The Story of The Emperor

Calmness and serenity find her today, bringing a mantle of forgiveness that falls softly around her onto the chequered tiles. With peace in her heart and a stillness that she has longed for in these past weeks, months and even years, she raises herself from the old elm chair, and walks tall and strong upon the polished wooden stairs. She walks to meet her father, her brother, her husband, her lover and her son, to meet the essence of each of these, to meet the man that she carries within her. Opening the door to the worlds within, she steps through the red and royal robes of the portal into an arid, gritty landscape, barren and stark. Filled with dust devils and storms, the place cuts a sharp contrast with the gentle peace that cloaked her in the hallway.

Sharp sands borne in the arms of strong winds, abrade and sting her skin like the words of taunting bullies. Tempests whirl like dervishes across the red desert, dancing and pirouetting as they play in the landscape, leading her gaze further and further into the distant hills until she finds the threat that she has been sensing. A huge spiralling dust-giant appears, powerful, red, intense, devouring everything that lies within its reach. It grows rapidly as she approaches until it towers far into the sky, and she stands gazing into the furious storm of sand, wondering how she is to enter it. The task ahead seems impossible, how could she even attempt to find the centre without being battered and destroyed at the point of entry, flayed alive by the sharp sand. She is afraid, although she knows that she must step into the storm and seek its power, a power that she fears, but a power that she also desires.

Reaching out her hand towards the storm, she passes her hand into it, testing the ease of entry like dipping a foot into the icy sea, before jumping in; she needs to know what she is up against. Her hand passes through surprisingly easily, and she feels nothing on the other side, so she focuses on the storm in front of her, takes a deep breath and jumps through the anticipated sting of spinning sand to find that she is unharmed, in a place where the storm has disappeared. Standing within the calm eye, a flood of blue light begins to fall over her like an optical waterfall.

Streams of violet, indigo, azure and mauve, dotted with points of shining silver light cleanse her spirit, washing away the impurities that she has held in her body for so long. The light washes away her fears of walking into the unknown and it heals the reticence she holds about interacting with others; it soothes the troubles that she has carried in her heart for a lifetime, the terrors of a child crying in the darkness, when no one is listening. She stands under the healing waterfall of light and feels the darkness in her heart wash away.

The intensity of the blue light gradually fades as she becomes aware that she is holding something; looking down she finds that she is cradling a baby boy in her arms, wrapped in the blue cloak that she is now wearing. Walking along with him, she looks adoringly into his eyes as a mother would, carrying him through the landscape until he grows heavier and heavier until at last, she can carry him no more.

She sets him down upon the floor, now a sturdy two year old, and he takes her hand firmly, looking up at her with trust and adoration and tells her a story about how he can walk all by himself now. They walk along together, as the landscape subtly changes and turns, whilst her attention is fixed upon the child. He grows as they walk, becoming taller and taller. Sometimes he talks a great deal, other times he is silent, but there is always a soft easiness between them. Soon enough, he is the same height as her, and then he overtakes her, and still they walk, although he does not hold her hand anymore and sometimes he moves off ahead. At other times he falls behind, but he is never far from her, telling her stories, making her laugh and entertaining her with snippets of what he has collected along the road.

At one point he disappears for a long while, and she fears that she has lost him, but then reminds herself that he took himself away, that there was something that he needed to do. After some time, he reappears, a tall, strong man now, the child that she remembers all but gone. Fully grown, he takes his place standing proudly behind her, his hands upon her shoulders and they look out across the landscape together, their gaze calm and steady, full of certainty, strength and power.

Looking ahead, she feels strong, confident of which move to make next; her vision clears gradually, knowing that the man has gone, for she is no longer wearing the blue cloak. Looking around, she feels taller, calmer, and able to face whatever lies ahead with courage and with bravery, with the knowledge that she can lead herself into battle against whatever the future may bring.

This is a call to foster your own skills of strategy and planning, rather than to allow others to fill this role for you. Stand up and be counted, exert your authority, and do not suffer fools gladly. If you have wanted others to take the lead before, you may feel as if you are being pushed to stand alone and take the lead role; trust your skills, you have been doing this longer than you realise, it’s just time to let the world see that.

IV The Emperor
Zodiacal Trump of Aries
Sun of the Morning
Mars Rules
Sun in Exaltation

Joanna Grant. D.F.Astrol.S

My name is Joanna Grant, I am an Astrologer, Tarot Reader and Writer, who lives on the beautiful Beara Peninsula in the South West of Ireland. I can often be found at home, deep in arcane research, or practicing some new form of divination whilst burning the dinner! My children probably wish that I was “normal” but may well remember my eccentricities fondly when they come to face the challenges of their own paths. My long knowledge of Astrology leads and informs my practice, in offering guidance, empowerment and healing, helping others to lead a more authentic and magical life. You can read more about me here.

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