The High Priestess
What is the High Priestess’s origin story? Many theories exist.
Is she Pope Joan, the legendary woman many believe to be a myth? Does she represent Sister Manfreda, elected papess by the Gugliemites—a group that believed their founder, Guglielma of Bohemia, would rise again and usher in an era of female popes? Or does she embody the high priestess of the ancient Egyptian Isis cult, which Court de Gébelin believed to be the origin of the Tarot itself?
What is known is this: the High Priestess represents a feminine archetype—passive, mysterious, and profound.
She is the second card in the Major Arcana, and her number—2—is rich with meaning. It symbolizes duality, balance, partnership, and the sacred tension held between opposites. Unlike the initiating energy of the Magician (1), the energy of 2 invites stillness and receptivity. The High Priestess does not act; she waits. She listens, watches, and holds space for what is not yet visible. She teaches that wisdom often arises in the quiet space between knowing and unknowing.
Let us examine the rich symbols within this card.
Moon imagery surrounds her. She wears a crown of the full moon, while a crescent rests at her feet. The moon, long linked to the menstrual cycle, mirrors the monthly changes of a woman’s body—from darkness to fullness and back again.
When I first began to understand the power of my own “moon cycle,” I was forty. Forty!
As a child, the powers of my body—and my menstrual cycle—were not celebrated, but instead framed as a nuisance, something to be hidden. I remember crying when I first started menstruating. I was scared, unready to be labeled a “woman.” I longed to stay childlike, untouched by the looming possibilities of sex or pregnancy. But this fear, I now understand, was rooted in something deeper: a subconscious awareness that womanhood meant vulnerability to the cultural vitriol directed at women—and the very real risk of violence.
No one taught me about the power embedded in this biological process. The mystery of copious monthly bleeding with no loss of life was not seen as sacred—it was shrouded in silence, shame, and fear.
By contrast, the High Priestess is celebrated for her feminine power. She embodies the dark, mysterious womb and offers access to psychic vision and unconscious knowledge. Her wisdom is not loud; it arises from silence and inner listening.
She is seated between two pillars marked with the letters B and J—Boaz and Jakin—the twin columns of Solomon’s mystical temple. The black pillar on the left bears the white letter B (Boaz), representing passivity and mystery. The white pillar on the right is inscribed with the black letter J (Jakin), symbolizing action and consciousness. The inversion of color in the letters suggests that each pillar contains the essence of its opposite. As Rachel Pollack writes, “duality is an illusion, and each extreme carries the other embedded inside it” (2019, p. 39). The High Priestess sits poised between these poles—not to reconcile them, but to remind us that the sacred lies in the holding of opposites.
At her chest is a cross, echoing the Magician’s principle of “as above, so below”—a symbol of the interaction between spiritual and material realms (Quinn, 2009, p. 45). She invites us to hold the tension of opposites until they dissolve, revealing something divine.
On her lap lies a scroll labeled “Tora”—concealing and perhaps referencing both the Torah and Tarot. As Pollack (2019) notes, the Torah holds “higher knowledge or psychic truths available to us only in the form of myths and dreams” (p. 40).
Behind her, a veil embroidered with pomegranates suggests fertility, mystery, and the sacred potential within the feminine body. The pomegranate, filled with seeds, represents the ground from which new life and ideas may emerge.
Water flows from behind the curtain and around her feet—symbolizing the unconscious and all that is deep, hidden, and unknowable. In tarot tradition, all the water that appears in later cards is said to originate here. She is the source.
This card stands in contrast to the Magician’s call to action. The High Priestess is still, contemplative, and inwardly focused—quiet enough to hear what the outer world drowns out. She reminds us that messages can only be received when we are willing to become quiet. Darkness is not an enemy; it is a necessary womb of creation.
Lately, I’ve felt the pull of this archetype. I have often said aloud, “I need alone time.” I think this desire is my psyche’s attempt to bring me closer to my own intuitive knowing. But the chaos of the world—and the distractions of daily life—make it hard to access the silence that lives in darkness.
References
Pollack, R. (2019). Seventy-eight degrees of wisdom: A tarot journey to self-awareness (40th anniversary ed.). Weiser Books.
Quinn, P. (2009). Tarot for life: Reading the cards for everyday guidance and growth. Quest Books.
