"...The Revelation That Arrives At The Instant Of Defeat."

Sorry to do this to you. I personally tend to avoid thinking about this card, and am always hoping it won't come up in readings, but it's included in the deck for a reason and is certainly worth examining on many levels. The imagery in this post is a bit graphic, but I can't help feeling that Pamela Coleman-Smith would approve.

The instant I heard the news about Spanish matador Israel Lancho suffering a nearly fatal loss in the ring, I thought of this card; that may sound callous, but it's just the way my mind sorts information. The story and the gruesomely compelling photos and video that accompany it are intensely symbolic (by design, considering the history of the sport) and provide our imagination with endless footholds for climbing all over it. Our reactions to these sorts of things are difficult to predict, control, or understand.

I consider the Lancho incident, like all bullfighting, to be a fundamentally ugly spectacle. It's a game between a beast driven mad with pain and rage and a human being at his physical and mental peak. For the man it is sport, but for the animal it is war. Without an element of genuine danger, the man's victory means nothing, so rooting for the man is practically identical to rooting for the bull. The bull is the one variable in an otherwise meticulously controlled environment, and even his power as a variable is purely symbolic; when the bull "wins" -- as the bull who gored Lancho arguably did -- he is killed afterwards anyway.

It isn't the violence of Lancho's setback that connects him to the Ten of Swords. Rather, it's the revelation that arrives at the instant of defeat, which I can't help imagining that he experienced rather profoundly at the moment he was thrown clear from that horrible horn. As we experience life's challenges, we begin custom-tailoring our identities in hopes of becoming impervious; we try to make ourselves hard. You could see the entire suit of Swords as a gradual loss of flexibility. We start off with a clear, open mind, but after suffering an intense hardship, we gauge our potential for success on our ability to withstand future hardships, and we gradually forget how to predict, avoid, and forgive them.

This sets a person up for a painful comeuppance: by cultivating a harm-or-be-harmed mentality, you will unconsciously begin gravitating toward situations where these are the only likely outcomes. Confidence blossoms into pride, which ferments and becomes hubris. It is only when you finally experience an unequivocal loss that you see the corner you've been painting yourself into all along. The Ten of Swords depicts both that loss and the realization that follows. If you look closely at the Coleman-Smith image above, note the felled figure's hand flashing the same signal that the Hierophant uses, "distinguishing between the manifest and concealed parts of the doctrine" (in words of Arthur Edward Waite). This weak gesture is the figure's way of communicating the newfound personal enlightenment which is a byproduct of his suffering.

Drawing this card isn't a curse, it's both a warning and a reminder from the powers that be. A warning, in the sense that you may be softer and more susceptible to harm or criticism than you ever might imagine, and a reminder that there is light in the dark, that pain and loss are subjective and can be transcended if you accept the reality of your situation. The card describes our worst fears, but meditating on it may help you avoid the most dire consequences. I prefer to think of Lancho's near-death experience in the bullfighting ring as an opportunity for him to internalize -- okay, bad word choice -- to fully reconsider his role in this dangerous, illogical, inhumane pasttime. I wish him a speedy recovery, and a new career, in that order!

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Ten of Swords