What card am I?

Last night I came across this poem by Robert Frost in a book.

Can you guess which two tarot cards it made me think of?

When the snow falls

It seems that no matter how long you study tarot and how familiar you think you are with the cards, you will always find something new to enlighten or surprise. This week, I have been learning about the 5 of Pentacles. I wrote about a couple of things specific to the Hudes 5 of Pentacles in another post, but this post is about the 5 of Pentacles in general. To me, this card has always represented some kind of physical hardship or poverty – whether that’s poverty of money, health, possessions, time or spirit. In readings, my interpretations revolve around the idea that what was stable and relied upon, taken for granted even, has been lost.

What I’ve failed to appreciate about the card, however, is its message of shared hardship. This is not a particularly outlandish interpretation of the card – after all, it traditionally depicts more than one person and many books mention shared hardship as a possible meaning. But it’s not a meaning that has resonated with me before. Until this week.

This week, the 5 of Pentacles turned up as the “Opportunity” card in my weekly reading. I thought it probably referred to some temporary setback in my health or finances, such as catching a cold or getting a large credit card bill (for lots of tarot deck purchases no doubt). In actual fact, the card seems to have had many things to say about many different aspects of this week, but the one I want to talk about is snow.

Here in the UK, we’ve had snow. Tons of the stuff. Oh, we have snow occasionally – if we’re lucky there’ll be a snowfall once a year and if we’re really lucky, there’ll be enough to make a miniature snowman – but real deep snow that settles and hangs around for days is pretty rare. So far the snow here has lasted for five days and has been both a wonderful treat and a complete nightmare.  A treat for me because I don’t have to go anywhere, except to the park to walk the dog; a nightmare for most other people who’ve had to get up early, shovel the driveway, scrape down the car and trundle along at 15 miles an hour just to get to work (and then get home late only to do it all again the next day).

The snow here has brought life as we know it to a standstill: schools are closed, roads are closed, buses and trains are cancelled and Royal Mail – who are out every day come rain or shine – are not delivering mail. The weather conditions have been the top news story all week. And it’s all pretty much doom and gloom. But we’re all in it together, and that makes you feel a part of your community like nothing else can. Suddenly, you’re talking to kids from around the corner about the snowman they’re building (a giant). Suddenly, you’re out pushing your neighbour’s car that’s got stuck, or you’re checking that the old lady down the road is all right. You’re putting food out for the birds and having your photo taken with the Chinese couple that you’ve always said hello to even though you didn’t know their names and still don’t (true story). Suddenly it’s not just about you anymore. You see people who need a hand and so you lend yours.

And that’s an aspect of the 5 of Pentacles I’ve never really considered before. Of course, this goes on all the time even when there isn’t snow but the conditions this week have made it all the more noticeable. In a way, it relates back to the Hierophant – the big five. Because one area of life he is concerned with is community. We are all part of the same tribe, yet much of the time we are wrapped up in our own little worlds. The snow this week has got everyone outside, talking to one another, helping each other out. And that, my friends, is how the 5 of Pentacles works as “opportunity”.

“Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” – John F. Kennedy

Hudes – 5 of Pentacles

Thinking about this reading, two things have struck me about the Hudes 5 of Pentacles today.

The first is that the stained glass window appears to contain an Escher-like optical illusion. Look closely and you will see that snow has settled on both the lower sill and the upper arch. Yet if you look even closer it seems that the lower sill recedes, which means there should be no upper arch for the snow to rest on. Did the artist knowingly include this? To me, it suggests something about this card. Pentacles, the suit of Earth and the physical realm, combines here with the number five, which challenges, disrupts, and breaks the box. In this optical illusion, we see something that is physically impossible. It challenges our perception of the world; it hints that there is more to life than what can be touched and held. It’s significant that this optical illusion appears in the stained glass window of a church as it introduces a magical or spiritual element to an otherwise mundane scene.

The second is the two figures at the bottom of the card. The central figure – the figure in grey – looks miserable. He is huddled, clutching his cloak tight against the cold, and his face bears a pained expression. The figure in brown is different: her head is only slightly bowed and the expression on her face is calm. Her closeness to the grey man and the positioning of her body suggests to me that she is guiding him, perhaps with a hand placed gently on his arm or back that we can’t see. The grey man is so wrapped up in his misery that he doesn’t even seem to know the brown woman is there. It’s as if she’s his guardian angel, invisibly supporting him in his time of need. It reminds me of the “Footprints” poem, where God says, “During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

New Year’s Day

New Year’s Day is my favourite day of the year. After the excess, pressure, and general mayhem of Christmas, New Year is a welcome relief. Whereas the success of Christmas seems to be all about the various trappings and preparations, New Year requires no special equipment – you just need to keep one ear open for Big Ben. And because it’s so simple and so short a celebration, it’s magical in a way that Christmas can never be.

For me, New Year is a time of great promise, hope, optimism, enthusiasm and joy. I look forward to the long year ahead and believe that I can spend it doing whatever I set my mind to. I always associate the Ace of Swords with New Year – because it’s so bright and pure; because that shining blade pointing north is just like the hands on a clock pointing to midnight; because it symbolises good intentions, fresh ideas and new resolutions; because its crisp clarity is the perfect partner to the cold month of January and because, like New Year, its influence eventually fades. As the year progresses, I seem to get more and more bogged down by bad habits and sidetracked by trivialities but on January 1st, my newly laid plans seem so easily achievable.

My New Year’s wish for 2009 is that I will write more and read more, and relish the time spent doing both.

Happy New Year.

In Search of Justice

This afternoon I spent quite a bit of time searching through all my decks looking for Justice. It couldn’t be any Justice though. What I was looking for was my ideal representation of Justice - or, at least, as close as I could get to it in my small collection of 20+ decks.

What’s my ideal representation? Cold, analytical, detached, impartial. I thought it would be easy to find but actually, most of my decks seem to have a rather lax view of Justice. I almost gave up. The facial expressions were all wrong, you see. I can’t have Justice sitting there with her sword held straight and true, and her scales perfectly poised, with an expression of doubt on her face. No, she needs to be certain, unwavering, inscrutable. Robotic almost.

Thankfully, I found her – in the second from last place I looked. And here she is. Justice from the Crystal Tarot. Nothing else in my collection comes close.

Do as I say, not as I do?

What advice do you take from, say, the 4 of Pentacles? Is this guy telling you to hold fast or let go? Do you always read it the same way?

Another tarot reader was talking the other day about the 4 of Pents that appeared in one of her readings and she took it to mean “let go, don’t be so controlling”. I remember when I was first learning tarot, that’s the interpretation I saw most often. The “materialistic miser” in this card is usually seen as having some kind of problem. Hey - we say - you can’t go through life hoarding and saving. You’ve got to be prepared to lose in order to gain. As Joan Bunning writes:

“The lesson of the Four of Pentacles is that control is impossible. We stand in the world as in a great ocean. Who could manage or possess such power? The only way to keep from drowning is to ride the currents. The ocean will support us as long as we swim with the flow.”

Which is true, of course. But when the 4 of Pentacles shows up as advice, I’m more likely to read it literally. Stick, save, hoard, accumulate. That’s what the image shows, after all. As advice, isn’t the card telling you, “look at what I’m showing you…do this“?

I remember being greatly perplexed a couple of years ago about how to interpret these sorts of not-negative-but-not-entirely-positive-either-cards, such as the 4 of Pents and the 2 of Swords. I guess it just didn’t seem right to me somehow that the advice of a card would be to do the exact opposite of what it depicts. Then someone recommended a book…er, I think it was this one…which took the literal view. So, for example, the advice given would be more like:

4 of Pentacles = hold on tight, be possessive, be controlling (as opposed to release)
2 of Swords = claim ignorance, don’t get involved, act in denial (as opposed to lift the blindfold and pick a side)
9 of Swords = pay attention to your worries, confront your fears (as opposed to stop worrying unnecessarily)
4 of Cups = wallow, be self-indulgent, lay like broccoli (as opposed to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get off your lazy arse)

This made much more sense to me and I’ve pretty much read them that way ever since. However, I believe there is no right or wrong in this matter. And I’ll add the disclaimer that I reserve the right to use either interpretation in any reading past, present or future. I just find it interesting that there are two distinct ways to approach these type of cards. And I wonder if most readers more often choose one approach over the other.

What say you?

It’s Evolution, Baby

As I was lightly pondering the tarot eights this morning, the word ‘evolution’ popped into my head. And I realised that – if one was the kind of tarotist to use keywords – evolution would be a very good keyword to use for the eights.

The figure eight just keeps going round and round, so I guess it could seem repetitive. But in life, when patterns repeat, they evolve. We may seem to do the same things everyday – wake up, brush our teeth, go to work, etc. etc. – but we are not mindless drones performing the same actions ad nauseum. Every day, despite the repetitive nature of our daily lives, we slowly progress towards some conscious or unconscious goal. And every day, the different experiences we have and the ways in which we react to those experiences, cause us to evolve.

Looking at the familiar RWS eights, it’s easy to see how each one shows the theme of evolution. Wands are fast, so the evolution shown in the 8 of Wands moves very quickly (in the Haindl, this card is named Swiftness). Change is happening and it’s happening now, things are in motion and when the Wands land, things will be different to how they were before. But evolution isn’t just change for change’s sake. It’s improvement, refinement, development. It’s change for the better. The 8 of Wands falls between the 7 – which shows the querent is a defensive position, on the back foot – and the 9 – which shows the querent steadier, stronger and more sure of where he stands.

In Pentacles, the evolution is a lot slower (because earth is a lot slower than fire). This is the slow grinding evolution perfected over a long, long period of time. This is the kind of evolution that gave fish legs or whatever it was they got (natural history is not my strong suit). The worker hunched over his pentacles is perfecting his craft and it may take him days, weeks, months or even years to improve. But with this slow, steady evolution comes a certainty that once improvement happens, there will be no going back. The apprentice moves up the ranks to become the master and – provided he keeps his focus – is in no danger of slipping back to being the apprentice again.

Cups work a little differently. Water flows, so the evolution shown in the 8 of Cups is more of a gentle, flowing change. We see a figure leaving the cups behind in search of something new. The evolution happens gradually – usually it starts with the feeling that something needs to change, that something more is needed, and it can take a while for us to identify what that something is. The 8 of Cups shows the person moving on in search of something new even though they haven’t fully finished letting go of what they had. There may be some back and forth, some working against the current, before they get to where they need to be.

Finally, in the 8 of Swords, evolution is hinted at rather than shown. The old way of thinking is creating more problems than solutions and a new way has to be found. What’s that saying about only a fool does the same things and expects different results? That’s what the 8 of Swords is showing. It’s time to think outside the box, to look for creative solutions, form new neural pathways, adapt and thrive. Your tried and tested tactics are no use here.

Well, I don’t know. These are just some random musings and they’re fairly superficial at best. Nothing mind-blowing but then who needs mind-blowing on a Saturday afternoon?

Reasons why I love the Haindl, Part II

Of all the Fools in all the decks, I love this one the most.

The Haindl Fool possesses such purity and grace. His expression conveys both sadness and wonder, such aching joy for all that the world holds – from the blood pulsing beneath a swan’s white feathers, to the slow invisible movement of planets in the sky. And here he stands before it, inadequate in his patchwork and bells, with the realisation that he is small, human, humble and nothing - in the face of the incomprehensible beauty of everything. 

I am a fool, he says, for believing I knew anything.

Fear Itself

Since yesterday afternoon, I have been in the grip of an irrational fear. It kept me awake last night, and it is still with me this morning. The “kept me awake” part might make you think of the 9 of Swords but actually, all this time, it has been the image of the Moon that has haunted me.

Whilst the 9 of Swords seems more suited to real, tangible worries about specific situations, the Moon deals in large, unfathomable fear. The fear I feel has grown out of nothing – I have no reason to fear, nothing to worry about. It’s just a feeling, a big heavy shadowy dread. It’s the fear that the worst thing that could possibly happen will happen today. And because I have no basis for this fear, I can’t do anything to overcome it.

I wrote at the top of this post that my fear was irrational – and it is. Yet it is also terrifyingly logical. It is the very raw knowledge that bad things happen to people every day and there is no reason whatsoever that they can’t happen to me. It’s the realisation that this thing I have this crippling, irrational fear of, is possible.

You know when you walk down a dark corridor or alleyway and feel scared, like someone is going to grab you from the shadows or – even more irrationally – like there is some thing there, just behind you, that you can’t see but which can see you? All you can do is keep walking. The same with the Moon. In that strange landscape, full of cold grey light and shadows, there is nothing to do but keep walking – away from the pool, past the howling wolves, between the two towers. Even though you’re terrified, there is really no option but to walk through your fears – or at least, walk with them. The same in real life. I have no option today but to carry on, to go about my business with my fears shadowing me the whole time.

It reminds me a little of Psalm 23: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Except I do fear. My world and my daily life look exactly the same today as they did yesterday, but I am in different territory. The Moon does that to you: takes everything that is familiar and safe and dependable, and distorts it. And suddenly nothing seems certain anymore.

Crossing the Chasm

Here’s a question for you:

Who would you rather be? The grieving figure in the 5 of Cups or the defeated and swordless losers in the 5 of Swords? How about choosing between being hit with a big stick in the 5 of Wands or limping along, bloody and bandaged, in the 5 of Pentacles? What’s that you say? Don’t fancy any of them? I don’t blame you. Whichever way you look at them, the fives paint a pretty gloomy picture. It’s hard to find a single positive note in any of them.

But can they really be all that bad? It doesn’t seem fair. Which other number in the tarot dishes out such hardship across the board? The 3 of Swords is at least balanced by the 3 of Cups. The same with the tens. What’s so special about five that makes it the harbinger of such bad luck in every suit it touches?

To understand that, we have to backtrack slightly – to the fours. Fours give us security and stability – whether that’s a steady nine-to-five job or the safety and protection of living with mum and dad. Fours are great, but things are rarely stable for long. Either we get bored and start wanting something more (a more exciting job, a place of our own) or life comes along and pulls the rug out from underneath our cosily slippered feet. Either way, suddenly we find ourselves in the realm of the fives; the only difference is how we got there.

Fives break the box. With five fingers we reach outside of ourselves and touch. With five senses we experience the world around us. The number five takes us out of our comfort zone and presents us with new experiences – the trouble is, we have no idea whether those experiences will be good or bad until it’s too late to turn back.

Five is what makes us order the exotic-sounding dish on the menu, even though we’re not really sure whether it will be the taste discovery of the decade or something out of a bushtucker trial (and a waste of money too). If it’s the former, great, life has changed a little for the better. If it’s the latter, well, too bad. We’ll probably be a bit wiser next time. Either way, there’s been a shift and we’ve broadened our horizons that little bit further. We’ve grown.

Unfortunately, most of the time when we encounter five energy in our lives there’s more at stake than a bad taste. In this way, fives can be about risk, and where there’s risk, there’s potential for loss. More specifically, fives represent the chasm between where we are and where we want to be. This is no ordinary chasm. This is a Grand Canyon, Wily Coyote, Indiana Jones type chasm, complete with pointy rocks and a couple of circling vultures. We stand on one side – the side of the fours – safe and sound. On the other side is our goal, the glory, harmony, success and generally good vibrations of the sixes.

We want to be over the other side but we’re all too aware of the yawning void – the five – that separates us from what we want. So what do we do? Do we take the risk, make the leap (or cross the rickety rope bridge, either way we’re dicing with death)? Or do we decide to stay where we are – and stay the same? The truth is if we chicken out, life will probably make us cross that chasm anyway…or fall in it.

For example, let’s look at our steady nine-to-fiver. She wants out of her desk job and longs to…oh, I don’t know…hunt yetis in the Himalayas. Does she do the responsible thing and keep going into work, day after day, knowing that it provides her with a good salary and a promising retirement fund? Or does she throw it all away to pursue her crazy dream?

What if the situation were different? What if – whilst still pondering the pros and cons of a career as a yeti-tracker – our nine-to-fiver is suddenly and without notice made redundant? She still finds herself without a steady job and the cushy retirement fund. In both scenarios, the chasm is the same but the viewpoint is different. She’s either poised on the edge sizing up the risk or she’s standing at the bottom of a narrow gully looking up at two sheer rock faces, clutching her redundancy cheque and wondering what the hell just happened.

Clearly then, fives can spell trouble or – if you want to be philosophical about it - challenge. But that really isn’t the point of the fives. Life is full of troubles, we don’t need a number to show us that. Fives are important not because they show us that the troubles exist but because they show us that the troubles have to exist, because without them we cannot grow, we cannot strive to get what we want and be who we want to be. By forcing us to take risks or by putting us in difficult situations, fives give us the opportunity to show the world what we’re really made of. As one Chinese proverb says, “Heroes create circumstances; circumstances create heroes”.

Relating this back to the suits then, we can see how the energy of the fives disrupts and challenges each element. Fiery Wands love the number five. Show Wands the chasm and you’ll be lucky if they stand still long enough to don a crash helmet before taking that leap. Sure they know the risks, but what’s a few cuts and bruises – or broken bones – compared to the glory of making it to the other side? That’s why the 5 of Wands typically depicts people in the midst of a fight. Wands gladly accept the challenge presented by five.

For watery Cups, the challenge is more intimidating. Broken bones are nothing compared to the potential of a broken heart. Whether you’ve lost a loved one or you’re contemplating telling that certain someone you’d like to be more than just friends, the chasm can seem overwhelming. We rarely escape unscathed when we put our emotions on the line, but that’s exactly what we have to do if we want to find true happiness. The typical image depicts three cups that have spilled their contents while two remain upright. It may seem like the risks far outweigh the rewards; on the other hand, who wants to spend life like the 4 of Cups?

Swords present a different challenge. When the element of air breaks free of the bonds of the four, the result can be chaos. Free-thinking and the questioning of authority can lead to the breakdown of established power. The 5 of Swords can also signify a breach of the “my word is my bond” trust found in the four. Broken agreements, double-crossing, breach of contract: any way you slice it, the 5 of Swords means someone loses. But conflict is a necessary part of life. Without it, nothing changes. Vive la revolution!

Finally, we come to Pentacles. With its depiction of physical and material hardship, the 5 of Pentacles is perhaps the most depressing card of all. In the element of earth, five attacks the very things that we take for granted, the things which keep us alive – or, at the very least, warm and dry. When we talk about risk in the suit of Pentacles, we’re talking about the kind of risk that has us taking out a second mortgage to fund a business venture or betting the deeds to the family home on the spin of a wheel. Literally, putting our money where our mouth is. What’s more, when it comes to the physical realm, everything seems to be connected. It’s not hard to imagine a situation where a run of poor health could lead to no job, which could in turn lead to no money and no house. In the 5 of Pentacles, our very foundations may crumble and what then?

As with any of the fives, we get on with it. We take the risk, we accept the challenge, and we prove what we are really made of. That’s what the fives are about after all.