WIP: 17 – The Star
Traditional depictions of The Star show a woman, often fully or partially nude, pouring water from two vessels. In some versions one foot rests on land, the other in water and one vessel pours into the river while the other pours onto the ground. Overhead, stars appear—most commonly a single eight-pointed star surrounded by seven others. The meaning of these seven stars is unclear. Some modern sources link them to the seven chakras, an interpretation that is historically dubious given that tarot emerged in medieval Italy, far removed from Indian religious systems.
Visually and symbolically, The Star is closely related to Temperance. Both cards involve paired vessels and the movement of water, but they describe different states. Temperance represents an active process: the deliberate, conscious work of blending opposites in order to achieve balance. It is about moderation, restraint, and the careful “tempering” of the self so it does not fracture under strain.
The Star follows that effort. The work has been done. This card describes a passive state, one of equilibrium and confidence. Where the water in Temperance is measured and controlled, in The Star it flows freely. Not because of carelessness, but because there is trust that the source will not be exhausted. Balance no longer needs to be forced; it is sustained.
There are, however, two modern problems inherent in the traditional imagery. The first concerns the stars themselves. Most of the bright lights we see in the night sky are planets, not stars. Actual stars are pinpoints of light. Our brightest star, the sun, is visible only during the day—when no other stars can be seen at all. This creates a challenge for an image that aims to be both symbolically faithful and astronomically honest.
One of my most cherished experiences is kayaking in the pre-dawn hours. Kayaking in darkness is often a practical necessity, especially in tidal rivers where paddling against the incoming current can make an exit nearly impossible. Yet even in darkness, there is always light. Nautical dawn provides a subtle illumination well before the sun crosses the horizon. It is a time of stillness and quiet orientation, a moment that feels connected to a far older human relationship with the sky—when the heavens were not decorative, but navigational. It is a solitary world that surrounds, embraces and inspires awe.
This is The Star as I understand it: not hope as belief, but hope as a conscious and active pursuit requiring attention and effort. It is orientation sustained after difficulty, guided by light that can only be seen in darkness. That is the experience I chose for the foundation for this card. The difficulty will be in finding the balance of light and dark so that the card is still visually interesting and not overwhelmed by black. I’m considering including the aurora borealis as an allusion to the power of a star even when it isn’t directly seen. I can’t justify a card based on a star without at least a nod to the one that sustains our life.
