The Weekend Tarot Reading — Sunday, July 22, 2012

By Sarah Taylor

Emotions are at the forefront of this week’s reading: all Cups, all receptacles for whatever we choose to put into them (and what we choose to put into the relationships that we have with ourselves and those around us).

I have used the word ‘receptacle’ with some deliberation, because this is about receptivity rather than action. Or, rather, that receptivity — receiving — comes first, and action second. By receiving I mean either something from your environment or, more likely, something from your intuition. This is not a time to react as much as it is to feel deeply into what your body and heart are telling you, and then to move outward from that feeling, keeping in contact with it, letting it guide you.

Anyone who comes to this reading might be forgiven for falling into a state of ‘Cups overwhelm’ looking at the three cards. What to make of them? What are the different strands of the narrative that they are weaving? Is it an everything-all-at-once reading where you have little space in which to step back? Or is it that you simply need to give yourself the space to see what it is that they are telling you?

I think these questions are not just about the cards, but also the situation that the cards reflect — namely, do you value yourself enough to know and act with the understanding that things need not be rushed by the fear that you are going to miss out on the main chance?

The heart takes its own time. We might not be privy to all that happens in the wings, behind the scenes, out of earshot, when we take to the stage in the love stories of our lives. When we are out there performing, it asks for faith that we are being supported by a cast and crew that can be neither entirely apprehended nor fully controlled. That voice that whispers to you from the shadows? You can either ignore it, in which case it might feel that you’re out there alone under the spotlights. Or you can listen to its direction and see if that has the effect of easing your way around, so that you know what to do when something, or someone, new comes along.

Take a look at the Four of Cups. There is love that feels good, but which has yet to show its depth — if, that is, it has any. This is love that is focused on the material plane. It is exciting and rather lovely to look at. The seas around the four cups are clear and tranquil. The sky, nevertheless, is grey and muted. There is a sense of something not being clear, an inability to reach up and experience a sense of infinity. Likewise, as much as the sea is blue, it gives no feeling of profundity. It is like a swimming pool rather than an ocean. This is love that needs to prove its mettle. It might well be up to the task, but it takes a different form of love to love through stormy weather, to love into the unknown that lies beneath the surface.

And then the Five of Cups. Disappointment. The waters have become grey, striated with rusty lines under a hot and parching sky. It feels metallic. The cups are empty. There is nothing to give, and the lotus flowers are starting to lose their petals. The promise inherent in the Four of Cups has subsided, and the resulting picture is hard and incapable of nurturing life. What is left is something that people might say was once beautiful, but which now has little purpose.

When there is no striving for depth — which asks for faith — we cut ourselves off from the well of love that lies behind everything but requires different eyes, a dedication to the cause of love, and courage. The Ace is that well.

The Ace of Cups is love divine and eternal. This love is not subject to the limitations that we humans tend to put on what we believe love to be.

As humans, all too often we ask love to behave in certain ways, to be a certain thing for us. Not satisfied with that, we ask those around us — especially those closest to us — to fall in line with what we believe love is, shoring up our fragile assertions. And when we feel the disparity between our desires for love and the reality of our experience, we wield love as a reward, and love as a weapon. We say we are being loving when we are demonstrating every behaviour to the contrary.

The Ace of Cups is showing us something entirely different. It is pure flow, unwavering, undiscriminating, offering itself endlessly in the service of love. It has no master; it asks for no authority over others. It is its own authority, defined by two words: love is.

No matter how we choose to view love, or how we choose to work with the many different versions of so-called ‘love’ that we have on this planet, the Ace of Cups can show us that, in actuality, there is only one real love. And it is available to us without condition. This can be an uncomfortable thing to grasp, hierarchical creatures that we are, because then it means that we are no more, or less, deserving of love than anyone else. The Ace of Cups as unconditional love is the great leveller, operating outside of the bounds of what we may view as positive (Luxury) or negative (Disappointment). It recognises neither, only what is eternally real.

Trust that it knows more than you do, reach out for it, and draw from it; it is available to you right now.

If you want to experiment with tarot cards and don’t have any, we provide a free tarot spread generator using the Celtic Wings spread, which is based on the traditional Celtic Cross spread. This article explains how to use the spread.