The Tarot Wayfarer

 

The Journal of the Tarot Wayfarer

The journal was discovered in an abandoned building north of Chicago on February 11th, 1955, by Albert Tachen, and sold at auction upon his death by his daughter, Ruza Tipka (her married name) to a private collector. This much we know, the rest is uncertain and subject to further research as time allows. One thing of which we are sure – it contains a remarkable story of another world.

The journal, now in our hands through means both tawdry and terrifying, is hand-bound and measures approximately 7” x 5”. It is hand-written throughout in a fine penmanship. There is a symbol somehow etched into the cover which we cannot yet reveal until the full story is discovered about the contents of this remarkable artifact.

On May 1st 2017 we will launch a campaign to share a journey into this new world of tarot & mysticism, and if you would like to explore with us, we invite you to register your interest at the foot of this page – we estimate that tickets will cost around $100 so advise saving if you would like a premium seat. In the meantime we will provide you with exclusive revelations of this ambitious project.

We share here below an extract from the journal and one of the several unique photographs that appear to have been taped into the journal with a strange red tape, on the back of which are the repeating letters V.V.V.V.

 

Journal Entry: Midnight at the House of the Fountains

The white tiger is asleep upon the staircase and all is quiet other than the constant sound of the fountains, arrayed without number in the eternal courtyard outside my chambers.

Tiger at House of Fountains

It is several months since I returned, yet I know not how to speak of all that I have seen, all that I have come to believe, and all that I have changed.

There is a place beyond this world where all that you can imagine has become real, and the self that you imagine you could be become real.

There, they speak the language of symbols, the language of Tarot.

It is what you have already learnt for so long, but such a speech that will change your life – open gateways of perception that look through time and space as if they were but shadows of reality.

At the end of my seeking, I found it, there all along.

It is a world of an infinite journey that takes place in an everlasting day. There are two great Lodges, that of the Rose and that of the Key, and they preside over this place in an endless war that creates all reality.

Such are the mysteries of that world, they defy description. There is a door hidden, it is between the two pillars.

It is a world of twelve realms, and a road of mystical gates that threads between rivers that create time itself. In the centre, there is a ring of mountains that encircles a vast spring, a place of fountains and waterfalls, where the hours and minutes cascade into reality. There the Ancients built a Well, an artifice of divination that captures the twelve rivers of Temporalis.

A black and white gate, each to a Goddess, stand there timelessley, guarding the mysteries.

Such wonders, such journeys await. I have returned, yet I already must return, for this world holds no treasures such as I have experienced.

It is like a glass that has become clear – for the first time my life holds meaning, and the beauty of the divine world has unfolded itself to me through the tears of the past, all my suffering was vanished in a blink, confusion dispelled like the mist of an early morning before the sun of the day.

And such a day, where the heavens are laced with the choirs of angels, the land is full of bounty beyond measure, and all that we recall is perfect.

There are courts in those realms, rich with nobility. There are Knights who quest for epic rewards and Pages who serve beyond any call of duty. There are Kings and Queens of whom legends will be written, and their lives are those we all would live.

There are Fools and Judges, Towers that fall from infinity and bodies that rise into eternity. How I wish that words would capture but a fragment of all that I have seen in my wayfaring.

There is a place beyond this world – and its name is Arkartia.

It is a place where the Arcana Way leads to a truth that can be grasped, a secret that can be revealed, a mystery that is your very soul – I will write more. I will …

Journal Entry: The Arcana Way

It has been several years since my last entry, and yet forever has passed, and no time at all. The world of Arkartia knows no boundaries of time nor space.

I visited a vast city on the coast, upon which was set a mighty lighthouse, and the ships that travelled there were of many worlds. Yet there was a mighty clock upon a tower, set a moment before now, always racing into the future by a brief glimpse – enough that I knew in any moment, what was to pass in the moments following.

Tarot Wayfarer

I spent time beyond measure following the Arcana Way, a highway of golden stones threading across the twelve realms, each with its own boundaries and borders, its own spirit and mysteries. There were heroes and heroines, there were rulers and tragic tales, there were legends and lore beyond measure.

It is a place where the Tarot cards are spoken as a language – and they are alive.

It is a place of secrets and brotherhoods, of sisters of the Moon and Orders of Everlasting Day. It is the place of which we sometimes dream at midnight or in the moment before the dawn. It is the world of endless wonder, of love beyond calling and where we become the myth and legends of which we aspire.

There are mountains there, in a ring of clouds, from which spill the four great rivers of history. There are cities and towns, monuments and ancient pyramids, there is endless adventure and endless discovery. It is the world of those who journey into the Tarot, and become wayfarers thereof.

It calls me even now, and I must return – whilst I make my life in this world, I become something more noble, more divine, in my passing of time in that other place.

Arkartia. I return.

Journal Entry: The Rose Key

I have seen that some think me mad for speaking of this world, or that I am hallucinating the dreams of others – I must find proof of my journeys.

I have brought back a Key from that place, a key which unlocks secrets, and it is made in the fashion of a Rose.

Such a unique symbol, it must be meaningful. It might guide me to others who have seen what I have seen. Perhaps.

Here … in Tarot I have located it. The Symbol. Such a Symbol. The Rose Key.

It belongs to the Wayfarers, those of both the Lodge of the Rose and the Lodge of the Key.

Others have been to Arkartia already, and hidden the key in their art – and for many years.

What is this mystery? How has it been done?

Perhaps I am not the first, nor will I be the last, to dream of tarot in another world.

[EDITORS NOTES FOLLOW, 3rd February 2017]

In the journal we also found a number of tarot cards, which must have been placed in the journal by a contemporary hand, prior to our acquisition. They are dated within the last six years, at time of writing. This one, for example, is from a deck we identified as being created by the artist Lisa de St. Croix. It has scrawled on the back the words ROSE KEY? LEADING WHERE? ANOTHERWORLD?

We have also identified the previous tarot card, it is in the Didactic Tarot by Jeffrey M. Donato. However, the dates are confusing. This deck was published in June, 2015, and self-published a year or two prior to that date – including that card with the “Rose Key” image.

The journal, written prior to 1955, mentions discovering the “Rose Key” in tarot cards, but it could not possibly refer to that card, which we found inserted into that same page.

Further, we are sure that the card was not there when we acquired the journal, as we catalogued carefully all the loose items and their page references.

We are now transcribing the next journal entries and will publish shortly. A lot of strange things have been happening since we started this public revealing of the work, and we suspect others may be somehow trying to stop us in the task. Last night someone knocked on the door but when we went downstairs, no-one was there. It could be a coincidence, of course!