*”Say it ain’t so, Joe!” has been memorialized in legend as a small boy’s reaction upon hearing that star outfielder “Shoeless Joe” Jackson allegedly admitted involvement in major league baseball’s “Black Sox” bribery scandal of 1920 (according to court records, he didn’t and was eventually exonerated). Although this quote is most likely apocryphal, the youngster was clearly having a “3 of Swords” meltdown.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: A brilliant cultural aphorism (which today might qualify as a “meme”) by which to describe the tarot suit of Swords comes from the Game of Thrones fantasy series and the parting advice of Jon Snow to his half-sister Arya Stark on how to handle her new sword: “Don’t hold it by the pointy end.” If we substitute “them” for “it” we have a perfect analogy for the risks inherent in manipulating the energy of this suit.
In the Waite-Smith tarot deck, the 7 of Swords depicts a man holding five apparently stolen swords by their blades rather than by their hilts, obviously unimpressed by the fact that, in their double-edged indifference, they can cut the wielder as easily as the foe. The suit of Swords is generally experienced as difficult and its more antagonistic expressions are often greeted with a groan of “Oh, no!” when they appear in a reading, even if all the querent knows about them is displayed in the images. The titles accorded some of them by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and tweaked slightly by Aleister Crowley drive the point home: Sorrow, Defeat, Futility, Interference, Cruelty and Ruin. This is unquestionably an ominous suit.
So what are we supposed to make of a nasty sentiment of “pointy-ended” discord that finds its way into a reading aimed at empowering the seeker? The conventional wisdom is that we should prepare the individual to receive an unsettling revelation in the matter. There is an unblinking honesty about them, and a “truth at all costs regardless of whom it hurts” severity in many cases. Even the gentler even-numbered cards like the 2, 4 and 6 of Swords bear something of a restless “edginess” that compromises their harmonious binary equilibrium (after all, keeping the peace brings with it the duty to remain ever-vigilant for hints of insurrection and correct or redirect them as best we can). The suit as a whole conveys an uncomfortable uneasiness in almost all situations, except perhaps those that demand a relentlessly clear-eyed, analytical impartiality. If I’m having an actuarial audit my tax records, Swords must be present; if I’m going on a “first date” I want them as far away as possible. I expect my surgeons to be equipped with scalpels and the consummate skill to use them, not hacksaws and a bad attitude.
Isabel Kliegman offers the helpful observation that the jagged white mountains in the background of some of the RWS cards symbolize a remote intellectual ideal that we can visualize but are convinced we will never quite reach, so we fall back into the “stuckness” of obsessive thinking about our perceived inadequacies that defeats any chance for mental stimulation leading to growth. The more forbidding Swords impart the same feeling of despair in vainly seeking a negotiable pass through what appear to be unscalable heights. When the least agreeable of the Swords are in play, we might feel justified in turning the old bromide on its head by saying “Despair springs eternal in the wounded mind” and, in recognizing their paucity of empowerment potential, we may not be far off the mark (unless, of course, we are perversely accustomed to doing most things “at sword-point”). Given the human propensity to hope for the best but expect the worst while failing to actively engage either prospect in advance, we would not be alone. Personally, I value the Swords because they make me think twice before acting and I anticipate being enlightened but not necessarily overjoyed by the results.
Those people who are philosophical about the need to grapple with their own shortcomings appreciate the Swords’ unstinting (albeit unvarnished) truthfulness; for them there is no getting off the hook lightly and they wouldn’t have it any other way. Swords in their readings reinforce their expectations, and they are able to make the most of the challenge. Others want to be “cut a little slack,” which obviously requires grasping the shears by the handles and not the honed ends. A particularly harsh Sword for them is at best an inconvenient hardship and at worst a “no-win” proposition.
Swords can be subtle and abstract as well as uncompromising, and they are at their best in the exercise of sharply-focused willpower that demands precise execution. They don’t fare as well in the less-stringent pursuits of the ego, the emotions and the senses. I once spent a good deal of time writing about the suit of Swords as “opportunity” in an attempt to rethink its largely negative reputation. You can find those detailed posts elsewhere in this blog. I also posted a comparative study of the Swords and the Wands because there are divergent opinions about their elemental nature. Most (including me) think “Air,” some say “Fire,” and a few even propose “Earth.”
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