Tarot of the Day
Strength
Major Arcana VIII · Upright
The Gentle Hand on the Lion · The Patient Steady Power That Does Not, In Fact, Require Force · The Lemniscate of Eternal Recurring Tenderness · The Woman Whose Love for Her Own Wildness Is the Truest Sovereignty
A serene woman stands in a flowing white robe, a crown of flowers in her hair, the lemniscate — the figure-eight of infinity — floating gently above her head. Beside her, a great red lion looks up at her with calm trusting eyes; her hands rest on his jaw and his mane, not forcing his mouth closed but gently, with patient love, asking him to remain at peace beside her. There is no struggle in the image. There is no domination. There is no battle being won or lost. There is only the steady gentle hand of a woman who has, in fact, learned that the lion is not, in fact, her enemy — and the lion's calm trusting gaze, returning her tenderness, is the precise evidence that the woman's patient art has, in fact, succeeded. Behind them, the soft hills roll gently into the distance under a calm sky, and the whole scene carries the quality of a relationship that has been patiently tended across many ordinary days. Strength is one of the most quietly radical cards in the entire major arcana. She arrives, traditionally, as the eighth major — placed in some decks before Justice, in others after, but always at the precise location in the soul's journey where the seeker has discovered that her own fierce energies are not, in fact, obstacles to be conquered, but companions to be welcomed. The card depicts the rarest and hardest spiritual practice any human ever undertakes: lay your gentle hand on your own wildness, walk beside her with patient faithful attention, and trust that tenderness is, in fact, the truest form of strength a human can offer to the fires that have, all along, been her own. And today, on the tenth morning of the new waning with the moon deep in the steady middle-fire of Aries at 18°, Strength arrives at exactly her right hour. The deeper teaching of the card is that real strength is not, in fact, the conquest of one's wildness, but the patient faithful relationship with it. The lion is the body's own fierce energies — the appetites, the longings, the angers, the fires that have, all along, been part of her — and the woman has learned that these energies need not be exiled or suppressed; they need, in fact, only her gentle ongoing attention, her patient steady hand, her willingness to walk beside them with the courage to be tender. The crown of flowers names the gentleness; the lemniscate names the eternal recurring nature of the practice. Strength's work is not, in fact, a single accomplishment. The infinity symbol above the woman's head names the daily repeated rhythm: the gentle hand on the lion is not, in fact, laid once. She is laid again and again, every day, across the whole arc of a conscious life, with the patient recurring tenderness that any sustained relationship — whether with another being or with one's own fierce energies — in fact, requires. The lion's calm gaze is the proof of the patient art. In every other tarot card that features a lion or a fierce creature — the chariot, certain pentacles, certain wands — the relationship is one of either struggle or mastery. Only in Strength is the relationship one of patient mutual recognition. The lion looks up at the woman with trust because she has, in fact, earned his trust across the long quiet labor of repeated gentle attention. The woman herself is the embodiment of a sovereignty deeper than any throne could offer. She is not a warrior. She is not a queen. She is, in fact, the woman who has learned the rarest royal art of all: the patient gentle relationship with her own wildness, which is, in fact, the source of every sustained power any human will ever wield. The body who has, in fact, learned to lay her gentle hand on her own lion has, in fact, become the body whose fierceness is no longer a problem to be managed but a beloved companion who walks beside her, lifelong, in patient faithful peace.
She asks: If the lion in you is not, in fact, your enemy — and if the patient gentle hand on her mane is, in fact, the truest power you will ever wield — what is the fierce part of yourself that would, today, settle into peaceful companionship if she finally felt your steady tenderness rather than your chronic effort to push her down?
A Mini Ritual
The taking up of the ancient gentle artfive quiet minutes of laying the patient hand on your own lion
Strength does not ask for elaborate ceremony today. She asks for five unhurried minutes of physical embodied practice — the literal laying of your gentle hand on the place in your body where your own wildness, in fact, lives, and the speaking of the words that retell her her own loveliness. This is the tenth practice of the new waning, the patient tending arc. The receiving has been performed. The gift has, in fact, arrived. Today, the gentle hand on the lion completes the work.
i
Find a quiet space and sit comfortably with both feet on the floor. Take three slow breaths. Allow your body to settle into the position of one who is about to perform a serious tender act — neither rushed nor casual, with the steady reverence of one who has, in fact, taken up an ancient art that thousands of generations of women have practiced before her.
ii
Ask yourself: what is the fierce part of myself — the lion in me — that has, for years, been quietly conquered, suppressed, or exiled rather than welcomed? The anger that has been called ugly. The longing that has been called too much. The fierce truth that has been called impolite. The appetite that has been called inappropriate. The body that has, in fact, never been allowed to be exactly as she is. Choose one specific part of yourself. Name her, quietly, without apologizing for her.
iii
Now physically lay your gentle hand on the place in your body where this fierce part lives. The chest, the belly, the throat, the womb-space, the jaw — wherever in your body that part of you has, in fact, taken up residence. Let your hand rest there with the same gentle steadiness as the woman's hand on the lion in the card. Feel the warmth of your own palm against your own body. The hand and the lion are, in fact, both your own.
iv
Speak softly to her, aloud or silently: "You have, in fact, always belonged to me. I am, in fact, no longer asking you to be smaller. The lion is mine to walk beside, not to conquer. The fierce energy in me is, in fact, beloved. The hand on you is, in fact, my own — and it stays, today and tomorrow and the day after, with the patient steady tenderness of the woman who has, finally, learned that you and I have always been one." Let the words land. Notice the response in your body. The fierce part of you, hearing herself welcomed, often softens immediately — not because she has been conquered, but because she has, finally, been recognized.
v
Close with both hands resting gently at your heart, eyes closed for one slow breath. Speak softly: "The lemniscate above me names the recurring rhythm. The gentle hand returns tomorrow. The lion and I are, in fact, walking beside each other for the rest of my life — and the tenderness I offer her becomes, in fact, the truest source of every sustained power I will ever wield."
Strength promises: the patient gentle hand laid on the fierce parts of yourself today will, in fact, transform your relationship with your own wildness in ways no amount of conquering could ever produce — but only because you returned tomorrow, and the day after, with the same recurring tenderness. The single act of welcome is, in fact, almost nothing. The repeated act of welcome, across many ordinary days, is, in fact, everything. The lemniscate above the woman's head names the secret: the gentle hand on the lion is laid again and again, faithfully, across the whole arc of a conscious life. The new moon waits four days. Each of those days, the patient hand is yours to lay — and the body who has, in fact, taken up the ancient gentle art of Strength becomes the body for whom the lifelong companionship of her own fierce energy, finally, becomes the source of every sustained warmth and every sustained power her actual life has, all along, been quietly built around.