So here we are, friends: the final post in my series exploring all 78 cards of the Tarot through the lens of nature connection. And what better place to end than at the beginning?

If the Fool were one of the ancient elements (Water, Earth, Fire and Air), he would be Air. The flow of the in-breath and the out-breath. The breeze against the skin. The rustle in the trees; the force that carries the wings of the bird.

The Fool is like the narrator of a play, getting to experience all of the characters with one foot slightly outside of the process. His number-no-number is a mysterious zero, a circle of emptiness, a circle of wholeness. In Zen Buddhism, the circle is a symbol that represents the entirety of the universe and the mysteries from which we are all born and return. We can experience this so-called emptiness when we sit still and focus on our breath, allowing all of our thoughts and emotions to move in and out of our lives like clouds through the sky.

And what moves the watery clouds? Air.

So far in this blog, we have experienced numbers 1-22 of the Major Arcana, as well as all Minor Arcana cards. In most modern decks and books, The Fool is placed right at the beginning of the process, before Number One, The Magician. But does zero come before one? Does it come anywhere, really? The old Marseille decks and literature often put The Fool at the end of the Major Arcana, as an unofficial number 22, if you like. (That card has to go somewhere!) But is that right? He is probably before, after, everywhere and nowhere.

The Fool is not only the breath, but the awareness that experiences the breath. That mysterious life force that is beyond our busy thoughts and feelings: that stillness that can be experienced when we let go and just be for a while. He travels with little belongings, nagged by some animal at his behind, like the nagging thoughts that plague our peace. His feet are on the earth, but his spirit is everywhere.

*Above: The Fool from Tarot de Marseille (Jodorowsky/Camoin version).*

I invite The Fool to join me on my walk today; I visualise him appearing behind me as I move. The jingle of his bells, his stick pressing into the soggy mud, the paws of the little animal who accompanies him, I imagine it all as I push through the tall grasses. It occurs to me that the little dog-cat-whatever at his back always has some energy for the free Fool, whether pushing him ahead or clawing his leg as if scared of danger. It won’t leave the wanderer alone, will it? And yet the Fool wanders anyway, wherever he needs to go.

I wonder about inviting other characters from the Tarot to walk with me, but I quickly decide against it. There's no way that the Popess will leave her seat: she has an egg to incubate, secrets to ponder from her mysterious book, and I daren't ask the Empress or Emperor to walk across boggy Scottish fields with me. Can you imagine? (The shame.)

The next day, I walk AS The Fool, this time in the pouring rain; same field, other direction. I look over and can see the lowlands of Scotland spread for over 30 miles, over the little mountain of Arthur’s Seat in central Edinburgh, over the great sea estuary, to the green hills of Fife. For a moment, I am just this openness, the space itself – the sky, the sea, the city, the hills. I am The Fool.

I hear the summer birds tweeting in the hedges, darting into the wheat crops and back again, their songs echoing above me from tree to tree. The pitter patter of rain lands on my raincoat and I marvel at the miracle of water falling from the sky. I watch the grass splat beneath my wellies as the path leads me to the children's forest school. Luxurious mosses cushion the earth as I enter, sucking in the goodness of this liquid that falls upon us, for reasons that I do not understand. The ground is soft, soft, squelching, sucking me in for a second at a time, only for me to pull my foot back to freedom again.

These are the moments of The Fool. The Zero, the Zen symbol of emptiness, and of wholeness: empty of a separate self in this full and gorgeous Universe. I am whole, and it is enough just for me to breathe the air, to sense it coming in and out of my body and I lean back on a strong pine tree, not minding the rain dripping down my coat. The cold summer dampness fills my body and I like it. I am happy here these days, content with contentedness, aiming for the goal of goalessness, no need to be anybody special, enjoying the ordinariness of grass, rain and breath. The ordinariness of my life is extra-ordinary enough – we don’t need to be or do anything more. Just go where we are called, and experience whatever comes our way.

*Above: The Fool from Neuzeit Tarot (New Age Tarot) by Walter Wegmuller*

The Fool is he who we rest in contentedly. He mostly (but not always) has a little creature at his heels: most often a dog, but more cat-like in the earliest Marseille decks. In other decks it could be any creature imaginable, but usually something four-legged is either pushing The Fool on or clawing him back from his foolish steps as he walks towards a cliff edge. He represents a million and one things, but a special association of mine is that most pure and mysterious thing in Nature: consciousness itself, that little invisible thing that The Magician created, which scientists still barely understand. Thoughts and feelings are by no means the sum of our existence. The Fool watches symbols take shape as we dream, and keeps us breathing as we sleep. He observes even when we are un-conscious. And if we allow ourselves to spend some quiet time, somewhere peaceful in Nature, we will watch it – and ourselves – become Nature itself. No separation.

That’s all for now, friends. Thank you for being here – and please check out my Therapeutic Tarot Sessions and my courses embracing Tarot and Nature if you’d like us to work together. Although my posts exploring each individual card have come to an end, I still plan on posting the occasional Tarot blog, so you can still sign up for the Tarot Blog newsletter (different to my main newsletter) below to receive occasional email updates with the latest posts.

Smiles from Scotland,

Stephen

The Fool (in the Breath)

Eight of Cups: Following the Stream