1 – The Magician – Existence

1 – The Magician

You are the master of your universe, at least that is the aim of every mystic tradition, and so of each evolving soul to their own occult significance of the universe. 

The Magician is the first and primal step of the soul’s journey, and through it, the entire journey is culminated. In that, after the 0, the +1 of aspiration occurs to time in the querent’s journey of initiation. The old traditional decks called this the Juggler, Osho calls it Existence, it is working higher self and to it, the entire journey into itself occurs at the Magician. Crowley likens it mercury, for as in the Indian tradition Mercury is Budh, the higher sentience through the mind, where merge supreme reason to divine instinct. 

The four cornerstones of the magi are the elements, for he is the divine bridge of higher intelligence above worldly matter. To that spirit is existence. 

As the narrative, the card of the Magician is the bridge over Light, Sound, Time and Space. The evolved application to the elements Fire, Water, Air and Earth. To the familiar of the tarot, wands, cups, swords, pentacles respectively. Through the course of life, from childhood to old age, all experience, all memory, all achievement, all sensation have occurred to the singular point of view. The threshold of understanding is this arc as a singular narrative, the one lifetime of living and integrating all that is this existence, and envision too to the singular narrative that converges beyond existence into naught. That individual and subjective journey is the realm of the magician. 

Astute or otherwise, each is a master of their own universe. And that is their bridge to their own narrative. That is them as the magician, that is a juggler as human endeavouring to their godhead. 

As the first card of the Major Arcana, the importance of this tarot card in the scheme of things cannot be overstated. The magi, receptacle of spirit. 



A coat of quotes and passing poetry

"How many bards gild the lapses of time! bards A few of them have ever been the food  Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime: And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,  These will in throngs before my mind intrude:  But no confusion, no disturbance rude Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime. So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store;  The songs of birds—the whisp'ring of the leaves— The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves  With solemn sound,—and thousand others more, That distance of recognizance bereaves,  Make pleasing music, and not wild uproar."

Birdsong | Unknown