Welcome, fellow wanderer, dropout, and accidental mystic. Today, we will speak of The Fool’s Journey—that eternal cycle of initiation, transformation, and self-realization that every seeker inevitably stumbles into like a drunk at 3 AM looking for Taco Bell.
The Fool’s Journey is the cosmic syllabus nobody signed up for but everyone is enrolled in. There’s no withdrawal date, no pass/fail option, no “Can I test out of this?” You’re here, baby. You’re registered in Reincarnation University, and the tuition is your sanity.
In Tarot, The Fool is card zero. Zero like the void, zero like your bank account after spiritual retreats, zero like your number of functioning relationships once you start talking about shadow work at brunch. Zero: infinite potential, infinite mistakes. The Fool doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t care, and still manages to get better Yelp reviews than you.
He stands on the edge of a cliff, eyes on the clouds, blissfully unaware of the OSHA violations beneath his feet. A tiny knapsack rests on his shoulder—probably containing a half-eaten granola bar, some crystals he doesn’t understand, and unresolved generational trauma. At his heels, a dog barks: instinct, warning, common sense. “Hey man, maybe don’t walk off the cliff?” But the Fool doesn’t listen. Because deep down, he knows: cliffs are just the universe’s suggestion box.
And so the journey begins.
The Sacred Curriculum (with Mandatory Labs in Humiliation
Every Major Arcana card is an unpaid internship in archetypal suffering. Each one gives the Fool a shiny new scar for his collection. Let’s walk through them, satirical style—because otherwise, we might actually start crying.
The Magician & The High Priestess: Hustle vs. Vibe
The Magician says, “Manifest it, bro. Reality is clay.” The Fool nods, whips out a vision board, and starts demanding Teslas from the universe like it’s Amazon Prime.
Then The High Priestess leans in, whispering, “Actually, reality is mostly mystery, shadow, womb-space. Shut up and listen.” Now the Fool’s confused. Should he hustle, grind, and manifest? Or vibe, surrender, and meditate until enlightenment arrives via DoorDash?
Spoiler: he’ll do both, badly.
The Empress & The Emperor: Mommy Issues, Daddy Issues, Repeat
The Empress coos, “Nurture. Grow. Be fertile.” The Fool interprets this as “buy plants.” He kills them all in two weeks. Lesson learned? Sort of.
Enter The Emperor, who says, “Rule. Build. Structure.” The Fool downloads Notion, makes seventeen productivity dashboards, and forgets about them by next Tuesday.
Congratulations: the Fool now has both mommy issues and daddy issues, but with Pinterest boards.
The Hierophant & The Lovers: Dogma vs. Tinder
The Hierophant is that stern priest telling the Fool to sit up straight, memorize dogma, and never, ever question authority. The Fool tries—he really does—but then the Lovers appear, whispering, “Follow your heart, baby.”
So the Fool ditches the church, joins a polyamorous ayahuasca commune, and promptly realizes love is harder than it looked on Instagram.
The Chariot & Strength: Rage vs. Chill
The Chariot teaches victory: control the horses, charge forward, win at all costs. It’s CrossFit energy, motivational-podcast energy.
But then Strength steps in, casually petting a lion like it’s a therapy cat. She says, “Real power is gentle.” Now the Fool’s torn between deadlifting 300 pounds or adopting kittens. He tries both. Pulls a muscle.
The Hermit & The Wheel of Fortune: Isolation, then Cosmic Roulette
The Hermit arrives, lantern in hand, saying, “Withdraw. Seek truth alone.” The Fool locks himself in his room, journals furiously, and binge-watches obscure YouTube lectures at 2 AM. He thinks he’s enlightened.
Then the Wheel of Fortune spins, laughing: “Lol, none of this is permanent. Your breakthroughs are memes.” And just like that, the Fool realizes the universe is basically a cosmic slot machine where everyone loses eventually.
Justice & The Hanged Man: Oops, Consequences
Justice appears with her scales, demanding accountability. The Fool suddenly remembers those unpaid parking tickets, those ghosted exes, and that one time he said “Namaste” wrong in yoga class. Karma is a receipts-keeper.
The Hanged Man follows, saying, “Suspend yourself upside down. Let go.” The Fool obliges, accidentally inventing hot yoga. Everyone claps. He’s still broke.
Death & Temperance: Ego Funeral, Kombucha Afterparty
Death knocks politely. “Time to die, bro.” The Fool freaks out, then realizes it’s just an ego death, not the real kind. Still, it feels like deleting all his selfies. Painful.
Temperance shows up afterward, mixing cocktails of balance and moderation. The Fool sips. It tastes like kombucha. He pretends to like it.
The Devil & The Tower: Welcome to Rock Bottom
The Devil enters, seductive and smirking. “You like chains? You like scrolling Instagram for six hours instead of meditating? Yeah, you do.” The Fool nods, enslaved to his own dopamine loops.
Then the Tower explodes, demolishing his illusions: job gone, relationship gone, Wi-Fi router fried. The Fool sits in the rubble, wondering if rock bottom comes with dental.
The Star & The Moon: Hope vs. Hallucination
After the rubble, the Star twinkles: “It’s okay, babe. There’s still hope. Trust the cosmos.” The Fool gets a tattoo that says “faith.”
Then the Moon rises: “Also, nothing is real. Your dreams are lying. Wolves are chasing you.” The Fool takes melatonin and cries.
The Sun & Judgment: Enlightenment, Sort Of
The Sun bursts forth: “Joy! Radiance! You are the light of the world!” The Fool believes it. He posts motivational reels. For three weeks, he’s insufferable.
Then Judgment calls: “Actually, this is your reckoning. Face your life. Face yourself.” The Fool scrolls his camera roll, sees the person he used to be, and whispers, “Yikes.”
The World: Graduation Day (Kind Of)
Finally, The World arrives. The Fool feels complete. Whole. He’s got the cosmic diploma. Tassel turned. Gown flowing.
But right as he’s about to walk off stage, the cycle resets. He’s back at zero. Cliff. Dog. Knapsack. Repeat.
Congratulations: reincarnation.
The Fool as the Eternal Clown
The Fool never actually graduates. He just keeps circling the same damn cycle with new outfits. Each lifetime is a rebrand.
Last time you were the Fool in a toga. This time it’s jeans and an ironic tote bag. Next time, probably a space suit. Same syllabus, though. The soul doesn’t innovate—she just remixes.
And what does this mean for us? It means stop taking yourself so seriously. Your enlightenment is a running joke. Your shadow work is improv comedy. Your healing journey is basically a cosmic blooper reel.
The dog barking at your heels? That’s your intuition saying, “Buddy, you’ve done this before. Don’t trip on the same rock twice.” And you nod, agree, and then trip anyway. Because that’s the point.
Why The Fool Is the Only Archetype That Makes Sense in Late Capitalism
Look around. Everyone’s a Fool. Politicians walk off cliffs daily, and the crowd still cheers. Corporations manifest reality with Magician energy, except the reality is mostly plastic straws in the ocean. Influencers are High Priestesses whispering “buy this serum or die ugly.”
The whole system is a Tower mid-collapse, but people are still rearranging crystals on their desks like it’s going to hold the ceiling up. Spoiler: it won’t.
Being The Fool is the only honest response. Everyone else is cosplaying wisdom. The Fool just shrugs and says, “Yeah, I don’t know either, man.” And somehow that’s closer to truth than all the TED Talks combined.
The Gospel of Zero
Here’s the paradox: The Fool isn’t foolish. He’s the only one with the guts to admit he doesn’t know. Everyone else clings to certainty like a toddler to a juice box. The Fool drops the juice box. He lets it spill. Sticky, messy, embarrassing. And yet—free.
Zero is not nothing. Zero is potential. Zero is a portal. Zero is the cosmic womb where everything begins again. To live as the Fool is to live on the edge of the cliff, forever ready to fall, forever laughing at the fall.
How to Live Like a Fool
Carry a small knapsack. Keep it light. Your trauma won’t fit in there anyway.
Listen to the dog. But not too much. Sometimes you need to leap.
Ignore the Yelp reviews of your soul. No one else gets what you’re doing. That’s fine.
Don’t get cocky when you hit The Sun. Judgment is always lurking.
Remember: you will die. Probably more than once. Take notes.
And above all: laugh. Because if you can’t laugh at the cosmic joke, you’re just stuck in someone else’s syllabus.
The Fool isn’t the one who doesn’t know. The Fool is the one who knows that not-knowing is the only real knowledge.
So go ahead. Step off the cliff. It’s just reincarnation. You’ll be back.
the Fool on the Hill sees the Sun going Down, but the Eyes in his Head, See the World spinning ‘round!
-The Beatles
Joseph Campbell much 😎 Dip into Genius, the Book? It provides an aspirational roadmap for those who would walk with God. One small easy thought is all it may take. #theosis #quantumObjectivism 🖖https://open.substack.com/pub/ronaldingram/p/chapter-10-gurdjieffian-journey-from?r=2xhreu&utm_medium=ios