The Prince of Plurality

An ecological approach to masculinity: looking at The Chariot as a rewilded masculine.

Virginia Vigliar

and

Hannah Levy

Feb 29, 2024

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This essay was written by Virginia Vigliar for The Rebis, a publication celebrating tarot, art, and creative writing.

As a WAVES subscriber, you get 15% off purchases of The Chariot, where so many amazing artists have collaborated. This issue was edited by Hannah Levy, a writer & poet working at the intersection between art and activism, and guest edited by Maria Minnis, a tarot reader, writer, artist, ritual facilitator & teacher with Southern roots who writes and teaches about everyday magic and holographic thinking in the context of social justice, erotic sensuality, and liberation. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, stories inhabited bodies and bodies inhabited stories. In the history of orality, myths and stories could adapt to the context they occupied. Oral stories were malleable and not static, embodying adaption and representation. Similarly, tarot allows for freedom of interpretation, to play with a story’s nuances and how they impact the receiver — something we deeply long for in a society fixated on pigeonholing us into binaries.

In his book Spell of the Sensuous, David Abraham reminisces about the time of orality, “Since they (stories) were not written down, they were never wholly fixed but would shift incrementally with each telling to fit the circumstances or needs of a particular audience, gradually incorporating new practical knowledge while letting that which was obsolete fall away.” Holding the Chariot card transports us to a place that is deeply masculine, and when it comes to masculinity, our stories are stagnant — they often speak of emotional emptiness, of a hero’s journey, of solitude and battle. These are the stories I long to reinterpret.

When I first encountered the Chariot card, I was triggered. Written interpretations of this Major Arcana card often speak of masculinity that is patriarchal and colonial. For many, the Chariot card demonstrates willpower and strength, moving forward confidently, and persevering and conquering what is ahead. From Mesopotamia to Egypt to Rome, the chariot was used historically as a war machine to destroy everything in its path. Still, the streets of my hometown, Rome, remind me of the great significance the chariot held as a symbol of power, prestige, and superiority.

Yet the more I observed the Chariot, the more I longed to break away from the chains of a masculinity that feels obsolete. The prince depicted on the card is going to conquer his world, but he does it guided by an instinctive force — one that is erotic and intuitive, and therefore deeply feminine.

This reminds me of the erotic spiritual force that Audre Lorde wrote about in her essay Uses of the Erotic. “There are many kinds of power, used and unused, acknowledged or otherwise,” Lorde wrote. “The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling.” Could the Chariot be asking us to redefine the meaning of power?

While doing this research, I stumbled on one of the most emblematic figures of the reinterpretation of the masculine: Prince Roger Nelson. A musical genius who recreated parameters of how the masculine told its own stories. Not coincidentally, Prince seems to have been often associated with the number seven, the number of the Chariot. Stories are not truth, they are an act of service, and to echo Prince, “The real truth is that you are either here to enlighten or to discourage.” I want to view the Chariot as a revolutionary dancer, not a conqueror.

While many may see it as stuck, the Chariot is rooted in the soil and moves forward with the rhythms of the Earth, almost unbothered by the capitalist interpretation of time passing. He knows where he is going. The Chariot reminds us that to move forward, we must learn to be still, and that the finish line exists where our body grows. There is no need to conquer or advance, it is a mirror of the planet’s rotation, trusting the Earth. We do not need reins to move forward, but a deep connection with the land around us to be able to move with confidence.

Stories are not truth, they are an act of service.

Nature herself speaks in many Indigenous oral cultures. Guatemalan Indigenous activist writer and thinker Aura Cumes once told me, “We consider loq'oläj, the holy, as the energy of the grandmother, the grandfather, the animals, the waters, the rivers.” This is plurality. It’s found when nothing is discarded, where everything is part of existence. “We are not a powerful entity that attributes to itself the command over nature, bursting the wind of mother earth, penetrating and capturing the rivers. Therefore we do not have a position of destroying everything that has given us life. This is how we understand plurality."

The Chariot asks: How are you acting in the world? How are you guiding your own life? Inhabiting plurality is a poetic antidote to systemic issues like racism and sexism that breed on hierarchical soil, interpret power as power over, and beget a pyramid interpretation of our society.

On both a personal and collective level, the world is screaming for a reinterpretation of masculine narratives. Now more than ever, stories are a tool for unlearning and relearning — and the grounded Chariot asks us to tell a story of masculinity that leaves its trace in song, whose silence allows for nature to speak, and whose trust creates a new model for success.

The Chariot also teaches us about the power of collective action for radical change. In his story, the masculine and feminine horses, lunar masks on his shoulders, and wand connected to the magical realm all work together to move him forward. What I also find deeply revolutionary is that the Chariot lives in the present moment, as if whispering, Everything here is nowhere else. And how anti-capitalist is it to think of moving forward without needing to go anywhere? Devoid of ego and unmoved by the pressures of time and production, the Chariot becomes enlightened.

This prince of plurality cannot be turned into a conqueror. Doing so projects a colonial and patriarchal interpretation of egoic masculine advancement, which rots the soil where the Chariot wants to dance with the roots of trees.

Forever is just a temporary feeling.

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Ecological Masculinity Workshop

This article was originally published in The Rebis, a magazine that explores the relationship between tarot and creativity through essays, poetry, interviews, and art. In it, you can find stories grounded in mythology, psychology, spirituality, and metaphysics. Founder Hannah Levy is building a community of multidimensional thinkers, writers, artists, and educators through integrity and love for creativity.

Read more on Ecological Masculinity

Every WAVES piece has a sensorial part where we infuse music, embodiment, prompts and ritual. This week’s embodiment exercises and writing prompts are curated by Hannah Levy, and grounded in the symbolism of the Chariot tarot card. They are meant to provoke reflection and support an unravelling of outdated narratives and stories that we carry that may no longer serve us. The playlist is curated by Virginia specifically for this essay. I suggest you listen to the songs in the order they are, they tell a story. Enjoy!

Written exercise by Hannah Levy:
Armor:

The Charioteer wears a suit of armor, yet remains exposed in their open vehicle, with a wand instead of a weapon in their hand. Is the armor a necessary element for safety? Or is it perhaps decorative, a way to signal strength, a way to be perceived as powerful? Are they preparing to fight, and if so, who is their enemy?

Embodiment exercise: Place one hand on your chest and one hand on your belly. Breathe deeply three times, expanding your body with each inhale, and releasing with each exhale.

Journaling: What armor are you wearing today? Consider its weight, its texture. Is it stiff like metal, or worn like leather? Is it new, or have you been carrying it for some time? Did someone give it to you, or did you pick it out yourself? And finally: what would it feel like to remove it entirely, to expose your skin to the air and light? Can you visualize it falling off your body piece by piece? Write (or draw) about your armor. How has it served you? How might shedding it support the next chapter of your journey?

Sphinxes:

The black and white sphinxes represent duality and contradiction. The tension generated when the two opposing sides work together is what ultimately propels the Chariot forward.

Embodiment exercise: Place your palms together in front of your chest as if you're praying, and then press your hands together tightly. Feel the tension generated across your arms, and then release.

Journaling: Take a piece of paper and draw a line down the center. On the left, make a list of everything that feels dark in your life: the low points, the sadness, the grief. On the right, make a list of everything that feels light in your life: the beauty, the love, the gratitude. Notice what opposing ideas or emotions coexist within you.