The Four of Cups describes a situation that is somehow both stable and crawling with tension. That's what happens when you take the number four, which is associated with structure and regularity (think squares) and combine it with the active flowing nature of the Cups (think fountains and geysers and other gushy things). A mismatch in energies, like when a Virgo and Aries try to go on a date.
Often called the card of Divine Discontent, the Four of Cups represents those times when there's nothing wrong exactly -- no blood, no fire, no drama -- but a sludgy gray ennui holds you down nonetheless. You may try to procrastinate your way out of this feeling. But unlike the time wasting that happens when we're trying to avoid hard work, this kind of wasting happens when we've stopped setting ourselves to deep, satisfying work.
Straightening your desk won't help. Neither will checking your e-mail, or emptying the paper shredder. This is a soul problem, my friend, and it needs a soul solution.
It would be very helpful if the Universe provided such a solution as obviously as it does in this image. Look! A golden chalice filled with meaning and purpose! Take it, you fool! Drink and find your true destiny!
I've never had the clouds part and a literal arm come out holding literally anything. Thank goodness, I suppose -- that would send me right off. But lacking such direction, what are we the divinely discontented to do?
First of all, this kind of situation has Cups written all over it. The suit of emotion and feeling, it emotes and feels. The Four tries to contain that feeling, which leads to stagnation, so to break the cycle, we have to spill something. Get a little messy. Let the jostling liquid parts of you slop over the edges.
|How to properly greet your Muse|
(art by Thalia Took)
Forget your routine, just for a minute. Yes, I know, all the how-to-be-a-writer books tell you to make an appointment and the Muse will show. But the Four of Cups indicates that your Muse may be tired of being summoned to your desk every morning at nine, as if she were some kind of cosmic personal assistant. As if she didn't have better things to do. Maybe she needs a little courting, a little surprise, a little shiny newness? Maybe she needs an enthusiastic welcome (see the image at left). And maybe, when she does come, she'd like to be asked what she'd like to do for a change.
Last week's card was the call of rebirth -- this week's card suggests you're avoiding answering that call until a more appropriate time, when you've finished whatever it is you've been so diligently persevering at. Like the taxes.
Stop that this instant. There is a freaking chalice of purpose and destiny hovering in your vicinity. Maybe it's within your reach. Maybe it's not. Reach for it anyway. It's the reaching that matters this week.
So what are you waiting for? Reach.