Sketchbook - Ace of Swords

It's late, so I'll keep this brief. The concept for this drawing came to me all at once in a sort of perceptual burst, and I literally stopped whatever else I was doing so I could sit down and start picking away at it. Appropriate, since the Ace of Swords is the go-to card for intellectual hairpin turns that point in unforeseen directions, toward new possibilities.

The symbolism here is pretty straightforward. The suit of Swords is associated with the element of air, hence the feather. It's also associated with awareness and intellect, which makes the peacock's cycloptic plume especially apt.

But what I wanted to do beyond there is show the feather being split in two. I don't know about you, but I can't resist picking things apart -- straws, popsicle sticks, relationships, anything really. So whenever I get my hands on a peacock feather, its hours are numbered. They pull apart so perfectly! The individual barbs peel off into tiny sub-feathers, the shaft splits and unzips into long ribbons. Not even the perfect, iridescent eye, which only an unfeeling psychopath would ever want to put out, escapes mutilation.

The suit of Swords teaches us about the powers of discernment and discrimination, and the Ace is where it all begins: a unified vision, magical in its fleeting wholeness and ripe for shredding into individual thoughts and observations. Eventually even the shreds will be picked to shreds and the suit will have run its course -- at which point there is really nothing to do but throw the whole mess away and look for a new feather.

Hopefully you'll forgive me for starting in on this particular feather, threatening to divide the Ace before you've even had a chance to enjoy its perfection. I shouldn't rush ahead, I know. Considering how hard it was to resist pulling that eye apart into a set of binoculars, you should be quite proud.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Ace Of Swords

Summary only...

"As Reliable As The Numbers From One To A Hundred..."

Maybe everything is a lot easier than we think it is. Maybe there are better ways to do things, keys that unlock the potential hiding just under our surfaces. I was charmed and astounded watching this video of a child solving math problems quickly and accurately using Chisenbop, an form of finger-counting that may date back to the abacus. See if you can figure out how he does it:

Here's a tutorial. Chisenbop has cropped up in American curricula from time to time, but it's largely unheard of here. Why is that? I can understand the need to instill kids with a completely conceptual grasp of how sums and multiplication tables work, but not everyone's minds work the same way. And anyway, this is like walking around with a calculator in your pocket -- bound to come in handy at some point.

The Ace of Swords exists to usher new decisions and perspectives into our lives, pointing ever forward. All we need do is sail on its wind, relaxing our grip on obsolete or irrelevant ideas and embracing progress and self-knowledge. Is there a better way to do something? Then so shall it be done. Is there potential hiding beneath the surface? A series of swift, careful incisions ought to free it.

We are often urged to "know ourselves" and "be ourselves", but there is no knowledge without learning. Study yourself just as ardently as you study your surroundings. In your sharpest moments, your consciousness is a membrane between the inner and outer worlds -- a line carved into the fabric of reality, as thin as the edge of a knife and just as difficult to balance on. The Tarot's suit of Swords describes our attempts to maintain that balance. If the failures seem costly, it's because they are blows against our very identity and sense of purpose; try to keep in mind that equilibrium is only ever achieved through a series of errors and counter-errors. With a little discipline and effort, the contents of your own mind may one day seem as familiar to you as your own hands and fingers, and as reliable as the numbers from one to a hundred. [Via.]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Ace of Swords

Summary only...

Ace of Swords

1. New direction in thought
2. An idea, ideal, or truth
3. A calling upon one's strength.

-- David Allen Hulse, The Western Mysteries

Summary only...

"Move Forward With Unprecedented Confidence..."

The organization First Book, to which I recently committed all the proceeds I earn from giving Tarot card readings, asks in their slogan, "Do you remember the magic of your first book?" This inspired me to take a look and see what America's first book was; as some might anticipate, it was biblical in nature. Technically entitled The Whole Booke of Psalmes Faithfully Translated into English Metre, it's generally called the Bay Psalms Book and it was published in Cambridge, MA in 1640.

Books, writing, and learning are often associated with the suit of Swords (though one of my favorite decks, the Victoria Regina Tarot, uses fountain pens to signify the Wands suit instead). The Ace of Swords points taking up a new cause, applying your focus to a new project, or discovering keener judgment or stores of discipline within yourself that have lain dormant. It's the kind of revelation that invites you to see things for what they really are and then move forward with unprecedented confidence.

Not only is this a great symbolic statement for my First Book pledge, it's an interesting lens through which to view the Bay Psalms Book; the Library of Congress page linked above speculates that this "first" wasn't a matter of happenstance, but of conscious choice, noting that "...The same faith that compelled them to leave England and strike out for the New World prompted them to commit this text to print before all others." This card is a not-so-subtle hint that honest declarations of intent will be rewarded quite favorably -- you'll be able to look back one day and recall this as a time when certain ideas were set into motion.

Previously on Arcanalogue...

Summary only...

Ace of Swords

Obsidian has been used since the Stone Age as a cutting tool; thanks to its lack of crystal structure, shards of this volcanic glass have a cutting edge that makes surgical steel scalpels look like rusty butter-knives, with edges as narrow as 3 nanometers. The art of making blades from stone is called knapping, a craft which still inspires people to this day.

The Ace of Swords wants you to know all this. It wants you to understand the incredible precision our minds are capable of, which at our best moments puts even obsidian to shame. The art of honing in and separating this from that, of striking a devastating blow with the barest touch, will come to anyone whom the Ace favors. But beware-- in undisciplined hands, this skill can result in catastrophe.

If the image above looks a little familiar, then you're already pretty sharp: the suit of Swords in the Tarot corresponds to the suit of Spades in a deck of common playing cards. The Ace of Spades has historically been associated with luck, death, and victory, obviously hearkening to the Swords' original emphasis on gaining a mental edge over your opponent. Just remember when you strike that precision is a mercy you owe your enemy; as doctors have noted, wounds inflicted with keen obsidian blades result in far less tissue inflammation, and leave smaller scars.

Summary only...