Wednesday, 17 June 2015

When Court Cards go Wrong Part Three: Questionable Queens


Even in upright positions the tarot cards are not univocal or one-dimensional. There are shades, shadows, reflections, inflections and layers of meaning to each card. Often whether you read the cards "positively" or "negatively" depends on the theme of the reading, their position and their relation to other cards in a spread.

With the Court cards we know that they can represent a theme, a situation or an event. A Page (or Princess) can also be a message or piece of news. However, more usually they are people. Sometimes the querent, more frequently someone the querent knows, has known, or is about to know.

But what if it's not a happy sight? What unwelcome qualities could the Courts betoken in a person? What might they look like on a bad day?

Here's a Psyche Profile of the Court cards in their less likeable guise. Of course, it should be noted that they don't exhaust a personality; they only highlight those qualities or characteristics most pertinent to the issue at hand. 

Images are from the Radiant Rider-Waite Tarot, US Games Systems Inc. 

Missed the others? Find them below:

Queen of Wands
She's warm, she's witty, she's smart. The Queen of Wands has oodles of energy, upbeat determination and exuberance. Nothing holds her back, little can get her down. She bounces in, dazzles, and steals the show. She's life and verve, good cheer and fortitude. She's bewitching, enchanting. 

On a bad day the Queen of Wands is, uh, not so likeable. She's hostessing at her Tupperware party, furiously stacking up displays of plastic boxes for cakes, salads, sandwiches, bread; all sorts of shapes and sizes of box for sale. She's dressed up for it in an eye-catching outfit and toiled for weeks networking to secure a large posse of people. She darts around engagingly, chatting and smiling but when Mrs Withers begins to question her taste and her prices our Queen feels a flicker of indignation. 

Mrs Withers doesn't like plastic. She doesn't think the boxes look hygienic. She isn't sure that this isn't a reflection on the kinds of people who would hold very basic Tupperware parties. The Queen's flicker of resentment surges into a flame of outrage. She isn't going to budge on the prices and furthermore - as she points out in an overly-loud voice - it seems that SOME people at the party are deficient in both finances and manners. Mrs Withers complains that cats at Tupperware parties contravene Health and Safety regulations. 

Our Queen of Wands lifts a particularly large plastic box, removes the lid, and announces that the boxes have multiple functions, such as inexpensive yet waterproof hats, and rams it over Mrs Withers's carefully coiffed up-do. All eyes are focused on her. Ordinarily that might be something she would enjoy. But she forgot that this was the centre-piece display box. Complete with show-case skillets of fillets of fish. Her confidence evaporated. Bits of fish were everywhere: on frocks, in hair, and splattered all over the floor. 

Hateful to everyone. 
But the cat loved it.

Queen of Cups
The Queen of Cups is compassionate and calm. She'll understand your deepest feelings. She's intuitive and kind; introspective, empathic and generous. She is loving and caring, wise, at home with her emotions and able to soothe your troubled brow.

Gone wrong, the Queen of Cups is a watery mess. Her performance at the rehearsals was criticized by Giles, the red-nosed roundish man who was playing Romeo. He had had more experience than her on the stage, and at least one (albeit indifferent) review actually published. 

She had been hanging on his every word of support and encouragement. She even fancied he rather admired and adored her, and not just as Juliet. Apparently she hadn't got the Balcony scene right. Yet she knew just how Juliet was feeling, how tragically torn and bereft! How heartfelt and sincere, how loyal and true! She had portrayed these emotions perfectly in her performance. Hadn't she? 
She sobbed a little and sniffled off-stage to grab a hankie and a handful of her anti-anxiety tablets. It was obvious Giles didn't like her and clearly wasn't happy with her playing Juliet. She would have to ask him if he still liked her and still wanted her to play Juliet. Perhaps she could iron his costume for him. Perhaps he would like her again then. What if he didn't? What if it wasn't about her performance of Juliet but about HER? Oh my god. 

Oh my god! Here he was! Coming towards her. 

She clutched at her hanky and tearfully demanded to know why he hated her. 

Romeo was baffled. He insisted he didn't and that his criticism had nothing to do with her acting. 
She had simply learned the wrong lines. 


Queen of Swords
The Queen of Swords is a nimble, witty and incisive thinker. She's efficient and independent, organized and hard to fool. She is limpidly clear-headed and forthright, composed and emotionally aloof. She's a brilliantly impartial judge and will tend to connect with you via thought rather than sentiment. 

The Queen of Swords on an aggravating day is pointed in two directions. She may swing between losing her usual cool and becoming histrionic or she may turn into the worst possible unapproachable Miss Frosty. At the moment she's lurching both ways. 

She's spent a year writing a novel and just received it back from her copy-editor. Who has virtually rewritten the whole thing. The Queen is astonished and outraged. It was supposed to be a tight murder mystery, ultra clever twisty plot, and the characters - well, needn't bother about those too much, they were just coat hooks to hang the plot put on - and the entire thing controlled, measured, perfectly paced and focused. No distractions. 

Now it was unrecognizable. Now it was full of humour, pathos, potted character histories, dialogue, warmth, intimate disclosures, scenic embellishments: in short, now it had (oh my god!) PERSONALITY! Just what she didn't want! 

Godamnit, she asked for copy-editing not ghost writing! Furious, and losing all perspective, the Queen sweeps the manuscript off the table, together with everything else on the table. And screams. And shouts. And yells wildly with numerous obscene punctuations. 

Finally she bursts into pitiful sobbing and crying. Ruined, ruined, a year's worth of work totally, utterly, irrecoverably ruined! 
She manages to compose herself sufficiently to reply to the copy-editor. She collects up the scattered pages of the MS and proceeds to criticize and point out the injustice of each and every correction and adaption. This she does in minute detail with the remorseless efficiency of a newly sharpened scalpel. She excises and analyzes each extra full stop. Cold logic must rule the day or her murder mystery just does not work for the genre. It's not chick-lit, a romance or a psychological suspense mystery. 

Ping. It's an email. From the copy editor. Who has simply sent it off, complete with the revisions and without consultation. The Queen feels a surge of primal fury beginning to tower up from somewhere deep and usually repressed inside her. 

Her eye skips down a few lines. It's been accepted. Accepted? A publisher is going to publish it? Her novel? Her wonderfully emotionally engaging story with all that charismatic personality?
The Queen screams and cries but this time with rapturous delight. 

Queen of Pentacles
The Queen of Pentacles is grounded, resourceful, practical, and creates a secure and loving home. She's effective, organized, and nurturing. You can depend on her realistic approach, her protectiveness, her mastery of the material world, and her common sense. 

The  Queen of Pentacles is at home. She's worn out because she's trying to do much. 

Wilbert had told her they could have someone to help with the domestic round and the childcare - especially since the Queen is trying to run her own accountancy business from home at the same time - but she didn't want any help.

As the breakfast toast was burning, the house rabbit was most insistently asking for attention, the children had refused to get dressed, and her inbox was so full it was splitting the bandwidth into a resolution of quantum chaos theory, she nonetheless replied that she perfectly capable of coping with it all. She was not a Bad Mother. 

Wilbert hid behind the newspaper. Again. And chomped through burnt toast. Again. And essayed to chivvy the children into clothes. Again. He might need to arrange supper. The Queen would no doubt still be immersed in her accounts. Wilbert was worn out too. 
Eventually Wilbert leaves for work and our Queen of Pentacles is absorbed in the accountancy work. The children are in the kitchen decanting bags of flour and sugar over the floor. The rabbit is gazing imploringly up at her at her, hoping to be stroked, interspersed with impatient scrabbling in an effort to secure her attention. 

Suddenly, a shriek. Irritated, the Queen thoughtlessly plonks the papers and laptop on the floor and scuttles to the kitchen. Chocolate sauce and the contents of the fridge have joined the flour and sugar. The Queen shrieks. It's going to take forever to clean up the kids and the kitchen. 

When Wilbert returns from work the Queen of Pentacles is at the doorstep announcing that they now have home-help starting first thing tomorrow. It was imperative. She cannot continue multi-tasking when the tasks were too multiple and never successfully completed before a new multiple task arose. Wilbert is astonished. Help? When has she ever wanted help? All becomes clear over their evening take-away meal. 

Whilst cleaning up the disaster in the kitchen the rabbit had taken matters into its own paws. Not only had it nibbled up and consumed all the paperwork dropped on the floor, it had found it a great deal of fun to trample over the laptop. 

The Queen explained to Wilbert that not only was it a massive problem that a lot of paperwork had been demolished but that the rabbit had ordered them the complete history of Western philosophy, revoked the Queen's credit card, released the Queen's pension fund and donated it all to Rabbit Rescue, booked a round-the-world trip on the Orient Express, provided their house and investment portfolio as collateral to the fund the re-building, extension and refurbishment of the local scout hut (where Wilbert officiates as Big Brown Owl) ordered a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost (Wilbert collapses), bought a lama sanctuary in Peru, purchased a rare set of Ming vases with a remote bid to Sotheby's auction house, and ordered a barbecue set.

For a split second Wilbert contemplates cancelling the home help. But then thinks better of it. He promises our Queen he'll reverse the chaos. Except for the barbecue set. He could be Big Brown Chief Chef Owl. 

He gives the rabbit a pat and extra broccoli. 

©Donna Hazel at Tarotdon Tarot

No comments:

Post a Comment