The soul speaks in symbols. It does not explain itself. It does not hurry. It waits. It waits in the body, beneath the ribs, behind the eyes, inside the breath. And when the time is right, it sends an image.
An image may enter through a dream. Or through a gesture. Or through a card laid gently on the table. The card does not shout. It leans into your silence. It comes clothed in color and line, but carries more than art. It carries a feeling. Sometimes a truth too deep for words.
If the image is real, the body will know. The stomach turns. The shoulders soften. A tear forms without instruction. This is the body’s response to soul. The inner feminine recognizes something alive. Something asking to be touched, not interpreted.
The card might be The Moon. A quiet light shining on a darkened path. A dog howling, a lobster climbing from the water. These are not puzzles to solve. They are invitations to enter. The card is not telling you what will happen. It is asking if you are willing to feel your way forward.
When the cards speak, they do so from the symbolic layer of life. This layer is never literal. It exists where psyche and body intertwine. It’s where dreams leave a scent in the morning air. Where the eyes of a stranger stir a forgotten ache. It is subtle, but it is not vague. It is exact in its own rhythm.
In this layer, the High Priestess does not explain the mystery. She holds it. She sits between two pillars, veiled, with the moon beneath her feet. Her presence does not clarify. It deepens. You may feel her in your hips. In the space behind your heart. She teaches nothing. She awakens.
The feminine is always close to the symbolic. She knows how to let things ripen. She does not press for meaning. She waits. She feels. She allows the image to move through her slowly. Like honey falling through warm fingers.
If you want to know what a card means, live with it. Do not rush to define it. Place it near your bed. Draw it in your journal. Let it follow you through the day. Notice what rises in the body. Where the breath catches. Where the skin warms. The symbol will speak. But only if you listen with your whole being.
Each card carries its own frequency. The Empress may open the womb. The Tower may shake the knees. Justice may press into the spine. These are not metaphors. The body feels them. The image moves where words cannot.
There are moments when a card brings joy. A swelling in the chest. A quiet yes. There are other moments when the image cuts. When it brings up sorrow or memory. The work is to stay. To breathe. To let the image do what it came to do.
This is not a technique. It is a relationship. A slow, embodied friendship with the deep world. A way of honoring what cannot be explained, only experienced.
Some images return over and over. They come in dreams, in memory, in the cards. They carry part of your story. They hold a piece of the soul that has not yet taken form. When they return, they are asking for your attention. For your love. For your willingness to feel what they have carried for you.
To live symbolically is to stay close to the moment before it becomes a thought. To trust the flicker behind the eyes. To listen when something inside you whispers, this is meaningful, even if I do not know why.
In that space, something softens. Something ancient breathes again. And you are reminded that the soul is not a concept. It is a presence. One that moves through the body, through image, through silence. Waiting. Always waiting. For your return.
Rose – Soulful Nuggets Team
This blog is a reflection on the course ‘A Jungian Perspective on the Tarot‘
by Jungian Analyst Ken James on JungPlatform.com.
