how I learned to stop worrying and love The Tower

The Tower's meaning changes and grows with us.

The Tower: Change is coming, ready or not. 

Of course many of you will recognise the title as a play on the title of Stanley Kubrick's hilariously terrifying satire about war: Dr Strangelove or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb.

With lightning striking at its crumbling rooftop and people leaping from its windows like some medieval 911 scenario, The Tower has a very dodgy reputation as tarot cards go. It forms, along with Death and The Devil, what I call 'The Tripod of Terror'. These are cards that, as a reader, I'm really not that thrilled to see come out in a reading.

But not because they're terrible cards that necessarily mean death and destruction are coming your way. I just hate to see them because too many clients know only just enough about tarot to be scared of them.

I wish I had a dollar for every time I've turned a card to reveal The Tower only to hear my client make a sound as though they'd been punched in the stomach.

OOF!

I stop my very important work of laying out the cards, and look up to see them staring at The Tower as though it's a crime scene photo. I generally laugh then and say, 'Let me guess - you get your cards read a lot, but you don't read yourself?' And I'm generally right.

The surface reading of The Tower - in the little paper booklet that comes with every pack of tarot cards and contains one sentence on each of the 78 cards in your deck- will be something like:

CATASTROPHE! THE SKY IS FALLING! RUN! RUN AWAY! RUN FAR FAR AWAY.

But the reality is far more nuanced and hopeful than that.

Yes, The Tower does indeed usually tell us that it's time to let go of something. But it rarely means that you are going to lose everything without warning - which is how a lot of beginners see it. To me, the main lesson of The Tower is to grasp everything in your life lightly - because it all passes away.

When the time comes to let go of something - be it a job, a location or a relationship - be prepared to let it go. If you don't let go when the time comes to let go, The Universe has a nasty habit of reefing it out of your grasp.

"Give it up gracefully" says Life, "or I'll be forced to take it from you."

That is always the most painful option.

As the old hippie song goes - To everything there is a season, turn turn turn... If you want to see some crazy go-go dancers and hear some of those pretty harmonies from the 1960s, take a moment to listen to The Byrds tweeting out some timeless wisdom. To everything, there is a season...

My own favourite story of The Tower and how it can play out in real life happened like this:

Many years ago, before I'd gotten better acquainted with The Tower, when I was still afraid of that bolt of lightening that would come out of nowhere and lay waste to my life, I laid out some cards regarding a crucial creative grant I'd applied for. My career would be set back by years by failure in this matter!

BAM! Out came The Tower along with several other cards that would normally refer to my creative endeavours.

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. I wasn't getting the grant. Obviously. I was so bummed. I felt like I'd already heard the bad news and right away, I began the work of getting over it.

The next day, I had a practice session with my music partners, Dougy and Laurence. I own a beautiful rare old Maton classical guitar, considered one of the best guitars ever made in Australia. I've had it since I was 16 years old when I swapped it for my Yamaha semi-acoustic. Believe me, I got the best side of that deal.

I loved that guitar and couldn't imagine playing anything else. There were problems though, and I'd been thinking of getting another guitar for a while. Since I'd been jamming with Laurence and Dougy, my gentle nylon string was overwhelmed by the sound of their pushy steel strings.

But I held off. I couldn't let go of my Maton.

You know what's coming, don't you?

There I was, standing with my beloved guitar across my belly, slung on its strap around my shoulder. As we talked about what to play next, I rested my crossed arms atop the body, not a care in the world.

Until the guitar strap broke. With the weight of my arms on top of her pushing towards the ground, I didn't have a hope of saving her. She smashed to the floor, totally unplayable. I was inconsolable. That guitar was like my third child.

But we had a gig to play in 2 days time. I didn't have time to grieve her. I had to buy a new guitar.

So, guess what? I loved my new guitar. I should have bought it earlier so that Ms Maton didn't need to be sacrificed to my inability to let go of the old. My musical ability progressed out of sight with an updated tool of trade.

I was able to find someone to patch my first love up. She's playable. I love her still and play her often - but she'll never be the same.

This was vintage Tower action. Like all cards, there are nuances and different interpretations depending on the issue under discussion, but at base, The Tower teaches us to let go and be ready for anything. It can foretell a broken guitar or a car accident - but it can also foretell the love of your life or a lottery win, depending on the cards surrounding it.

Change is coming whether you like it or not. Be flexible.

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