Tarot and the Tree of Life

by Isabel Radow Kliegman

  I’ll never get to be all that I am. No wonder Leonardo da Vinci didn’t finish most of his paintings. He was busy inventing airplanes and writing strange manuscript you can read only if you hold it up to a mirror. The more gifted we are, the more difficult the challenge.

  It becomes clear now, I believe, why this image appears in Tiferet. Here, at the center of the Tree, at the place of perfect balance, we see the perpetual challenge of balancing in our own lives the divinely inspired soul, and the necessary body. It is as well the place of the sacrificed god. The choices we make always involve sacrifice, usually sacrifice of a divine part of ourselves. I once did a reading for a young woman who could not understand why the Six of Pentacles showed up for her. She was involved in a relationship with a respectful, loving man who was her writing partner and whom she was about to marry. Together they developed scripts for television and film, and she swore that she was entirely happy. By “chance,” it emerged later in the reading that the writing had left her with no time for her first love—photography. As she put it, the scripts might never be produced, but in the darkroom, she could always see the fruits of her labor within a matter of hours. Her God-given talent as a photographer was being crucified to her personal relationship and her gifts as a writer.

  Of course the Six of Pentacles can operate on a mundane level. Should I cook tonight or go through the filing cabinet? Will I explore a new friendship or spend the time in meditation? The card suggests setting up schedules within which we can function comfortably so that our lives are in order—yet not at the expense of creative expression. How do we know which interpretation to put on the Six of Pentacles? That is where the fun comes in. That’s up to you. It’s a matter of intuition, experience, sensitivity.

  The interactive reader will already have noticed that the Six of Pentacles is another separation card, the third we have seen in the suit. How the separation is to be interpreted depends on the interpretation of the card as a whole. If what we see is disparity of power in a personal or work relationship, the separation can be seen as a want of empathy, a lack of compassion, an inability or unwillingness to experience the situation from the perspective of the disadvantaged. It is in fact the ultimate I-it relationship in which human beings are reduced to objects, useful or not, deserving or unworthy, but whose feelings are never acknowledged, much less considered. If, on the other hand, the standing figure is seen to be exercising judgment with the intention of appropriate, balanced action, the separation can be understood as detachment. We then see the crucifying of ego for the sake of cultivating a larger perspective, the recognition—in my brother’s case, for instance—that it’s not right for me to give you a cap gun if it is I, and not you, who wants it. Again, the Sun of Tiferet gives us a lucid view of the situation as it really is, while the heart chakra is moved to care for the less fortunate or less evolved.

  Seven of Pentacles

  We move now to Netzach, the seventh sefirah associated with Venus and the top of the right hip, and to the place of the Seven of Pentacles. I think what we see here is best expressed by saying, “Is that all there is? There must be more to life.” This is not a card of failure; it is a card of success without fulfillment. Here we see a gardener. He has sown, he has cultivated, and he is reaping a bumper crop of pentacles, so plentiful that they cover the vine. Gee, does he look happy! Not exactly. His whole demeanor, from his facial expression to the heaviness of his body as he leans on his hoe, conveys dejection. But why isn’t he satisfied? Could it be that it’s time for that caretaker to move out of his carefully cultivated garden and climb the mountain?

  The dark side of the Seven of Pentacles is the inability ever to feel satisfied. Here we see the perfectionist, the person of such ambition that nothing will, nothing ever can, be enough. That’s a sad place to be. The “Desiderata” very wisely advises us to enjoy our accomplishments as well as our plans. For some people perfectionism is a curse. It seems impossible for them to say, “Boy, I really did that well. It came out just right. I feel good about that.” It’s always “But there could have been…” or “I should have done.…”

  The positive side of the Seven of Pentacles is the budding of self-awareness. In the Rider deck the figure is depicted wearing one brown boot and one that is distinctly orange. Even after I had focused on this peculiarity, it took years for its meaning to reveal itself to me. A man who wears boots that don’t match must be considered a nonconformist. Perhaps his dissatisfaction stems from his being successful at work that does not express his values, gifts, and desires. Perhaps this is the wealthy third-generation neurosurgeon who always wanted to be a jazz saxophonist. When we realize that material gain and success in the eyes of others leave us empty, we have taken the first step to discovering what Joseph Campbell refers to as our “bliss.”

  Netzach, we recall, is called “victory,” but it is also the vessel from which our passion flows. The success of the morose gardener challenges us to examine our preconceptions about what constitutes victory in our own lives. Making a lot of money? Outdoing a perceived competitor? Achieving a stated goal? How about graduating from college? Any of these may be victories, but none carries that guarantee. In The Graduate, Ben, the protagonist, celebrates his triumph in scuba gear at the bottom of the family swimming pool to escape the party being held in his honor. In the Seven of Pentacles, we see the hollowness of victory without passion and the moment at which we experience the need for passionate involvement in our lives.

  Eight of Pentacles

  We move on to Hod, the eighth sefirah associated with the top of the left hip and the mercurial quality of intellect, and to the place of the Eight of Pentacles. We see here quite a simple image compared to some of the others we have looked at. It is a workman, diligent and skilled. Look at his body language. He likes what he’s doing. He’s comfortable with it. And he’s working at something he does well, something in which he has developed expertise. His pentacles, all perfectly crafted, hang before him and lie at his feet as he works away happily at his chosen occupation. This is a very nice card. It is a quiet card. In some ways, it’s the best that the Suit of Pentacles has to offer. It’s a card of finding the way to be content in this world, to enjoy our work and to do it willingly and happily.

  I am blessed with a cleaning woman who sings while she works, and you should see her eyes light up when she tells me about a new product that really makes things sparkle. She is not a stupid person. She is extremely bright, perceptive, insightful, and quick. At twenty-seven, she has four children. She loves her work. I am sure she is a wonderful mother, a wonderful wife. She knows how to enjoy whatever it is she does. She does it as well as she possibly can and takes pleasure in what she achieves. What a blessing!

  What’s the negative of this card? What we see here is that a formula has been derived for doing something very well, perhaps perfectly. If you’re an artist, this can be a dangerous card. We’ve all gone, for our sins, to outdoor art shows and seen the same face that Keene decided was endearing appearing on different bodies: huge round eyes and perhaps a single falling tear. Everything in the painting changes except the face, because Keene derived a formula that he thought worked. That is not the artistic process. Art is the process of taking chances, leaving the garden, going up to another level on the mountain of truth. Between shows, Jackson Pollack used to leave off painting for months to assure breaking any habits he might have slipped into. Jim Dyne speaks of wanting to paint, “not with his left hand—but resisting the movement of his right hand with his left.” The artist’s work is to push the envelope of experience and creativity, to experiment, explore, and seek a truer mode of expression. So if you are an artist and this card shows up, examine very carefully whether you are becoming facile.

  However, if you are a craftsman, a scientist, an engineer, and you’ve come up with a reliable formula, the Eight of Pentacles praises you for your work. If you are a cardiac surgeon and you have perfected a procedure, this is a reassuring card. If I were undergo
ing open-heart surgery, I would want the doctor who had performed ten thousand operations, all the same way, all with the same result. I would not seek out the creative soul who, at 6 A.M. on the Tuesday of my surgery, might choose to get inventive. “I’m tired of this same old procedure. Today I want to try something entirely new. I wonder will happen if I go in through…the back!”

  If you have attuned yourself to the concept of separation cards, you probably noticed at once that the Eight of Pentacles falls into this group. How are we to interpret the nature of the separation of the craftsman from the town? He has positioned his work bench far from others as well as setting it on the hallmark stage of the separation cards. Here I believe the separation is a mental one; the physical distance is the artist’s way of suggesting distance of thought. What we see in the figure so absorbed in his work is how focus and concentration isolates us from the mundane surroundings that would otherwise distract us from our work. Those of us who have been deeply involved in creative or scholarly work have had the experience of finding ourselves suddenly famished, only to realize that it is 5:30 P.M. and we haven’t had breakfast yet. Immersion in the process has cut us off from the sounds of traffic, the passing hours, the foot we’ve been sitting on since noon that has fallen asleep.

  We can now see the association of the Eight of Pentacles with Mercury, the mental planet, as well as with the sefirah Hod, which means “glory” or “splendor.” Only the glorious human mind is capable of the sustained and concentrated attention without which work of consistent quality cannot be produced.

  The top of the right hip, associated with Netzach, and the top of the left hip, associated with Hod, come together in the chakra system at the solar plexus. This is the chakra of our groundedness, our solidity in the world. It is interesting to think about, as well as to feel the relationships between the Seven and Eight of Pentacles, in terms of the work we undertake in the world. Perhaps the cards suggest that we must know in a conscious way what our true work is. If we do not, the work, regardless of its evaluation by others, will never express our true feelings and therefore never engage our passion. Consequently, it is destined to leave us empty and dissatisfied.

  Nine of Pentacles

  We come next to Yesod, the Foundation, the place of the unconscious, and the Nine of Pentacles. Attentive readers among you may have noticed that this is the image that appears on the cover of the book you are reading at this very moment. This is because the Nine of Pentacles decided that she was my card. When I started working with the cards and read the handy-dandy handbook that came with the deck, it said things like “Choose this card for yourself if you are under forty and have hazel eyes and brown hair,” or “Choose this card for yourself if you are a very young woman or a young man.” I tried to figure out my coloring and gauge the answer: “Am I a Queen of Pentacles? No, I’m not that dark. I’m too old to be a page, and I’m not male enough to be a knight.” While I was worrying and calculating, the Nine of Pentacles just kept turning up, turning up, turning up. In every reading, there she was. Finally I thought, “Oh, so that’s my card!” And it feels absolutely right.

  While the Tarot-for-simpletons pamphlets usually direct the novice to “find their card,” the only benefit I can see accruing to this procedure is to involve the newcomer with the deck early on. Any device that encourages time with the cards and scrutiny of detail will pay off for the reader. If identifying with a card immerses you in the magic of the Tarot, so much the better. My caution is against simplistic formulae for choosing or discovering a card to represent yourself, based on superficial externals like age and coloring. If you long for a card to represent you, invite one to declare itself. Ask the deck to get into cahoots with your own unconscious and produce the synchronicity that will answer your need.

  It’s important when we’re working with the cards to remember that we are the final authority. Our intuition is king and whatever it is we see is the final truth. There is no way to make a mistake. It’s very helpful to know something about the cards, but we learn more by perceiving the cards than by looking to someone else.

  The Nine of Pentacles: what is there about her which is so appealing to so many people? The first thing I see, because of my feelings about the physical world, is someone who is totally at one with nature. She is in a garden, and the garden is producing a great harvest of grapes and pentacles. There is a feeling of abundance. On her hand she holds a member of the animal kingdom, a falcon, with whom she is on easy terms. Fierce and powerful, he sits quietly and gently on the hand of his mistress. There is an elegance, grace, and serenity to her demeanor, an air of peace, a quiet appreciation and joyfulness.

  What many fail to notice, however, is that there is another animal in the card. It’s a snail. Yuck! What is he doing on the card?

  No, not “Yuck.” He’s part of the natural world. She accepts him in the same way she accepts the bounty of the garden and the falcon. He’s welcome. He’s part of it all. He’s part of us. You can’t be at one with nature unless you are at one with all of nature, and being at one with the nature “out there” is a metaphor for being at one with your own internal nature. If you can’t enjoy a garden unless it is free from snails and other pests, unless each leaf and flower is perfect, you will never enjoy a garden. Similarly, if you cannot accept yourself because of your flaws and failings, if you cannot accept yourself as worthy of abundance and love unless you are perfect, you will never enjoy yourself. The snail represents our human failings; the serenity that the lady’s demeanor expresses is the peace that comes from really being comfortable with yourself, really liking yourself just as you are.

  In the far distance on the right of the card is the lady’s manor house. She wears patrician dress. There is no feeling here of the holiness of poverty. In certain Christian sects there is a belief that we have to give up the material world in order to get closer to God. We have to mortify the flesh. That’s not part of the Kabbalistic tradition, it’s not part of the Jewish tradition, and it’s certainly not at all what we see in Tarot. Abundance is wonderful! God gives us the world to enjoy and luxuriate in. There is no apology for being successful and well dressed, for having a big, beautiful house and magnificent gardens.

  Now, what about the falcon? The falcon represents, I believe, the soaring human spirit. Why is it hooded? The falcon flies when the lady decides that the falcon may fly. She is capable of intense feeling, of enormous creative and emotional expression, but she is not a slave to her passions. She is not addicted to them. The hooded falcon is the symbolic representation of choice through discipline.

  What does it takes to train a falcon? What does it takes to train a puppy? To train the dog, you first train yourself to be aware of what the dog is doing all the time, because if your attention wanders he will surely have an “accident.” You train yourself to get up at five-thirty or six o’clock in the morning to take the puppy out whether you want to or not. That’s how you train a dog. First you train yourself.

  The way to train a falcon is first to train yourself. The mastery and the discipline are over the self first. The bird does not fly free and terrorize the lady’s doves and pigeons and pluck out the eyes of her pet dog, but neither has she strangled the falcon, caged it, or clipped his wings. She has created the choice of when to let that falcon—that spirit, creative energy, emotional intensity—fly free and express itself and when to control, restrain, and deny it. What a wonderful capacity to have in a relationship, in creative work, in anything we do.

  Ted Falcon, a Seattle-based rabbi, talks about responsibility as response and ability. What he tells us is that the more aware we are of our lack of self-worth (Five of Pentacles) and our insecurity (Four of Pentacles), the more we are able to respond to what we see. If I am aware of my violent tendencies, it doesn’t mean I have to act them out. Being aware that I would like to pick up a heavy object and fling it through a window doesn’t mean I have to do it. My awareness gives me a choice. If I’m not aware of my rage and violence,
I’m much more likely to be inflamed to action. Once I know what my nature is, whether it is sexual, spiritual, aggressive, or creative, I can decide when to let it free and when to contain it. That’s what the falcon means.

  The Nine of Pentacles, then, represents self-realization, abundance, and creativity through self-acceptance and self-discipline. What can be the down side of this card?

  Well, the lady is all alone. I’ll bet she gets lonely from time to time. I’ll bet it would be very nice for her to have some companionship. The problem with the Nine of Pentacles is the problem of isolating ourselves from other people. We may cut ourselves off from communication and contact and relatedness, sacrificing all of that for our own development. Perhaps we even use our own inner development as a screen for feeling uncomfortable or inadequate out there in the world. Many are the so-called intellectuals, scholars, and scientists who sequester themselves to pursue their research, but in so doing avoid the human contact of which they feel incapable or terrified. Their isolation perhaps frustrates the people who are around them—their children, their wives, their husbands. The negative aspect of the Nine of Pentacles can represent people who are always working on “something greater” in a very disciplined way, but who, unable to accept the snail, never seem to have the time to take the hood off the falcon. (Can you find the other person in the card? Is the lady’s isolation about to end?)