AUTHOR’S NOTE: “It’s an ill wind that blows no good” is an old proverb that can be interpreted in one of two ways. The pessimist would say “It is indeed an ill wind because it blows no good,” while the optimist would observe more provisionally “It would be an ill wind indeed if it were to blow no good.” See the difference between the conjunctions “because” and “if” in this comparison? In the first instance the glass is empty, while in the second case it could be at least half-full and there is still hope for improvement as long as the wind cooperates. In his Pictorial Key to the Tarot, A.E. Waite noted in the brief entry on the 2 of Swords that “Swords are generally not symbolic of beneficent forces in human affairs,” and even the most upbeat tarot enthusiast would be hard-pressed to gainsay him.

The keynote for the cards in the suit of Swords is “calculating;” they are always angling for a mental edge and aren’t especially concerned about stepping on toes. Other than the Ace, which is too embryonic to possess a sharply-focused agenda, only the 6 of Swords can be seen as halfheartedly positive, and that because of the placating quality of the number Six. The rest of the minor Swords all have a disquieting air of tension about them. Among the court cards only the Page is not judgmental, but it is definitely impatient.

When they appear in a reading, these cards often require a stretch of the imagination to find a basis for encouragement. I once wrote a series of essays (posted elsewhere in this blog) that addressed the suit of Swords as “opportunity,” and I try to bring this premise to bear whenever I encounter them. As I mentioned in my recent post on the 3 of Swords, one way to approach this challenge is to recognize that “the suit of Swords (and its traditional element, Air) is the realm of cognitive perception and communication that promotes “thinking” over “feeling.” This may not be a comforting realization when the context of a reading is entirely emotional, but it can be applied in an eye-opening way that combats unrealistic expectations, even if it is only in the “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” sense.

My usual method of reading the Minor Arcana is to contemplate the mixture of blessing and curse in every card and fashion a balanced interpretation that speaks in rational terms to its impact on the matter at hand. In my professional opinion, there are no entirely “good” or “bad” cards, only a stimulating amalgam of offsetting influences that must be orchestrated to come up with a well-reasoned conclusion. A little intuitive massaging is all it takes to shape them into a coherent whole that coalesces around a meaningful center.

With the Swords, finding that point of equilibrium can be no mean feat since the unfiltered messages tend to be bleak. I find it easier to work with the semi-scenic Minor Arcana of the Thoth deck and their suggestive titles, and even more fluidly with the Tarot de Marseille’s non-scenic pips, because they aren’t pre-loaded with the prosaic interpretive content one finds in the Waite-Smith tarot and its numerous clones. A “picture may be worth a thousand words,” but in my estimation the RWS images don’t necessarily hold forth in a visual language that I find compelling.

My metaphysical and mystical antennae don’t vibrate at that particular frequency, nor does my philosophical take on the cards need the training-wheels of anecdotal prompting or hand-holding. By performing some vigorous mental gymnastics, I’ve found that the Tarot de Marseille offers the complete package, and the Thoth deck is a worthy middle-ground. Especially in the TdM, the arrangement of the emblems in the suit of Swords exhibits a defensive posture that corrals their militant aggressiveness. In Dickens’ novel Bleak House, John Jarndyce gloomily surmised “The wind is in the East” (apparently an unfortunate direction in London’s weather pattern) but even if that is so as predicted by the presence of Swords in a tarot reading, we can always batten down the hatches and wait it out.