The Tower's Lessons

How I'm navigating a downturn in my creative work

The Ruins of Holyrood Chapel by Louis Daguerre

How many times does the same tarot card have to come up in a reading before you get the picture¹?

I sit reflecting on this question, because looking back in my journal, The Tower — a card representing upheaval, instability, collapse, disruption — has been repeating in my pulls since this spring.

Curiously, it aligns with a downturn in my creative work that (seemingly) came out of nowhere. After over a year of steady progress, of building The Artemisian’s membership, teaching monthly classes, and guiding inner work for fellow archetypal enthusiasts, it all came to a sudden halt. The Tower arrived, painfully so, knocking down the tenuous sense of stability that I had been cultivating.

My work here on Substack has been an act of intuitive inspiration, following the mysterious sense of potential that emerged as I found a new home for my writing and reflections. It was never my goal to launch a paid membership or restart my teaching after intentionally taking a break. To be honest, I was really burnt out at the time, disillusioned by the Sisyphean task of building a business and promoting my work through typical social-marketing channels. I had no heart for it, the grind stripped the meaning and purpose from all I was doing.

Then I began to write, and it felt so good to just create for the sake of it. I experimented with different formats, eventually posting an old recording of a class on tarot and dreamwork. Much to my surprise, it generated a lot of interest! Several new sign ups rolled in to my paid tier, and I was left wondering…

Should I begin teaching again, this time through The Artemisian? Was there enough interest from my readers? Could I generate enough income to make this sustainable?

Intuitions are a funny thing, so demanding of our total faith and belief when outer reality doesn’t reflect it in the slightest. But I am one who always bows to the altar of the great intuitive tides that move through me; they are the Gods whose will I must obey. And this time was no different. The image of what could be shimmered within, and so I took the plunge, launching a membership and restarting my live classes.

The growth was rarely linear, but it always trended upward. As our community grew, so did my excitement and the sense that I had uncovered an integral piece of a puzzle that had eluded me for so long. Finally, I had found an avenue for my work that felt aligned. Finally, I was on my way to more financial stability. Finally, I could focus on what mattered most — building a home for deep inner work, for myself and others.

But the rhythms of creation are never just progressing; eventually, the energy shifts and recedes. Rationally, I understand this², but when it happened earlier this year, it shook me to my core. Month after month, my numbers dropped. Attendance and sign ups began to wane, even engagement on my articles dwindled. I wondered, Is the model failing? Is global economic uncertainty and the rising basic costs of living at play? Am I being called to adapt, to make big changes?

At the heart of it though, I felt as if I was losing grip on my dream. All I had worked for, an effort that began over ten years ago, was slipping through my fingers. The Tower is never easy, the collapse is devastating and distressing.

But The Tower is a revelation, one that we can begin to see more clearly when we truly accept the destruction as integral to the creative process. Things never stay the same, they shouldn’t, for what would life be if we hung in stasis with a veil of illusion of goals complete, arrival with no next chapter, our sense of becoming complete? It doesn’t really sound like living to me.

Resistant as I might be, I had to uncover what the deeper message was. Over and over I drew the card in my readings, yet for months, I was caught in a storm of emotions, unable to see beyond the grief. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m totally out of it, but I think I’m finding clarity for the path ahead.

Tarot Reflections and Interpretations

“Every transformation demands as its precondition “the ending of a world” — the collapse of an old philosophy of life.”

— Jolande Jacobi, Man and His Symbols

Although often misattributed to Jung, the above quote, written by Jolande Jacobi, is a powerful reminder. Transformation is rarely gentle. It reveals where you’ve become complacent, where your shadows have lingered too long in the dark, where you hold onto images or beliefs that no longer serve, where you want to stay small when psyche demands you grow and become.

The ending of a world…when do we ever welcome an apocalypse, a cataclysm that threatens all we hold dear? I think that’s why The Tower is depicted as such, it’s only by the hands of the Gods that destruction of this magnitude could be delivered.

Below is the most recent set of cards I drew to reflect on my situation. As an essentially spread-less reader (I build as I go, intuitively designing the structure as I uncover questions and insights), I began with the prompt: What archetypal energies sit at the center of my work? The Tower and The Hierophant came out together.

In clockwise order: The Tower, The Hierophant, IV of Cups, Page of Pentacles, III of Pentacles — all from the Rider Waite Smith (RWS) deck.

The Hierophant has long stood as a symbol of my vocational work, the role I am drawn to as intermediary and guide, translating and teaching others about the psyche and its mysteries. By this stage, seeing The Tower again was not a surprise, but I think I’ve had some time to accept its presence and influence. Rather than spiraling into doom and pessimism, I wondered at the transformation I was in the midst of.

Naturally, the next steps of the reading emerged: What am I leaving behind? I drew the III of Pentacles, a card of collaborative effort, an image of what one has been building and pouring their spirit into. I often think of the foundations of work and life with this card, the careful toiling to construct a meaningful vessel that provides and sustains, where community gathers and grows together. Perhaps the downturn was pointing to a great tide of change, that my work in its current form, this grand cathedral that I’ve built to house my dreams, was no longer viable.

When I hold this mirror up, what I notice is that I’ve placed all the weight of success on the narrow possibility that my membership will grow to be enough to sustain myself and my family. All this importance, all the eggs in one basket. The idea felt so good, relieving, and genuinely inspiring. So when the ebbs and flows of reality hit, the devastation compounded on itself. The dream wasn’t actually over yet, but the loss of the image felt that way. The projection was broken, and I felt adrift without it.

What am I moving towards? I drew the IV of Cups. Well, yes, here is the reflection of me so caught in fixation of what was that I’m incapable of seeing what is coming to me. I’ve always found this card fascinating, at least in the RWS deck, we see the only other occurrence of this mysterious hand of God offering a gift, an opportunity, a new thread of life. In the Aces, we are primed to receive, to grasp the offering. In the IV of Cups, we are bogged down by apathy, ambivalence, discontent.

What’s in the cup being offered? I drew the Page of Pentacles. The repetition of the suit piqued my curiosity. If the III of Pentacles spoke to a foundational pillar of my work crumbling and being let go of, then the Page spoke to the budding new energy that wanted to take its place. How has my narrow vision stifled creative flourishing? I realized that I had become fearful to color outside the boundaries of what had so far been “successful”. Subtle pulls in new directions wanted my attention, but I kept funneling time and resources to what was working.

Might I have avoided the tumultuous last 6+ months if I had come to this insight sooner? I suppose I’ll never know, but I trust that the psyche (and the mysterious ways it reaches into the outer world) has a greater intelligence than I can fathom. For now, I hold the reading and its messages close.

In honor of The Tower and the Page of Pentacles, I’m leaning into endings that make way for new beginnings. Long have I wanted to write a book, to experiment with creative formats for inner work programs, to teach more in-person and guest lecture on different platforms. Space for these endeavors is now opening up as I release the shackles of what has been.

On this path, The Artemisian continues, the membership is still a focus, but no longer the sole one. It becomes one part in a dynamic weaving of all of who I am, what I aspire to bring to the world and my work.

The lessons are far from over, I imagine, but a contentment and conviction have settled in. It is a welcome respite from The Tower’s heavy shadows, but I am thankful for the experience and excited for what is to come.

Until next time,
~Alyssa

1. I see this phenomenon as akin to recurring dreams. But instead of arising through the direct, internal expression of the unconscious, it is mediated by synchronicity through the use of the cards.

2. One of the most popular articles I’ve written is on this very idea!