Tarot and the Tree of Life

by Isabel Radow Kliegman

  When we start to read professionally, we must be clear on our purpose. We do not read to be brilliant; we read to be helpful. It is sometimes less valuable to convey everything we see than to communicate what needs to be understood in a way that can be heard. (Remember the Six of Pentacles? We give people only the information they are ready to receive.) So I began gently nudging this gentleman from different angles. “Well, you have three children, and they all decided to live with their stepmother. Any ideas about why that might be?” Or, “Can you think of anything you might have done, in any one of these three marriages, that was not contributory to its success?” But he didn’t want to see. As a result, he took a long drive, involved himself emotionally in a consultation, paid me his hard-earned money, and left without learning anything.

  A reader can provide the insight, the intuition, and the perception, but only the querent can provide the courage. Dedication to truth, symbolized by the Suit of Swords, was not a part of his nature at that time.

  The Suit of Swords, then, is beloved to lovers of truth, to those of us who are ruthless with ourselves in the pursuit of truth. It is just because the truth can hurt that it is represented by the double-edged sword. It can as easily lacerate the wielder as the object of attack.

  The Ace of Swords

  The principle of truth above all is symbolized in the Ace by the fact that the sword pierces a crown. What this means is that nothing is beyond question, nothing is beyond challenge, nothing is too sacred to be looked at with skepticism in terms of its truth. The Suit of Swords engenders the frame of mind that proclaims, “But the emperor isn’t wearing any clothes!” There’s got to be somebody to say, “No matter how important you are, no matter how powerful you are, no matter how much harm you can do to me personally, if something isn’t true, it isn’t true. And saying it or acting as if it is true doesn’t make it so.” The Ace of Swords will pierce through any authority to address the truth.

  I had a very interesting firsthand experience of this phenomenon when I was working for CBS Cable Cultural Network. It was a marvelous conception. William Paley, who was the chairman and president of CBS at the time, had come up with the idea of a purely cultural network whose programming was ballet, opera, quality theater, and fine films. A marvelous conception that nobody watches because it has been off the air since nine months after its marvelous conception. Why? Because nobody wanted to tell Bill Paley that he’d gotten it wrong! This was Bill Paley, the founder and head of CBS! So he was saying things like, “When we take advertisers’ money, we won’t accept less than a million dollars.” That was the minimum commitment an advertiser could make! All of the Senior Executive Vice Presidents, who wanted to remain Senior Executive Vice Presidents, said “Yeah! Yeah! That’s the way we’ll do it! That’s right! That’s the way we’ll do it!”

  When this information filtered down to the sales staff, we reeled back in horror! Because we then had to go out into the real world and try to sell a brand new kind of programming idea without any of the necessary sales tools, but at an enormous price. So I call on an account executive at, say, J. Walter Thompson. I show them the promotional tape and assure them that it’s going to be terrific. Now this account executive at J. Walter Thompson doesn’t want to make the brilliant media buy of the century. What this account executive wants is to be an account supervisor next year. What he really wants is not to make any mistakes. So he says to me, “Well, how many people watch CBS cable?” And I say, “Ah…um…nobody knows because we’re not measured by Nielsen: But it is in five hundred thousand households,” I added brightly. “Yes,” he replies, “and mine is one of them. I get it free, and I haven’t watched it yet.” I was considered a crackerjack salesperson, but even I couldn’t follow that up with “Well, how about just a million?”

  Within nine months, this brilliant station went bust. There wasn’t anybody willing to pierce the crown and say, “Bill, it’s not going to work that way. You’re in fantasy land. We have to have some research, we have to have a basis on which to tell people what they’re getting for their money, how many viewers, how many subscribers. We don’t have any data! You may be the head muckity-muck here, but that’s not the way it’s going to work.” If there had been someone to tell the emperor that he wasn’t wearing any clothes, we might be enjoying CBS Cable Network today.

  There are of course more serious examples. What if there had been people in Germany who had been willing to say, when the concept of the master race was introduced, “This is a load of crap. This is garbage. Who do you think you’re kidding?” If there had been people right at the start—Jews, Germans, Poles, Rumanians, Hungarians, French, English—if there had been human beings who were willing to stand up and say, “I don’t care who you are. This is just not true,” much horror might have been avoided. But people were afraid. When there’s great power involved, we’re tempted simply to go along. “If that’s what they want to be truth, then let it be the truth.” It’s very dangerous to be surrounded by yes-men. It’s very dangerous for all of us, including the crowned one.

  Hanging from the crown are both the laurel and the palm: the laurel of victory, but also the palm of peace. We can use intellect, the sword, to win if it comes down to that, but we don’t need to. We can use it to negotiate peace. The best use of the intellect is to figure out, not how to win, but how to create a win/win situation so that everybody walks away satisfied.

  Now let’s take a look at the Ace of Swords a bit more closely. Keter, we recall, is the place where divine energy first enters the Tree. It is called the crown, where God’s presence first becomes manifest in the universe. In Keter we find the ace of each suit, and the Ace of Swords, like all the other aces, reveals the hand of God entering into the world, coming out of the heavens through a cloud, shining with a halo of white light, to offer a gift. This time the gift is honesty, clarity, and intellect. It is the gift of mind, the glorious, splendid human mind. We see as well the presence of the little flamelike Yods, the first letter of the Holy Tetragrammaton. They assure us that the gift is a gift of love. As always, they represent the presence of divine energy in the world. And since there are six of these little Yods, we are reminded of Tiferet, the heart place, the number-six sefirah, the place of the sacrificed god. We are reminded of the cost involved in the search for truth.

  We see in the background of this card the stark mountains of pure truth. There is nothing by way of foliage to soften or distract us from the truth. Nothing makes that landscape more gentle; it’s harsh and cold and unremitting. What we see is unadorned, abstract, objective truth. Here is something we cannot attain by our most powerful intuition nor by our deepest feelings: freedom from subjective experience. It can be obtained only by intellect. It alone makes possible the manifold, awesome gifts of science.

  The sword of intellect carries the power to cut through knotty problems. We may remember the myth of the Gordian knot. In ancient Greece, there was a knot of great size and complex involution that no one seemed able to undo. It was prophesied that whoever could undo the knot would rule the world. Thousands, armed with wit, patience, and strategy, tried in vain until one man came along, drew his sword, and boldly slashed through the knot. He wasn’t trapped by the preconception that he had to untie the knot, to pick at the little threads one by one. His name was Alexander the Great.

  When we receive the gift of intellect, we have the capacity to cut through illusions; there’s more than one way to undo a knot. In Eastern philosophies, the conscious mind is the bringer of maya, illusion. In Kabbalah, however, as we recall from our discussion of Hod, the thinking mind is valuable and necessary for balance. The intellect is called “glory” or “splendor,” and the Ace of Swords is the only ace in which a crown appears. As the gift of the Ace of Swords comes in through Keter, the place of the crown chakra, intellect can be seen as our crowning glory. As Keter is associated with the entire cosmos, the single standard of truth applies to all equally.

  The Two of Swords

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bsp; We move to the number-two place on the Tree, Chochma, the place of relationships. The Two of Swords is a difficult card, the first of many, and by no means the most difficult of the suit. Why is that? Because relationships don’t work very well, as a rule, if we try to figure them out. We may recall the paradigm of the Two of Cups, the greeting that is respectful, courtly, and sweet. Once we start analyzing relationships the simple joy is lost.

  What does the Two of Swords represent? We see a figure, generally perceived as female, who sits solidly by the light of the waxing moon on a square stone seat. The seat rests on a pavement at the edge of ruffled waters troubled with rocks before a far-off island. She holds two swords crossed over her chest, and she is blindfolded. How shall we begin to understand this image?

  The problems represented by this card are many. First, we are dealing with isolation, in the very sefirah whose energy is relatedness. The figure is consummately solitary. In addition to sitting alone and apart, she has blindfolded herself. Why would someone blindfold herself? Well, we don’t know, but if she didn’t want it that way, she’d put down the swords, take off the blindfold, and pick up the swords again. We’re going to be looking at a figure a little later on who doesn’t have that choice. But the Two of Swords could easily take that blindfold off if she chose, so we have to conclude that she likes it the way it is. She has covered her heart chakra with her crossed arms, closing off the feeling place. In short, she’s stuck.

  There’s a lot of stuckness in the Suit of Swords because intellect by itself often leads us into obsessional thinking. We go round and round, over and over, but we don’t get anywhere. Does that mean we should throw out intellect? No, it means we should balance and integrate intellect with our other functions of consciousness. While we need emotions to give vitality to our thoughts, we need intellect to keep us from going off the deep end emotionally.

  The Two of Swords pictures someone immobilized by a choice she is unable to make. It suggests a time when the mind fails us. We can’t figure something out. We’re on the horns of a dilemma that leaves us paralyzed. Swords can represent concepts. The dilemma may involve self-image. “On the one hand, I don’t want be selfish; on the other hand, I don’t want to be a pushover. I can’t decide what to do. I think I’ll just sit here.” Or, “When I say ‘no,’ I feel guilty; when I say ‘yes,’ I feel put out, used, and resentful. I’d better not do anything.” Or again, “I don’t want to be a coward, but I don’t want to be foolhardy. I just don’t know whether sailing a small craft in this weather is a safe thing to do.” We’ve thought the issues through over and over again, but no clear decision emerges. Chochma, we are reminded, refers to the right lobe of the brain, the intuitive, creative lobe. There is wisdom in putting up our swords, as Shakespeare might say.

  The suggestion here is that it may be a very good time to tune into the unconscious, as represented by the moon and waters and scattered rocks. This is not a card that carries the clarity of sunlight, of rational thinking. This is a card that depicts troubled waters—not turbulent, but hardly smooth. There are enough ripples to suggest activity; the unconscious is stirring. Perhaps there is dream life; maybe we can get helpful information from this source. The presence of the moon conveys the hope that some lunar influence will help us out of our dilemma. When this card shows up, we are not to rely entirely on the intellect, but to balance it with intuition and feeling. This is not the time to approach matters logically, but, with our physical eyes covered, to be open to third-eye information.

  The primary meaning of the card, however, is that there is something we don’t want to see. Why else would we choose the blindfold? But why would we choose not to see? Because we want to avoid taking action. If we don’t see, we won’t be forced to act.

  Remembering that the Two of Swords, like the twos of every suit, is associated with Chochma, the place of relationship, we can best understand the image in that context. One way to avoid leaving an unfaithful husband is not to know he is unfaithful. “The wife is the last to know”—I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere. Family, friends, and neighbors wonder why there is suddenly the need for so much overtime at the office. His mother-in-law raises an arched brow when her daughter explains why he’ll be joining the family only for weekends at the cabin this summer. The denying wife doesn’t notice the scent or lipstick on handkerchiefs when she does the laundry, nor that there are now seven, not eight, pairs of jockey shorts when she puts them away. The clues are all there; she has to blindfold herself not to see what, somewhere beyond conscious thinking, she knows. That part of her wants to believe it will blow over and she won’t have to face it. If she doesn’t want to leave her husband, she won’t see anything that will require her to do so.

  If you don’t want to confront your wife on what everyone else recognizes is a drug problem, you just don’t see it. She’s tired or over-stimulated or tense. Hey, she’s an M.D.! These are prescription medications. She knows what she’s doing!

  And I, loving the programming so much at CBS Cable, was surprised when it failed. My secretary was job hunting months before the debacle, but I couldn’t see it coming. A job that involved showing tapes of the performing arts, taking people to elegant restaurants, carried an impressive title at a top-notch company, and doubled my previous paycheck? Are you kidding? Gimme that blindfold!

  We have stressed repeatedly that every card has both a positive and a negative charge. Now, what can the positive of this card be? Well, as pertains to relationship, agreeing to disagree. And you can bet that when you meet a couple who have been happily married for thirty or forty years, they do a lot of this. The positive meaning of this card is it’s not worth fighting about.

  “You are never going to pick your socks up off the floor, and I’m tired of telling you to put your dirty underwear in the hamper. I’m tired of fighting about it. So you know what? I’ll pick up your socks and underwear and put them in the hamper. You’re a good man. I love you. It’s not worth fighting about.”

  “You know, I think you’re much too attached to your mother. I really don’t see why you have to talk to her every day and why you have to see her every weekend, but you’re a good wife and I love being married to you. So part of every weekend we’ll spend with your mother. It’s not worth fighting about.”

  “You’re never going to convert to Judaism. I’m never going to convert to Catholicism. Does that mean we don’t want to be together?”

  “I’m never going to be a Republican. You’re never going to be a Democrat.”

  “I’m never going to give up Tarot. You’re never going to believe there’s anything to it. So let’s choose what is worth focusing on and what we’re just going to let go.”

  The Two of Swords is a card of keeping the peace. It’s a card of not sacrificing a relationship to perfectionistic insistence on unflawed harmony. It’s a card of being willing not to “win.” It’s a card of not having to be right. We are, after all, in Chochma, which means “wisdom.” That’s the positive aspect of the Two of Swords, and there’s a lot of wisdom in approaching relationships that way.

  If, however, we take that virtue one step further, we are led back into difficulty. There are people who believe in peace at any price—the pleasers. Up until very recently, women were raised to be pleasers in our society. It was very difficult to ask for what we wanted, say what we meant, and insist on our own rights. In fact, many young girls are still being raised in this repressive way. Yet we don’t walk away from situations in which we have swallowed our needs and feelings without a big lump in our throat. So this card may well represent people who need to stand up for themselves.

  Before we leave the Two of Swords, we must recognize it as another of the separation cards. It is relatively clear why this stuck image is a card of separation, having to do with intellect that is out of balance. Intellect always has the function of separating us from something. As Ram Dass puts it, thinking is always about something; it is never the thing itself, so it is always one step a
way from the action. In reflecting on our emotions, to cultivate objectivity, we separate ourselves from feeling. In thinking, “I’m meditating,” we separate ourselves from the process. That’s all it takes to lose the meditative state. Intellect is a power of discernment, definition, delimiting. Unchecked, it separates us even from our own lives, leaving us on the outside of our own experience, looking in.

  Three of Swords

  We move next to Binah, the place of Saturn, the constricting influence, and we see the Three of Swords—few people’s favorite. When this card turns up in a reading, it’s difficult to clap your hands and exclaim, “How delightful! This must be your lucky day!” Yet, as always, the Three is the fulfillment of the suit.

  The essence of the Suit of Swords is the pain that comes through facing the truth and engenders growth. Not surprisingly, then, in the place of the supernal mother, where we are born into the world, into this vale of tears, as it were, we come to the quintessential card of the Suit of Swords. What good thing can we say about a card depicting a heart that is not protected by even a rib cage, much less by a chest, much less by clothing, much less by armor, but rather, is totally exposed and pierced by three swords? On the off chance that this image isn’t miserable enough, the heart is being rained on. It is not a good day for this heart!

  We don’t need to dwell on the negative aspects of the card: the Three of Swords can suggest three disasters of any kind—traumas, relationships, accidents, problems with all three of your children, for example. Or they can represent, say, work, family, and health—problems in every area of your life.