This is the beginning of a series of neurographic drawings (see my post about this creative process), one for each of the 78 cards of the Tarot. An artistic and introspective project. A way of tracing the lessons I have learned, and continue to learn, along the path of discovery. In creating these sketches, I am exploring the Rider–Waite–Smith Tarot through the lens of my experiences in sobriety and guiding others.
The exploration begins in the Major Arcana—the 22 archetypal cards numbered 0 through 21. Each card in this sequence speaks to a universal theme of growth and challenge, mapping out a mythic but also universal journey of transformation. And so I begin where all journeys must: at zero, The Fool.
Zero. Emptiness and infinite openness. The Fool is the spirit of beginnings, always carrying within them the ending that precedes. The pause before the next in-breath. The moment of surrender. The stillness before a leap into the unknown.
The Fool, as trickster archetype, wanders out beyond a linear sense of time and space, urging us to risk uncertainty, to trust even when the path is obscured. With humour and riddles, they assure us that the void after loss, what seems empty, is in truth the boundless field of becoming. The landscape where all things arise and pass.
The Fool ponders no plan yet is never truly lost. The hero hearing the call to a quest, they embody both folly and wisdom. Their presence signals transition, possibility, and the raw potential that stirs when the familiar dissolves.
The Fool was with me when I hovered outside my first 12-step meeting, completely lost. Terrified of the unknown and ready to bolt backward to the familiar refuge of the bar, until a stranger at the door beckoned me inside.
And each time since, when the world I can name has collapsed or concluded, the Fool has returned, reminding me that being lost is a necessary part of the process. One that requires curiosity and, yes, discomfort. The next right step, however small, uncertain, or unsteady, is the way forward.
The Fool lives in uncertainty, where clarity hasn’t yet arrived. How might you resist the urge to ‘figure it out’, and instead allow yourself to dwell more fully in the not-knowing?
This is the first in a series of 78 sketches and reflections, a journey I’ll likely be immersed in for quite some time. Next up: The Magician. If you’d like to follow along as it unfolds, I invite you to subscribe to my newsletter.