Modern tarotists sometimes relate the Fool to the planet Uranus, but in the era in which we first know that Tarot existed, this was impossible, since no one yet knew Uranus the planet existed. Only seven planets were named. Back then it’s believed the Fool may have corresponded to the Air element.

While the mental or airy nature of the King of Swords may be seen as the mastery of, or complete focus of the powers of the mind, as the ultimate in mental discipline, in fact ultimate mastery of the mind may very well belong to the Fool. Not only is the Fool so focused, on one hand, that he’s oblivious to the dangers around him or to the possible folly of his path. He’s also, on the other hand, able to let go of instinctive control, of his survival needs, just as a mad man or an innocent child might. He may also do this with full conscious intent, in order to let go, fall, create, risk, imagine, and explore inner and outer realms with absolute freedom. He embodies conscious and unconscious focus, as well as conscious and unconscious abandon. He has few attachments to the material world — only the ragged or comical clothing he wears, his knapsack, and possibly an animal guide. He could conceivably be a shamanic kind of healer, willing to enter another plane of existence without fear, with his trusty animal guide there to pull him back into our reality when his work is done. At his most powerful, the Fool can be all these things or none. He can be an error in thinking, a blunder. He can be a surprise.

He’s one aspect of the Trickster.

While many tarotists place the Fool at the beginning of the major arcana, as number zero, in fact zero isn’t a beginning at all. It is no thing. In some of the earliest known Tarots, the Visconti, none of the major arcana were numbered. When they later were ordered and numbered, the Fool remained unnumbered. Where in the series of 22 cards would one place this being who seemed to exist out of time, outside the material world, even outside the social classes? On one hand he’s a beggar, an idiot, a mad man. He matters not to the ordered classes. On the other he’s the court jester, the only one who can make fun of the King or Emperor without fear of losing his life. He also has the King’s ear and might sometimes whisper words of wisdom of the kind only a child might utter, or deliver news that no one else dare. He’s a truth teller, for isn’t that what makes a good joke, a humorous illustration of truth? So he must remain of no account, as one who will never be taken seriously.

The Fool may be a “natural fool” or a “licensed fool.”

Today, instead of court jesters we have comedians who point out the flaws of our leaders — and who don’t seem to take sides in their truth telling. Every leader seems to fall subject to their jests.

Many a family has a child like this, one who will tell family truths, truths the family doesn’t want told, who is therefore cast into the role of no-account by becoming the family scapegoat. In a dysfunctional family this role is sometimes relegated to one child. In some families the role is shared. It gets changed off from one member to another, from one time or circumstance to another. Perhaps even a parent takes a turn at being the scapegoat/truth teller.

The Fool is also the Child in all of us, the Child archetype that Jung and others have sometimes called the Divine Child and considered important as a symbol in dreams.

The Fool can be seen as both the beginning and the end of one’s journey. One starts life as an infant, a child, an innocent who knows no good or evil. Vulnerable, unlearned, unconscious, the child looks at the world and life with his eyes wide with wonder. Toward the end of life, if one is fortunate, one may reach the other end of the journey with a new kind of Fool-like awareness, an ability to see beyond good and evil, to recognize them as merely light and shadow, both necessary for balance. The Fool may have a sage-like wisdom that knows no boundaries and sees beyond our material existence. The Child Fool may be fearless because he’s innocent of danger. The Sage Fool understands danger and realizes he need not fear it. He moves through his fear with awareness.

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Post tags: Air, archetype, Child, comedian, court jester, Divine Child, Jung, major arcana, Tarot, The Fool, Uranus

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Many Death cards depict a skeleton wielding a scythe as it mows down kings, clergymen, rich and poor, powerful and lowly alike, thus portraying La Mort as the great equalizer. In some decks, Death is portrayed as a cloaked figure with a scythe riding a pale horse through fog, storm clouds, or a desolate landscape. Again, the dead strewn across the landscape are people from all ranks of life.

In movies, the Death card usually predicts an actual death, much to the disappointment of Tarot users who’ve tired of that stereotype. While XIII Death can indicate physical death, several other Tarot cards can too, and that’s not the Death card’s usual interpretation. The image in the card is a symbolic representation of an archetype, a typical process that humans experience in many forms besides physical death. But the stereotypical meaning, taking the symbolic representation as literal death, is what many people think of when they first see the Death card. It’s scary to them because they’ve learned to fear death. It makes Tarot appear to them to be full of evil portent and curses, when in fact it’s a great tool for introspection and self-understanding.

XIII Death reminds us that all things come full circle, much like the hands on a clock, from beginning to end — and in the end is an inherent fresh beginning. Death as a physical transition from this life is natural in that it comes to all living things. We fear it because of its unknown aspects, such as when it will happen, how, whether we’ll be prepared or feel that we have too many loose ends left in our lives. We may fear that we’ll have tasks, lessons, goals, or adventures left unfinished — or relationships we don’t want to split apart, even temporarily. We may have regrets that haunt us and remain unresolved. Then there’s the inevitable question of an afterlife. Is there one? What will ours be like? We also fear it because it’s out of our control, and in our modern world we like control. We insist upon it.

Some of us resist death as if we could cheat it, or be the one person it somehow passes by. Some seem to do the opposite and rush toward it by courting danger. Others unconsciously invite death by way of dangerous habits, or apathy. We sometimes borrow a little death by fearing it.

In Tarot, the Death card rarely indicates the end of physical life, so its appearance in a reading shouldn’t be frightening. It usually indicates other kinds of transitions. It’s the inevitability of these changes that seems to be most consistent, with this card, and that’s how its meaning most resembles physical death. One is faced with the inevitable. One must change.

There are many kinds of change that are as inevitable, irresistible, and irrevocable as death. A few examples are the end of childhood, the end of pregnancy in the relentless throes of labor, the need to move on from a spent relationship, leaving a job that no longer suits us — or no longer exists. It’s usually an expected change, one that on some level we knew would come eventually. Perhaps we’ve put off preparing for it, hoping it wouldn’t. Resisting such change is futile, and in many cases will make matters worse or prolong someone’s suffering. It’s best to let go as gracefully as possible, allowing the remains to feed the future and the resulting emptiness to be filled with something new and perhaps better, fresher, more vital, more timely. We can’t see what that might be, and that makes it all the harder to let go. In this regard it’s more like a stalled or prolonged grieving process than death itself.

I sometimes think of this card as the Tarot’s recycling center, or compost heap, because it represents the kinds of endings that are also beginnings, whether we can see or believe in them or not. The remaining energy is best put to other uses.

As each day ends and we retire for the night, most of us do so in the knowledge or faith that a new day will soon dawn. But worry can make the dawn seem a long ways off. It’s in resisting the unknown and inevitable change, in worrying over them as if that worry could somehow thwart them, that we kill ourselves, by refusing to move forward in life, to be present as we meet our future.

The Death card is as much about internal change — life lessons or phases, and how we process them — as it is about external matters. The change might take place inside us, completely unseen by others except as it alters our outlook and behavior. It can be as mundane a change as, “Vacation’s over; time to get back to work.” Although the Death card always requires an adjustment, it’s never a reason to panic. What good would panic do, even if it was an indicator of death? There are more constructive ways to meet the future.

Copyright © 2009 Barbara W. Klaser. All rights reserved.

2009 Tarot Study Index

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Post tags: 2009 Tarot Study, Tarot, Tarot de Marseille, XIII Death

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Going back to Gail Fairfield’s geometric analogy, Two is two points connecting to form a line. Remember back to Geometry class, the abstract notion that a line extends into infinity in both directions, and you have an idea of the potential of the Twos in Tarot — especially the most prominent Two in the deck, the Papess or High Priestess.

As keeper of the Akashic Records, the Collective Unconscious, the knowledge of past, present, and future, the High Priestess’s secret knowledge extends into infinity — but not in all directions. Her number is two, so her scope (or at least what she’ll tell us about it) is limited at any given moment to the course of a single line, and perhaps that is why she seems so secretive. Perhaps in any given instance her wisdom extends only from one point in the unconscious to one point in the conscious, or from one point in Heaven to one on Earth, or from one point in the Past to one point in the Future. At any given moment, perhaps she only connects one point on the Other Side to one person or moment on this side of the Veil. (She is sometimes portrayed with a kind of curtain or veil draped behind her.) She is the line of knowledge from the waters of the great sea of unconscious and intuition, or the dark side of the Moon, her planet, into the light of day. She is the epitome of the Oracle called Tarot. Her knowledge can be as mundane as a single person’s entry in a dream journal or as far-reaching and esoteric as the unknown fate of a people, a nation, or the world. She is the antithesis of the Magician’s conscious known. She is the Unknown, the vast, ghostly sea of the Past, the revealed and unrevealed Present, and the possible Future.

I’ll write more about the High Priestess, as well as the other instances of Two in the major arcana (Strength, Judgment), later. Today my focus is on the Twos of the minor arcana.

The Twos are important cards to us because we live in a world full of duality. At least in a physical sense, we’re tied to duality in this life, to the divisions of day and night, male and female, up and down, right and wrong, life and death. Yes, there are gray areas, but the Twos are at a point in the path where two extremes may not have been bridged yet.

Each of the elements acts on us and our surroundings in dual ways through wet and dry, hot and cold, motion and stillness, hardness and softness, magnetic polarity or attraction, and so on. Though these forms of duality aren’t always absolute, they’re with us all the time to one degree or another, in connection or disconnection, in flow or resistance, in some state of balance or imbalance, for good or ill.

Opposition is something that the smallest child is aware of. Conflict is one way that it manifests, but it also manifests as contrast, complimentariness, and in both positive and negative forms of tension. The saying, “Hunger makes the best sauce,” provides a good example of the range of positiveness and negativeness inherent in any two-ended spectrum or two-sided relationship, even in conflict. Hunger can be deadly, or it can make a meal the most pleasurable event in one’s day. Ice can kill, or it can refresh one in an ice cold drink after a summer day’s work. Some of the most dangerous objects, substances, and experiences in the world are also those that make life worth living, and how they affect our lives depends on duality, combined with perspective.

Of course there are other forms of conflict and interaction than pure duality, and we explored some of them in the Threes. But considering duality can set us on a path of learning about the nature of everything — ourselves, our fellows, and our world.

The ways in which two can work together are every bit as important as the ways that two can work in opposition. We have two eyes, two ears, two hands, opposable thumbs, two legs, two feet. Each pair works in unison to improve exponentially one’s ability to perceive and act in the world. A tree grows limbs above the ground and balances itself with equivalent limbs — roots — beneath the ground. In this way the Two are bridged, a path between them provides cohesion, unity, and support. The limbs alone are without support, the roots alone serve no purpose. Unless they can grow new limbs, they die. Together there’s strength, support, and life. Male and female come together with great tension in a sexual union and then (in many species) they unite as one complimentary force to protect, nourish, and guide their offspring. It might be said that the dual nature of our world, the physical plane, and the bridges that form between opposing forces, are what create the fabric of life. They’re what hold our Universe together. Everything else is built upon that.

The Tarot’s minor arcana Twos divide some of these interactions into categories for our consideration, based on their suits or elements:

Two of Wands (Fire)

The Two of Wands in the Haindl Tarot shows what appears to be the forecourt of a ruined stone palace. A palace or other seat of power ruined by time or war can symbolize the dominion of one powerful force over another, weather opposing stone, or two armies opposed in battle, even a leader opposed by his own subjects. The forecourt of such an important building is often the nexus of activity and interaction with other forces — a place to greet other leaders who visit or send emissaries, or the leader’s own subjects may gather there in protest. In any relationship between two powerful forces there’s equally powerful unity or opposition. Only in special circumstances can two energetic forces remain in balance for long, because their great energy creates great tension. Through attraction or opposition, tension is created that without perfect equality and balance will eventually wear one side down or overwhelm resistance, attraction, or peace.

The Twos in all the suits have to do with relationships between people, things, actions, or forces. The Two of Wands reminds us of how we exert our power over others in relationship, how others exert power over us, and whether we balance that power somehow through equal application of force, or whether one side is likely to dominate the other. It can be competitiveness or cooperation. Because Wands are all about powerful energies, this is the Two that is most likely to indicate conflict. But it can also indicate a powerful union of two. The choice is often ours. For instance, in business, one party can only be concerned with what the other can do for him or how he can profit from the relationship, which can result in conflict or a win-lose result. Or he can be equally concerned about what he’ll do for the other, resulting in an equal, productive and mutually satisfying relationship, one that is likely to last or to be repeated, a distinct win-win result.

Two of Cups (Water)

Water tends to flow in the same direction, usually due to gravity, and sometimes due to deliberate channeling. It can be dammed up or its flow controlled, in constructive ways, or in damaging ones. Conflict in our inner selves or in our relationships with others can bring about a lot of turbulence in our lives, both inner and outer, and make us feel as if we’re submerged, unable to surface. A lot of the most energetic conflict in our emotional lives has to do with dammed up feelings, those held in check so long or which have such great intensity that they eventually break through their barriers — just as water needs to flow. Water also tends to seek itself out, as well as to seek out its source — the ocean — just as we humans tend to seek each other out in relationship, and to seek our spiritual source. As individuals we tend to seek our whole inner self, to flow toward wholeness, balance, and integration of our internal opposites, toward individuation.

In the Tarot of Transformation this card is titled “Authentic Connection”. It portrays two people having a balanced, direct conversation. In an authentic relationship, with our Self or others, feelings are shared or acknowledged in a balanced way. The positive and negative feelings are at some time or another brought into the light and acknowledged in a compassionate, honest way, and at appropriate times, so that they don’t build up that intense force that penetrates helpful and healthy barriers. Helpful barriers are those that protect our innermost secrets and dreams, our self-esteem, our personal space and privacy. They may also be those barriers that govern our considerate or compassionate behavior toward others or help us keep confidences and maintain trust. They can be barriers that keep us from saying hurtful things in anger that we’ll later regret.

Relating to others takes time and a willingness to listen without judging. It takes acceptance, cooperation, or flowing together. Supporting each other’s feelings as valid helps us work together through difficult times as well as pleasant times. It’s also important in any relationship to be honest in pointing out when we think the other is about to fall or do something regretful, or needs healing that they can’t see right now. It’s easy to love someone when they’re healthy, strong, and when things go well. But true love and friendship work equally well during tough times.

Two of Swords (Air)

Swords are sometimes about communication, thoughts, intellect, ideas, and sometimes about things governed by electricity, electronics, airwaves, weather, or technology. I can also see them as indicating the atmosphere of a situation. There are times when we speak of the air being tense with a particular mood, and if one looks at the images on the Swords cards in many decks, they do appear rather moody. Our frame of mind on any given day can influence a lot in our lives, including our work, our ideas, our decisions, our relationships, and our communications.

The Two of Swords in the Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot (RWS), and in decks based on the RWS, usually shows a situation that appears to be a stalemate. Differences have been set aside, but only in what appears to be a temporary way, by closing one’s eyes to them or by putting decisions off. Sometimes it indicates a stubborn resistance to talking things out. Avoidance is indicated rather than a truly satisfactory compromise or agreement.

This Two can also sometimes indicate thinking a situation or process through carefully before moving forward, which is a more positive form of delay or resistance. Or it can indicate a need to conserve energy by focusing on fewer things for the time being.

In some situations this is about a fork in the road, sometimes a pivotal divergence of paths. One idea takes two different courses, each veering off until they’re two separate ideas. Who originated those two ideas? The person who started out on one path, or those who carried that idea in different directions? In this sense this card could indicate the genesis and subsequent evolution of a situation, even of a belief system or religion, or a systematic way of thinking, such as Freudian and Jungian psychology, the divergence of one political party into two parties, and so forth. This can lead to conflict. An argument about cleaning a closet becomes an argument about cleaning the garage or entire house, about buying too many clothes, needing a larger house, and so forth. An argument, or an international conflict, can escalate in this way, leading to a war that no one remembers the reason for. For that reason sometimes it’s best to leave some arguments and side issues for later — to ignore or avoid getting sidetracked by them for the moment — and to focus on the matter at hand. This helps to resolve one conflict and leave the others to be resolved one at a time. Otherwise things can quickly get out of control. In this way Two of Swords can be about timing, knowing the right time to pursue an argument, or picking one’s fights.

Two of Disks (Earth)

The Two of Disks is about balance of physical things, activities, energy, time, and even pleasure. Everyone has two or more priorities in their life — work and home, exercise and sleep, vacations and paying off debt, hobbies and those things that pay the bills, spiritual life and practical life. The illustration on the Two of Disks in many decks shows a person juggling two objects on shore while in the background ships toss in a rough sea. Juggling requires focus and attention that shuts out all else. We sometimes get so caught up in juggling one set of obligations, and possibly the conflicts between them, that we don’t have time to see how the rest of our life is getting out of balance. Practical matters seem to override all else these days. The boss insists we be passionate about the job — juggling our obligations to his business — so the kids’ soccer practice, or the fact that an anniversary is coming up — the business of personal life — falls by the wayside. Sometimes we aren’t even aware of how our activities are causing us to miss other important things. It’s all about balance, though, making sure we pay attention to the “big rocks” as time management expert Steven Covey teaches in his “What Matters Most” course, and letting the sand fit in between where it can. The trick to this is in deciding up front what’s a rock and what are the pebbles and sand in one’s life, and ensuring that one isn’t juggling someone else’s rocks instead of one’s own. That’s setting our values and prioritizing, and it may be the most important meaning of this card. It’s difficult to plan our time perfectly because we don’t know what’s coming, what’s likely to throw our plans off. But if we determine up front what’s truly important to us — what we value — and then keep clear in our minds at all times what’s truly important, we’ll be sure to take care of that no matter what, and be happier people for it.

In some decks, such as the Crowley-Thoth Tarot, the Two of Disks is Change, and that’s another important aspect of planing and prioritizing conflicting obligations. Any plan or set of priorities needs to be flexible. What’s important to us one month, for instance making sure Tommy does his homework or gets to band practice on time, may change next month when Tommy goes off to summer camp and we have a big organizing project at home that we want to finish before he returns. Sometimes our values change drastically, such as our beliefs, our political identification, or our major relationships. If we don’t find a way to stay in balance in spite of these “big rock” changes in our lives, disaster can result. So this card is also about flexibility in how we value and prioritize the various parts of our lives. It’s important to glance up and check the horizon now and then and keep our relationship to it adjusted in appropriate ways. If ships are tossing out at sea, there’s a good chance that storm will hit shore soon, so we’d better keep an eye on it, not just go on juggling things the way we would on a sunny day.

Copyright © 2009 Barbara W. Klaser. All rights reserved.

2009 Tarot Study Index

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Post tags: Crowley-Thoth Tarot, Gail Fairfield, Haindl Tarot, High Priestess, Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot, RWS, Tarot, Tarot of Transformation, Two of Cups, Two of Disks, Two of Swords, Two of Wands

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No longer the innocent, naive, or fearful lower manifestation of the Fool (which has a higher manifestation too that we’ll explore when we get to that card), the Magician is now sentient, aware of himself and his individuality. He’s also aware of the world around him and his active role in it. He may not yet fully control himself or his personal world, he may not have a definite plan in mind, but he’s taking a first step in the direction of meaningful, ordered action as opposed to the chaotic behavior of the Fool. He’s gathered his tools together in a special workspace, and he’s preparing to act with conscious intent, to make a conscious choice for which he can be held accountable. He has a sense of the responsibility inherent in that. First he experiments, perhaps internally through active imagination or mental analysis. Soon he’ll experiment in the real world, for he is all about thought in action and creativity in motion. He uses his mind and he works with his hands.

In a Jungian sense the Magician is starting to consciously tread the path toward individuation. He’s embarking on a life that he takes responsibility for and which he recognizes as interdependent, having impact on more than his own life. His interactions with nature, including the civilized world and other people, will now take on a recognizable shape as he flexes the power of free will. He will learn to make choices and learn their consequences. He’s invoking Karma, for good or ill.

I’ve felt in the past as if I never really got to know this card. That makes sense when I see it as representing the conscious mind or ego just starting on the path of coming to know the Self in its wholeness, beginning to bring the unconscious into consciousness. We don’t see our Self or the world in their entirety, we see “through a glass, darkly” at best. In other words, we see through our smaller conscious selves, our egos, and the world doesn’t see us any more clearly, only the personas our ego takes on, which is no more realistic a presentation of our true Self than a street magician playing a shell game. That is in fact one way of looking at the image of the Magician, and a hint at its interpretation as a Trickster-Creator. In the Tarot de Marseilles the card appears to portray a street magician, and the card is titled Le Bataleur, French for juggler, mountebank, or charlatan. Our ego juggles the personas or masks we wear in our interactions with others, as well as our shadows, shuffling what’s unwanted or embarrassing into our unconscious, without realizing it does so, until we finally become aware of our unconscious patterns, or shadows, and begin to become Self-aware.

The Trickster, as written of by Carl Jung is at its heart also creative. According to Jung in Four Archetypes: Mother, Rebirth, Spirit, Trickster, the Trickster’s original nature is as a Creator. “On the other hand he is in many respects stupider than the animals,” he adds, and mentions the Trickster’s “imprisonment in animal consciousness.” It should be noted here that the Fool is also seen to represent the Trickster archetype, as well as that of the Divine Child, depending on which aspect or facet of the card we’re talking about. The Fool is often depicted as a naïve person about to take a serious misstep, and is attended by a small animal, a cat or dog that appears to try to warn him. In other words he’s “stupider than the animals.” Yet in his highest manifestation, at the number 22, he’s again Creator — the Divine Child that has come full circle — or perhaps up a step in the spiral of Self-evolution — arriving at consciousness of Self and integration of the shadows, fully Self-aware.

Jung mentions that the Trickster was seen in medieval Christianity as a necessary part of spiritual life. It survives in Carnival celebrations where the spiritual hierarchy is reversed. Jung also saw the Trickster archetype in myth and story developing eventually back into a more creative and self-aware form, thus becoming to some degree unnecessary, but still reappearing in story and myth from time to time, as we need it. It never dies out altogether in any culture, perhaps because humans continue to go through this process. First we set out innocently on our path in life, never realizing consciously how we fool ourselves and are at the mercy of our own unconscious. Eventually we learn to see our shadows, to see beyond the ego’s juggling tricks and perceive something greater and more complex in ourselves — the Self. We withdraw our projections and begin to find an internal balance — Individuation.

The objects representing the four elements in the card can be seen to symbolize the four functions of the personality that Jung described: thinking, sensing, feeling, and intuiting. As we begin the process of Individuation we start to understand their interdependent nature within us and bring them into conscious balance.

The Magician is intellect, Mercury, language, the artist, the poet, the prophet. He’s the magician who invites us to witness the wonder of his work rather than playing practical jokes behind our backs. He’s open, inquisitive, experimental and experiential. He is thought in action.

I’ve read much more about this card and the Trickster archetype than I can relate here, and still not enough to feel that I understand them completely, but Tarot is a book we never finish reading. So I’ll leave this post now to pursue my next study of the Twos.

Copyright © 2009 Barbara W. Klaser. All rights reserved.

2009 Tarot Study Index

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I’ll start this time with a glimpse at some precursory artwork for my own Tarot. These images may or may not become part of an entire Tarot deck in the future, and if they do it will likely be for my personal use. (Click on the thumbnail images for larger views.) (Images updated to most recent versions on 03-28-2009.)

I’m conceptualizing, at this point, playing with some of my older scanned artwork and digital photographs, manipulating them in a paint program. The reason for the heaped on copyright markings is that some of my poetry was coopted from this blog a while back, so I’m leery now of posting creations without copyright notices, regardless of their quality or my future intentions for them. I’ve made the markings small enough that I think you can still see the artwork fairly well.

Threes and The Language of Tarot

According to Gail Fairfield in Choice Centered Tarot, a good way to think of the first three numbers in the Minor Arcana is to see them geometrically. One is a point, Two is two connected points forming a line, and Three is three connected points forming a triangular plane. When we move from the one-dimensional One and Two to the two-dimensional plane of the Three, something recognizable begins to take shape. Ideas, feelings, urges, or seeds of effort begin to develop into definite plans that seem to seek a solid form or shape.

Two can be seen as balanced polarities. That balance is frequently wrought with tension, conflict, struggles for dominance, or a stalemate between unresolved concerns. When we come to Three, things change, usually for the better, if only because that prior tension is released. Sometimes the change of the Three doesn’t appear to be for the better. The energies that built up in the Twos can move forward in a cohesive way at Three, or at Three they can fall apart, or merge or dissolve back into One.

The Threes in Tarot are mostly perceived as positive, and perhaps that has a lot to do with their relationship to the Empress of the Major Arcana, whose number is III and who is usually seen as benevolent, loving, prosperous, creative, nurturing. Even she can have her bad days though, and the negative side of the Great Mother archetype can be very bad indeed. For that reason it’s important to keep a balanced frame of reference when considering the Minor Arcana Threes.

In my opinion no Tarot card is entirely positive or negative. Each represents a spectrum of possible meanings that can be perceived as either positive or negative depending on the situation and point of view.

In case you haven’t noticed, it’s sometimes difficult to delineate the meanings of the cards’ suits, numbers, and correspondences in any clear-cut way, even to differentiate one card completely from others. Meanings and symbolism overlap, throughout the Tarot.

Sometimes the Swords are watery, and we all know the air can be quite humid at times. Sometimes the Cups are empty, or in other words dry. Wands and Disks can go either way as far as moisture content. Earth requires moisture in order to be fertile, but a flood is a problem, and most people know about the triad that makes fire (Wands), which requires oxygen (Air), heat (Fire), and fuel. Fire produces smoke (Air) and ash (Earth). Water can put out a Fire, but it can also cause it to produce steam, releasing potent energy. When hydrogen is burned, the resulting byproduct is Water. Seldom in Nature do we see the elements in their pure forms. But it’s sometimes useful to try to separate them out in order to understand a situation. That’s what happens in a Tarot reading.

The Tarot numbers may be more interdependent and overlapping than the suits and elements, if that’s possible. Threes relate to III The Empress, which in turn relates to all four Queens, as well as numerologically to XII The Hanged Man and XXI The World. One can think of IX The Hermit, as well as each of the four Nines of the Minor Arcana as equivalent to 3 x 3. See what I mean? What about XIII Death? The Empress represents gestation and birth, and in turn the Death card with its digit ending in Three, completes the cycle of life. Six, which numbers the Lovers card as well as all four Sixes of the Minor Arcana is the sum of 3 + 3. This begins to make sense when we consider the Three of Swords, the Six of Swords, and the Nine of Swords as a group and think how they might represent a situation as it develops.

A great way for a beginner to get to know the cards is by considering their suits and numbers in all these different combinations and variations. By sorting the cards first by suit and then by number, we can see they begin to reveal their full spectrum of meaning.

All this means that we have to be on our toes and adaptable when assigning meanings to cards in a reading, and we need to keep in mind that their meanings can shift and flex, sometimes dramatically, from one reading to the next. Not only that, they can have multi-layered meanings within the same reading.

One of my recent favorite Tarot spreads is called the Dynamic Hexagramme. It can be found at FourHares.com. In this complex spread, which I’ve found can provide deep, profound readings, the cards are read in groups of three, somewhat like the trigrams in the I Ching. Instead of having moving lines, the trigrams in the Dynamic Hexagramme Tarot Spread overlap, showing the development of a situation from one stage to another. When reading a card as a clarification of the opening card it can carry one meaning, but it can take on another meaning altogether when viewed as part of the next trigram.

A significator in a reading works in a similar way, since when one is used every other card in the spread relates back to the significator, but each in a slightly different way. Reversals, when used, provide yet another dynamic in relation to other cards.

Does all this make the Tarot overly complex? Yes and no. It is a good reason to limit a reading to a spread of a few cards, just enough to answer the question or concern at hand or to get a feeling for what’s happening now.

Some people think of the Tarot as a symbolic language. Just as a word changes meaning with context or syntax, a card does as well. The word “blue” can represent the color of the sky on a bright, sunny day, or it can indicate depression. Even a sunny day can seem cheerful in most instances, but in a drought it can be negative. Language is tricky, too. Meanings can be subtle and hidden, or they get distorted or turned around, or we can fail to understand because we’re looking for what we want to see or hear. Sometimes, when we’re overcome with emotion, words escape us.

It can take years to build one’s Tarot reading vocabulary. But just as toddlers begin to talk up a storm as soon as they learn a few words, and manage to say quite a lot with those few words, it’s possible to start reading Tarot as soon as one begins to apply meaning to the cards.

The Threes in Three Different Tarot Decks

In order to share card descriptions, this time I’ll use one deck with pip cards based on the Rider-Waite-Smith Tarot (RWS) scenes, which most Americans who read Tarot are familiar with, and two decks with non-scenic pip illustrations. Non-scenic pip decks are, as I understand it, less popular here in the US than in Europe. TheTarot de Marseille and many other older Tarot decks originated in Europe, where Tarot was and is used to play card games such as Tarock, French Tarot, or as far back as the fifteenth century, Trionfi. Some modern European Tarot decks, such as the themed decks published by Lo Scarabeo, are scenic but don’t use RWS-based symbolism. Then there’s the Sola Busca, a much older European deck, in fact the earliest known deck of 78 Tarot cards (dated approximately 1491), which was used as a basis for many of the Rider-Waite-Smith cards.

Today I’m using as examples the Threes from the Crystal Tarot and the Crowley-Thoth Tarot, both with non-scenic pips, meaning that the Minor Arcana numbered cards don’t show the elaborate human scenes that the RWS and its derivatives do. The RWS type deck I’ll use is the Golden Tarot by Kat Black. We tend to call such decks RWS-style, but that doesn’t seem right, since the Golden Tarot is not at all in the same style of artwork as Pamela Colman Smith’s. But the symbolism and structure of the scenes follows the RWS. Maybe a better term is RWS-structured.

The Thoth is steeped in esoteric symbolism and painted by Lady Frieda Harris in a crisp yet luxuriant Art Deco style.

The Crystal Tarot is in some respects more elaborate than the Thoth or the Tarot de Marseille, and in some ways less so than the Thoth because it lacks the more obvious esoteric depth. But there is a subtle depth to the Crystal, and one could call some of the Crystal Tarot’s illustrations almost scenic. That can limit or expand the possibilities for interpretation, depending on the reader. The Crystal differs from most decks popular in the US in that its Swords suit corresponds to the Water element and its Chalices (Cups) suit corresponds to Air.

None of this matters, or has to matter, in how one uses a Tarot deck. One can read the Crystal Tarot using Swords for Air and Chalices for Water. I do, and I’m throwing the Crystal Tarot’s Swords in with Swords from other decks further on in this post. It’s entirely up to the reader. I’m offering my thoughts on meanings here, but another reader can assign any meanings they want to the cards, and they need not change the meanings they use when switching from one deck to another. There are readers who call their method intuitive and derive meaning from what stands out in the images for them in a given reading rather than using traditional or book interpretations. When reading this way, meanings change constantly and are always in flux. This is because in one reading the tree in the 3 of Wands (Crystal Tarot) will stand out, while in another reading the dog will seem most prominent, and another time the snakes/caduceus, and so forth. Some readers use different meanings for different decks depending on the deck creators’ intentions. Some use a combination of traditional meanings, intuitive image reading, and deck-specific meanings — or any combination of these as they see fit in a particular reading. Again, it’s all up to the individual. There’s no right or wrong when it comes to Tarot.

Three of Wands

The Three of Wands in the Crystal Tarot shows three batons superimposed over a picture of a round shaped tree. A caduceus with two spiraling serpents forms the tree’s central trunk, reminding one of the Tree of Life, the symbol for Mercury/Hermes (and the medical profession), or of Kundalini rising through the chakras. Above the tree is a dog’s head in profile. He gazes sweetly to the left as if with love toward his master. The colors are greens and teal blue, with the batons golden and copper brown. The batons are arranged in an upward pointing triangle. The two upper batons each have a knob at one end with the knob pointing upward. The third baton forms the base of the triangle. It has two knobs, one at each end, which reminds me of someone burning the candle at both ends.

The Crowley-Thoth Tarot’s Three of Wands shows three crossed yellow wands each with a lotus blossom at the upper end. The lotuses are like flowers seen in ancient Egyptian pictographs. The wands are superimposed against a flaming orange background. The symbols for the Sun and Aries indicate the astrological correspondence, and the card is titled Virtue.

In the Golden Tarot’s Three of Wands, a man stands on the shore, in the foreground, watching a ship at anchor toss in rough seas. The ship is in port, and a town lies beyond, as well as a castle on a hilltop in the distance. The man, who is barefoot, holds onto one wood sapling bearing a few leaves, and two saplings stand upright on their own nearby.

Interpretation: The Three of Wands is Fire times three. If we look at the Two of Wands as a tense balance between two equally dominant fiery forces, and we think of Fire as passions, will, or strong feelings or influence, then we can see that one’s desires may begin to manifest as something tangible at this point. The RWS version of this card is often interpreted as one’s ship coming in. One’s luck may be turning, but that is likely due to one’s own efforts and work in the world, or one’s own influence in the situation. Perhaps that struggle for dominance has been won, or one has defeated one’s own inner conflicting feelings in order to make something happen. Another traditional interpretation is of help being offered from an unexpected and sometimes suspicious source. The neighbor who disputed the property line suddenly offers to pay for a new fence, or something of that sort. Sometimes it means an inheritance, or a settlement finally comes through. Things are moving forward.

Three of Cups (Chalices)

The Crystal Tarot’s Three of Chalices has three ornate golden cups in an upright triangle, with two cups tilted upright and one at the base lying on its side. In the center of the triangle there’s an egg shape shown in cross section with a red “yolk” and above the two upright tilted cups a butterfly rises in flight. I suppose the egg could be a cocoon just broken out of by the butterfly. There are flowers all around, and verdant greenery.

The Thoth Three of Cups takes the form of a fountain made of three cups that look as if they’re formed of red berries, with eight yellow lotuses on slender curving stems forming the cups’ pedestals as well as the four fountains that pour over them. Two lotus fountains pour into the top most cup, which also has a double lotus pedestal. The cups overflow onto a wet blue surface below. This image is full of radiant light as well as bright streams of water. This card has a much less Egyptian look to it, with the lotus pedestals reminding me more of Hindu or Buddhist religious artwork. The card is titled Abundance. The astrological correspondence is Mercury in Pisces.

In the Golden Tarot the Three of Cups shows an idyllic scene, with three maidens standing or dancing in a small circle in a meadow near woods or an orchard, each with a cup of wine in hand, as if celebrating something special. Two musicians stand performing in the background and a dog looks on.

Interpretation: The Three of Cups can be about releasing emotions long held in, as if in relief from stress or in hopes realized and celebrated. It could indicate a public announcement of happy news or a celebration. Things are looking up, and everyone is happy about it. There are good feelings to be shared. Traditionally it can mean the start of some kind of healing or psychic work. There’s healing and renewal here, and sharing of good feelings with friends or family, neighbors or coworkers. It can also mean a kind of coming out — of young women into adulthood, of a Tarot reader into reading for others, or something of that nature. There’s a spring or summer feeling to this card. Perhaps the fruit has set on the trees and the weather has warmed up. Cause enough in themselves for celebration.

Three of Swords

In the Crystal Tarot the Three of Swords shows a water scene, with underwater plants, and a fish. At the bottom, beneath all that blue water, is a strip of red, with green underwater grass and crustaceans dwelling on the bottom. Above, three swords are arranged, again in an upward pointing triangle, this time superimposed over what appears to be a large bubble, or at least a circle of different looking water, and between and around these swords are three heart shaped leaves. On the surface a fish floats belly up, apparently dead. What I like most about this card is that when reversed, the traditionally more positive position of the card, the red strip is on top, and the fish appears to be right side up, swimming happily underwater above deeper blue depths. Since the Crystal Tarot assigns the water element to this suit, one could easily see this card as representing a relationship, where in one case anger (red) seethes beneath the surface and in effect kills the relationship. In the reversed position the anger or other negative feelings are on the surface, communicated openly so that they don’t have the secret, festering, and possibly killing effect that they would if hidden.

The Thoth Three of Swords appears more dire. Its background looks like dark gray pleated, ruffled fabric or possibly the undulations of the surface of a brain, with angular blade like shapes scattered over its surface. The colors are dark and stormy. Superimposed over this is an overblown, faded white rose that appears about to lose its petals, with three swords pointing at its center. The two upper swords are shorter, with curved blades. The third is a long straight sword, its point aiming straight upward and appearing to come between the points of the other two blades. The card’s astrological designation is Saturn in Libra. Its title is Sorrow.

The Golden Tarot’s Three of Swords shows a woman seated on a plinth or pedestal. Her arms are crossed and she looks unhappy, possibly grieving. Above and to her left, the direction in which she faces, hovers a large red heart that appears ornate as if fabricated out of satin brocade. Three swords pierce it. The background of this card is dark with storm clouds.

Interpretation: The Three of Swords is the Three most often seen as negative. The Three of Swords can bring relief or release of a troubled situation before it goes too far. Even a difficult change of heart or mind in regard to something can turn out to be for the best, especially if it comes before one has invested too much time, effort, emotions, or resources into a situation. While in the Three of Swords mentality, though, no matter how positive the eventual outcome may be, we tend to feel as if we’re at our wits end, or that something is ending that shouldn’t, or that whatever interferes or interrupts is at fault. Swords govern communication, writing, speaking, and ideas or the intellect. Logic or truth seems to be involved, sometimes uttered too bluntly for others to bear, sometimes too devoid of emotion. But as we all know there are times when the truth has to be communicated openly and honestly, even bluntly, no matter how much it hurts, in order to get us or another to listen, or to get back on the right track. I sometimes see Three of Swords as a need to stop and listen or think before rushing forward, even to listen for what is not being said, or to read the fine print. Possibly there’s a need to examine a plan more closely to understand it on all levels. There may be obstacles that we don’t see unless we pause to go through some mental calculations. Maybe it’s just a bad idea. Here is a need to set aside one’s emotions in order to see a developing situation and its potential more clearly before committing oneself or going any further, without letting go of one’s compassion. At its mildest, sometimes it has to do with miscommunication or misunderstanding, someone wearing their heart on their sleeve or having a bad day and taking something entirely the wrong way, or a blip or hiccup in communications that must be rectified before moving forward. Sometimes it’s the decisive end of a stalemate, in one direction or another, and a relief to all concerned.

Three of Disks (Pentacles, Coins)

The Crystal Tarot’s Three of Pentacles shows three gold coins, one above ground and the other two under ground. Just beneath the surface, beneath the central upper coin, a red rose sends leaves upward into the light and encircles the upper coin with its stems, as well as the coins beneath with its roots. Each coin bears an astrological symbol. The one above bears the sign of Virgo, the mutable Earth sign, indicating flexibility or adaptability in earthy matters and the end of summer. The two coins below the surface bear the symbols of Taurus and Capricorn.

The Three of Disks in the Thoth Tarot shows what seems to be an aerial view of sand dunes, or possibly beach sand left in ripples after the tide recedes. A three-sided crystal pyramid sits on a smooth portion of the sand landscape. Each corner of the pyramid rests on a red twelve-spoked wheel that lays flat on the sand. This image bears the astrological symbols of Mars in Capricorn and its title is Works.

The Golden Tarot’s Three of Coins appears to be set inside the nave of a church, where a workman on a ladder does work with a hammer on one of three gold coins that decorate the ceiling. Three women seated nearby are doing needlework, while a monk stands nearby watching them.

Interpretation: The Three of Disks is sometimes about working with others. It can also mean gaining positive attention and appreciation for one’s work. In some decks this card shows workmen and architects consulting plans, as if they’re discussing changes even as the work progresses. Earth has to do with the material plane, which can relate to the body or physical health, to nature, to finances, or to any practical matter. In Discovering Your Self Through the Tarot: A Jungian Guide to Archetypes & Personality, Rose Gwain associates the Earth suit with the Sensing function of the personality. This is the more physical, social, and practical side of us that likes to make things and keep our living and work spaces in order. It perceives through the five senses and understands the world from a primarily physical perspective. Since Three is usually about taking an idea or plan to the next stage, it can indicate trying out an idea by putting it into action, learning by doing, creating a prototype, or making adjustments to a work or plan in progress. On the positive side, there’s a certain amount of confidence and self-esteem involved in taking the plunge into a project before all the details are worked out. On the negative side it can indicate blundering or naiveté, someone not having all the necessary skills, experience, or resources needed to make a project work before jumping in. Sometimes it’s at least in part a matter of luck or synchronous events, seemingly unrelated but all coming together to form a cohesive whole that works relatively as intended. This card can also indicate artwork or craftsmanship, projects for which there’s often not a well defined shape in mind but an idea that in essence creates itself, with the artist providing the energy, materials, and skill necessary to bring his inspiration into physical reality. One might think of a sculptor seeing a form in wood or stone and chipping away the unnecessary portions to reveal it. His first cuts are well represented by the Three of Disks. Remember the Greek Muses were originally said to be three in number.

All the Threes, it seems, can have to do with trying something out, or just starting out on a new course, taking the first decisive steps to bring something into being. The suit indicates how this is done or what problems may arise. The Swords and Disks seem to differentiate between book learning, calculating or careful planning and learning by doing, or experimenting. Wands and Cups take a more passionate, emotional, or intuitive approach to something new, letting one’s heart or sixth sense, or concern about relationships guide one in the first steps along a new path. The Threes indicate a certain degree of commitment, and the first shift in direction or adjustments made along the way. Sometimes the Threes are false starts, learning what doesn’t work, and possibly giving up on a given direction to return to Two and let the energies or ideas build and reform, or returning to One again to invite in something entirely new.

Copyright © 2009 Barbara W. Klaser. All rights reserved.

2009 Tarot Study Index

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