When Getting Unstuck

means stopping saying everything is fine

I’ve been playing a pretty good game the past few months, one that goes against my nature. I’ve been going with the flow, sitting in a state of neutrality, awaiting change to wash over me versus acting to face and make change. In other words, I’ve been a little bit stuck. Sometimes it feels like the Two of Swords, peacefully meditating on a dualistic choice and deciding to just keep on waiting for the right decision to come to me. More often of late it feels like the Eight of Swords, trapped by a multitude of decisions, potential consequences, impacts. These two Swords cards have a lot in common: both blindfolded, both surrounded by water, both female figures, both swords (obviously). These are the only two cards in the Rider Waite Smith deck which show figures blindfolded. Swords, as we know are the seat of intellect, of communication, of curiosity, anxiety, the unhelpful monkey mind, even telling ourselves lies. The lie I’ve been telling myself, is that I am still in the Two of Swords mode when really I’ve turned into the Eight.

I tell people in readings to look carefully at the card when we draw the Eight of Swords. She is blindfolded and bound, with eight swords stuck in the mud on either side of her. At first it looks like she is physically trapped. But upon further consideration it becomes obvious that her blindfold and bindings are quite loose, and that the swords do not surround her completely. She is standing in muddy water. But she isn’t drowning. And the presence of water in both of the Swords cards, especially with the moon in the Two of Swords, reminds us that the connection between our minds and our hearts runs deep. This is the kind of mental ruminating which is at its heart emotional and intuitive.

With the Two of Swords, our figure is calmly holding the swords pointing in two directions. She sits with the water to her back on a stone bench. She is choosing not to be in the waters of confusion and emotional distress. She is blindfolded by choice, wearing white to emphasize serenity, taking her time to decide—the blindfold allows her to look inward. She is choosing not to see…yet. With the Eight, she is clothed in red, a color of inner turmoil, maybe even rage. She is bound but can release herself whenever she wishes, not unlike the chains we see in the Devil card. She is standing in the water, really the mud, and only she can get herself out. She is turned away from the city on a hill, her home, which is perhaps also her oppressor. She is between here and there. It is time to move. Who among us wants to remain standing in the mud?

I don’t know what she decides to do. The decision itself isn’t as important as the need to see what is really there, the muddiness of it all, and finally take action, even if the action isn’t so much physical movement but a mental and emotional change of perspective, a metaphorical removal of the blindfold. The idea of blindfolding makes me think of the children’s game, Pin the Tail on the Donkey. What makes the game amusing is the participant’s inability to see and moving forward to put that pin somewhere, seeing where it lands. If the tail ends up on the head…hilarious! When the Two of Swords evolves toward the Eight of Swords, it is time to take off the blindfold and stick the tail where it belongs, on the donkey’s ass (pun intended).

Rachel Pollack describes the Eight of Swords as what can happen when those in positions of power “train people to believe in their own helplessness,” with the blindfold signifying confusion, a kind of self-gaslighting. The Two of Swords is quiet, contemplative, peaceful, in control of both swords. The Eight must remove her blindfold and see clearly what is at hand, and it is hard. The Eight must pick a sword, any sword, and try it on for size.

I’d love to know what swords you are choosing right now, what makes it hard to decide, how loose or tight your blindfold feels right now. We’re in this together.

xoHanna