The Nine of Wands

I choose The Nine of Wands today, the card that speaks of the powerful transformations that are possible in the depths of endless night, the illumination that can be found in the darkest pit of the soul, for I have known this place now, I have looked into the face of the darkness that lies there, I have discovered within it the strength that shows itself when all else has failed.

It is a strength born of the stuff of nightmares, the light that flares into life when all other lights have been extinguished. Despair and death have surrounded me, have been my daily companions, as I have lived  with torment in my heart, for day upon endless day…the incessant wraiths whispering in my ears, leading me into stranger places, dragging me through visions of unholy grace until I became a shadow of myself. Eventually I became a stranger in what had been a familiar land, where I lost forever my remembrance of whom I had become, lost to eternity the person I had grown to be, lost her into the shattered storms of my mind, lost her into the broken vault that had been my heart.

And so I sit in the Hallway of Beginnings, sentinel, waiting for the power to build, and today it is strong, and it comes quickly, for there has been a change, a revelation in the worlds that I explore. I rise with a power and a belief and a knowledge that sweeps my uncertainty away into the corners of the long hallway, to sit undisturbed with the modicum of dust that gathers there; I rise with the knowledge that I go forth with light and with life and with a vision that carries me with clarity into the realms that I would know.

I walk quickly up the wooden stairs, open the door, and walk through the dull red darkness that proclaims the portal of The Nine of Wands, and I am immediately assaulted by the vision of what I see there, for I see that I have arrived into the deep mud filled trenches of World War 1, and I am knee deep in freezing stagnant stinking water. Bodies of dead men are piled up at the sides of the trenches, where efforts have been made to keep them away from the water, and they lie there, empty eyed and despairing, lost to life, their soft warm bodies annihilated by cold lust, the greed that drives war. How futile the loss of life, the pain of love lost, every single one an innocent child, someone’s child, a child of hopes and dreams, of summer days and fields of grass, now lying broken and lifeless, rotting in the mud.

I walk in shock, through this god forsaken place, wading through the stench of death that fills every cell of my body, wondering when it will end, wondering if there is a way out, or if this is it, the horror of death and destruction stretching onwards into eternity. I turn a corner in the line, and top of a stack of bodies, burrowing into the drier mud, at the top of the wall, I see a small brown harvest mouse.  I approach this single spark of soft breathing living life, a solitary beacon in this world that is saturated with desperation and fear; I approach her and ask her what she represents.

She tells me that even a mouse can survive in places like this, and that I, like her, am surrounded by forces over which I have no control, forces that are greater than me, and which wage their own wars. She then tells me that in fighting my own battles, I am waging war against a history that has been passed down to me from my ancestors, and that I fight not only for myself, but for my children and my grandchildren; I fight to break the patterns of centuries, so that they will not have to.

I see here, a continuation of what happened in the 7 of Wands, the issue of the breaking of patterns, but see that I have now moved into the realm of ideals, of vision, of law, of the dictates of my clan and my creed.  She tells me then that the harvest will come, even though it may seem as if it never will.

I thank the small humble mouse, she has provided me much inspired wisdom, and I walk on towards a man that is still alive, that I see beckoning to me across the stinking grey mud. He lays there, a shadow of life remaining to him, but yet seeking a connection, his eyes burning with intensity in the ravaged torn hopelessness of his face. I kneel in the filthy swamp, shuddering as the ice cold water seeps up to my waist, creeping like the hands of death into the warmth of my own life blood.

The man tells me his name, and he tells me of love, the love of his heart, the love of his mother, the love of his comrades, and I see in him, that although his body has died, for it is so damaged and broken that there could be no life left within it, that his heart is full of love, that the love of his heart has erased the pain that he feels and he drifts aloft upon a wave of love that is carrying him into the light, a connection to spirit that is supporting him through the trauma and suffering of his body,, and on into the world of peace and forgiveness that he is bound for.

As the man closes his eyes for the last time, I see a ghost of a smile pass across his face, and I let go of the misery and pain, the heartache, the torture and the suffering that I am mired in. I walk free of the darkness and the mud, the fetid water and the rotting bodies, the stench of war, the blood and the pointless loss of life….. I walk free of this place of death…. I walk into the light.

I see The Sun & The Moon together in the sky, The Sun to my left, and The Moon to my right. I walk, with others, who are appearing in their tens, their hundreds, and eventually their thousands, I walk with them through a huge gateway, the gateway of The Sun & The Moon. We walk together in a valley of sheltered and golden beauty, the place that we can all remember, the place that we can call home., and that as we walk, we are joined, united within ourselves, for we have survived this place, we have found our contentment, we are strong, for we have looked upon the face of the divine.

I carry on walking into the light, and the features of the landscape fade away into dazzling white until I am blinded by the intensity of it: and when I open my eyes again, I am sitting, as I was before, but different, in the peace and calm of The Hallway of Beginnings.

The 9 of Wands
Moon in Sagittarius
10 to 20 degrees of Sagittarius
The Lord of Great Strength

My name is Joanna Grant, I am an Astrologer, Tarot Reader and Writer, who lives om the Head Shot Fadebeautiful Beara Peninsular in the South West of Ireland. My long knowledge of Astrology leads and informs my practice in offering guidance and empowerment, helping others to lead a more authentic and magical life. You can read more about me here.

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