The Three of Swords

Heartbreak.

It’s obvious when you look at the card -- three swords piercing a tender bloodied heart. Disappointment. Upheaval. Endings. Rejection. Betrayal. Isolation. This is the Tarot at its most visual and visceral. It evokes physically what its symbolizes metaphysically.

I’ve only seen it once before, in a spread of cards so full of anguish that I didn’t even read it at the time. I just wrote each card down, noted the positions, closed my notebook. A friend came in, saw the cards laid out on the bed and asked me what they said. I just swept them clear, wrapped the deck back in its cloth and tucked it away. “Pain,” I said. “Lots of pain.”

And so here it is again, today. And it gives me that same sinking feeling.

I don’t believe in fortune-telling. Fate and destiny lie in our nature and our nurture more than in our stars. But I believe that our intuition hides the truth from us, sometimes, and that certain images and metaphors tease that meaning from the shadows that our psyches throw. I believe we see things, and we know, if we allow ourselves that knowledge.

Maybe I believe the universe sends us little hints now and then, this card or that, falling into place, making a pattern. Maybe not. But I believe in the power of those messages, even if they’re coming from my own head.

Heartbreak. Our one undeniable birthright.