The House of God / The Tower: A Flash of Realisation

The Tower from Walter Wegmuller’s New Age Tarot

There was a time when I viewed ‘my identity’ as the most important aspect of my being. ‘Being gay’, ‘being working class’, ‘being a performer’. I felt like these attributes summarised who I actually was. These labels created nice little definitions of my existence that I could step into each morning, narrowing me into my stories and scripts, my life’s roles. They assured me that this ‘me’ was someone who I understood, who didn’t change; someone who I felt I could trust, like a set of outfits that could be blended with each other. Then there were my ‘personality traits’, which acted like accessories to the main outfits: things like ‘being an angry person’, ‘being a good listener’ or ‘being political’.

But clothing gets worn and tired. They get holes, shrink or stop fitting you, and so you fix them or get new ones. And yet we keep putting on the same narrow identities out of habit. I am still gay, of course, and my working-class upbringing has shaped my life in wonderful ways that I am grateful for. But no, I do not identify with these things as strongly as I used to. The words ‘gay’ and ‘working class’ describe aspects of my life experience, but they do not shape my identity. I do believe that it’s important to embrace aspects of yourself that come up against hate and discrimination, to counteract the negativities. The challenge, though, is leaving it there and not letting these things define us. They don’t.

Everybody does this, whatever our life experience (although not necessarily with sexuality or class). We identify with our preferences, our jobs, the places where we live, the whole lot.

From the Osho Zen Tarot

As for ‘being a performer’, I held onto being one of those long after I wanted to do it. There came a time when my body and mind were so repelled by the act of getting onstage that my anxiety levels would push me towards panic. It just didn’t feel right for me anymore, yet I held onto ‘being a performer’ to a point of complete incongruence. That old suit, which I had been wearing for almost 20 years, didn’t fit me anymore. My system wanted me to shake it off; it could no longer squeeze into this unfulfilling role. But who would I be if I wasn’t a performer? Who was there, beneath all of that? Nobody, nothing: that’s what I genuinely believed.

I’m sure that you can relate to this, because this is not a freak experience that poor misguided souls like me go through – it’s what we humans do. We identify with roles and categories, sometimes to our downfall.

After a while, I stopped performing. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I cried, and I felt empty. I began to recognise that part of my problem was that I had spent year upon year either living in the past or planning for the future, and I could see that this was the cause of my identity-based stress. Once I stopped ‘being a performer’, I couldn’t plan and fantasise about what Future Stephen would get up to, and it felt scary; there was just a gaping hole there. Just the present moment.

I realised that I had fantasised my life away. I also recognised that I had a wonderful partner, a lovely flat (at the time) near the sea, enough money and a job that I was happy with (pre-ecotherapy). I knew that I was privileged in life, and yet I felt like I wasn’t; I wanted to do something about that faulty perception.

I read about something called mindfulness. I’d heard of it before, and had a cynical view of it: it was for posh people, wasn’t it? (Surely I was too working class to sit still and enjoy my breath!) Regardless, I took a simple mindfulness exercise out with me on my dog walk with Euro. I could have tried it indoors, but for reasons I don’t remember – probably convenience – I thought I’d give it a go in the park whilst walking the dog. I wasn’t an outdoorsy person at the time. Not at all.

As I walked and my forever-ruminating mind did its thing, I began to ride my in-breath and out-breath as if it were a boat bobbing on the calm sea.

The House of God from the Tarot de Marseille (Jodorowsky / Camoin version)

Nature struck me like lightning. Everything came alive in front of me. I became my breath and my body. I felt grounded for the first time … ever? I walked along the path, through rows of old trees in full summer leaf, and Nature exploded with enchantment.

The trees, the tarmac, the little blackbird. The whole lot revealed itself as an exciting mystery that I had ignored since I was a child who went hedgehog-spotting with a notebook. The hairs raised on the back of my neck as one foot moved in front of another and Euro barked at squirrels. My thoughts were still there, but they became irrelevant to me: life became colour, phenomena, energy. All of the things that it always is, but I forever ignored. I mean, trees! Wooden beings, rising into the sky, reaching to our star for life. I had barely given a tree a second thought since I was about ten years old. Who were these unfathomable beings of the Earth, reaching for starlight on this rocky globe? So many of them! All the time! Everywhere! What is this?

A blackbird came popping out of a shrub as I continued to walk, noticing the feeling of my skin connecting with the breeze. I marvelled at this strange wee creature, propelling itself into the air. It sang. Why? I realised the obvious, mind-blowing truth that I live in outer space, on a colourful planet full of singing, flying creatures (with beaks to boot). I let go of words like ‘birds’ and ‘trees’ and what remained was an enchanted wonderland that I felt – and still feel – unbelievably privileged to have been born from, to be an extension of.

Of course, this flash of lightning that came into my life was a shock, albeit a joyous one. After losing my sense of meaning in life, the point of it all revealed itself as nothing more than a simple gratitude for existing. I still feel that way now (although, of course, I get sidetracked doing ridiculous things like writing books). I have to be very careful not to identify too much with any of these beautiful things that I do with my life now – ecotherapy, Buddhism, storytelling – because before I know it, I’m identifying with ‘being a Buddhist’ or ‘being an ecotherapist’ and honestly, that way of thinking will eventually piss on any parade.

This is not The Tower experience of the Rider Waite Tarot, with its dark skies, destruction, and people falling to their deaths. The older Marseille Tower – or ‘House of God’ as it translates from the French – is playful, colourful, a divine revelation. Later decks like the Rider Waite Smith darkly dramatised the scene, suggesting disaster. It’s not wrong, it’s just a different system of Tarot.

In the Tarot de Marseille, a colourful flash of energy cracks in the sky. A crown is knocked off a small tower, and two figures – who are both half the size of the tower itself, so hardly likely to die – appear. One crawls forward from the back of the building; the other either falls from a short height, is blown around by the wind, or is just doing a cartwheel for the hell of it. They look happy and content.

From the Jean Noblet Tarot (a Tarot de Marseille deck by Flornoy)

Depending on the version of the Marseille deck, they will grab at either plants or the river: they are woken up, and their first response is to reach for nature. The sky is alive with colourful confetti-like circles; a celebration takes place without prior warning. And in some versions, the striking power actually comes from inside the tower itself, rather than from the sky: someone’s mind is blown by internal realisation.

These sorts of Nature awakenings are usually gradual. But occasionally, the House of God sounds the klaxon when you are just minding your own business. You are blown away by it all. If you chase such experiences (and I did after this happened, to my frustration), you will learn that you can’t find them that way. They will come when we learn to let go and be nature. And even then, the experience will pass like all lightning strikes. All we can do is let it go, enjoy our aliveness, and … just go for a nice walk. That’s enough. 

That’s all for now, friends. Thank you for being here – and please check out my Therapeutic Tarot Sessions if you’d like us to work together. You can also sign up for the Tarot Blog newsletter (different to my main newsletter) below to receive occasional email updates (roughly monthly) with the latest posts.

Smiles from Scotland,

Stephen