Sketchbook - Two of Swords

I spent a lot of time over the last couple days trying to imagine some sort of harmoniously double-bladed apparatus. I thought about the way incisors work together to chop up our food, or the way propeller blades achieve lift even though they oppose each other. But none of these things seemed like anything I wanted to draw. Then I thought about bees -- how an entire swarm of creatures, each armed with its own venomous barb, manage to work together for the good of the hive. The bees pictured above may look like they're squaring off, but ultimately they know that all the pollen they gather is going back to the same place. Their swords are always visible, but never unsheathed.

Previously On Arcanalogue: Two Of Swords

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Sketchbook - Two of Coins

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.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Two Of Coins

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Sketchbook - Two of Cups

I was kind of excited to go for my fourth post in four days, until I actually cut the deck and drew. You have got to be kidding me -- first the Two and Ace of Wands, now the Ace and Two of Cups. Again I almost cheated and went ahead to a sexier card, and again I decided to just play 'em as I was dealt 'em.

So. I sat and thought for like ten minutes and couldn't come up with anything. I really like this card in readings, but I couldn't think of anything very interesting that remained true to the card's meaning of fellowship, love, reconciliation, and unity.

I figured the bells cover all of that -- some will instantly see them as wedding bells, but bells toll in celebration of pretty much any major event. They even toll the simple passage of time. Tex and I live close enough to a churchtower that we hear its bells toll every hour (five minutes fast) and I am always surprised by how reassuring the sound is. You'd think you get used to it after a while, but apparently no.

And of course, turned up like that, the bells can also be seen as a pair of cups. I kept them as white as possible so they'd look like they were announcing good news.

Also, bells are hard to draw -- they have a totally inflexible curved surface. Try it sometime, you'll see.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Two Of Cups

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Sketchbook - Two of Wands

I haven't spent any significant amount of time drawing in many years, and that makes me sad. So for my new regular Tarot meditation, I'll be drawing one card from the deck and then literally drawing it, making up a new version on the spot based on whatever's in my head at the time. I'll try to spend no more than about a half hour doing each one, so don't expect anything fancy.

Today I pulled the Two of Wands. I thought of the chopsticks right away because, well, I was sitting in a bubble-tea cafe at the time. In fact, I pretty much completely lifted the hand/chopsticks outline from the instructions on the little paper wrapper that my real chopsticks came in, though I added plenty of my own touches.

I liked the idea of the two "wands" being tools you might use in tandem to select, grapple with, or manipulate something. From there, I surprised myself by gravitating thematically toward the Waite-Smith version of the card, in which a baron of some kind surveys his territory and dreams of owning more, MORE. These chopsticks couldn't just be chasing after some crispy radish fritter or deep-fried cuttlefish ball -- it had to be the world, or at least one specific world out of many. Ultimately I guess I was trying to show someone in perfect possession of their own faculties, setting their sights on a desired outcome and then scooping it up with ease and self-assurance. Mmmmm...

(Or maybe unconsciously I was thinking of this:)

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Two Of Wands

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"Opposing Ideas Expressed Simultaneously..."

What do you see when you look at the rare "million to one" apple that was discovered in Devon, England? A freak of nature? A marvel of genetic variety? Perhaps all you see is a tasty snack that would be unusually easy to divide and share.

Looking at it with my Tarot glasses on, I see two opposing ideas expressed simultaneously, with a relatively harmonious outcome. This is the suit of Swords at its safest and simplest -- clear boundaries, delicately balanced priorities, seamless integration.

This could describe a condition that exists purely within, or it could describe your relationship with a rival. Either way, once this balance becomes upset for any reason, you have to enter some pretty prickly territory to regain it. The Two of Swords implores you to make your decisions carefully and discreetly with a mind toward avoiding upset for as long as possible. Try to relax into this groove and see how far it carries you. Remain cool, impartial, and just. People will think you're beating the odds in your successes, but really you are just paying attention with every fiber of your being. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Two Of Swords

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"A Bold Idea Actively Crystallizing Into Matter..."

Built for the 1962 World's Fair, Seattle's "Space Needle" went through many conceptual phases on its way to becoming one of the world's most recognizable modern structures. These early design sketches show a bold idea actively crystallizing into matter. Many compromises were made in order to finish the building in time for the Fair (sorry, no "tethered balloon" at the top!) but the overall success of a project isn't always determined by how faithful it is to the original concept -- success tends to be self evident, and the fact that the hastily-erected Needle is still an attraction and point of civic pride decades later is a marvel in itself. Also, it has a gas-flame beacon at the top, though they don't often use it.

I often describe this card to people as a claim they're staking on a particular area, whether personal, professional, or material. And since people (especially passionate, industrious people) are rarely content to sit and enjoy the settlement they've already claimed, we can see the seeds of expansion already beginning to sprout. In the Waite-Smith deck we see a lord surveying his territory and gazing into a globe. Is he dreaming of making the entire world his domain, or is this meant to show that his domain is basically the entire world to him, in microcosm? Your answer to this question makes a big difference in how you'll interpret the Three of Wands, in which we set out into the unknown in search of unclaimed opportunities.

I read on Wikipedia that the land the Space Needle stands on was acquired at the very last minute for a mere $75,000. Sometimes success and establishment come at a lower cost than you'd ever have expected -- maybe it's the intervention of that Ace card giving you a leg up. Regardless of how it arrives, your follow-through plays a crucial role in what will happen next. There will be a time to rest and celebrate, but this is not it; whether you decide to expand and stake new claims or devote your energy to improving the infrastructure of your existing investments, your attention and energy will bear fruit. [Via]

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Two Of Wands

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"Personal Involvement In The Ebb And Flow..."

In celebration of tonight's season finale of RuPaul's Drag Race -- the liveliest, shark-jumpingest piece of entertainment anyone could ever hope for -- here's a symbol for change that you can really believe in. Over the holidays, legendary drag superstar RuPaul circulated this holiday card featuring herself as both Barack and Michelle Obama, simultaneously promoting her own new show on LOGO and reveling in the results of the presidential election.

The show has since proven to be a platform for miraculous transformations of every flavor -- no matter how punishing each challenge's restrictions are, such is the professionalism of these girls that they nearly always still wind up stalking down the catwalk looking like a million pre-recession bucks. It's only natural for an artist to bristle or panic when eleventh-hour surprises disrupt their creative flow, but these performers are (mostly) seasoned and resilient enough to adjust their course and rise above the limitations RuPaul sets upon them. And as the host, RuPaul herself fluctuates between male and female personas, appearing in and out of drag as she masters the hell out of those ceremonies. Superimposing that aspect of her persona onto a portrait of the Obamas was an inspired move, and oddly insightful -- three months into the Obama presidency, we are already in a new era, a topsy-turvy one which has already begun to test the flexibility of America's identity.

The Two of Coins hints that at changes which could really turn things around in your favor if you choose to cooperate. This means participating in them as they occur -- you can't just stand back watching skeptically and leave the results up to chance. Personal involvement in the ebb and flow will make you more sensitive to the arrival of opportunities and give you a leg up on seizing them. There's a time to resist, and a time when doing so means missing out on the next big thing; drawing this card means you'd better make like a Drag Race contestant or a crisis-weary American and get busy turning your trials into triumphs, your garbage into glitter, your -- well, you get the drift.

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"A Rare Meeting Of Worlds..."

Arthur Edward Waite wrote that the Two of Cups was emblematic of "the desire which is not in Nature, but by which Nature is sanctified." That's a perfect description of this interaction between a tiger cub and a young bottlenose dolphin, which took place last week at a California theme park. Akaasha and Mavrick were allowed to regard each other through the aquarium glass, a rare meeting of worlds that would be all but impossible in any natural setting. Even without anthropomorphizing their reactions too terribly much, their mutual fascination and amazement is completely obvious. They may never meet again (though after the press attention this received, I suspect they will) but for a brief moment no one -- animals included -- knew what would happen next.

For humans, this unexpected intersection of worlds is often where love originates. We orbit each other, exploring the new bond, testing the strength of the connection, daring ourselves and each other to be the first to pull away. While not every "love" experience results in a romantic relationship or a profound friendship, we depend on these elegant disruptions to guide us toward those who fulfill some great half-understood need in our lives; if the feeling turns out to be mutual, then there's so much that can be shared and learned, regardless of the duration of the connection.

I've tried to keep my posts about the Two of Cups pretty platonic, because relationships between family and friends rely just as heavily on these phases of communion and deep understanding, but if the topic of your Tarot reading is romance, you couldn't ask for a better sign. Cultivate an air of openness and availability, and see what happens.

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"An Appeal To Wisdom And Insight..."

There is no such thing as peace in this world, not really. Peace can only exist within individuals, and even then there is still a degree of tension as one struggles to maintain it. As George Bernard Shaw said, "Peace is not only better than war, but infinitely more arduous."

The Waite-Smith version of this card illustrates this idea nicely -- the swords look heavy, the person wielding them looks uncertain, and the moon hovering in the background is a nod to this card, which hints at the deep personal significance of the matter at hand. The Alchemical deck has a similar feel ; the swords are crossed, but not clashing, and we can't tell enough about the warriors to know who the aggressor is, or who the victor might be if they come to blows. We're still essentially blind to the situation; the owl's penetrating eyes stare out at us, an appeal to wisdom and insight.

This is surely not the kind of radiant inner peace endorsed some of the Trump cards; this is peace as a long-term strategy for survival in an uncertain world. Hell, even nuclear weapons are mostly symbolic at this point -- every nation needs at least one, so they can prove how civilized they are by refraining from using it. In the pragmatic sense, peace is worth far less unless one first acquires the power to make war.

Yvonne Lee Schultz' porcelain reproductions of James Bond's Walther PPK offer the perfect symbolic balance between the heft of high-power weaponry and the art of playing it cool. "Its coolness and comfortable grip increase the qualms of the user," says Schultz, "leaving him in a quandary between the pleasure of luxury and violence." Perhaps she was inspired by Charles Krafft, whose porcelain hand grenades and assault rifles are equally delicate tools of aggression.

Hovering over a decision may seem intolerable, but taking the time to do so (rather than leaping in with guns blazing) gives you an opportunity to commune with yourself and determine your true intent. The swords may be heavy and your arms may ache to use them, but victory is ultimately the byproduct of aligning your actions with your true intent. Bare your teeth like an animal if you must, but you'd better hold off on biting anyone until your more evolved instincts give you permission. [Via]

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The Four Twos

If you were to merely glance at the images on these four cards, they wouldn't appear to have anything in common. If you were to read all four entries, however, you'd discover that they are all about relationships -- each of the cards brings two principles face-to-face with one another, and we get to observe them dance as they mingle or repel.

Everyone knows what numbers mean when it comes to counting, but what do they mean beyond that, and why? Since the dawn of mathematics, numbers have been seen as mystical and poetic entities. Two will never be merely "1 + 1". Two has its own world of psychological and spiritual associations that have become embedded in our consciousness over the millennia. You don't have to believe in numerology or Kabbalah to understand that, it's written into our very mythology, even our superheroes with their secret identities.

If the number one represents the unified totality of all things ("All is one" ... "All for one, and one for all!" ... "All 4 One"), then two represents the principle of duality. Maybe duality is the result of an internal schism. Maybe it's a matter of that self-contained whole catching a glimpse of its own reflection, a la Narcissus. Maybe it's an encounter with unaccounted-for entity, some sort of Other. Whatever the cause, that moment when One is no longer alone anymore is something we each have an innate understanding of, and the cards you see above examine that moment from all sides, from the perspective of each of the four elements we discussed before. Is it any wonder that the fiery, ambitious Wands would treat such a schism as a challenge to one's dominance? Or that the emotional Cups would sense an opportunity for a loving relationship?

I touched on this in my post about The Emperor and his yin/yang relationship with The Empress, one of the Tarot's many examples of duality. It gets more complicated as two become three, and three solidifies into four, and four shatters into five, and so forth... Meditating on this initial division/separation/reflection is going to be a huge help in understanding the other numbers as they pile up -- and even if you don't quite understand, you'll at least begin to see that the cards of the minor arcana amount to much more than a bunch of random ideas tacked on arbitrarily to whatever numbers seemed convenient at the time.

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Two of Cups

"Wherever Amanda is -- that's home," says Brian Cox about his wife of nine months. The Coxes aren't like most newlyweds, however. Each of them identifies as asexual, and neither have any interest in a sexual relationship with each other or anyone else. As Brian tells their story, I can't help but be fascinated by the simplicity and honesty of the couple's inexplicable bond -- a love that fulfills a mutual need, but exists for no other purpose but itself.

Psychologist Dorothy Tennov coined the term limerence to describe "an involuntary cognitive and emotional state in which a person feels an intense romantic desire for another person." While there are deeper types of romantic attraction to phase into, the initial rush we feel is its own undeniable force; aren't you glad someone came up with a properly beautiful name for it?

I think the Coxes and Dr. Tennov would all approve of the Two of Cups as an appropriate symbol for the form love takes when it first emerges. It's usually one of those cards that you can't help but understand at first sight. It's a true meeting of the hearts -- an instinctive experience which may or may not lend itself to romance, but definitely creates an opportunity for two beings to shut out the entire world and fully apprehend each other, to become aware of each other on a profoundly emotional level.

Like all things emotional, this of course can be a one-sided endeavor, in which case joy can become tinged with despair and obsession. It's still an experience worth having, however -- it comes with the territory of being human. Focus on your purest intentions, and know that every speck of love that you feel hints at your capacity to love larger when the chemistry is mutually apparent. [Via]

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Two of Swords

Who is this a portrait of? If you think you know, then get up, walk three or four yards away, and then look at your monitor from across the room. Who is it now? The two portraits are merged into one image --it's the distance we view things from that determines how we interpret what we see.

Rather than taking your own point of view for the gospel truth, it's important to remind yourself that reality has many layers, both subtle and otherwise. You're not right -- and neither are your opponents. Rather, both perspectives occupy a single territory, and your peace of mind will depend entirely on your ability to share it. The Two of Swords points the way toward this delicate balance, urging peaceful solutions and a fair and harmonious approach to opposition. It costs less mental and physical energy to make peace than to fight a war. [Via]

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Two of Wands

When developers approached Edith Macefield last year, hoping to buy her out of her home so that they could complete a massive five-story development on her property, they ran up against a brick wall. The 86-year-old woman declined their offer, even after it peaked at $1 million. "I don't want to move. I don't need the money. Money doesn't mean anything," she commented. Her iron will knocked a hole in the developers' plans, forcing them to build around her house instead of over it. Even when construction filled her whole block with noise and rubble, Edith was umoved. "I went through World War II, the noise doesn't bother me," she said. "This is my home. I wouldn't like it anywhere else."

Edith died this past Sunday. A longtime friend was quoted: "She got what she wanted: she wanted to die at home, in the same house, on the same couch, where her mother had died. That's what she was so stubborn about." The sight of her cottage embedded in the side of that five-story building has become a local landmark, becoming a potent symbol for willpower and independence. The fact that Edith herself recoiled from this attention and seemed to be baffled by all the fuss has endeared her memory to people all the more.

The Two of Wands is often referred to as "Dominion," and represents a spirit that burns with confidence and conviction, a platform from which taking risks can really pay off. In the classic Rider-Waite image, we see a well-established person surveying the land and contemplating the globe. It's clear that whether he wishes to go out and conquer (see the Three of Wands) or to fortify his current position, whatever he longs for he can have-- and whatever he chooses he will never waver from, because that choice is a true and natural expression of his identity. The calm that comes over one during times like these is very powerful. Let everyone else wear themselves out scrapping over the details; for you, it's not about struggling and fighting; it's about simply being what (or as in Edith's case, where) you are.

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Two of Coins

Meet the oloid. You make one by placing one circle perpendicular to another and then sinking them midpoint-deep into each other. Follow the link for many examples, some of which show the oloid in action. As improbable as it looks, it's one of the three dimensional shapes that can roll with ease, and "its gentle, rhythmic motion is extremely effective in mixing, aerating and purifying."

It's as if the Two of Coins and the oloid were made for each other-- or never separate to begin with! The card acknowledges seriously topsy-turvy changes in one's life or surroundings; this upheaval is reminiscent of the shape's weird tumbling motion, which is just as harmoniously navigated and reflexively balanced. The figure seen on the card is often a juggler of some sort, but pretty much anyone can juggle two of something, so his job's not that hard. Often a symbol for infinity [i.e. ∞] winds around the coins, and that too mirrors the oloid's Möbius strip-like allure. It's the most basic card of this very earth-bound suit, and for good reason: the world is always shifting under and around us, and if you can't learn to manage this basic ebb and flow with finesse, then how will you ever be able to get a grip on more complicated shapes-- er, I mean situations?

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