Without doubt, one of the most eccentric and certainly one of the most controversial figures of the entire Early Modern period was the iconoclastic Swiss physician Theophrastus von Hohenheim (c. 1493–1541), more popularly known as Paracelsus. Trying to write about Paracelsus is complicated by the fact that he is the source of numerous myths and […]
Renaissance Science – XXIII — The Renaissance Mathematicus
I have been fascinated by, if not the greatest practitioner of tarot since I was a teenager.
My love of astrology has generally kept me from continually using tarot over the last thirty years or so. This is no excuse, as both methods of divination are generally complementary.
For a time, somewhere in the 1980s, I did use a deck called ‘astro tarot’, which I think you can still buy, but I ‘lost’ these years ago.
In more recent times, particularly over the last few years, I have been drawn more fully into the mysterious and magical world of tarot, its practise and its disputed history.
Most particularly I have learned to respect and invariably use Tarot de Marseille (TDM), rather than the more well known Rider-Waite style tarot decks.
I much prefer the ‘unillustrated’ pip cards of TDM; I don’t like my intuition being influenced too much by the more illustrative and suggestive Rider-Waite, particularly in the swords suit, where, for example, if one draws the Nine of Swords, this can leave people quite worried!
No, I much prefer to stick to basics: swords is the mind, our thoughts and 9 is attainment. It is up to the tarot reader to interpret this. But more of this in another piece some other time.
One particular deck I’ve enjoyed for some time is the Grimaud Cartomancie TDM, ‘Ancien Tarot de Marseille’. It comes in a beautifully presented, sturdy box, with the usual mini-book with basic interpretive ideas – in French.
The illustrations are very clear and basic, with strong colours and bold black linework. The word is emphatic, which I like. The card stock is likewise quite sturdy with a grey-blue patterning on the reverse.
The history of TDM, like all tarot, is complex. There are many variations of TDM but this overall style developed, as the name suggests, in the south of France, but also has strong links to northern Italy, Switzerland and even southern Germany over the years.
In other words, this card style does not owe everything to the city of Marseilles, which could be regarded as a name of convenience – and it sounds good too, doesn’t it? After developing from the seventeenth century onwards, it was in 1930 when Paul Marteau of the Grimaud family truly established and perpetuated this particular artistic style of TDM.
I am very glad that he did, as these cards are a particular favourite of mine and I would very much recommend them.
Copyright Francis 2021
Miguel Serrano, a Chilean diplomat and writer was certainly a man with some controversial opinions.
However, I didn’t let that stop me from reading this rather charming yet deep little book documenting his friendship with two 20th century European notables, namely the writer, poet and painter Herman Hesse and psychologist Carl Jung, who both lived in Switzerland.
Serrano didn’t get to know them well until they were in their final years. He includes correspondence with both of them. Herman Hesse was a highly influential author of books like ‘Steppenwolf’ and ‘Siddartha’. His main concern was for the individual to find himself by breaking established rules. Serrano is clearly enchanted by Hesse’s sensitivity.
But it is perhaps Serrano’s late relationship with Carl Jung which is the most significant of the two. Serrano is completely in awe of Jung’s towering intellect and spirituality, and with good reason. Jung is perhaps the nearest anyone has come to achieving a true scientific spirituality by utilising hitherto controversial methods (to some), such as astrology, to gain insight into an individual’s psyche. Bearing this in mind, the lightning bolt which struck Jung’s favourite tree on the day he died seems to gain in significance.
In just over a hundred pages, the author has managed to convey the essence of these two important minds, and he seems to have been blessed with genuine affability to allow him to form deep, significant friendships. Our overall understanding of these two men is all the better for it. I would certainly recommend this book.
Copyright Francis 2021
Molehill
Scafell Pike was a few miles distant.
Not visible.
But this was England’s highest point.
“A molehill!” he said, while we sat
laughing at each other from our tatty
old sleeping bags.
You should have met my Swedish
friend, a cabinet maker
resident somewhere in Switzerland,
accustomed to real
mountains and the exuberant air.
We got on like the proverbial house,
cooling it down with his wit, my
natural reserve, but we had
Abba and Borg and now the Buddha
in common – what was there not to like?
“But who is this Borg?” he said.
“Didn’t you know? Back home we say ‘Bory’.”
Really? Well I thought that wouldn’t do, shocked
out of my anglo-centric world.
But I trusted my sudden blond friend,
this infectious alpine Swede.
“And watch out for the snails!” he said, leading
us to the huge white tent.
Yes, weren’t they lives, too? just
not with our potential
to love and to care – though how often do we choose?
“Maybe on a clear day?” I said, pausing
by the entrance, pointing towards
where Scafell Pike might be.
He laughed. “Not in a billion years!” he said,
with his arresting smile
© copyright David F. Barker 2012
The Elloe Recorder 