One way to look at the Moon arcana is the movement of evolution: from the primordial swamp—with its bottom-dwelling crayfish—to the distant ether. The arcana shows us the long journey—from base materiality to the most subtle space and enlightenment. On the other hand, there is dualism in this view—the moon is playing a trick.
The moon—the reflecting intellect—gives us the illusion of knowing and progress: a linear path from lower to higher worlds, from body to spirit. It tricks us into a vision of gnostic dualism as if the moon’s light were separate from that of the sun. The non-dual view tells us divinity is just as present in samsara's swamp as in nirvana's peak—that mind and body are not two. However, the mystical realisation of this unity is easier said than done. Therefore, we struggle with provisional stages—in shadowy moonlight—until we become totally weary of our false dichotomies.
The moon symbolises the doorway to the unseen, the mystical realm. It represents melancholy, madness, and dream—the hidden aspects of reality. It recalls all that is elusive, suggestive, unstable, shimmering—the full moon makes us moody and uncertain. When walking in a forest at night, the moon allows us to ‘see in the dark’—to perceive hidden truths. We cannot look directly into the sun, but we can gaze indefinitely at the moon—we can become a ‘lunatic’, fixated on our visions. The moon lets us perceive these visions in the dark and intuit the sun’s presence, though it could also drive us to madness.
The moon arcana is all about duality. As a cold rock hanging in space, it provokes a sense of primordial loneliness and separation—but also the intimacy of wholeness. It includes the two towers of good and evil, a wolf and a dog representing nature and domesticity—the known and the unknown. The moon reflects how we are torn between conflicting passions. Too much domesticity kills the spirit, and too much wildness will tear us to pieces. Even our physical brains are divided—the brain hemispheres, as Iain McGilchrist has shown us, have different views of reality. One side seeks to control and master—the other lives in mute sensation. Therefore we must take the middle way between the right and left hemispheres, good and evil, and human and animal nature. The path is dangerous: it is moonlit and obscure.
The moon arcana has a half-face; its eyes are closed; it looks inward and downwards in intense contemplation. Again, the moon gives us partial information and keeps the whole story hidden. The moon does not directly provide us with light or guidance—it tends to confuse us or divert our attention through fears and illusions. The moon's expression is ambiguous and pained; it brings shadows and monstrous forms—terrors. It is traditionally associated with chaos, with the breakdown of reason, form, meaning, and understanding. The moon's inward gaze—tells us not to trust appearances but to look within. The lunar world is purely visionary; we cannot put roots down on its surfaces—it presents an inhospitable landscape. It gives us a view of the earth but doesn’t tell us how to live there.
A lunatic (lune is the French word for moon) has lost connection to the earth and gone into isolated mad abstraction. The spiritual luminary G.I. Gurdjieff used to say that human consciousness is food for the moon—in other words, the moon devours our will, understanding and being—it makes us mechanical and somnambulistic. Without going int to Gurdjieff’s strange mythology, we can see the moon devouring consciousness. As the prominent presence of the night world, the moon is the unconscious mind; it intimates all that is hidden in the dark land of sleep.
The moon also symbolises the Great Mother. Exoterically, we associate the moon with femininity, fertility, tides and cyclical reality. However, in some esoteric systems, this is reversed. In the inner Tantric yogas, for instance, the lunar channel is masculine, and the solar channel is feminine. The feminine principle in this system is like the sun, the self-existing source of life, whereas the moon reflects the sun’s splendour. If there were no objects or surfaces to shine on, the sun’s light would appear dark—therefore, the moon represents the surface, this power of reflection—what allows us to see not just the mystical or abstract or hidden realm but anything at all.
It would appear that the moon needs the sun, but the sun is indifferent—a woman (the sun) needs a man (the moon) like a fish needs a bicycle, as the expression goes! Without the sun, the moon remains dark—a man needs a woman to give birth to him. However, symbolically speaking, we can say that the sun needs the moon as a plaything—to reflect its light. Note: the solar and the lunar essences exist in men and women to different degrees—tantrically speaking, every human being is a dynamic combination of solar and lunar expression. Psychologically, the neurotic masculine is cold and disembodied like the moon, whereas pathological femininity is sulphurous. The moon is autistic; the sun is hysterical! So, we do need each other after all.
This article is part of a consideration of our study group on symbolism and Psychomagic. If you want to become a member and join one of our study groups, please write to me at andrewpgsweeny@gmail.com or check out the events calendar below for more details.
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