholar and teacher Mary K. Greer has suggested an interesting revisionist history of the articles in Le Monde Primitif. Court de Gébelin and de Mellet were both Freemasons. Greer considers it likely that the Masons had developed the esoteric theory of Tarot over some time, and gave permission to the two writers to make it public (she also thinks it likely that de Mellet''s essay came first). For Greer, Madame la C. d''H. was a cover story. If Greer is correct in her speculations, it still does not diminish the remarkable impact the announcement had on the history of Tarot.
Christian mystics and magicians became interested in Kabbalah around the same time as the first appearance of the Italian card game tarocchi, so it is not impossible that the Tarot indeed derived from Kabbalistic ideas (though modern scholarship suggests that the cards existed a few decades before the first Christian use of Kabbalah). And the structural comparisons are indeed impressive. Twenty-two is not as common a mystical number as, say, twenty-one (numerologists describe twenty-two as a "master" number, but this is probably a Kabbalistic influence). Kabbalah describes four distinct worlds of creation, each with ten sephiroth. In Tarot we find four suits with cards Ace-Ten. Kabbalah also makes much of the mystical meaning of the four letters in God''s most holy name. And the Tarot has four court cards, Page, Knight, Queen, and King, in each suit. No wonder the idea took hold so powerfully.
In the nineteenth century an occultist and magician named Eliphas Lévi (originally Alphonse Louis Constant) developed the Kabbalistic symbolism of the Tarot in great detail, especially for the trump cards and their Hebrew letters. At the end of the century a Rosicrucian group with the wonderful name of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn took Lévi''s work and expanded and revised it to construct a magical universe of Kabbalah, ritual, Pagan Gods, Hindu philosophy, Freemasonry and other occult traditions, astrology, alchemy, and secret names. The key to all this, the key of keys that would enable the highest adepts (adept was a favorite word and there were many levels) to move through all these different worlds of consciousness and magical power was--of course--the Tarot. Antoine Court de Gébelin had claimed it as the Book of Thoth. Eliphas Lévi had made it the embodiment of the Hebrew letters. Now the Golden Dawn made these beliefs a reality, or at least a fully developed system.
Did it matter that there was no historical evidence for a Kabbalist, or for that matter an Egyptian origin for the Tarot? It does if you need to believe in the literal truth of your magical system. The Golden Dawn included poets, artists, scholars, even a scientist or two. For such an intellectual group they seem to have been remarkably gullible. One of the founders, Samual Liddell "MacGregor" Mathers, produced the group''s official Tarot deck, which differed in some interesting ways from the traditional cards.
Apparently, one evening Mathers took a set of blank cards, went into a room for a short time, and emerged with a complete deck of painted cards. This was enough to convince the group of the deck''s divine inspiration. It does not seem to have occurred to them that Mathers (or possibly his wife Moina) might have painted seventy-eight pictures in the usual manner and concealed them somewhere in the room.
But then the Order''s founders, Mathers, Dr. Wynn Westcott, and Rev. W. R. Woodman, based the whole thing on a fraud. They claimed to have received a "cypher manuscript" that included a page with information about a Frau Sprengel in Germany, who could authorize them to start an English branch of a secret mystical order. After decades of debate, scholars such as Israel Regardie (himself a former member of the Golden Dawn) demonstrated that Frau Sprengel never existed. Westcott himself seems to have written the vital page. Does such proof discredit the Golden Dawn and all its productions? The word hermetic in the title comes from Hermes Trismegistus, but ultimately from that Greek God of swindlers. Hermes might have delighted in such a daring enterprise. Perhaps the Order''s great success owes much to Hermes'' blessing.
A personal story. While I was writing the above paragraphs, my dog, whose name is Wonder, decided to chew up one of my decks of cards, something she never has done before (or since). To do this she had to pull the cards off a table, then bite off the silk scarf that enwrapped them, and scatter the cards about the floor. She actually chewed up only one card before she returned to the room where I sat at my desk. When I discovered what she had done (and gotten over the shock), I checked to see which card she had destroyed. The deck is not Tarot, but an Egyptian-based oracle called the Book of Doors, and the card that Wonder chewed up was called Kerhet, after an Egyptian Goddess of secret initiation. Secret initiations were the Golden Dawn''s whole manner of operation.
The deck''s writers, Athon Veggi and Alison Davidson, write of this card that "the quality of secrecy is recognized in the oath to Keep Silent, to keep the creative operation in perfect secrecy." The Golden Dawn took this concept so seriously that members took an oath, with a sword on their shoulders, that they invited the spirits to strike them down dead if they ever revealed anything to the outside world.
Was Hermes, or to use his Egyptian name, Thoth, showing his displeasure at my lack of respect for his followers'' beliefs? Was he warning me? Personally, I prefer to believe he was playing a joke. Or maybe Thoth was even endorsing openness, for after all, now that Wonder has removed the card of secrecy, any shuffle of the deck can no longer bring forth a card that means "the oath to Keep Silent."
And now to resume. The greatest of all Kabbalah texts, the source of so much that came after it, a work called the Zohar, describes itself as the product of a rabbi two thousand years ago named Simeon bar Yohai. Bar Yohai dictated the Zohar to his son while they hid from the Romans in a cave for thirteen years. Or so the story goes. The Zohar appeared about the year 1100, brought forth by a writer in France named Moses de Leon. More than eight hundred years later, in the 1930s, a scholar named Gershom Scholem demonstrated that de Leon himself created the Zohar.
Did de Leon commit fraud? Did Kabbalists need to believe the Zohar''s claim of ancient authority to take it seriously? David Rosenberg, a contemporary poet whose book Dreams of Being Eaten Alive: The Literary Core of the Kabbalah greatly influenced this work, writes that Moses de Leon was not the sole author of the Zohar but rather the leader of a group that worked together on it. De Leon''s own wife later claimed that he had written it. This suggests that people at the time knew very well who actually had produced the Zohar, and it was only later generations that somehow needed to take the text at face value.
I suggest that we approach the Tarot in the spirit of Moses de Leon''s writers'' group--that we take it seriously by not taking it literally, that we play, with all our hearts, with the most daring of ideas.
Here is a myth of the Tarot''s origin. In contrast to all those stories of a mysterious past, this one is a myth of the future. In further contrast, I do not expect people to take it with utmost seriousness. It is a way to open up the usual way we view reality. And isn''t that why many people come to Tarot in the first place?
How do we know that time works the way we think it does? Time appears to move in a line, from past to future. Events in the past, it seems, cause the future to come into existence. I exist because my parents met and fell in love and had sex. Their past caused my present. This is simply common sense. But sometimes sense is common only because it''s commonly agreed upon. For many centuries people as-sumed the Earth lay at the center of a series of concentric spheres, largely because it looked that way, and because it was just common sense. Of course the Sun revolves around the Earth, you can see it every day; it rises in the east, moves overhead in an arc, and sets in the west, only to do it again the next day. The Sun moves and we stay where we are. It took a long time for people to get the idea that maybe the Sun is stationary and the Earth spins around.
Notice that our language makes it very difficult to describe events in any way other than past to future. We say that people used to believe the Sun moved, then they realized the Earth itself moved. Our common sense about time lies partly in our language. The past is primary because it causes the present. But suppose it was the other way around? Suppose we make existence now a primary fact, and the past secondary? Then we can say, for instance, that my presence now reached back in time and brought my parents together so that they would produce me. And perhaps the people in the future who are reading this book caused me to write it.
Dizzy yet? Think how people felt in the Renaissance when naturalists told them that the Sun does not actually move, the Earth spins.
Physicists long ago noticed an odd quality about equations that involve a process over time. Nothing in the equations implies a direction. They always work as efficiently from the future to the past as they do from the past to the future. Quantum theory (the branch of physics that deals with the behavior of infinitesimal particles) produces an even more interesting view of time. Events occur through a process called "transactional interpretation." A wave ripples out from the present moment, the now. This wave must meet a resonating wave from the future. The interaction between these two waves produces a probability field in which events occur. At any moment the future is as real as the present. Here''s how T. S. Eliot put it in his poem "Burnt Norton": "Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future and time future contained in time past."
The future can "cause" the past as much as the past causing the future. In fact, neither one causes the other, they exist in a relationship that goes in many directions at once. Imagine a web with a vast number of points, all connected to each other, with no single point as the origin or primary cause of the others. Our consciousness places us in one point, convincing us that a single line from the past has caused our current situation to come into being. But this may be an illusion. The physicist Louis de Broglie wrote that elementary particles sometimes seem to come out of nowhere because they can move freely through space-time, and our awareness reaches a point where they happen to exist.
If you find it difficult to follow these ideas, try to experience them as a kind of meditation. Stand outside on a pleasant day (so no rain or cold wind will distract you). Close your eyes and try to sense this moment, right now. Then see if you can feel the past ripple backwards from where you are. Think of your parents, and their parents, and the people who have influenced you, the events that shaped and even created you, such as the first time your parents met, and more subtly, the moment a friend showed you the Tarot, or the first time you saw that book or movie that changed your life. Now see if you can sense a wave equal in size that ripples out to the future, as real as the one to the past. Think of the friends you will influence, the lovers who will move through your life, the children you have or will have, and their children, and their children''s children. The now shifts constantly, and is different for each person, but it always contains the past and the future, and both perhaps as real as the present.
The image of a web does not imply that all time is fixed and rigid. It would if the "web" was a solid structure. But if we think of its many paths as probabilities or simply energy, we actually come to a greater sense of freedom than the usual view of time as a fixed past determining a likely future. All time, all events, exist and influence each other, but none of it controls us.
This view of time is a myth, just like that of three Goddesses called Fates who weave the pattern of our lives and cut the thread at the determined moment of our death, or the medieval idea that a disembodied soul passes through successive planetary spheres on its way to lodge itself in a body. Can we acknowledge that our ordinary view of time is also a myth, and not an absolute truth?
All myths have their uses. One use of a myth of time as a web is a way to imagine the origin of Tarot. Suppose our collective beliefs about the Tarot as the key of keys--Antoine Court de Gébelin''s "discovery," the Golden Dawn, our current psychological approach to the cards, whatever "future" developments we do not know about--suppose all these beliefs and uses somehow reached back in time to draw the Tarot into existence in Renaissance Italy? When Court de Gébelin proclaimed the Tarot the Book of Thoth, the idea took hold so powerfully because it "already" existed in the future.
We, all of us, caused the Tarot to come into the minds of cardmakers in such a perfect form and structure that in our own time we can adapt it to an almost endless series of esoteric, mythological, and cultural ideas. My friend and fellow Tarotist Zoe Matoff points out that our own view of the Tarot may come from future generations, who need us to believe what we believe for them to develop their own ideas. We know (or think we know) the ways in which past concepts, such as the Golden Dawn, influenced our current views (we may follow the past or rebel against it, but we still react to it). But maybe the future influences us in ways we have not learned how to recognize. And maybe neither the future nor the past causes the other, but all time is a web.
To see all time as existent and connected in a web opens up ways to understand divination. Maybe a Tarot reading helps us glimpse a slightly larger part of the web than we would otherwise recognize. At any moment the shifting energy of past-present-future creates a vast pattern, one that ultimately contains all existence. Or maybe a vast potential pattern, what physicists call a wave of probabilities. When we shuffle the cards (and therefore give up conscious control of how they fall), we allow them to form a very small pattern that mimics the very large one. They do not control, or show an unchangeable fate. Instead, they reveal possibilities.
Stephen Karcher, an expert on the I Ching and world divination, has written that divination helps us to act with free will because it frees us from slavery to our conditioning. Is this just because it increases our awareness and shows us our choices? Or does divination liberate us in some basic way? Can our play with the cards actually open up our destiny and not just reveal it? Can a reading change reality?
An Egyptian myth about the calendar suggests a whole new way to look at what we do when we mix Tarot cards and lay them out for a reading. It features our good friend Thoth, the God of All Things Worth Knowing and legendary inventor of the Tarot. I call this story Gambling with the Moon, and like any myth it resonates far beyond its literal subject. We will look at it in the next chapter.
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I never thought that you could surpass SEVENTY EIGHT DEGREES OF WISDOM but you did it with this one!
The book goes beyond the terrestrial presentation of the cards and presents a unique (and long awaited) perspective for the Tarot community. Basically she says, in fact she screams between the lines "USE THE TAROT". Forget the hype, the type, the schools and the rules and pick up the cards and use them.
And don't believe you have the "correct" tarot and the "right" meanings because you don't and no one does. That's what I like about this it is unpretentious; it's just one woman's take on a pack of cards that happen to be Tarot cards. But it's an amazing take on some awe inspiring cards.
I'm sure we all could come up with pretty interesting interpretations and valid ideas if we would use the cards the way she does. Often the creators of decks say that they never intentionally created a meaning etc. for an image but it somehow got there. These are the images that speak the meanings of the cards - so subtley and yet so powerful - wheter intentionally or unintentionally placed. They are the sub and unconcious, the real, the apparent and that which we cannot see.
E.g. The Woman with the Camel - refer Cabala, Jewish Lore, Biblical interprestation, Arabic customs, etc. these are her connections, the list goes on however, even a Bugs Bunny cartoon where Bugs decides to leave his Castle and travels on a camel through the desert to reach some traders in an oasis (my connection). I'm sure you would never pick up any of these references with a standard deck and a typical tarot book! And the woman with the camel is the High Priestess.
Don't discard what the foreparents of Tarot have thought - build on it. You can buy this book and learn how to use the Tarot or you can pick up the tarot and use it yourself!
In the ensuing chapters, like the reverently irreverent Tracy Ullman, Pollack takes on such subjects as the Tarot's origins, wisdom questions (as opposed to asking, "Will X marry me," she asks, "What is marriage?"), Jewish and Kabbalistic thoughts as they pertain to the Tarot, and formulating new versions of the Fool's Journey. The author does a reading for God ("God's Reading") and finds Christian symbolism abounding in her own Shining Tribe deck when she performs "A Reading for the Resurrection: Easter 2001."
What do I mean by reverently irreverent? Some might call doing a spread for God irreverent. Yet Pollack's awe is reserved for what is truly profound, and part of that profundity is in pushing the limits of what we have done before or think we know. She pushes those limits not out of irreverence, but reverence for the truly infinite. And for the tarot, in what it can offer us in terms of infinite wisdom
If you have been fortunate enough to attend a workshop with Rachel Pollack, you know that her style is humorous and digressive. She is widely read and thinks and speaks in an unconventional, intellectually searching voice. This voice is manifested in The Forest of Souls, far more than in her previous tarot writings. I could actually hear her in my head, alluding to Professor Irwin Cory and tales of her dog's exploits. The tone of the book has an immediacy and vitality that makes it easy to read, which is an amazing feat, as the concepts and thoughts are both complex and challenging.
They are also unique. I cannot think of another book like this in the tarot oeuvre. It is also demanding, particularly in its structure. While Pollack offers us a panoply of different ways in which we can use the tarot, this is no traditional workbook. She describes what she has done, but she certainly doesn't set up a format that we can follow by rote. She doesn't make it easy. One example is her approach to alternative Major Arcana journeys. I am excited by doing one of my own, but I must admit I would have preferred some step-by-step instructions, even as I feel challenged in a positive way. Pollack's Forest of Souls isn't a stop on the Carnival Tour. This isn't the Easily Digestible Approach to Tarot, but one of visionaries, dreamers, and explorers. Only adult tarot readers need apply.
In high school, I read Elie Wiesel's The Gates of the Forest, a moving novel about the holocaust and Kabbalah. I remember being so engrossed in this book that I was shocked to feel something wet on my shoulder. It was a tear that had fallen without me even being aware that I was crying, so enmeshed was I in that compelling story. The title of that book, so similar to Rachel's, brought that memory back to me. The synchronicity of the subject matter seems to align with the magic of the Tarot, another inviting and complex forest for which we are blessed to have a guide like Rachel Pollack.
Pollack opens with a description of the various histories and mythological guesses at the origins of the Tarot, combining it with its known history, and personal experience. Spirituality, symbols, myths and archetypes are common themes explored in this book as Pollack approaches the decks in a more spiritual rather than divinatory light.
The text is beautifully accompanied by a variety of black and white illustrations of various Tarot decks, many of which I've never seen before. She examines the commonalities found within them, and explains much of the mythology and reasoning behind such images. Pollack relies heavily on the Shining Tribe Tarot she created, obviously as that symbolism resonates best with her understanding.
There are methods of asking questions of the Tarot that she seems to feel others would find heretical. Coming from a chaos magick background myself, I can't quite understand why, though I've found my work enhanced by her suggestions. She expands upon the traditional spreads listed in every other book with spontaneous questions and insights of her own. Previous to reading Forest of Souls, my Tarot readings were much more ridgedly structured. Ms. Pollack has given my practice a much needed breath of fresh air, allowing for much more creativity and spontaneity in my readings.
An excellent book for expanding one's thought on traditional histories and practices of Tarot, highly recommended to anyone with an interest in Tarot.
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