January 3, 2010 - The Four of Quills (Swords)

I realize I have the Western habit of associating progress with forward motion, with doing, every time I draw a tarot card. If I can feel a forward movement, if there is something I can do or be, I get that. I feel it as progress. Surmount this, do that. Of course. Where do I go? What action do I take? What dragon do I slay? But what happens when I get a card that turns me toward the past? And what about a card that says, "take a break, rest. You don't always have to be doing to move along your path?"

The Four of Swords is a card of pausing, recuperating, contemplating, reviewing, and consolidating resources for the next phase. I recently read that what we have lost in our culture is the remembrance that progress is a cycle, that do is followed by reflection before we can do again. It's how our muscles work, a series of contractions and extensions, a dance of move and pause. We have lost the cycle of contemplation, always doing, moving. Yet without the reflection how do we know we are moving the right way, doing what we truly want. The Four of Swords is that reminder, that to everything there is a season, and this is the season of pause, reflect, prepare. In the Magician's wheel, the understanding of when to be silent is the last element, the North, and it is critical amid will and daring and knowing, to pause, to wait, to listen for an answer. If life is a conversation, and I believe it is, then I must allow life to take its turn. It will anyway. When I forget that is when I hurt myself.

In the Jane Austen Tarot, the Four of Quills is represented by Marianne Dashwood recovering from her broken heart and subsequent illness. Marianne loved intemperately and gave her heart completely to a man who, as much as he loved her, chose an heiress over love. Or maybe it's not about love versus not, but rather degrees of love, of good enough, of adding up the columns and deciding to lose a bit in heartfelt love for the increased security money brings. The key is not to judge. The key, at least what this card is telling me, is to avoid the intemperate, emotionalism of Marianne, the all or nothing, the sensibility and sensitivity without sense. I was Marianne. I was wild and intemperate. I courted illness. Having loved and lost I courted death, end, not specifically, but by breaking my heart as literally as it had been figuratively broken. No, to judge is to fall back into that despair, still more habit than not.

What Would Jane Do?

"One of the chief charms of youth is its idealism. However, one of the chief charms of youth is that it is a a period of short duration. Maturity calls for sense, as well as sensibility. Being carried away by passion can result in crises far more serious than the fortunate Marianne's. If your emotions are causing you more pain than pleasure, it may be time to reconsider your choices. Peace and serenity aid in making good decisions; chaos and torment invariably cause more of the same." P. 106