The Star
The Star. The 17th card in the Major Arcana. In Rachel True’s True Heart Intuitive Tarot’s depiction, we see a scene at nighttime. In the distance, beyond the hills, there is an outline of what looks like a castle. In the foreground is a naked figure kneeling; they have one knee on land, one foot in water. They hold a tilted cup in each hand with water flowing down and out of and or up and into the cups. In the center of the sky, we see one brilliant bright star, surrounded by seven smaller ones.
The Star comes right after The Tower— where all was destroyed down to the foundation, often painfully and in ways one couldn’t have anticipated. The Star reminds us that the destruction is not the end of the story.
It speaks of Hope.
And the power of Hoping.
I always think about the North Star when this card appears. I think about what it meant for my ancestors—thinking about the horror of slavery that is beyond what I can even imagine; the ways they were torn apart on layers I can’t conceive. What was it to look to the sky and find a reason to keep breathing?
What allowed the type of courage necessary to Hope? What did it take to hold a dream, a vision, a knowing that the current circumstances would not be where their story ended—even if they themselves wouldn’t get to experience it? What did it feel like to follow that bright point in the sky, even as one ran from dogs, hid from enslavers?
What did it feel like when the Star couldn’t be found? What was it to wade through waters in the dead of night, to trust beyond what appeared “logical” that there was a life beyond what they had experienced, what their parents had experienced, what their grandparents had known?
It takes courage to Hope.
Hope can create a future worth surviving for.
Hope doesn’t always feel hopeful. It can feel silly. Slippery. Like a set up. Like something “fools” do. Especially when one can’t see what one is hoping for. Where the vision of possibility is hazy because it’s only an echo of an echo of an echo of a memory (or a future), tugging at your spirit.
Yesterday, I went looking for a book I’ve had but not looked at in years: The Impossible Will Take Awhile. Opened it. Found my notes scribbled furiously (probably while on the train) on the inside cover:
“I think that Hope is often misunderstood. To hope isn’t an ignorant blindness, doesn’t imply that at some point everything will “be alright.” Our hope isn’t dependent on any outcome, but rather simply dependent on our ability to continue breathing.
We are warriors, we are pioneers. We are the ones who know no other option [but to hope], for this current state is not an option we can live with.”
How wise decade ago me was—I thank her for the reminder. For me, the Star reminds me that Hope is a verb. And necessary for survival.
What must be done on the daily to cultivate a practice of Hoping? Will you own your responsibility to yourself, to your community—to allow yourself to hope for more than what this world is allowing us to currently see?
Close your eyes. Feel the stirring in your bones. Move towards it. Hope.