AUTHOR’S NOTE: There is no connection between these cards other than the fact of reversal. They weren’t part of an involved study, just the subject of three different pending essays that I compiled to clear out my backlog of unpublished posts. These vignettes are prime examples of my present approach to reversals; they were inspired by example readings I found in the tarot literature, although the author was nowhere near as extensive or as nuanced (and certainly not as quirky) in his analysis. In each case, I set the stage with my general impressions of the card when upright.

The King of Cups Reversed: “No More Mr. Nice Guy”

“No more Mr. Nice Guy
No more Mr. Clean”
– from No More Mr. Nice Guy by Alice Cooper

I usually think of the upright King of Cups as the “Dick Van Patten” of the tarot court: a genuinely nice guy who wouldn’t harm a flea even if it was biting him. But the reversed orientation is a different matter. Scratch the King of Cups and you will find unyielding granite, just like all the other Kings. It’s not quite “Move over nice dog, the mean ol’ dog’s movin’ in” but the thought is there.

One of the Golden Dawn’s definitions for the Kings (aka Thoth Knights) is “Potential Power.” As I see it, the King is able to stay his hand when clemency is warranted, and this is second nature for the King of Cups (the first being a cheerful disposition and a kindhearted benevolence). But this King might also steal a line from Al Capone by saying “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness,” and reversal can bring this warning to the fore.

For many years the Thoth Knight of Cups was my personal significator because I identified with the idea of gentleness; but then I realized that I have a hefty streak of my Virgo mother’s Scots/Irish pugnacity in my character that offsets my Cancerian father’s mild-mannered influence, and it doesn’t take much to trigger it. After looking closely at Aleister Crowley’s “moral characteristics” for the Queen of Cups and the Golden Dawn’s description of the Queens as “Brooding Power,” I decided that she fits me better, even though I’m distinctly male by gender and sexual preference. I may be a self-proclaimed “armchair philosopher of the tarot,” but as role models I had a truck-driver father who sired nine kids and (quite literally, I assure you) a Canadian-lumberjack maternal grandfather.

The reversed King of Cups is Jack Klugman’s “Oscar Madison” of The Odd Couple TV series to Tony Randall’s “Felix Unger.” He doesn’t care where he leaves his dirty dishes or his smelly socks. I admit to being a bit like that at one time; then I got married and now it only happens in my own space. Guilt can be a powerful motivator; try living with a Queen of Swords and you’ll see. The upright King of Cups may aspire to be liked, but his reversed counterpart couldn’t care less, and when I can get away with it, that’s how I feel about most human relations. Being respected is far more important than being admired, and I subscribe to the aphorism “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”

The 6 of Cups Reversed: “Guilty Pleasure vs. “Simple Pleasure”

The Golden Dawn’s title for this card was “Lord of Pleasure,” and Aleister Crowley called it “one of the best in the pack.” No wistful yearning was prescribed or implied in these definitions, only immediate or imminent enjoyment, and personally I stay away from the idea of sentimental reminiscence. But reversal can put a different spin on the nature of the pleasure being sought.

Arthur Edward Waite and Pamela Colman Smith injected the assumptions of both nostalgia and innocence into their version of this card, which have morphed into the folkloric notion of longing for one’s childhood. I can’t see how this adds anything useful to readings for clients who are facing more immediate concerns and are seeking pragmatic advice for dealing with them. At least directing them toward the goal of trying to find pleasure wherever they can under the circumstances is more to-the-point than attempting to instill in them an appreciation for their youth, which may in fact not be worth revisiting and I wouldn’t dare presume that it might be.

When it comes to reversal of the 6 of Cups, my current thinking is that “guilty pleasure” might reasonably replace “simple pleasure” as its fundamental meaning because there can be a taint of vulgar self-interest in it. Crowley, as always, was quick to glorify its sexual nature, so he would probably not have objected to this interpretation. In a reading, I would most likely emphasize the card’s less-charming side by bringing up the possibility of unhealthy or venal preoccupations that detract from an open-and-aboveboard approach to self-satisfaction.

There can be something furtive about these pursuits, and there is a famous rock star (whom I won’t name even though he “went public”) who admitted being a life-long sex addict, going back to the ’70s and ’80s when it essentially “came with the territory.” It strikes me that his “pleasure” had a certain desperation to it that he eventually recognized. But these detrimental qualities don’t have to be sexual. There is a whiff of “instant gratification” about them and they can appear as a fixation on any kind of self-indulgence that supplants more rational inclinations. Spending money on something one can’t afford or making promises that one can’t live up to might be symptoms of a quest for immodest rewards that can stoke a guilty conscience even as they scratch an irresistible itch.

The 8 of Wands Reversed: “Disciplined Withdrawal” or “Flanking Maneuver”

When it appears in a reading, the 8 of Wands – “speeding toward an end” in Waite’s definition and “swiftness” in Crowley’s version – is typically interpreted as “great haste” when rushing headlong into the fray and maybe even jumping to conclusions.

The matter is “running hot,” perhaps rashly so, and might even provoke a “crash-and-burn” scenario. Reversal takes some of the overheated urgency out of the occasion, allowing for a more reasoned response, while the card’s Mercury correspondences, both in Sagittarius and in the eighth Sephira, Hod, on the Qabalistic Tree of Life, save it from recklessness.

I’ve always gained considerable insight from treating the three-card sequence of the RWS Seven, Eight and Nine of Wands as a narrative vignette: a military scout has encountered a superior force and is hard-pressed to hold his ground (7 of Wands); he decides to break off the engagement and beat a hasty retreat back to the fortress with the spears of the foe nipping at his heels (8 of Wands); “bloody but unbowed,” he makes his “last stand” in front of the walls. Crowley’s keywords of “Valour, Swiftness and Strength” don’t deliver quite the same storytelling “punch,” although the artwork of Harris is more than equal to his vision.

In this triptych I’ve viewed the upright 8 of Wands as a “strategic retreat,” but reversal of the image suggests a more disciplined withdrawal. Rather than making a beeline back to the fort while exposing his backside, the scout is inspired to duck down more convoluted byways with the goal of shaking off the relentless barrage. I’ve also envisioned the defensive approach as mounting a “rear-guard action,” an expeditionary skirmish intended to hold pursuit at bay long enough for the main force to escape another direct confrontation for the time being.

When this card comes up reversed, I advise the querent to back off a couple of steps and assess the lay of the land before charging right in. It may be prudent to map an oblique course with a bit of judicious sidestepping that will better serve the purpose of avoiding resistance. This won’t necessarily signify retreat but more of a flanking maneuver that is both shrewd and expeditious. The reversal will also permit a little more time to get the evacuation in order, if it amounts to that. Come to think of it, though, similar caution without the devious trajectory would apply to the upright orientation as well. As in most such instances, discretion is the better part of valor.