Learning to Read Strength, Lust, and la Force
This series on the major arcana presents some ways that I like to think about each of the majors with the hope that it helps you learn more about or think differently about these cards. It’s been a minute since the last post on the Chariot, and that’s in no small part because I didn’t want to deal with the numbering/sequence issue of Strength (Key 8) and Lust/la Force (Key 11) and Adjustment/la Justice (Key 8) and Justice (Key 11). But since I’m done with the bulk of my minor arcana deep dives, it seemed time to dive back into the majors on an astrologically timed schedule.
In each of these posts, I provide an overview of how I read the relevant major arcanum through a few different lenses: with keywords; in the context of other majors; and through visuals. You can read more about the premise behind this structure in the introductory post on the “Learning to Read the Major Arcana” series.
Leo season offers a complicated twist since Arthur E Waite reimagined and rearranged la Force from the Tarot de Marseille tradition, and then Aleister Crowley did something else entirely with Lust.
These may represent just a small sample of what I might consider when I see a major arcanum, but they are still quite deep takes, so they can be a lot to take in all at once. Don’t be afraid to skip around and come back to it paragraph by paragraph as needed.
Keywords
As a reminder, these keywords are examples and not exhaustive of all possible meanings of Strength, Lust, and la Force. Remember to take what works for you and question what doesn’t. I’ve tried to arrange these keywords by broad concept to help organize them and make them easier to learn.
Strength, Vitality, Resilience, Endurance
Passion, Force, Lust, Vigor
Persuasion, Patience, Courage, Confidence
Exercise, Hobbies, Soft skills, Pets
Leo, Fire, Primal forces, Inner spark
In Context
If you’re one of my students or you have followed my work for a while, then you know that I’m all about layering interpretive techniques. So here we will look at Strength and Lust or la Force in a few different contexts. Because Strength is numbered 8 while Lust and la Force are numbered 11, there will be important nuance to consider in the numerology and the sequence of majors.
I’m going to switch things up and start with how Strength and Lust (and la Force) reflect their astrological association with Leo and the element of fire since the two majors share that. Then I’ll explore Strength and then Lust or la Force relate to their neighbors before finally considering their numerological friends since the two card placements deviate significantly there.
Remember that you do not have to read all of this at once. It can be a lot to take in, and it may need some pondering. And very few readers who do think of all these things actually use all of them in one reading. Just let it percolate and enter your subconscious. When you need it, it can appear.
The cards of Strength and Lust (and by extension la Force) are associated with the sign of Leo and thus the element of fire. The two other fire signs are Aries and Sagittarius, represented by the Emperor and Temperance/Art, respectively, and we’ll look at those first because they make so much sense together.
If you think of the Emperor as the source of personal power, sovereignty, and authority, Strength/Lust/la Force is the application of that power. It can be direct and unwavering strength as in la Force, determined and slow as in the application of pressure in Strength, and life-affirming as in Lust, where passion consumes but also enlivens the beast’s rider. In all these cases, power can become corrupted, distorted, and domineering, but it is on the surface neutral power. It is the capacity to hold energy and the activity that energy allows. The role of the individual sovereign who directs that power is vital to the Emperor, but it is less present in Strength/Lust/La Force. Instead, these cards reflect the confidence, courage, and inner fire that allow the sovereign to lead effectively.
In contrast, Temperance/Art is a more peaceful card of balancing and synthesizing opposing forces, and it highlights the way that Strength/Lust/la Force use opposing powers. Strength and la Force use power in contrast to something else. Strength is attributed to the subject of the card, and it is applied to an object—often representing baser, animalistic forces—either opening the lion’s mouth or closing it, depending on the card. But Lust functions quite differently, and it can be seen as mediating the mastery of the Emperor and the blending of Temperance/Art: Lust unites the beast and its rider in divine harmony in order to empower the rider. It’s not about dominating the animalistic part of us but accepting it and using it to empower oneself, much like shadow work. (Fittingly, there are some shadow work exercises in my Leo-inspired divination workbook, The Sky Dazzler Workbook.)
The ruler of Leo is the Sun, represented by none other than the Sun, and its element of fire is represented by Judgment/the Aeon.
Unsurprisingly, these are big energies, and I mean big within the context of the major energies of the major arcana. There is no hiding the Sun (or Judgment/the Aeon, for that matter). While Leo derives much of its meaning from this solar power, Strength does as well. The power of Strength and the vitality of Lust and la Force are unquenchable fires. There is no hiding them. We can try to tamp them out or cover them, but they continue to smolder and glow, just waiting to burst free of constraint.
This seems a stark contrast to the placid maiden in Pamela Colman Smith’s illustration for Strength. But she radiates like a smaller Sun. There is power in her, yet she does not have to flex her muscles to show it. And I think that’s a valuable lesson to take from Strength. It can’t be hidden, even if it comes dressed in a frilly nightgown.
As for the role of Judgment/the Aeon as a part of Strength’s and Lust’s meanings, there’s a clear sense of revitalization. Judgment is a religious rebirthing, of finding passion and clarity of purpose. It is holy fire. The Aeon is a rebirth as well but of more than the individual—it’s the world’s rebirthing into a new dawn and a new age. For Strength, Lust, and la Force, this is invigoration that powers all the rest of the meanings I’ve described, but it suggests the on and off nature.
Judgment and the Aeon are both moments during which something significant occurs. They are not the forever that follows. Strength, Lust, and la Force also can be seen as moments during which something significant shifts. Perhaps it’s not a constant strength or passion or vitality but a period when these energies are more intense. They come and they go, quite naturally. We can’t always be “on,” as it were.
But let’s shift gears and look at the complex role that sequence and numbering play with Strength, numbered 8, and la Force/Lust, numbered 11.
Following the Fool’s Journey, Strength follows the Chariot, a card in which a human is trying to control the energy of beasts in order to use them to power their movement. Strength also shows a human figure controlling the energies of an animal. In this case, there is a dichotomy: the person and the beast. There is the clear potential for the energetic animal to be an aspect of the human figure.
In Waite and Smith’s Strength, this is virtue taming unruly wildness. In the Marseille tradition, a similar image is shown, but the maiden seems to be overpowering the creature, not calming it. And in Crowley and Harris’s Lust, this is the woman riding the beast of her passions. In both cases, the human figure is in charge—ostensibly in charge. As in the Chariot, there is a control over some primal force to serve the human’s agenda. Whether they are subduing the animal or tapping into its power may vary, but in both, human-centered intention is important. It’s not just sheer force happening to the person, as in the Tower, another fiery card.
On the other side of Strength in the Waite system is the Hermit. This is an individual who understands themself or is trying to do so. There’s an individualist bent to this card that can recall the influence of the Emperor. But there’s no one to lead in the Hermit. And that’s a key distinction between the power of the Emperor and the power of Strength. Ultimately, Strength doesn’t need an audience either. The woman on the card isn’t a ruler in need of the consent of the ruled. And Strength is always there, with or without anyone to see it.
There’s also the resilient and patient nature of the Hermit that develops after Strength has been demonstrated. The Hermit’s life is not easy. Survival alone is difficult. But there is that inner fire that continues to burn and light the way in the Hermit. There is that strength of character and of conviction. Strength faces the battles that will test the individual before they dare to make the difficult journey on their own. They have to prove themself first, and Strength allows that test of courage and that resilience.
Contrast this to Lust and la Force, which neighbor the Wheel of Fortune and the Hanged Man. In this sequence, the power of Lust and la Force suggests action and the desire to do things one’s own way, regardless of the consequences. There’s a rebelliousness and a sense of being able to take things on, whether luck is on your side or you’re bound for punishment.
The Wheel of Fortune is another typically fiery card (associated with Jupiter), and it can signal the expansiveness of fire, of things moving with or without human input. But more broadly, it’s a reminder of the forces that work for or against us. It is energy pushing against us and acting on us. We can take it and run with it as best as we can, or we can fight it. Lust and la Force show those competing impulses. Lust rides the waves of overcoming energy, whereas la Force tries to control that. In both, there is human agency to do something with energy (again in contrast to the Tower).
The Hanged Man then is the result of those decisions. Not all of them will work out or, if they do, be appreciated by others. In the exerting of personal power, others with power may retaliate. There’s a price to being full of life. And that price, in tarot terms, is stillness and suspension. It’s interesting that this is also a patient card of finding new meaning in the world, much like the Hermit. In both organizations, the energy of Strength or Lust or la Force is met with something much less energetic. All that externalized energy has gets redirected inward for personal development. The Hanged Man doesn’t offer as much of a lesson through similarity as through difference.
Numerologically, Strength and Lust/la Force offer another interesting parallel in their balance. Both the number 8 and 11, when written in Arabic numerals, are visually balanced. The 8 is balanced above and below, and the 11 is repeated. (As Roman numerals VIII and XI they’re much less interesting to me.) But in numerological terms, it’s hard to imagine them more different.
In the 8th position, Strength is striving, wanting more and working hard to create the life it wants. This is good in that there is clear direction and purpose, but it’s less than ideal in that there is a constant hunger. (As a fun near-miss tangent, the video game Persona 4, whose characters are loosely organized around the major arcana, replaces the Lust card with a card titled Hunger.) There is a force of will in the 8 that ties back with the Emperor, and this force of will mirrors the force in Strength’s septenary partners (the Magician and the Devil), which I’ve discussed in an earlier post.
In the 11th position, Lust and la Force are more independent (1) and balanced (2). They are two individuals that function as one unit in the so-called master number of 11. And this is fitting for the meaning of accessing both the primal energy of the beast within and the human needs, wants, and interests that mediate those energies. Both exist in full force in Lust and la Force. In Lust, they are merged into ecstasy and vigor. In la Force, the one controls the other. But either way, there is no diminishment of the potential energy there.
As far as numerological partners go though, there’s a different story.
For Strength, numbered 8, the numerological mirror in Pythagorean numerology, where 9 is the end of the cycle, is the Star, numbered 17 (1 + 7 = 8). Both cards in Pamela Colman Smith’s illustrations depict powerful feminine energy that may appear passive or gentle. It reminds us that the strength of Strength (and the Star) is embodied in the figure herself: it is something internal and cultivated, much as in Temperance/Art. The power exudes from the person without them having to do anything. This is the strength of will of the “soft skills” that influence and persuade. And much as the Star directs nighttime travelers and those simply lost in the dark, Strength can guide through persuasion and gentle leadership. There is no need for a rallying cry, just a role model with some simple but meaningful suggestions. It’s the version of Leo power that’s more true to the nature of the sign than the blowhards you see in popular culture or overly simplistic memes that can’t begin to comprehend real depth.
For Lust and la Force, numbered 11, numerological mirrors in Pythagorean numerology are the High Priestess, numbered 2 (1 + 1 = 2), and Judgement/the Aeon, numbered 20 (2 + 0 = 2). Since I’ve already discussed the fiery connection between the cards and the major numbered 20, I’ll focus on the Priestess. This is another powerful feminine figure in traditional decks, whose power emanates from her contrast to traditional forms of power and spiritual authority. She is not the High Priest, Pope, or Hierophant. She is an outsider, an alternative spiritual leader. She communes with the spiritual realm in different ways, often more directly embodied ways. She stands at the threshold between worlds, being both in the material world and in the spiritual world simultaneously. The two forces of rational and irrational merge within her, as they do within Lust. But she also stands apart as an unusual figure—one of only a few semi-official Popesses—and it emphasizes that there’s something atypical about la Force. We don’t have access to such power all the time. We must earn it and step into the strange space of it knowingly if we want any control over it. But even then, it sets us apart when we do finally get to it.
Visuals
For interpreting the visuals, I struggled to find the right card. I tend to be drawn to the same decks for these posts, and I didn’t want to just see another beautiful and thoughtful image from the Linestrider Tarot by Siolo Thompson or the Lost Hollow Tarot by James Brothwell, or the Tabula Mundi Tarot by M. M. Meleen. Instead, I chose a standby that I haven’t featured yet, the Shadowscapes Tarot by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, published by Llewellyn. (You can read my interview with that deck here.)
There are so many rich details in each of the Shadowscapes Tarot cards thanks to Law’s painting style, so if you don’t have this deck yourself, it may be hard to verify some of the nuances I mention. But I promise that they’re there.
As in many depictions of Strength, there is a woman in delicate clothes holding onto the mouth of a powerful lion (or similar beast). In this particular illustration, the woman is in a thin wrap skirt with no top. Her breasts are exposed, and she is not obviously muscular. There’s a natural wild quality to her with her unruly orange hair not unlike a lion’s mane, and it brings to mind the Scarlet Woman of Lust. There is a fire within her, even if she appears at complete peace. She is one with the creature but apart.
The woman’s posture is similarly one of calm strength without any sign of force. She stands beside the creature, upright and without having to exert any real effort. One of the woman’s hands is holding the lion’s mouth from below, while the other is stroking the animal’s head. It is support, gentle control, and soothing all at the same time. This is healthy application of force (if such a thing exists).
The lion creature has its own paw on an orb of fiery waves. It combines the water and fire of Temperance, of healthy mixture of energy and understanding. But it isn’t a gentle creature. It has gnarled, almost demonic horns, and it is raised up on its haunches. There’s a mixture of danger and calm in the woman and the lion.
Birds fly in the sky around the pair—possibly just atmospheric interest—but around the lion are two cats and on its back is a goose. Below the bridge on which this little menagerie stands is a censer—or bird bath, another blending of fire and water—and two birds rest on its rim.
None of the animals is in conflict or on the prowl, although one of the cats holds a small bell that hangs off the bridge and ends at cracks forming in the structure. This last detail may just provide visual interest to the timeless elven beauty of the artist’s world, but it feels richly symbolic. This peace and this bridging of worlds—the wild and the calm—may not be built to last. There is always something threatening to break the tense balance of energies, even if it’s as harmless as a mischievous cat. That cat is still a lion, and without the bell around its neck, it might easily slip free.
Did you learn something?
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