The Renaissance Tarot fool strides toward us in a sexy, lavish, and eccentric costume. His head is turned to the side, so that we see him in profile. This conveys an arrogance, a cocky disregard for the person he's approaching. His staff is topped with grapes and the skull of a child.

In the extraordinary companion book for this deck, creator Brian Williams leads us on a tour-de-force recapitulation of the Fool archetype in literature and popular culture. Shakespeare's fools, particularly the character from "King Lear", feature prominently. He quotes several apropos passages from Shakespeare, but omits my all-time favorite:

Fool: The reason that the seven stars are not more than seven is a pretty reason.

Lear: Because they are not eight?

Fool: Thou wouldst make a good fool.

[Purveyors and users of elaborate metaphysical systems take note.]

Williams emphasizes the privileged role of the madman, who alone may speak the truth and violate conventional wisdom. The Fool is associated with Bacchus/Dionysus, god of wine and indulgent liberality, attributes often connected with the Devil card as well.

My difficulty with the card stems from him being more elegant, more sophisticated, more of the "beautiful people" set than I ever imagined a Fool to be. Shouldn't a Fool be less pretentious, less self-conscious? This was a dilemma I let stew in the back of my mind.

In preparation for my posting to this list, I did a meditation on the card. This is an almost infallible technique for bringing out a deeper understanding, and it didn't fail me this time. I expected that I'd be drawn into the card's erotic qualities, given the Fool's skimpy costume and youthful presence. But it didn't go there at all. Instead, I came away with an unexpected appreciation for the strange burden of the Fool's profession, and it left me with insights that reach beyond this particular deck.

The Renaissance Fool is clearly in the keeping of a wealthy patron. He is a court fool, like Lear's. He is paid to play the fool. His job is the incomprehensible paradox of being spontaneous on demand! At each turn, he must say something witty, challenging, surprising, divinely mad--but he must do it in such a genuine way that he neither bores nor offends. He must be both random and right. The task is utterly impossible without the grace of the gods.

He must surrender himself to nonsense, and trust the gods to make his nonsense true. The true madness is to try to make a living at being predictably mad. We've all experienced a wonderful moment when a perfect and profound bit of silliness comes to us from out of nowhere and saves the day. The flukish success or spontaneous wit that cannot be accounted for. Wonderful as it is, we know we can't arrange for it to come again; it's beyond conscious intent. The Fool is blessed with a string of such apropos nonsense; he succeeds over and over again without rhyme or reason. Every time the dice are rolled, he makes the bet. And he doesn't know how he does it, even though his livelihood depends on it.

The Fool, then, is in precisely the same position as a Tarot reader! For there is no greater surrender to the forces of randomness than spreading cards from a shuffled deck with faith that the truth will be there when the cards are turned up and read. We face the challenge of the Fool: the need to be spontaneous on demand, to call up the divine madness and pray it hits home. The trick is not in having the glorious gift descend on us once, but to find it still, after a thousand readings have flowed under the bridge.

I am a Fool every time I spread the cards. More, I am *this* Fool, cocky, dangerous, pampered, and utterly, shamelessly mad.

Tom Tadfor Little
tlittle@telp.com

Tarott Telperion Productions:
http://www.telp.com/excursions/tarot