Islands in the Sea: The “Gateless” Suit of Pentacles

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is one of the more intriguing and challenging mental tasks I’ve undertaken in a while: rethinking the numbered cards of Pentacles in line with Barbara Walker’s discussion in The Secrets of the Tarot: History, Origins and Symbolism. I’ve long felt that the quaint, folkloric descriptions that have grown up around the Minor Arcana of the Waite-Smith deck are frequently counterintuitive and owe their existence primarily to the interpretive “vacuum” that exists between many of Smith’s prosaic images and the expository foundation of Waite’s metaphysical text and its suppressed Golden Dawn roots. (As a famous Maine folklorist and storyteller once said, “You can’t get there from here.”) I may have strayed a bit from the premise of the title in my zeal to escape these anecdotal anomalies, but I think I have at least partially succeeded via creative free-association in arriving at a rationale that is both vividly imaginative and visibly logical.

As I mentioned in a previous post, the pentacle symbol was traditionally considered “gateless” since it is formed by one continuous line that returns to its point of origin (on another arc, that is also how the invoking and banishing pentagram rituals of ceremonial magic are performed). This makes for a self-contained energy that can either build upon or feed upon itself, concentrating or attenuating its potency. (I’m reminded of the “still-suits” in the Dune novels, in which liquid bodily wastes were recycled into drinking water). It seems like a perfect emblem of self-interest that can be magnified across the ten cards of the suit. The more pentacles, the more ramifications of one’s will and purpose might be discovered, or the more “mirror images” of one’s sense of self-worth might be found through their projection onto other people. Most of the time, these peripheral parties would seem to be autonomous outsiders in one’s private drama, but reversal or elemental ill-dignity could suggest faceless “group-think” or perhaps even “mob rule” in which the dominion of order is upset and the individual is intimidated or coerced (if only by circumstances). There can also be a sense of weary submission or deference to convention in a reversed Pentacles card; it presents the “but we’ve always done it this way” excuse.

Since nothing goes in or out, the impression of a sealed “steady state” is formed, and the potential for a claustrophobic paralysis can ensue even when the cards are upright. Due diligence can turn into undue caution; the nature of the element of Earth is to be both stubborn and overly prudent. Let’s take a look at each Pentacles card of the Waite-Smith (RWS) deck to see how this might be explained in self-sufficient “gateless” terms. I will include the card image at the beginning of each brief essay so my talking points are clear. All images used here are from the RWS Centennial Edition, copyright of US Games Systems, Stamford, CT.

Ace of Pentacles:

This image epitomizes the scientific theorem “Objects at rest tend to remain at rest.” The way is open and the road beyond beckons, but this Ace is the antithesis of “footloose and fancy-free.” If it could see its navel it would be gazing upon it, but I think it has its head “where the Sun don’t shine” (particularly when reversed). It has no more cogent grasp of philosophy than Candide did at the end of Voltaire’s novel, so it will just rusticate in its garden.

Two of Pentacles:

Another scientific theorem: “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” even though the man in the phallic cap seems to be having trouble competently wrangling his balls. As the key to the binary series, Two represents balance and harmony, but both are conspicuously absent from this image. If it weren’t for being wrapped in the green “infinity” band, the emblems would probably fly off in different directions and the juggler would abruptly land on his butt. In practical terms, I see these pentacles as reluctant partners in an ungainly dance; they aren’t so much co-dependent in their motion as moving in disassociated planes. It may not be an accident that one loop is larger than the other, perhaps being more in the foreground judging from the positions of the man’s hands. “Change” is too mild a term for this card. It looks more like “Unbalanced Force” or even “Impending Disaster.”

Three of Pentacles:

The three pentacles here form a stable isosceles triangle; the only way they could be made dynamic would be to give the emblems rotational motion to form the Celtic triskelion, symbolic — at least in one of several interpretations — of “spirit/mind/body.” The pentacles seem frostily indifferent to the consultation going on below them, as if they will endure no matter what the craftsman does with that mallet. This card has been described as showing “teamwork,” but the pentacles themselves aren’t so much about “work” as about effortless exercise of a single purpose: holding up the vault no matter what happens with the incidental architecture.

4 of Pentacles:

The only pentacle that has even the faintest hope of escaping this guy’s death-grip is the one on top of his head. You’re not going to get to his flinty heart without a jack-hammer, so appealing to his mercenary aspirations may be the only recourse. This image takes the idea of the inertia inherent in the number Four to its logical extreme. It’s not so much grasping avarice (an active posture) as neurotic fear of loss (a passive, defensive stance). It shouts “status quo” in the loudest possible terms.

5 of Pentacles:

Once again, the five pentacles suggest a lofty indifference to what is going on in the scene below. Five has been called the “Number of Man,” but here it seems to favor certain “men” (those sitting snugly — and smugly — inside the church) over others. There is a self-sustaining air of unshakeable superiority to the costly stained-glass window that wants no part of the unseemly plight of the two beggars. It says “have faith in me” to the insiders and “abandon all hope” to those denied entry to the sanctuary. It is exclusionary rather than inviting, and coming after the idle plenitude of the Four it denotes the applied dogma of material success, but in an entirely self-serving way. There is no “free lunch” to be found here, so they can just keep walking.

6 of Pentacles:

The six pentacles here are balanced on one side of the picture and lopsided on the other, and the scale seems to swing in that direction as well. The charity that was withheld in the Five has now become a selective disbursement of largess, and there is no guarantee that the hopeful beggar on the right won’t be “short-changed” and receive nothing. The harmonious equilibrium that is usually found in the number 6 is subverted here since the wealthy merchant is clearly playing favorites. The pentacle over his head suggests that he has a private purpose in mind behind his public show of generosity; maybe he is “buying services” of some kind.

7 of Pentacles:

The first thing of note here is that the pentacle at the laborer’s feet is the only one he has any control over. The rest indicate unfinished business that has its own inherent success path and timetable that are incompatible with the mundane aims of the harvester. They seem to be forming a solid barrier against intervention and the defeated look on the man’s face conveys the dawning awareness that he is never going to complete the harvest. Perhaps their goal is to drop their seed in their own sweet time and not succumb to being carted off to market. In that case, the worker isn’t just resting from his efforts but is in fact impotent to act. The image is a scene of resistance to urgency and reluctance to budge; it is reminiscent of the old Paul Masson advertising slogan “No wine before its time.”

8 of Pentacles:

Six of the pentacles here portray “completed effort;” one is being worked and the last is awaiting the craftsman’s attention. Each of the six symbolizes “perfection,” to which nothing needs to be added and from which nothing can be taken away, and the other two will inevitably get there. I have no use for the assumption that this image shows an apprentice artisan and the 3 of Pentacles represents an accomplished master; after all, here the individual is working confidently with no apparent supervision while in the latter card the man wielding the chisel is subject to the direction of two superiors; it’s a display of individual competence rather than teamwork. The scene appears to be strictly a work area and not a retail shop, so there is the implication that the effort is being expended entirely for the man’s own satisfaction rather than for monetary gain; the fruits of his labor are their own reward. In other words, these pentacles exist on their own merit and are not primarily tokens of commerce.

9 of Pentacles:

The nine pentacles here resemble “fallen fruit” that may in fact be overripe. The woman seems indifferent to their impending decay since the vines bear the evidence of an inexhaustible bounty. The danger is that she may neglect the duties of husbandry until all the fruit has dropped to the ground and she has nothing to sustain her. Her benign self-indulgence is obvious. This is a cautionary card that warns against the fallacy of an “endless summer,” and is suggestive of Aesop’s fable The Ant and the Grasshopper; she is clearly “resting on her laurels.” Once the bird has flown she will be left with little to distract her from the consequences of failing to deal with her creeping inertia.

10 of Pentacles:

Here the ten pentacles seem to exists in a universe apart from the banal scene of domestic tranquility. Waite and Smith gave a nod to their esoteric background by arranging the symbols in the form of the Qabalistic Tree of Life, each sphere of which means something different in the overall architecture of the Universe. Taken together they represent the totality of human experience from the highest to the lowest, here in the suit of Pentacles, the realm of concrete manifestation. This may be what the image is trying to depict through the contrivance of a multi-generational family: the full range of human interaction settled into a comfortable but quiescent pattern of behavior. Each pentacle might be seen as an independent phase of that muted familial connection relative to its position on the Tree. However, the net result is another expression of entrenched contentment that borders on ennui. Looking at it, I get the feeling that these people find it a chore merely to breathe. I have seen the Tens described as reservoirs of “accumulated energy;” here that energy has been attenuated to the point of almost complete stasis. I sometimes characterize the number Five as a “nutcracker” or “can-opener;” here they will need two

Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on April 2, 2022.