Night, dreams, and a lover’s betrayal. That’s the Moon. Tranquil and calm and serene, with the possibility of utter horror just casually dangling. Sometimes the jackal is Anubis, guiding you through the Twelve Hours Of The Night of the previous cards along with the dead sun. Care to share in its rebirth?

We associate the Moon with madness: lunatics have the moon in their eyes. But its light is that of the Sun, reflected back by our planet’s pale companion. She can make the difference between stumbling off a cliff in the dark and finding your way safely home. No good person is out under her light – but are you always a good person? She can be a beacon in the night. She’s associated with Hecate, triple goddess of magic and the crossroads – and you probably wouldn’t be flipping through the book for a Tarot deck if you weren’t a bit witchy yourself, would you?

The lady in this Moon has a scorpion’s tail (and that brings up yet another mythic triad, the Furies, with their scorpion whips and screamed imprecations). She wears her ambiguous nature on the outside. She’ll probably betray you, at some point, but she’s so lovely and calm. Someday she’ll sting you, and you might die from the venom. Will it be worth it until then? Wnd what kind of trip will the toxin take you on, if you survive? A romantic gateway into the unknown, escorted by Hecate’s hounds. (Who would play Orpheus to your Eurydice? Sort this out *before* you embark on that journey. Know your dealer and your sitter.)

She trails her finger in the waters. Without the Moon, how would the world be different? It’s her gravity that gives the world its tides, one of the slow engines of life. A subtle, invisible effect, but a strong one. What invisible hand is shaping your circumstances now?

How many songs have been written about her, anyway? Which one comes to your mind first? How do the lyrics you remember match what’s going on – and how do the *actual* lyrics resonate?

She won’t keep you warm, but she’ll light your lonely way.