Turning Tarot Into Folktale
I've been working my way through Mary Kay Greer's Book "21 Ways to Read a Tarot Card" for the past few months. In the first chapter, Greer instructs you to draw one card - just one - and focus on finding all the various layers of meaning that card holds as you work your way through the next twenty chapters. I was skeptical at first, but I have to admit that so far it's been a pretty fascinating journey! I happened to pull the High Priestess (using the This Might Hurt deck by Isabella Rotman) and goodness, there's so much to learn about her.
In the latest chapter, Greer asks you to create the story that your card tells as if it was a fairy or folk tale, and really free your mind to wander and let whatever narrative and symbolism surface without judgement or analysis in the moment. Afterwards, take a look at the story, and see what wisdom it holds for basic questions like "What do I need to focus on in my life right now?"
The folk tale that poured out of my intuition for The High Priestess turned out to be rich with detail and emotion. I invite you to ask this same question for yourself - "What do I need to focus on right now?" - and see what wisdom this humble little story might offer you today.
Cheers,
-Anna
The Story of the High Priestess
- Channeled by Anna Jollymore
Once upon a time, a bouncing baby girl was born to two loving parents. She had dark brown skin, shining brown eyes, and beautifully lush black curls. She made cooing sounds in her bassinet, and stared up at the big new world around her with curiosity and joy.
On the third day after she was born, her parents heard a knock at their door. They opened it to find nine priests dressed in white robes and nine priestesses dressed in black robes, who informed them that the child’s birth aligned with the stars and prophecies, and she was to be the next High Priestess of the land.
With tears of sadness and hope, the parents agreed to send their baby away with the entourage of acolytes, so that she could be brought up with the proper training to fulfill her destiny.
The robed servants took the child to an abbey perched on the side of a mountain in a green wooded land, and raised her to appreciate peace, beauty, nature, stars, and spirit. She had tutelage every day in the priestess arts, and by night she ran and played with the plants and animals. She wrote all the wisdom and knowledge she was taught in a book and, page by page, filled it out into quite a tome.
On her 21st birthday, she was crowned High Priestess and the acolytes released the young woman out into the wider world to find love, happiness, and purpose. She wandered the woods in delight, taking with her the book and a shroud covered in pomegranates that reminded her of the abbey.
One night as she was following the bend of the grass and listening to the owls hoot, she came upon a gentle riverbank. In the ripples of the blue-black water below, she saw the reflection of a crescent Moon above. She cast her gaze up to the sky, and was instantly smitten. She called out to the Moon to come down and greet her, and the Moon, smitten in return, was eager to comply. The High Priestess climbed into the supple curve of the Moon’s crescent, and the two of them simply existed in a full and luminous romantic repose.
"Shall I read to you from my book, darling?" asked the High Priestess. “It’s full of many wise words about love.”
The Moon pulsed “yes” in response, and so she lifted the book into her lap. As she opened the book, she discovered that the pages were blank. In her lover’s embrace, there were no words to think or say. There were only feelings to feel.
The closer the Moon, the more the words faded away, but the High Priestess discovered the next day that if she wandered a bit back into the woods on her own, the words returned.
From then on, the two of them filled their nights with the blissful cycles of loving and being, and The High Priestess hung her shroud of pomegranates between a black oak and a white poplar tree to make them a home.
Each night when the Moon dipped low, she would close her book, climb into the light, and be held. And when the Moon rose high overhead, the book’s pages would fill again, and she would speak poetry into the sky.
