Disguised As Fools

Relationships are hard.

Underneath even the most harmonious of friendships, there can be delicate dynamics at work, capable of falling to pieces at a moment’s notice. For a mutually nourishing connection to survive trying times, it requires emotional stability and self-security from all parties – so naturally, problems often arise.

But the 3 of Swords speaks of an earthquake in a relationship, not a passing summer storm.

Betrayal.

Devastating disappointments in those you trusted most.

Loss, grief, deep emotional wounds and possibly even despair.

Yet, the heart in the image remains whole. It is still full and resilient. Wounded, but not torn to shreds or bleeding to death. There is hope of recovery.

This isn’t to trivialise the event. In the real world of complex human emotions, “you’re over it” doesn’t quite apply.

How do you let go of old resentments and very real wrongs done, when they have huge impacts on your life? How do you get over the sense that if you can’t trust those closest to you, you cannot trust anyone?

I look first of all at the nature of all the 3s in tarot:

The 3s are the first step towards building something stable: the first foundational part, if you like. As the great Kelly-Ann Maddox put it, way back in ye olden days of internet tarot discussion – the 3s are adding a third leg to a two-legged stool.

Stability.

Progress.

The first step towards something more permanent and secure.

In this way, the 3 of Swords might be seen as a vital step towards an important lesson which may be deeply unpleasant but necessary for growth.  A lesson about who to trust, and who to be wary of next time around. It is also a lesson about yourself: how you react to this wound may define the pattern of your life for many years after. Since the core wounding of this card’s themes is an emotional one, it makes logical sense to look to the Cups for a possible comparison.

Now, at first glance, the 3 of Cups looks like the antithesis of what you need, want, or are remotely capable of after an event like the 3 of Swords – which is why in the wisdom of the tarot, the next card in that suit – the 4 of Swords – is about rest, recuperation, recovery and sanctuary. But remember the warning the 4 of Swords contains: don’t let your sanctuary become a tomb. You’re here to recover, not to give up – this is a respite, not a death.

To this end, the 3 of Cups has a great deal to offer.

Another 3, another beginning, building towards something, this time it’s building towards emotional stability and security. To use an outdated term: “finding your tribe”. Seeking community where your sense of emotional fulfilment comes not from outside validation, but from an internal feeling of belonging.

Acceptance.

Celebration.

Leading to joyfulness again, and renewed energy.

So often we self-medicate heartaches with isolation. For me, the natural progression of that choice in life leads inexorably from the 3 of Swords, to a very shadowy aspect of the King.

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King of Swords…
Rigid, defensive, on high alert; in this aspect of post-traumatic defence, the butterflies on my granite throne don’t signify an ability to transform or be flexible – or even flights of the intellect and imagination – they say that I have already undergone my transformation, and I am now set in stone.
I was made into this. I hold that sword as tight as all my pain, betrayals, resentments and grudges, and the idea of letting them go feels like dismissing their profound and devastating impact on my life.
In my isolation, I am never troubled by new perspectives. I have dug in for the long haul. So much so, it never occurs to me that I might still be in a state of fight or flight: I might still be surrounded by enemies.

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The 3 of Cups asks you to live a little – not for anyone’s else’s sake but your own. When was the last time you kicked off your shoes and danced? When was the last time you dropped your heavy burdens, and had fun?

For many who have passed through a particularly powerful three of Swords, that has been an aspect of life that no longer feels possible.

Yet here they are. Three women with their cups raised to each other. They celebrate one another – their successes, their triumphs, their joy at being alive, but they also commiserate their trials and losses. 

They give witness and process to all the cycles of life.

They are emotionally supporting and fulfilled.

Each bears a cup that is constantly being replenished by the mutual well of community.

They share their energy when yours is low, and by learning to do the same once again, you open your soul to the balance and harmony of the aspects of life which we see so beautifully embodied by the angel of the Temperance card, and the mystic in The Star card, who pour the waters of life back and forth in that life-giving exchange and balance, which is a natural state of bliss beyond compare.

The stability offered by the 3 of Cups is not precarious, or contingent. It is not sacrificial or self-denying. It is wholesome, and healing, and joyful.

If the 3 of Swords that cut you so deeply may be seen as the physician’s wise intervention, then perhaps those three raised cups hold exactly the right medicine for your recovery.

We were not made to be alone always. The lone wolf may starve in the heat, or freeze to death in the winter. In community, where one is accepted, celebrated and valued, all things are possible; and missing aspects like peace, hope, pleasure and giggling may be restored.

Isolation may indeed be a wiser choice than staying in a community or situation that is harmful, and if there is peace in it, it can be as nourishing and secure as community, but if one is not really at peace; not even really alone, if the ghosts of things past torment us: if we are unable to leave the psychological tangle alone, if we are nursing wounds that need seeing to, then for certain, alone is the worst place to be.

The challenge of the 3 of Swords is acknowledging that the wounded heart is not broken and is far from dead.

It wasn’t meant to die from that wounding, and it wants to be seen.

It wants to beat hard, for joy and adventure.

It wants to race again. It wants to regulate with other hearts and feel safe.

It wants you to kick off your shoes and dance.

Because the swords that pierced it in the past are not a threat to it now, but withering away in the cage of self-neglect masking as self-protection may be a very real danger.

As always, thanks for reading.

Good Luck, and Go On