A Meditation on “Oddness”

Parsifal the Scribe
4 min readApr 29, 2023

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Although as students and practitioners of the mystic arts we can be excused for often feeling “odd” in a world that rewards conformity, that’s not what this essay is about.

One of the most useful bits of metaphysical wisdom I’ve received from Joseph Maxwell’s Tarot de Marseille book, The Tarot, is that the active odd-numbered cards of the tarot suits convey purposeful intent (principally the Threes, Fives and Sevens since the Aces maintain a scrupulous unity and the Nines embody elements of both odd and even because they are divisible by a number other than Nine and One). They are all striving to return to a state of equilibrium and are in motion because they have no choice; they have been knocked off-center by the jarring introduction of an extra unit, destabilizing their former bilateral tranquility, and the interloper must be integrated by groping toward the next even integer. The passive even-numbered cards are just as intently focused on maintaining the harmonious regularity they enjoy due to their binary nature; they are immobile because they are supremely comfortable and don’t want to contemplate what will happen if they deviate even slightly from their routine and thereby invite a precarious “creeping oddness.” In re-reading Isabel Kliegman’s Tarot and the Tree of Life I’m gaining a few more insights on this paradigm.

These assumptions work quite well when applied to the Tarot de Marseille “pip” cards and the “glorified pips” of the Thoth deck. My heartburn flares up when I attempt linking them to the scenic images in the Waite-Smith Minor Arcana. Those who use the deck are well-aware that the figures in the odd-numbered cards are with few exceptions immersed in a bleak state of aggravation, frustration, self-pity, ennui, anxiety or discontent. (Of this group, only the 3 of Cups could be considered “exuberant,” while the 3 of Wands — although a pillar of inertia — displays a dignified anticipation; the rest come across as either discreetly or blatantly desperate while not being in a position to do much about it.) They often represent categorically “bad” cards when they appear in a reading, and the diviner is tasked with trying to transform them into “silk-purse” opportunities for which their apparent instability makes them ill-suited. I would point to very few of them as examples of the dynamic/restorative nature of Maxwell’s “oddness” but almost all of them suffer from some kind of constitutional imbalance.

In Qabalistic number theory, the Fives are notoriously challenging in this regard because they correspond esoterically to the uncongenial energy of Mars and the Sevens are second due to their association with the undemonstrative planet Venus and its inherent corruptibility. The Threes are connected to the austere Saturnian influence, primarily due to its role in governing “form” because the Threes depict the first foray into two dimensions, introducing the plane as a preface to the solid polygons. But the RWS universe is almost entirely unresponsive to Maxwell’s active and passive assumptions, and is even substantially indifferent to Waite’s Golden Dawn heritage (a fact that I chalk up to Waite’s reticence about revealing his sources and Smith’s prosaic editorializing).

The 5 of Cups, which vibrates to the tone of Mars in Scorpio, perfectly illustrates this premise. Isabel Kliegman observes that she would never write a note excusing her son for missing school the day before due to illness when he was in fact out surfing. Any parent with a Scorpio child knows that the kid would just as soon write the note himself and forge the parental signature. My point is that Mars in Scorpio will do whatever it deems necessary regardless of the moral implications, and the person in the 5 of Cups is close to reaching the same conclusion. I can picture him perversely kicking over the other two cups and drowning himself in the river just for spite. The 5 of Pentacles is similarly dismal, and the 5 of Swords shows the aftermath of combat, suggesting a “Pyrrhic victory” in which the smirking victor may have won the battle but not necessarily the war. Only the 5 of Wands shows any alacrity, and it is largely wasted on pointless antagonism.

The 7 of Cups embodies the qualities of Venus in Scorpio. The man shown in silhouette is confronted with a range of options, some encouraging and others surrealistically disturbing. He has been brought to a standstill by having to choose whether to go straight for the “brass ring” or just grit his teeth and plunge headlong into engagement with less amicable forces; of course, there is no guarantee that one won’t morph into the other immediately before he has a chance to act, a hazard of the phantasmagorical premise underlying this card. His paralyzing confusion and uncertainty are palpable. The 7 of Pentacles is idle, the 7 of Swords is sneaky and the 7 of Wands is hard-pressed to mount a convincing offensive; he would be better off to turn tail and run. Alejandro Jodorowski equates the number Seven to “action in the world” but in these cards the action (if it is present at all) is burdened with restriction and inhibition.

None of these cards effectively expresses the “odd-numbered” remedial vigor of Maxwell’s analogical model, making it a poor conceptual framework for dealing with the RWS Minor Arcana. A comparable dilemma exists with ostensibly serene even-numbered cards like the 8 of Cups and the 8 of Swords, both of which — far from being expressions of binary complacency — spurn that innate fulfillment to become unhappy images displaying upset circumstances that we wouldn’t want to tarry in for very long. These irregular scenarios resist any attempt to bring them under the odd/active/centrifugal or even/passive/centripetal numeric umbrella, and in thinking about it I doubt the conventional “lucky number” form of numerology would add much value to our comprehension either. What we are left with are standard suit qualities and Smith’s quirky narrative vision, something I have also learned not to put too much faith in when there is much more compelling symbolism with which to work.

Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on April 29, 2023.

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Parsifal the Scribe
Parsifal the Scribe

Written by Parsifal the Scribe

I’ve been involved in the esoteric arts since 1972, with a primary interest in tarot and astrology. See my previous work at www.parsifalswheeldivination.com.

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