Hoodwinked, says Edgar Waite, one of the creators of the Rider-Waite-Smith tarot.
It's the word he uses to describe the figure on the Two of Swords. The current meaning of this word involves tricks and deceptions, but its original meaning takes us back to the same ancient sport we referenced two weeks ago in the Nine of Pentacles—falconry.
Falcons are hooded to keep them calm. A falcon's sight is much more acute than a human being's, which means the bird responds strongly to visual stimulus. Despite our decidedly inferior vision, we humans have the same inclinations. We chase distractions as if they were squirrels and mice, dashing here and there. Catch a Facebook post, pounce on an email.
The lady of the Two of Swords may be hooded, but she is hardly deceived. She has chosen the blindfold, chosen her weapons, though she is not holding them in an offensive manner. A blend of gracefulness and tension, the woman of this card is often pictured seated, with a dark body of water behind her, the moon hanging in the twilight sky. This is a challenging pose to manage, sitting poised and ready, feet flat on the ground—the swords are long, probably heavy, definitely sharp. It takes talent and skill and concentration.
The Two of Swords is a slice of edge magic, when circumstances balance on the thin clear line between yes and no, left and right, go or stay. Its power lies in its either/or aspects, and in its ability to inhabit both outcomes simultaneously until our choice unfolds into one reality, allowing the other reality to slip into the realm of "what might have been." It is the Schrodinger's Cat of magical phases, one that occupies the overlapping territory where decision and destiny meet.
This week, find your equipose, a temporary balance of force and interest. You'll find it where action and receptivity intercept, in a separate place that is nonetheless exactly where you already are. As you balance your talents and energies, as you pull away from the need to react and wait only for the time to act, you will discover what Waite called "concord in a state of arms."
What does it mean for your creativity, finding your equipose? It means to make your choices this week from a place of stillness and balance, not bustle and grasping. Yes, your to-do list may be long, but there is a reason each item is on there—you brought each item into your life. Before you engage, pull away from activity, plant your feet, arrange your swords in the proper manner...and contemplate the power of choosing. And then, when you are ready, make your move. An entire universe will be extinguished when you do, and an entirely new universe will flare into being.
May your edge magic be strong this week. May your swords swing quick and true.
And so we continue the theme of choice begun last week with The Lovers and apply it to that most fiery of suits, the Wands. Here is where the spark of creativity is kindled and tended, where it catches, and where it eventually blazes strong and bright before burning itself to ashes (check out the Ten of Wands if you want to see what that kind of exhaustion looks like).
The Two of Wands is choice in action, or rather, it is the necessity of choice and action (which we've explored in the past: here and here ). The figure on the card has yet to actually choose. Of sure, maybe he knows what he should do. Maybe he knows what he really really wants to do. Maybe he has surveyed the landscape, consulted his crystal ball, collected all the information he needs to decide.
The thing is, it's not a choice until he actually moves forward with it. A or B? Left or right? Forward or retreat? Our choices are rarely this binary. They are usually very complex and involve hierarchies and subsets, changing dynamics and new data, deadlines and timelines. Tick tock tick tock.
Last week we discussed The Lovers. and the necessity of choosing your work, of making it a priority. This week the Two of Cups recognizes how that choice may not always be yes or no. Of course we choose our art, yes yes yes! But how do we do that? Do we write query letters or edit first pages? Finish the chapter or research the villain's occupation? Keep working through a challenging project or scrap it and move on with something more interesting? Those questions are not so simple.
The Two of Wands is here to remind you that creation is all about energy, and that the tension of choosing enhances the wattage of that energy. So go ahead. Ponder. Observe the untapped energy arcing. And then choose. The options are open before you. The only choice you don't have is inaction.
Choose. And watch the power of the Universe rush to that choice like flame bursting from a struck match.
Ah, Pentacles. The suit of foundation and security, finances and resources. As such, it's often the suit that shows up when we're dealing with career issues. Like I am right now.
See, I got into this writer gig because I like working at home, by myself, in my pajamas, as my imagination spins scenes of clever sleuthing and derring-do. Yet my to-do list this week includes writing up a sales report, organizing my inventory, and collating my receipts for delivery to my accountant.
Not a shred of derring-do.
And so here comes another Pentacle, reminding me to get back to work. Except that this Pentacle has a slightly different take on work. This Pentacle suggests that the best way to deal with an overload of work is to have a little fun.
The secret is balance, of course. Look at our gentleman in the red hat. He's light on his feet, easily and expertly juggling the two golden discs in an infinity pattern. It's his job, sure, but he's doing it with an ease and enjoyment that no doubt contributes to his success. Not that this is an easy task. Just ask the ships tossing on the wild sea behind him. There are waves. There always will be.
The Two of Pentacles reminds us that the dancer is the dance. You are your work, and your work is you, even the parts that involve spread sheets and data analysis. Find some fancy footwork in it, if you can. Take a deep breath. Keep those balls in the air.
As for me, I still have a pile of paperwork. But I'll be doing it while watching my favorite fun-trash television show.
Should you wish to celebrate Valentine's Day in a decidedly unusual fashion, you can visit the flower-adorned skull of St. Valentine in the Basilica
of Santa Maria in Rome. This other bits and pieces of the saint's skeletal remains have a more vagabond existence -- they can be found in reliquaries throughout the world, including Ireland, Scotland, England, France, and the Czech Republic.
Should you choose to celebrate closer to home, however, the Two of Cups is here to help you out. Cups are the symbol of free-flowing emotion, and the Twos represent new beginnings. The Two of Cups is the quintessence of fresh relationship energy, the kind that sparks and energizes. The kind that softens and warms and make possible great growth and change.
And it's not just about romantic love. This Valentine's Day, celebrate everyone who shares a heart connection with you -- your spouse, your kids, your friends, your pets. Everyone with whom you give and receive love. Valentine's Day is about love in all its pink and red glory, but the Two of Cups is about that love in the flesh.
We writers can be a solitary lot. But I bet there is a beating heart close to you right now, a heart that beats for you even when you are locked alone with your words.
So this Valentine's Day, give the owner of that heart a hug, or a phone call, or a card with lace and your own words on it. They most surely need it. And so do you.
I often tell people that the skills I use for tarot reading are the same skills I use for mystery writing -- the ability to tease a narrative from what may at first appear to be dissimilar pieces.
In writing, the human imagination seems to generate the pieces, but really, we can only pull from what we experience. We're exposed to hundreds of thousands of sensory bits and data bites every day -- our brain selects which ones to pay attention to, which ones to file away in either the subconscious basement or the conscious information desk. It chooses these in the same way that the tarot querent pulls cards from the deck. Both tarot reading and writing involve selecting parts from a larger, chaotic whole and then connecting the dots into order and meaning.
So what have we to herald this week? The Two of Wands, a card of beginnings, especially in creative endeavors. A card of choice. It's come up before -- you can read that original post here -- but the tarot is a tool of context. A card doesn't mean the same thing every single time it shows itself. Its signature, its energy, remains the same, but the influence of time and place create subtle differences in the expression. Just as they do with us. We are different minute by minute. And so is the tarot.
This week, the Two of Wands feels very conflicted to me. The Wands are the suit of energy and passion, of moving forward. The Two, however, suggests a hesitation, a pause, a moment of stillness completely at odds with its nature. Move forward? Wait until the perfect moment? Is there such a thing as a perfect moment?
The tarot has no answers. But it does let you hold the questions up to the light and consider every facet.
This week, what is pulling you forward? What opportunities shimmer on your horizon? What is holding you back? Is it uncertainty? Fear? The need for more information?
The Two of Wands suggests that you ponder all the possibilities, but not for too long. Ponder too long and the choice will be made for you instead of by you. Flip a coin if you must. And trust that as it spins in the air, heads over tails and heads again, your heart will reveal what you hope the answer will be.
Ah, decisions decisions. Choice is a fantastic problem to have, one of the finest, but it does come with challenges. Such is the energy of the Two of Wands.
Wands are the suit of fire and passion and soul purpose (get used to seeing them if you seriously pursue any creative endeavor). As such, they are expansive, direct, and somewhat chaotic. Twos, however, are cards of balance and union. Which makes for a peculiar tension in this particular card.
Luckily, we writers know that tension is necessary -- it's the building block of conflict, and it adds a fine singing tone to our work, much like the properly adjusted strings of a violin create its rich soulful music. Real life tension can be a little more nerve-wracking, but it is just as necessary, and just as useful.
Think about your work in progress, your abilities in progress, your creative purpose in progress: what options are you holding? What ideas are you weighing? It's good to be patient, to ponder, to take the long view -- as the Steampunk Tarot explains, "A wielder of fire does not chant 'eenie-meanie-miny-moe.'" But do not dither. You've got some powerful energy at work. Choose and move forward.
(Pro Tip -- sometimes a choice is not either/or. Sometimes the choice is to hold the two options in tension . . . and walk between them).
