This is one of my favorite cards to draw in a reading, for myself or anyone else. It communicates what we sort of already feel by the time we're sitting down in front of the cards -- a pregnant pause, a shift, a tilt, everything sliding about as we maintain a sort of impossible balance at the center of it all.
I wanted to draw something that would make that idea seem materially relevant and also put a fairly positive spin on it. Once I got the above image in my head, I couldn't seem to move on to anything else. Having grown too large, the hermit crab abandons his home for a more accommodating one. Doing so surely makes him feel quite exposed, at least for a short time, and even once he sets up camp in his new shell it can take quite a while to feel comfortable in it. There's no question, however, as to whether he made the right decision; he's doing what he was made to do.
I had a hermit crab as a pet for a while in grade school. The thing shed its skin once and it just about scared me to death -- there was this dead thing crumpled in the corner of the tank, and deep inside the shell, barely visible, I could see tiny pink legs and claws. You'd think he would have been bigger after the shed, but he looked smaller. And grosser. At some point I put a slightly larger shell in there, hoping he'd move into it one night while I was sleeping. Instead, he was just dead one morning. I was sad but not too sad; I'd wanted a cat instead from the beginning.
Anyhow, in my mind this card evokes two different Trump cards: The Moon and The Magician. You could say that the Two of Coins shows how these states of flux and/or suspended disbelief play out in practice, making us keenly aware of our vulnerability without compromising our ability or determination to still pull it all off, somehow.
