Sketchbook - Seven of Swords

Hey, it's my professionally strong friend from the Four of Swords! Apparently he does a little bit of everything at this particular carnival.

This is the kind of act I can't watch too much of; honestly it seems to me that he's really pushing his luck with that seventh sword. He appears to be perfectly in control, and the audience is surely convinced he knows what he's doing, but ultimately we're talking about cold steel versus delicate flesh, and accidents do happen. In order to outshine our competition and electrify our audience, we suspend our own disbelief and summon inadvisable levels of confidence -- making it all too easy to misjudge distances, ignore warning signs, and generally proceed without caution.


There's a lot to be said for displays of cleverness, but it's only a matter of time before you get so caught up in the razzle-dazzle that you begin treating reality like some kind of sport, forgetting about the very real consequences your decisions may have -- on yourself as well as others. Relying on self-deception to consistently fool people is a fine short-term game, but the longer you play, the greater the odds that narrow blade will turn back on you. Perhaps you'd better take a step backwards and judge your situation from a less engaged position.

Oh yeah, and that's totally a chest tattoo of Pamela Coleman Smith's signature, which you can find on most of her RWS cards. How odd; I suppose it's possible they had some sort of dalliance when his show toured Europe...

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven Of Swords

Summary only...

Sketchbook - Seven of Cups

On the surface it seems like such an innocent moment, just pure wish-fulfillment. That's what the carnival is for, isn't it? So, drunk on the possibilities, you reach out to accept everything that's offered.

Who cares if it's too much ice cream for just one person, more than you could even physically eat? Who cares about the visible cracks in the cone, the hot summer sun, the carelessness with which it is handed to you -- all the myriad factors actively correlating to keep you from enjoying your fantasy-come-true? Desire eclipses reason, intoxication outpaces temperance.

That's the story of the Seven of Cups in a nutshell: fantastical visions getting mixed up with all-too-real possibilities, blinding us to our true needs and natural limitations.

I get sick almost every time I go to Coney Island, because I think that food you ingested for pleasure doesn't really count as having been eaten. I remember when I bought a cheap piña colada on the boardwalk once, in one of those gigantic goblets that looks like genie bottle; I tried to show the woman my ID and she laughed in my face. "Hello?? This is Coney Island!" she explained, gesturing at the landscape around us. Then she stage-whispered that she'd give me a free refill if I tipped her well. So naturally I wound up drinking two of those hideous corn-syrup cocktails, probably 32 ounces in total, and felt seasick for almost 48 hours afterward. I'm sure the cheap-o onion rings, pistachio soft-serve, and fried oysters didn't help.

(As of today I haven't eaten any refined sugar in eight days. I didn't think of it until after I started, but it just figures that I'd wind up drawing ice cream.)

(And yes, that seems to be our sideshow strongman from the Four of Swords forking it over. I didn't expect to see him again... Initially the arm was just going to belong to an ice cream truck vendor, but the picture wound up having a sort of "Get into my van" quality which, as interesting an interpretation as that would have turned out to be, was not what I set out to evoke.)

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven Of Cups

Summary only...

Sketchbook - Seven of Wands

Without really meaning to, I seem to have drawn a sort of arcade-style mirror version of the RWS Seven of Wands. Actually, I choose to believe that what you see below is a historically accurate portrayal of Whack-a-Mole as it was played in the 16th century:


I love Pamela Coleman-Smith's version because anyone can read it just by looking at it, yet no two people will see quite the same thing. It evokes at a story you can relate to, without explaining what that story is. That is the essence of a good Tarot card.

My drawing is unfortunately just a cheeky sort of update on the same notions of rivalry, competition, and being outnumbered. Obviously in the great Whack-a-Mole game of life, we all like to think of ourselves as Player 1, squishy mallet held high against hordes of goofy talpidae. But there's no getting around the fact that sometimes, we are the mole.

That's not a value judgment -- after all, sometimes the moles win the day. But the greatest power lies in understanding exactly what game you're playing and what team you're on, and acting accordingly -- regardless of what game you'd like to be playing, or what team you'd like to be on. "Pay attention and face reality or get knocked on your ass" ought to be right up there with gravity in the pantheon of natural laws.

(In this particular game, I am giving myself bonus nerd points for incorporating an emoticon into a pen-and-pencil sketch.)

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven Of Wands

Summary only...

"Damn The Gods!"

There seems to have been a lot of uproar about Warner Bros.' decision to remake creaky old Clash of the Titans, even though everyone knows it's only considered a classic because of Ray Harryhausen's spectacular low-tech special effects. I'm a Harryhausen fan myself, and honestly I don't think even he would mind seeing "realistic" CGI effects used to spruce up the myth-inspired dragshow that is Clash.

The overuse of digital effects is typically one of my biggest complaints about new movies, but when it comes to incredibly expensive, incredibly trivial pieces of pop-cultural ephemera like this one, I can't help but become 9 again. Giant scorpions! Evil gorgons! I want to see them. For a little point/counterpoint action, here are the trailers for both the original and the remake:

As opposed to some of the inexcusable and out-of-left-field remake attempts (stuff like The Pink Panther or the announced remake of Hitchcock's The Birds) the new Clash is arguably a true update -- we have experienced a real special-effects revolution in the twenty-*ahem* years since it was made, and the trailers certainly showcase the difference. As to whether it will effectively upstage its predecessor, only time will tell. When it comes out, people will tug back and forth over it, everyone claiming that one version clearly triumphs over the other. Why bother? Even the original was completely frivolous. I (perhaps foolishly) maintain that there's room in our memories for both combatants.

The Seven of Swords is all about this desperate need for validation, for unambiguous victories to be declared, however tenuous the real circumstances. In the Waite version of the card you see one person fending off numerous (perhaps only perceived) threats from above; the card is designed to make you immediately identify with the defender and not the attackers, but no one gets to be the former without first being the latter. Graduating from the Six to the Seven of Wands seems to bring this out in people -- give us a taste of success or encouragement, and we squander it by losing focus on our original mission. We become unsteady, defensive, insecure, prideful, easily distracted -- but hopefully for just a short time, because there is actually still plenty of work to be done before a solid victory is declared.

The film industry seems to exhibit all our ambition-related personality quirks and deficits, exploding them into huge expensive debacles and full-on wars. Clash of the Titans is not only up against every other movie coming out in March, it's also got to stand up to its over-hyped predecessor. When it's all over, who will even care? We all will have already moved on to the next over-hyped challenge.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven of Wands

Summary only...

The Court Of The (False) Crimson Queen...

I recently noted that our esteemed sponsor, Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, has fragrances in its Mad Tea Party collection themed on the playing card characters in Alice's Adventures In Wonderland. Since regular playing cards are somewhat analogous to the four suits of the Tarot's minor arcana, I couldn't help wondering what these particular scents would have to say about their respective cards. So here's what I ordered:

THE KING OF HEARTS
"Rosewood and black cherry with white musk, red rose, red musk and a spark of lavender."

THE KNAVE OF HEARTS
"Crushed roses and blackcurrant tarts."

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS
"Lily of the Valley, Calla Lily, stephanotis and a drop of cherry."

TWO, FIVE & SEVEN
"A huge bouquet of squished rose petals: Bulgarian rose, Somalian rose, Turkish rose, Damascus rose, red and white rose, tea rose, wine rose, shrub roses, rose, rose, rose... and just an itty bitty bit of green grass."

I had planned on incorporating all of these into a big post on the suit of Cups, but when I sat down to do it, I hit a serious roadblock: the original Tenniel illustration showing the Two, Five, and Seven painting the roses red (as seen above) portrays them as spades. Spades. That ruins everything -- or does it?

Before I go too far down the rabbit hole of wild speculation, let me say that I'm quite aware that Carroll's book is a work of pure fantasy and shouldn't be expected to hold up to the scrutiny of real-world logic. If anything, the fantastical nature of the work invites us to comb through it playfully, trying to make sense out of nonsense. So here goes...

I allege that the entity presenting herself as the Queen of Hearts in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland is an impostor. In fact, I further allege that the entity in question is non other than the sinister Queen of Spades (or Swords, as the case may be). Think about it: the shouting, the tortured logic puzzles, the ruthless competition of the croquet match, the unrelenting desire to punish and decapitate. Are these the qualities of the dreamy Queen of Hearts? I think not.

If there's anything we've learned by now, it's that the Swords are not to be trusted. They cut the man who wields them just as easily as they cut his opponent. In fact, from the moment when Alice first enters the courtyard, we witness a fraud being perpetrated by the Two, Five, and Seven on behalf of the Queen's dogmatic insistence on red roses over white. The Queen's decision to have her servants executed is, no doubt, an effort to conceal her true identity -- she certainly can't reveal herself as a Spade-sympathizer in front of the whole court.

The timid King plays much closer to type, which makes me wonder about the power the Queen exerts to control him. I suspect blackmail or worse.

The samples from BPAL have tipped me off to new evidence. The Queen can mask herself behind red paint all she pleases, but she can't beat the smell test -- out of the court cards present, she's the only one who doesn't smell like roses. In fact, one could argue that the scent of calla lilies is a dead giveaway here -- they're incredibly toxic and commonly associated with funeral arrangements.

In a sort of poetic final argument, I'd like to present a few lyrics from the King Crimson's 1969 release "The Court of the Crimson King", which I believe may contain some elements of backstory from the King of Hearts' perspective:

"The rusted chains of prison moons are shattered by the sun / I walk a road, horizons change / The tournament's begun."

Hmm. Perhaps there is more at stake in the Queen's croquet game than we've ever suspected. Don't play, Alice! If you lose, you'll be sent to a holding tank for lost souls in a parallel dimension!

"The black queen chants the funeral march / The cracked brass bells will ring / To summon back the fire witch / To the court of the crimson king..."

Creepy! But not nearly as revealing as this:

"The gardener plants an evergreen / Whilst trampling on a flower..."

How can this not be a comment on the hapless Two, Five, and Seven?

Ultimately I decided to memorialize my search for the truth in a post for the Seven of Swords, a card that warns of fraud and cowardice, of resistance and futility, all of the qualities that the "Queen of Hearts" stands for. Incidentally, the fragrances were lovely. Special thumbs up for the Knave of Hearts, which smells like something magical baking in the oven. But I'll save the dossier exploring his crimes against the state for another time...

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven Of Swords

Summary only...

"An Opportunity To Repair Imbalances..."

When SELF magazine urges you to Slim Down Your Way, they really mean their way. Take a look at the difference between Kelly Clarkson's real physique and the chop-shop version of her featured on the SELF's latest cover. In a master-stroke of irony, the accompanying interview with Clarkson boasts plenty of quotes from the singer claiming she's perfectly happy with the shape she's in.

In response to the backlash to their botched cover, SELF's editor-in-chief Lucy Danziger claimed that the retouching was intended "only to make (Clarkson) look her personal best." Danziger had lots to say about Clarkson, actually:

"She is happy in her own skin, and she is confident in her music, her writing, her singing, her performing. That is what we all relate to. Whether she is up or down in pounds is irrelevant (and to set the record straight, she works out and does boot-camp-style training, so she is as fit as anyone else we have featured in SELF). Kelly says she doesn't care what people think of her weight. So we say: That is the role model for the rest of us."

That's enough furious backpedaling to shrink practically anyone down to a size 2, and if you start contorting your logic to the point where Danziger's rebuttal actually makes sense, you'll definitely be Hot By Saturday. When the truth of the matter is so obvious, why resort to lies? Instead, SELF's bleeding hypocrisy just runs all the redder.

This is an excellent model of your brain under the influence of the Seven of Swords. If the Six represented all of your faculties operating in perfect equilibrium, then the Seven shows what happens when you start to lose your balance -- while obliviously clinging to your confidence. In your haste to make arguments, you make the wrong ones, and embarrass yourself. In your haste to win battles, you choose them foolishly, and the war is lost. Whether you've overestimated your own ability or underestimated your opposition, the outcome is the same. Here's hoping you are able to withdraw and regroup before your foot gets any further into your mouth, and that you're smart enough to do it discreetly and graciously -- making a big show of trying to bounce back will probably draw even more unfavorable attention your way.

Small mistakes and mistruths pile up quickly; your immediate impulse may be to avoid or whitewash them, but you'd be better off directing that energy toward honest evaluations and aboveboard corrections. The Seven may seem like a scold, but it's really an opportunity to repair imabalances before they become so deeply ingrained in your nature that they seem like a natural part of your identity. In the process, maybe you'll find the Motivation Secrets That Will Work For You. Hellooo, Satisfaction! [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Seven Of Swords

Summary only...

"We Return To The Same Delusions Again And Again..."

Appropriately, I'm writing this post under the spell of a mild fever, and the dementia that accompanies such a state is raging all the more wildly owing to the fact that I just finished watched The Long Kiss Goodnight, the kind of preposterous action movie that was obviously written by someone not unfamiliar with altered states of consciousness. (She ice skates. With guns!)

Whereas maximalist movies like this are junk food for the mind, maximalism in the world of actual junk food is all the rage. Sites like thisiswhyyou'refat.com revel in the tradition of bizarre, nearly inedible eats that repulse and tempt with equal ambition (paradoxically, it seems to be skinny irony-revelers who are actually fueling the stunt-eating trend). Take for example the unfortunately named "McGangbang," a sandwich made by inserting an entire McChicken sandwich between the layers of a McDonald's Double Cheeseburger. This abomination has grown so popular that, as many YouTubers demonstrate, you can order it by name at many restaurants and get exactly what you're after: seven bun/patty layers of megacaloric derring-do.

The Seven of Cups is most often associated with the kinds of epic delusions that intoxicate and betray us; it's a card of bizarre fantasies and misleading emotional "truths" that are ultimately revealed to be self-deceptions. When so many options swirl around you, it's very difficult to recognize the one that will have the greatest lasting impact on you, and there's so little stigma placed on choosing poorly that we return to the same delusions again and again. Sometimes the fog lifts on its own, sometimes you are strong enough to forge through it clear-eyed, and still other times we follow the fog, chasing the next good feeling or entertaining experience, trading our reality for small doses of instant gratification. That's why the Seven of Cups is also often associated with addiction. And as many of us have discovered first- or second-hand, humans can become addicted to nearly anything -- even each other.

Of course, for most of us it really just reflects a passing phase, a test of one's self-awareness. For example, I was shocked to realize that ever since I first saw the MeFi post about the McGangbang, I started craving McDonalds like crazy. So far I've managed to hold out -- coming down with a slight cold has had the unexpected temporary benefit of making me consider my health a little more carefully. Hopefully by the time I'm feeling alright, the fog will have lifted and the temptation will vanish. My appetite for the very worst movies is a harder serpent to crush, but then, we all strike our own bargain with the void. [Via]

Previously on Arcanalogue...

Summary only...

"Grabbing The Spotlight Isn't So Hard... But Then What?"

Everyone has heard the warnings about how hard life at the top can be, but we're all still pretty sure it's a gamble that we're willing to take. Most of us would gladly trade our current problems for those of a slightly more successful person, especially those we see as unworthy for one reason or another.

Nevertheless, it's hard to look at this auction catalog of Michael Jackson's personal possessions without dwelling on the stark emptiness around and inside them. Each item is a symbolic of decades devoted to opulence and frivolity, but it's common knowledge that the erstwhile King of Pop has had to scale back his extravagant lifestyle due to mounting debts. While some of the 2000 items are obviously pretty valuable, I'm most fascinated by the ones that are purely personal: A framed letter from Ronald Reagan; the AMA statuette he won in 1984 for "Thriller"; original artwork made by an 11-year-old Macaulay Culkin, who's the godfather of two of Jackson's children. Artifacts from his own history just aren't useful or interesting to him anymore; will anyone else want them either?

The traditional Seven of Wands shows a young man staving off numerous challengers, whether real or perceived. Grabbing the spotlight isn't so hard... but then what? Unbearable scrutiny, rivalries, and ethical dilemmas arise from below, and only the most well-balanced individuals will be able to keep rising and emerge as true leaders. The fellow shown in the card is clearly not a paragon of balance -- his shoes don't even match! Sort of reminds me a bit of Jackson's Swarovski-encrusted single glove, which you can buy this April for an estimated $10,000-$15,000.

The imperial garment above makes a rather lovely (if bitterly ironic) comment on the results of declaring victory too early, or resting on one's laurels. In all professional matters, merely showing up and pronouncing yourself top dog is not enough; without the strength and solvency to overcome obstacles as they arise, both internal and external, your diamond tiara may as well be a Burger King crown.

Previously On Arcanalogue...

Summary only...

"The Pursuit Of Success Makes Gamblers Of Us All..."

When last I wrote about this card, I pretty much declared it the card of FAIL, but that interpretation is by no means the final word on the matter. If you look at the Waite deck's depiction, the first significant artistic impression of the card beyond the run-of-the-mill heap of disks that preceded it, you'll see a farmer observing the fruit of his labor with a very ambiguous expression on his face. He's not exactly rending his hair and garments or anything, but he's also not overjoyed at what he sees before him. I accept his posture as a sign that the harvest isn't exactly what he expected, to say the least.

Every enterprise requires us to take risks. We trust in nature, even though the earth itself cannot be counted on to hold still under our feet, and every now and then it shakes us apart just to remind us of that. Our fellow human beings are even more mercurial, yet we place a lot of trust in each other so that we can what's called a civilization -- we put our money in banks, we sleep behind mere wooden doors, we live side by side in an uneasy truce that isn't broken nearly as often as one might expect. The pursuit of success makes gamblers of us all; we sow our seeds, we set wheels in motion, and then we cross our fingers.

Cakewrecks is one small corner of the internet devoted to this principle; calling a bakery to order a cake for a special occasion doesn't seem like a particularly risky venture, but the results aren't always what you'd quite expect. Take these wedding cakes, for example; in each case the customer provided photos of what they wanted, and what they got was... well, at least it's a cake, right? The Obama cake shown above is a good example of the so-close-yet-so-far-away idea behind the Seven of Coins.

You could say that the Obama presidency itself is another such example; after a real nailbiter of an election and a historically jubilant victory, the nation seems to be slowly coming to terms with the fact that all our problems won't be solved overnight. The dread, dismay, and even anger that I've started to hear from formerly devout Obama supporters puzzles me. Our new president may be a huge advocate for change, but change doesn't happen overnight -- and the consequences of all great changes exist in a future that we can barely imagine, let alone plan for. Letting reality guide our expectations instead of desire is the surest way to make sure we're happy with what we get -- and being able to overlook the way a cake is frosted and still enjoy the way it tastes is one way to combat life's inevitable disappointments.

Previously on Arcanalogue...

Summary only...

Seven of Coins

Comics aficionados have stepped forward to nominate the Weekly Reader's Uncle Funny Bunny and Chumpy as the worst comic strip of all time. "The consistently corny gags, the awful stiff artwork… surely this takes the prize," says Jerry at Cartoon Brew. This isn't hyperbole -- if you flip through the samples, the comic is consistently and almost hypnotically dismal.

The Seven of Coins is all about failure, usually a venture or project that is either fatally flawed from the outset, or bears disappointing fruit. I suppose I could have taken the easy route and simply linked to the Fail Blog, which catalogs "photos and video of owned, pwned, and fail moments," but there's something far more unsettling in the Uncle Funny Bunny toons. This was someone's job. He set out weekly to entertain children, and whether he was just phoning it in or actually got a great deal of enjoyment out of his work, ultimately they just aren't even remotely funny or entertaining, not in any decade or any language. Epic fail.

This card warns us that our labor may not bear the fruit we had in mind. Perhaps paying careful attention or purging all corrupting influences can save the crop, as it were. But you also ought to consider that it might be just fractally wrong, and that you'd be better off starting over with a new plan. You don't want to unleash another Uncle Funny Bunny on the world if you can help it! [Via]

Summary only...

Seven of Wands

It's a Wands kind of week here at Arcanalogue. Like most people, my passion and ambition are responsible for all my most incredible accomplishments-- and my most tragic blunders. How can that be? It hardly seems fair that the harder we work at uncovering our true self and manifesting its will, the more obvious, insistant, and uncomfortable the world's limitations become. And yet where would we be if we didn't take those risks?

Knowing all the perils doesn't make us immune to them, but The Book of Accidents: Designed for Young Children did its damnedest to instill the tots of 1831 with the proper respect for fire, horses, knives, and kitchen laborers. Surely this book entertained, terrified, and (in some small way) educated many children, but ultimately it is the nature of a child to throw stones, jump out windows, tease large animals, and climb trees no matter how dangerous those activities can be. There is a certain bravery required to go out into the world and explore even though we know how defenseless we are in it, and a certain foolishness. The Seven of Wands may warn of burned fingers on one level, but on another it signifies the boldness that was required to reach into the fire in the first place. It's up to us to make sure that whatever we're reaching for is worth the risk. [Via]

Summary only...

Seven of Swords

Oh, the trials of the Tribulations! For Those Who Tried to Rock is a blog that memorializes bands that never survived past summer vacation, poking gentle fun at their glitter-encrusted aspirations to musical stardom. A lot of the posts even include mp3's so you can hear the bands in their prime, back when they were the hottest show in places like Ithaca, NY or Fayetteville, AR.

Aleister Crowley's name for this card was Futility, and his version showed one large sword being broken into shards by six smaller ones. The card warns against delusions of grandeur which lead to preventable failures; the six attacking swords may be obstructions waiting for you out in the world, or weak links in your own strategy. One's good intentions prove not nearly enough to combat the reality of the situation-- the real, persistent forces out there that are actively thwarting your rosy vision of the future. Consider the card a warning: if you can face challenges with a clear head and open eyes, while acknowledging your limitations, then you may have a fighting chance at achieving the success you feel so sure of. Otherwise, your show may never wind up headlining any venues outside Central New Jersey. [Via]

Summary only...

Seven of Cups

Eight days ago an earthquake struck the Chinese province of Sichuan. Over 40,000 have been killed and hundreds of thousands more injured in this ongoing catastrophe. Sichuan home videos filmed 30 minutes and then 10 minutes before the quake show strange spectral lights in the sky, shimmering rainbows that no one could identify as a possible early indicator of the tragedy about to strike.

It so happens that "earthquake lights" have only relatively recently been known as such, and seismologists are still trying to understand exactly what causes them and whether they can play a role in earthquake warnings. Are these strange irridescent clouds earthquake lights, or some other trick of nature? Regardless, they were a strange phenomenon that was immediately followed by a far more devastating one.

Typically the Seven of Cups shows us a figure inflamed with visions and dreams that may or may not be totally delusional. Each of the seven cups offers a different fantasy, a different rationalization, a tempting folly. Sometimes this is no more harmful than mere childish daydreaming, but sometimes while we lay about dreaming, real life passes us by-- or worse, sneaks up to pounce. Sometimes we cling too tightly to these wisps and govern our lives by them, unwisely banking on easy success, or approaching major decisions with fogged eyes,. Will it result in cataclysm, or will you wander out of this phase as easily as you wandered in? Make sure you know where solid ground is, you never know when you might suddenly really need it.

Summary only...