Sketchbook - Four of Wands

I'm not that interested in making my cards especially literal. You know, I didn't cram ten actual cups in the Ten of Cups, and so forth. And yet I think it would be self-indulgent to just draw whatever random thing pops into my head. I don't want to "force" an image to work, if I can help it.

Anyhow, this one took some pondering. I though I'd able to come up with four Wands-y looking objects pretty easily. You don't even want to know what sort of things I considered in my desperation. The Four of Wands, much like the Four of Swords, represents a brief lull or pause in one's relentless progress. Specifically, it is a time of celebration, rejuvenation, or homecoming. Think of the Vikings coming home from a long pillage, and how good that must have felt -- sure, there may also be some dead to mourn or some chores to tend to, but being able to do this in one's own time and space is practically a luxury after all that roaming and fighting.

Anyhow, I finally settled on just one wand. But it has four modes, and that's quite handy for illustrating the restraint you're encouraged to enjoy at this time. After all, "Park" implies that you intend to sit here for a while or maybe even shut down completely, and both "Drive" and "Reverse" are antithetical to appreciating exactly where you're at right now.

For now, "Neutral" will take you everywhere you need to go.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four Of Wands

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Sketchbook - Four of Swords

Today's drawing is a direct homage to the RWS version of this card, which has always fueled my imagination. Was the figure supposed to be dead? Praying? Sleeping? Waite himself didn't clarify matters when he described it as "The effigy of a knight in the attitude of prayer, at full length upon his tomb." Clearly there's a story here somewhere that no one is telling.

Whenever I read this card for someone, I make sure to point out that this brief moment of reflection is all that lies between the trials of the Three of Swords and those of the Five. In other words, you'd better catch your breath here in the eye of the storm, because round two is on its way. Whatever you do in preparation could wind up making all the difference.

I became drawn to the idea of the sideshow strongman as an inspirational figure here. His weight evenly distributed across the bed of nails, he is able to rest quite easily. There is quite a lot of discipline involved in learning to do these sorts of stunts, whether you're swallowing swords or eating glass or walking on coals. While physical conditioning is essential, ultimately the strongest muscle you have at your disposal is your brain.

(Yes, I know the brain is not actually a muscle.)

There are periods of actual respite when you can truly let go of everything, allow all your suppressed reactions to surface, begin healing, and finally move on. This card doesn't depict one of those periods -- it's more of a halfway-point, like the thirty-minute lunch break you get during an eight-hour shift. In fact, if you're a strongman, you may even actually be on stage for it, taking deep breaths so that you can remain perfectly calm while your assistant smashes a cinder-block on your chest.

There is a little bleeding, I'm told, resulting from incidental punctures here and there. Nothing to worry about; surely the tattoo on his bicep (a tribute to harder times) hurt and bled much worse. As for the snake inked on his forearm, let's just consider it a symbol of renewal and move on, lest we want to hear a long story about the trapeze artist who broke his heart back in '34.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four Of Swords

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Sketchbook - Four of Cups

At first glance this may seem like an unnecessarily forbidding image for the Four of Cups, but that's because we all tend to automatically look at the Venus fly trap from a bug's perspective. Attempting to relate to the plant itself is a little more challenging -- it has mandibles, but no brain or eyes, no cute earlobes to pierce or cheeks to pinch.

So here are some of facts about the fly trap that fascinate me, and which also inform its association with this card:

1. It gives off a powerfully sweet odor, something like overripe citrus.

2. As voracious as it looks, the plant doesn't actually need to eat insects to survive -- it can make do quite happily on a diet of sunlight and water.

3. Each individual set of jaws can only open and close a handful of times, after which they turn black and drop off.

4. A healthy fly trap will flower, just like most other plants. But it's recommended that you pinch off the flowers, so that 100% of the plant's energy will be invested in growing more traps.

I find it interesting that I focused on a similar image when I last wrote about this card. Something about the sight of all those mouths seems unnatural but also strangely human -- we want so much, but we are so difficult to satisfy. The idea that the Venus fly trap has so many more mouths than it needs is interesting to me, because it takes such a great deal of energy to produce such elaborate technology. The fact that we encourage this instead of letting the plant complete its regular reproductive cycle makes me think of the ways in which we forestall our own growth, wanting to keep things just as they are for just a little bit longer, clinging to the recent past out of longing, indolence or fear.

We have a strange relationship with pleasure and nourishment; a dearth of it impoverishes us emotionally and physically, but so does a wealth of it. Where is the line between the splendid fruition of the Three of Cups and the hungry hyper-abundance of the Four? I suspect that one can only ever find that line by crossing it.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four Of Cups

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"Will The Emperor Clothe Himself?"

I can't decide whether the use of LEGO blocks to fill in the gaps of old Roman buildings at a recent arts festival strikes me as an illusion of reinforcement or a reminder of infirmity. It's interesting to me that they flesh out the crevices and corners in a way that lets you see the space that the buildings once took up. The LEGO's remind you how old and powerful the buildings are, but they also point out the places where repairs are necessary. I wouldn't be surprised if this purely cosmetic "renovation" winds up leading to an actual bricks-and-cement renovation afterward; now that the gaps have been pointed out, they're all anyone will see when they pass by. Now that artists have joshingly pointed out his partial nudity, will the emperor clothe himself?

The Four of Coins relates to edification and security. For some, this is less about solving real problems and more about keeping up appearances -- like when people refer to the airport "security theater" of the TSA. Purely presentational gestures of stability can only keep people fooled for so long; eventually those who depend on you will require gestures of real substance. This card highlights the conflict of interest that emerges when you have the power to accomplish tangible results; to what extent will your results be mitigated by your pride, or your fear of becoming powerless?

The suit of Coins has interesting things to say on the matter. If you look at the cards in numerical sequence, you'll note that the early cards seem obsessed with power and status. Once the true, harmonious nature of the suit asserts itself in the Six of Coins, the concerns with status all but vanish -- the onus shifts onto the actualized individual to tend his own crop and make peace with the natural ebb and flow of the material world, no matter how it wears and tears at the edifices he or she has built. Observance of that philosophy is what creates the enduring happiness and wealth we see in the last two cards. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four Of Coins

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"A Card To Hang From Your Doorknob While You Rest."

After looking at this collection of hotel door hangers from around the world (salvaged by Michael Lebowitz from his late grandfather's estate), I recommend that you start looking at the Four of Swords as a card to hang from your doorknob while you rest and meditate on the next (possibly critical) steps in your strategy. You may not feel like you need it, but this may be the only time you have to regather your strength and your wits before things get really serious. No one can stay sharp without occasionally sitting down for a spell and sharpening oneself.

And if you're really lucky, maybe someone will come in and clean your room for you while you're out there fighting the good fight. Print the large version of this and see if it helps:

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four of Swords

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"Silencing Those Hissing, Preening Doubts..."

In the best-known illustration of the Four of Cups, the blessings that were once novel and worthy of celebration seem to have lost their luster. It's a fundamentally human idiosyncracy that we each discover early in life and spend a lifetime trying to defeat: once a pleasure is easily attainable, we become far less satisfied with it, and will give it up easily in pursuit of some new thing.

Sometimes this leads to accumulating what's referred to as an "embarrassment of riches" which bring you little joy. Other times, you might move from one exciting experience to another, never settling down long enough to be nourished by them. I'm sure you're well familiar with that deep-seated feeling of restlessness and uneasiness -- it prevents any option from becoming apparent as the right one.

Dreaming up new and exciting conquests is sort of like dreaming up new and fantastic animals. On the page they're tantalizingly possible, but if they were ever to take shape and become real flesh and blood (and beaks, and feathers, and horns...) they'd fare pretty miserably. I've been very inspired by the cryptids that populate the paintings of Justin Gibbens, especially his birds. They seem like such hungry, noisy creatures -- you can see how the serpentine elegance of their necks would easily become a threshing snarl, how their ravenous beaks would be forever gnashing in search of food. They're cumbersome (and apparently flightless) creatures that have lost that essential "birdlike" quality, despite having more avian anatomy than ever before.

If you know the trick to silencing doubts and desires and enjoying things purely as they are, I'd sure love to learn it. If your dissatisfaction with the status quo is genuine, then it may be an impetus to pick up and take off in search of new adventures; if it's false, then you should have no problem settling down for a while and enjoying that hard-earned feeling of fullness for as long as it lasts. The more time you spend hovering in between, however, the less you'll be able to trust your own impressions on the subject. Activites that demand discipline and endurance, such as exercise or meditation, may turn out to be the key to silencing those hissing, preening doubts, one beak at a time. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four Of Cups

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"A Place Of Reunion With Each Other And With Yourself..."

Remember Edith Macefield from last year's Two of Wands? She was the 86 year-old woman who refused to accept any offer whatsoever for her lifelong home when developers came knocking -- eventually they had to build around her. I posted about it around the time of her death, when the fate of her now-famous house was still uncertain.

Well, it's not uncertain anymore. The property has been sold to a group determined to build under it -- the plan is to elevate the house to the height of the surrounding buildings, and then install a two-level space below that will be open to the public. The name of the project is Credo Square, and for as little as $250 you can have your personal credo etched on a tile within the sanctuary. The interior of the house itself will be converted to a private office.

What's funny is that as soon as I saw the publicity sketches for Credo Square, I immediately thought of Pamela Coleman-Smith's illustration for the Four of Wands -- the upward thrust of the structures, the leafy garlands and enthusiastic revelers the background, the bright colors. They are both welcoming sights, promising a period of rest and reflection. That's something you won't find often in the suit of Wands! It was only after I decided to make it the subject of this card that it struck me -- by graduating the Macefield estate from the Two to the Four, I too was elevating it two levels!

In the Two and Three of Wands, we saw people establishing their turf, eyeing new territory, and then setting off to explore (and hopefully conquer). The Four of Wands is the celebration and period of rest and replenishment that awaits them when they finally return home. This may be a good time to start crafting or revising your own credo, words that will guide you through whatever challenges come next.

On the Credo Square website, there's a list of descriptions meant to complete the sentence "Credo Square is..." I'll go ahead and quote them below verbatim, to be read in the context of this card.

The Four of Wands is...

• A place where the conversation is deep and meaningful
• A place to consider what is important and what others think is important
• A place where people consider and think on the great questions
• A place to laugh and cry
• A place to reflect on what went right and what went wrong
• A gathering place
• A place of reunion with each other and with yourself
• A place to start over and a place to re-affirm
• A place to "suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that is not life" ( Henry David Thoreau)

Fits rather nicely, doesn't it? I'm sure that Macefield herself could never have imagined that one day her house would tower over passersby, but as far as tributes to her indomitable spirit go, this is about as good as it gets. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four of Wands

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"A Reverie Arising From Ephemeral Flesh..."

How's this for a meditation on battles both former and future? The artists at It's My Scar create beautiful jewelry designs that commemorate the wearer's actual physical scars. Francesca, whose scar is pictured above, had her thyroid removed due to cancer and discovered that as her prominent scar faded, she began to miss it -- "Both because I live with the very real possibility that Cancer is not a once in my lifetime possibility, and because I am proud of myself for living, and surviving with strength and dignity," she says. Each piece showcased on the site tells a different story, but at the heart of them all is a person determined to consider, remember, and reveal.

The imagery of the Four of Swords almost always seems to tell this kind of story, a reverie arising from ephemeral flesh, a taut line strung between the stillness of the current moment and the memory (or anticipation) of inevitable conflicts. The card acknowledges or encourages a pause before taking action, which ought to be driven home by the fact that the cards on either side of it, the Three and the Five, are veritable minefields that ought not be navigated with a clouded mind. No matter what you have survived, no matter what tomorrow may bring, lay down your sword and shield; turn your awareness within and reflect on the present moment. Find a calm center from which you can spring into action effectively. Celebrate your wounds as part of your long journey through life; burn incense in your helmet as the samurai are said to have --should your head be taken on the battlefield, your adversary will be impressed by its aroma. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Four of Swords

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"I With Pure Mind By The Number Four Do Swear..."

The artist who created the image above has turned her Moleskine pocket sketchbook into an astounding collection of alchemical and metaphysical drawings. "But whoa, hold on there," you must be thinking. "That card clearly is clearly decorated with ten red dots, not four!" Don't worry, you haven't been shortchanged. This is a diagram of the Tetractys, a symbol which was sacred to the Pythagoreans; it was central to their mathematical and metaphysical concepts of how space is organized. The ten points represent all of creation's elements in perfect harmony -- just like the Tree of Life, which may even have been inspired by the Tetractys. It's the four rows that those points occupy, however, that concern us here. They were so important to the Pythagoreans that they even swore oaths by them:

"I with pure mind by the number four do swear;
That's holy, and the fountain of nature
Eternal, parent of the mind..."

The rows symbolize not just the four classical elements, they also represent the mathematical dimensions that I mentioned in my notes about the Tarot's four Fours. The point, the line, the triangle, then the tetrahedron -- this is the conceptual ladder we climb as we begin to contemplate our seemingly concrete world of matter and substance. They also had all sorts of mathematical and musical significance that I can't even begin to coherently explain.

As you can see, this pyramid is weighted at the bottom, where our earthly, three-dimensional concerns dominate the senses. This is fitting for the Four of Coins, which is like an anchor that keeps one ever-mindful of the demands imposed by the "real world." Without building that strong foundation, we're ill-prepared to consider the other worlds which await our attention-- though, as before, there is always the risk of dwelling in the basement for too long and forgetting about those other higher planes entirely. Remember, the Pythagoreans swore by all four layers, not just the one that afforded the most stability and comfort. The only way to cultivate lasting material comfort is to have priorities that extend far beyond the material.

Previously on Arcanalogue...

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The Four Fours

Recently I demonstrated that building a triangle -- the simplest 2-dimensional figure -- is as easy as one, two, three. Conceptually, that triangle was a model of our awareness expanding to allow for new ideas and perspectives. The addition of a fourth point adds an important new layer:

•


•. . . . . . . . . .•

•

Now we see what happens when these ideas get fleshed out into 3 dimensions -- or if you prefer to keep things flat, we now have a wonderfully solid square. Either way, things are not nearly as flimsy and airy-fairy as they used to be. What happens when your notions finally take root and begin to show up in the real world? Are they what you expected, did they seem better in theory? Does their sudden weight pull you off-balance? Or do they feel wonderfully right and ripe?

Once you've actually accomplished something (whether you like it or not) you'll be able to channel that wisdom and experience into whatever you do next. Our four cards above illustrate how we adjust to our new status, offering rest and contemplation, revelry and resistance. One thing's unanimous: the ground that's been so painstakingly gained is not to be given up easily! Whether to proceed cautiously or ebulliently (or perhaps just camp out for a while) is really up to the individual. You're in the real world now, and your journey begins the moment you choose a direction.

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Four of Swords

The tragic Three of Swords shattered the peace we'd arrived at in the Two; while the Four certainly smooths things over and establishes a truce, it's obvious that we have ourselves a regular little arms race going on in this suit. With higher stakes and greater pressure behind every thought and deed, it feels disingenuous to refer to this state as "peaceful," but that's often what passes for peace in this life and this world.

Yesterday President-Elect Barack Obama met with soon-to-be-retired President George W. Bush for the first time since last week's historic election. Each of these men has a pretty good idea of the other's opinion of him, especially since their first meeting in 2005 wound up rubbing them both the wrong way. Obama posted his gut reaction to the encounter online, saying, "It wasn't until he had left the room that I realized I had briefly put my arm over his shoulder as we talked -- an unconscious habit of mine, but one that I suspected might have made many of my friends, not to mention the Secret Service agents in the room, more than a little uneasy." When Bush was informed of those remarks, he was miffed. "I thought I was actually showing some kindness... And out of that he came with this belief?" Bushed asked, adding: "He doesn't know me very well."

Their relationship has probably only gotten queasier over the course of Obama's campaign, as he's made it very clear who he thinks is to blame for the shape our country's in. And now after a stunning victory that can't help but usher in a new political era, the most popular man in America and the most unpopular man in America both have to endure this delicate dance as the power is transferred.

In this real-life example, there's no real threat of a fight breaking out -- but in our own everyday lives, escalation is incredibly easy. How often do you wind up brushing aside your own peace accords in order to assert yourself, whether or not you can really afford to lose? The Four of Swords presents one last appeal to sanity and rationality, a period of reflection and negotiation. Whether you're secretly really looking forward to getting your hands dirty or would honestly prefer to cool things down, you'll definitely benefit from being prepared.

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Four of Cups

In the Two of Cups, we saw love in its purest form glimmering into existence; in the Three of Cups it ripened, becoming radiant and abundant; the Four, however, takes us just beyond the border into sickeningly sweet territory. Imbibing too much of a good thing when we're already giddily enjoying ourselves is practically (unfortunately) second nature, but the disorientation and attendant queasiness that follows can distract us from whatever we were celebrating to begin with.

Oscar Wilde wrote, "Nothing succeeds like excess," and I think this really explains the allure of romance novels. But however entertaining it might be to project oneself into luxuriously wanton scenarios, even devoted readers would probably admit that actually living like those characters would get old pretty fast. One can only tolerate so much intrigue, so many bubble-baths. Eventually you have to come up for air.

The discerning ladies at Cover Cafe know when enough is enough; they've rounded up the very best that 2007 had to offer in the way of romance novel covers -- but also the very worst. How bad are they? Well, I know that technically I should have used the winner in the "Worst" category for the card image above, but I simply could not bring myself to look at the cover of Big Spankable Asses even one more time than necessary. I went with the runner-up, which is less patently offensive but still utterly unsettling. How exactly is this manic Ken doll able to support that giant camera one-handed? And why is everything so... blue?

If anything can be learned from this, it's that the line between indulgence and overindulgence is clearly a pretty fine one -- it's probably best to at least know where it is before sailing past it. [Via]

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Four of Wands

Signifying completion, homecoming, and restoration, this is usually a rather festive card of celebration. It being Halloween, however, I decided to draw from an example that is a little more haunting. The image above is from Jim O'Connell's journey to the "Throw-Away Temple" in Japan, where the bodies of 25,000 prostitutes were laid to rest in the mid-19th century:

"The women could not, of course, come and go as they pleased. Most were enslaved by debt they could never completely repay. During their service they could leave only for the death of a parent and once a year to view the cherry blossoms in Ueno. For most of the common prostitutes, the only real way out was through their own death."

Extinguished by earthquakes and diseases, women's bodies were dumped at the Temple each day, where they've remained interred ever since. O'Connell's description of the shrine as it currently exists (and his gorgeous photos) are incredibly gloomy, but it is strangely reassuring to know that these women were ultimately provided for, given a resting place of their own where the sheer weight of their numbers would grow to become undeniable, a place of rest in a world that literally heaved under their feet.

Visiting a place like this -- or even reading about it -- makes us contemplate our own sense of achievement. It practically demands that we pause and consider the trials and blessings that have led to this point, and that we revel in whatever freedom we've managed to eke out for ourselves among life's inevitable hardships, and, if possible, to gather with kindred spirits in peace and solidarity. The Throw-Away Temple is sort of an extreme phantasmagorical metaphor for this idea -- its visitors seem to pay a sort of otherworldly restitution. Consider it a reminder to keep the arrivals, ends, and achievements of others on your radar as well, you never know when someone might benefit from your example, or vice versa. [Via]

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Four of Coins

To the casual observer, true strength and power are almost impossible to fairly assess except in hindsight. If you had looked at a picture of this neighborhood a week ago and been asked to pick which house would survive a hurricane, would you have picked this one? Can we attribute it to stuctural integrity or merely to variables within the storm itself? Ultimately, it doesn't matter -- when the winds begin to blow, you either have it or you don't. But in the meantime, the fear that one day a storm might blow in and smash your house flat shouldn't keep you from building one to begin with.

The Four of Coins is an emblem of fortification and stability; the number four indicates the corners of a square or the base of a pyramid, and mirrors our own desire for power. Perhaps this makes you someone that others can cling to and depend on, or maybe it means that you'll flourish while others on either side of you are washed away -- that pretty much depends on what your own priorities turn out to be. But beware, because power changes our priorities and our ability to see beyond the walls of our own fortresses. If you refuse to take risks or start dismissing appeals to emotion and common sense as merely troublesome noise, those walls will become your prison. [Via]

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