19 Days, 19 Degrees: Starting a Decan Walk

The thing with astrology or tarot or any new language is that you have to start before you understand

A few weeks ago, at the start of the astrological new year (Aries), I decided to complete a “decan walk,” a process of engaging with and actively trying to learn from the astrological seasons in their specific three-part cycles. As with so many things, I learned about this concept from T. Susan Chang, and I was inspired to actually complete my own decan walk after reading her book about the 36 minor arcana and what she learned about them, 36 Secrets.

In case you’re new to decans, as most people are, they’re 10º segments of the zodiac. The zodiac is a circle (360º), so there are 36 of them. There are twelve astrological signs, so each sign gets 30º or three decans. Each of these 10º segments of the sign can be thought to have a planetary influence. In the traditional (Hellenistic?) model, the sacred seven influence the decans, going in order, around and around until all the decans have a planetary influence.

Let’s take a beat here to explain what that means. Aries III (the third decan of Aries) is the decan we’re going to enter this weekend (relative to the time of my writing), meaning that the sun will soon enter the 20º00'–29º59’ range of Aries (the last ten degrees of the sign). That 10º segment of the sky is said to be the part of Aries influenced by Venus, or “Venus in Aries” for shorthand.

These 36 decans can be mapped to the tarot minor arcana pips (2s–10s) in a systematic way that adds nuance and meaning to the cards and helps explain some of the imagery in the Rider/Smith-Waite Tarot. I’ve covered that in depth for my four-part blog series, “Exploring the Minor Arcana through Astrology.”

For example, Aries is associated with the 2–4 of Wands, and Aries III (Venus in Aries) is associated with the 4 of Wands.

The point of this is to say that a “decan walk” helps you attune to the ways that these energies show up in your daily life and, if you read tarot, the cards. And as I’ll discuss, focus matters.

How does this decan stuff show up?

Aries I (the first decan of Aries) is associated with Mars in Aries and the 2 of Wands. And for the first few days, I found myself thinking deeply about the 2 of Wands and then thinking about the nature of the 2s of the minor arcana and finally thinking about the nature of the number 2 in the major arcana. This was the proactive part of my decan walk, to intentionally think about these things.

Along the way, I also noticed some synchronicities in my everyday life. 

The most extreme example came from a random wrong delivery. My partner had ordered a belt and pants from a store and when he opened the package, lo and behold, a shirt had arrived instead. That’s not the interesting part. What was so fun and surprising about this mistake was that the shirt pattern showed various maps and travel plan designs. The 2 of Wands as depicted by Pamela Colman Smith in the Rider Tarot shows a person looking out over land, planning expansion or planning a journey. And maps and dotted-line itineraries suggest that kind of planned action or “considered” activity (to use language from my new understanding of the minor 2s). To tie in with the theme even further, the shirt was wrapped in tissue paper with a map design.

I also began to notice the many reds, yellows, and oranges in the plant-life in my neighborhood as spring erupts here in Phoenix (it was 97º F today, so “erupts” is starting to feel literal). These are the colors of Aries I (Mars in Mars-ruled Aries is very red and orange) and of Aries II (the Sun-influenced second decan of Aries adds in yellow).

At this point in the season, we’re almost all the way through Aries II, but I got to spend a day in the Red Rocks of Sedona (red and orange Aries). There, I looked out over sun-soaked valleys. Do you know what card is associated with Aries II? It’s the 3 of Wands, which shows (in the Smith-Waite/Rider imagery) someone on a cliff overlooking a golden-soaked port. It’s not a desert scrubland valley, but that golden hue carried through. And the idea of movement and expansion certainly played out as I watched cars in the distance traveling by. It was a moment of being in the 3 of Wands, especially as I thought about where I want to be going in life in the coming months.

As an unexpected tie-in with the color theme, my partner (who neither knows nor cares about decans) had given me a red, orange, and yellow exercise shirt as an early birthday present to go hiking in that morning. It’s … a lot of color, and it’s a combination I’ve literally never worn before. I didn’t wear it that trip either, but the arrival of such an unusually colorful shirt in those Sun-in-Aries colors felt very appropriate for the decan. It was just a natural synchronicity of that energy.

Does everything tie in? Of course not. But it’s fascinating how your energy and focus shift when you set your mind to shift it. It makes me excited for Aries III, when Venus (the Empress) and Aries (the Emperor) dance together in balanced celebration (4 of Wands), which starts this weekend. And it makes me excited to help more people find new ways of focusing their attention to see how it changes their lives.

Here’s the thing. 

When you pay attention to certain parts of your life, you put more energy into them. Yes, manifestation-type energy, but also work- and mental focus-type energy. It doesn’t have to be all-consuming, but it should be intentional. If you spent thirty minutes every day doing something, you would have spent 15 hours doing that thing by the end of the month. That may not sound like a ton, but that’s 180 hours by the end of the year. You could write a novel or four in that time. (They may or may not be very good, but it’s a thing most people don’t ever think they can do, let alone in less than a year.)

The way I talk about decans now, here on the blog or on Instagram or in my classes, you might think that I’d been studying astrology for the last twenty years. But no. Only tarot has been with me so long. Astrology has fallen into place because it is systematic, and I love learning systems. So once I understood the patterns and logic, things started clicking. 

But it didn’t come easily at first. I actually really struggled with astrology because I thought it should come naturally. I didn’t think it was worth my time to study it.

Here’s another thing. 

When you don’t understand something, it’s easy to assume that the thing you don’t understand is wrong in some way. I don’t mean that it’s false, but maybe it’s badly explained or it’s badly conceived or it’s just for people with strange brains. 

For me, I didn’t understand astrology at first, so I thought it was probably dumb and arbitrary. Instead of thinking about it like anything else I’d ever studied, I just assumed it would be easy or make sense. Maybe that’s because astrology was in the newspaper as horoscopes, and it was given as much value as comic strips. (Fun fact: I studied the rhetoric and art of comic strips for several years, so I should have known that things that seem trivial in newspapers can be full of all kinds of genius.)

At some point, I realized that a lot of people whose opinions and thought patterns I valued were using astrology in interesting and thoughtful ways. It wasn’t just that one artist friend or the kooky intuitive one with all the crystals. It was also the scientifically minded atheist and the practical entertainer. And it was the culturally competent polyglot who could speak to differences in the history of astrology in different regions. There was so much to learn. 

That didn’t mean that I thought astrology was useful or, if it was, that it was right for me, but it did mean that I couldn’t just assume that it was for a group of people unlike me. So I tried to learn it. 

I couldn’t. 

I would read about it online and try to make sense of my natal chart, having to reread portions again and again and wondering how it all worked. I downloaded apps to try to follow along with transits and see how they were determined. And nothing stuck. It was all “in one ear and out the other.”

Some major arcana tied to important astrological signs in my natal chart, from the Fountain Tarot and Shadowscapes Tarot.

Or so it was until I started writing things down and doing the math and figuring out the cycles and meanings. I started spending time—about 30 minutes—every day. I would learn about a single planet one day. I would write down the list of full moons and new moons the next. I would come up with an exercise or tarot spread or journaling prompt for a sign another day. I created tarot challenges and broader divination challenges for Aquarius and then Pisces and then Aries, and so on. 

These activities didn’t have to take a lot of time or effort for them to be instructive. And, let’s be real, I haven’t mastered all the nuances yet even if I know far more about astrology than most people. But I learned enough to get me curious, and that got me thinking, and that got me engaged. I found intriguing areas that would align with my skill sets. I found how it could work for me. (And yes, I discovered some of the ways that don’t work for me as well.)

There will always be things that don’t work for you. And it’s usually easier to find them because, in failing to understand, we have to acknowledge what isn’t working. Meanwhile, we often ignore the success of what works. We may not even realize that it’s a thing that we can lean into until someone else holds up a mirror to show us what we’ve been doing.

But if Aries I and II have taught me anything, it’s that you need to explore—internally and then externally—because you have no idea what’s possible until you do. 

And in doing that, you will probably discover some things at which you’re already really great, things at which you’ve practiced but didn’t realize and things at which you’re just a natural. 

So explore. And if you don’t see those, ask someone to hold up that mirror for you and help you hone that edge of yours. It could be a friend or loved one or me in a private divination lesson or course. But know that it’s there, and others can see it even if you can’t. And when we see it, it’s impressive. You’re impressive. So let’s see it.