You Have Arrived: The Chariot and Cancer Season

Cancer arrives at the Summer Solstice, six months into the calendar year, and right on time for summer. 

If you stop for a moment and think about everything that has happened since January 1st, you have a lot to be proud of!

Cancer’s tarot card is The Chariot, and The Chariot is all about exactly that: the victory lap. 

We are not done. There is more coming. But we are here now, in the heat of summer, and this is the moment the cards ask us to pause, feel the warmth on our faces, and learn from the humble crab. 

The crab has a hard shell and a soft interior. It can go from the ocean to the land. This contrast of exterior strength and interior vulnerability is the key to understanding and working with both The Chariot and the Sevens of the tarot.

Crossing the First Finish Line 

Tarot’s Major Arcana can be organized into three lines. 

Line One tells the story of self-formation. Line Two tells a story of self-discovery. Line Three tells a story of self-transcendence.

When we reach The Chariot, we have all the required tools to complete the sentence, I am.

Smith Rider Waite Deck, The Chariot

In the Smith Rider Waite deck, the figure in The Chariot is almost absurdly composed. He stands inside an ornate stone chariot. He is armored. He is crowned with stars. Two sphinxes sit before him, one dark and one light, neither moving. The city is behind him. The river is ahead.

And yet the chariot goes nowhere — the scene is still. Everything is suspended at this moment of arrival.

This card is loaded, almost overloaded, with symbols that echo every lesson from Line One.

The magic wand from The Magician. The veil from The High Priestess. The stars of The Empress.

The square on his breastplate from The Emperor. The lunar shoulder plates from The Hierophant’s initiation.

At the front of the chariot is a modification of the Hindu lingam and yoni, the masculine and feminine unified, calling back to the maturation of The Lovers.

Nothing in this card is accidental. Everything he carries, he has earned.

In the Light Seer’s Deck, the energy shifts — there is wind in this Chariot, and joy. You feel the forward motion, the exhilaration of having done it.

Both versions tell the same truth: this person has arrived, and they should feel good about it.

The Light Seer's Deck, The Chariot

The Moon, Cancer, and Water

Cancer is a cardinal water sign, meaning it starts the season. It is as ambitious as it is powerful. 

The element of water directs this energy toward the things we feel, the things we know intuitively, and the things we keep for ourselves.

Cancer's ruling planet is the Moon. The Moon is always in flux. It rules the tides. It’s associated with our dreams and our intuition.

In Tarot, The High Priestess, The Chariot, and The Moon cards are all ruled by the Moon.

The High Priestess and The Moon cards offer privacy to our interior explorations, but it’s only The Chariot that combines that vulnerability with protection.

This is true of all our Sevens. 

In all the Minor Arcana Sevens, we are combining inner wisdom with outer defense. Just like the crab.

In Defense of Graduation Day

When I hear other tarot readers talk about The Chariot, they are quick to underscore that we shouldn’t allow ourselves to get too comfortable in The Chariot. I’m not sure why. Other cards don’t get the same treatment.

If I had to guess, it’s because all that safety and security can be really seductive. It’s not hard to find examples of well-off people whose egos have taken over.

The line I hear over and over is, it’s The Chariot, not The Charioteer.

That line is true. But it is often used to skip something important.

Yes, the card is called The Chariot, not The Charioteer. The charioteer, the persona you have built, the version of yourself that the world sees and applauds, is not the whole of you. You are the vessel, not the driver. That is real, and it matters, and we will get there.

But you cannot leave something if you haven’t allowed yourself to fully inhabit it first.

I think of it this way. If someone you love is graduating, you do not walk up to them at commencement and say, “Just remember, you’re not the diploma.” You say congratulations. You take pictures. You cry a little. You throw the cap. The caution comes later, if it comes at all.

My first Chariot memory took place when I was a very little girl.

I had a pair of Snoopy slippers that I absolutely adored. I mentioned to my mom one day that my toes were getting squished by them, and she casually replied that I was probably outgrowing them. I immediately burst into a fit of tears. 

All the clothes I’d outgrown before then were replaced before I noticed. I was young enough that I didn’t have many attachments. I thought I’d be wearing those slippers forever.

Eighteen-ish years later, I was twenty-one, sitting at Sea-Tac Airport, about to fly home to San Francisco after graduating from college with honors.

I remember thinking, with startling clarity, that this would be a very tidy time for the plane to go down. I had done everything that was expected of me. I had done it well. And I had no idea what came next. The structure that had organized my entire existence was dissolving, and the formlessness on the other side of it was terrifying.

The Chariot had carried me beautifully. I just did not know how to leave it.

What I did not understand yet was that I did not have to know right then. You don’t leave The Chariot before it’s time. First, you must arrive.

Think of Elton John’s Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour, which ran for five full years across four continents. Five years! That is not a retirement. That is a victory lap of operatic proportions, and it was exactly right. 

He honored every city, every song, every decade. He took the full bow. And only after all of that could he walk off the stage. If he had tried to leave quietly in the middle of the night, the ego would have kept pulling him back.

When The Chariot arrives, it’s a graduation ceremony. There’s no wisdom in skipping the ceremony to go straight to work. 

Cancer season and The Chariot are here for you and your victory lap.

The Chariot and Cancer Season

Cancer season and The Chariot are here for you. Here are some ideas to inspire:

Follow the Moon. Cancer is ruled by the Moon, which means the most important thing you can do this season is start paying attention to it. Watch the phases the way you’d watch the weather. Let the fullness tell you when to pour out, and the darkness tell you when to pull in.

Tend to your home. Cancer rules the hearth. Light a candle, sweep a corner, put something back in order. Making your space feel sacred is one of the oldest forms of devotion there is.

Let the water move you. Cancer is a water sign, which means emotion isn’t the enemy right now, it’s the invitation. Walk to the beach and get into the ocean if you can! 

Better yet, you can revisit my Chariot Bath ritual from a few summers ago. There is no need to wait for a full moon to use it.

Honor the shell. The crab carries his home on his back and knows exactly when to clamp down. Guard your soft places this season. Retreating into your shell isn’t hiding. It’s the oldest wisdom the crab has to teach.

Take the victory lap. You have six months of living behind you. Feel the weight of what you’ve built, and let yourself be proud of it. Cancer season and The Chariot are here for exactly that.

Happy Cancer season!

xoxo

Meredyth