By Sarah Taylor
The Five of Disks. Worry. “Worry” being the only word in English on the card. And the illustration is unambiguous: a male figure, standing alone in a barren landscape, carrying the weight of five spheres, stone trajectories travelling at speed towards him.
He is a Hercules-like figure, shouldering the burden of a physical reality by himself. It feels so all-encompassing that even the Sun has been obscured, its source apparent behind the upper-most disk.
What little evidence of life — a tree to his left — has been torn from the ground, its roots exposed, its trunk and branches bare. There is a sense of ‘rootlessness’; a lack of feeling connected to anything but the five disks resting on what seems to be his hands. Which feels significant: they look heavy, and his upper back is rounded, but he holds them in a way that would be impossible in physical reality. He is managing the burden, but it also takes up all of his resources, and they hold him in place. It is a delicate and demanding balancing-act.
And the Knight of Cups is wholly focused on him. The Knight’s role feels similar to that of the Prince of Cups last week, who closed his eyes and contemplated the Five of Cups — another Five — meditatively, his presence opening the way for something new. This week, the Prince has grown into the King, his eyes now open and light-filled, a red rose superimposed on his left cheek.
There is a feeling of bringing a higher consciousness to the Five of Disks — of transmuting “worry” into a state of being in relationship through devotion. The Knight, although the only figure on his card, is defined through relatedness, the words on the card indicative of this:
“ability to give,” “devotion to a loved person,” “to reach higher emotional levels,” “SPIRITUAL RELATIONS,” [caps artist’s own] “family of one’s choice”.