The Fives and the Inverted Pentagram: The Abrogation of Spirit
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here is another of my random, intermittent forays into the Minor Arcana of the Thoth deck, which has been my steadfast companion in the study and practice of tarot for over five decades. (See my Tarot 101 series of posts for a more systematic overview.) Think what you will of Crowley, his deck is brilliant despite revisionist attempts to give the lion’s share of credit to Frieda Harris (whose magnificent contribution I in no way discount). But, just as without Waite there would be no RWS, without Crowley there would be no Thoth. (My quirkier remarks below are only a nod to my love of metaphor, analogy and allegory in reading the cards; you can ignore them if you like.)
With most of the cards of the Minor Arcana except the Swords, Aleister Crowley and Frieda Harris obviously tried to adhere as much as possible to the designs of the “Medieval Editors” (as illustrated in the Tarot de Marseille “pip” cards), but Crowley felt compelled to insert esoteric symbolism into a few of them. In the case of the Fives, this meant adding inverted pentagrams to three of the four to express that number’s connection to the sephira Geburah (“Severity”) and the unruly planet Mars on the Hermetic Tree of Life. Other writers have simply characterized the Fives as “necessary change” that provides an antidote to the stultifying inertia of the Fours, but Crowley noted that “Geburah, as always, produces disruption.”
The inverted pentagram in the 5 of Cups, 5 of Swords and 5 of Disks has its erstwhile apex facing toward the bottom of the card with its four “elemental” points ascending, thus portraying the triumph of Matter over Spirit (standing on such a precarious base, there is no natural stability in them). This is generally felt to be a degraded condition, but in my opinion this assumption depends upon the intended reach of the role the card plays in a reading. (Its scope may be utterly banal, narrow and insensitive to more subtle implications.) While it is possible to feel “spiritually trapped” under the burden of this mundane focus, if the stated objective is entirely utilitarian and of low external impact, it may be acceptable to dispense with the protocols of decorous behavior until the mission has been accomplished, after which the utopian aims of spiritual propriety can be examined to see if they have been adequately served by the pragmatic agenda (or, as is sometimes the case, just cynically “papered over” in deference to the “bottom line”). This is the sort of thing that you find in the “Jack Ryan” novels by Tom Clancy, in which the protagonists seldom have a self-conscious thought while in the middle of an operation, and it is up to the politicians to rationalize their behavior for public consumption when they return.
More and more often, ethical constraints are being introduced (although somewhat hesitantly and reluctantly) at the planning stage of a commercial venture, but there have been many socially-irresponsible corporations over the decades since “environment” became popularized as a sociopolitical buzzword that have followed the path of maximum profitability. One of the biggest scams I can think of is the buying and selling of “carbon credits.” The government doled them out as an environmental stopgap and those companies that didn’t remotely need them could trade (aka “sell”) them to those that would be in dire straits without them while struggling to remain within their mandated “carbon footprint.” As far as I can tell, this didn’t reduce emissions, it just allowed miscreants to buy their way out of their obligation. Come to think of it, the 5 of Disks might be pressed into service as the “carbon footprint” card, if not in a business sense than in its societal equivalent: it leaves a tainted smudge wherever it lands, like a dark cloud of smoke on the horizon that will soon be on the doorstep.
Let’s take them one at a time:
The 5 of Wands, which sports no pentagram, is an amalgam of the numbers Two (expressed in the 2 of Wands as “Dominion”) and Three (conveyed in the 3 of Wands as “Virtue”) to create a passable “might makes right” vibe. Crowley mentioned that the “Strife” signified by this card can more properly be viewed as “striving” (as in aspiring to achieve a specific goal) and not necessarily as “discord;” there is no consideration of the morality of the effort since it is all about the outsized and autocratic ambitions of Saturn in Leo.
The 5 of Cups (“Disappointment”) has its crown mired in self-pity. The Spirit is completely swamped by morose “woe-is-me” sentiments stemming from a feeling of powerlessness in dealing with the Matter symbolized by the four elements, which has its way with the unfortunate victim. Rather than beating one’s head futilely against this nemesis, it is more comforting to retreat into solitude and lick one’s wounds. It’s the “wet blanket” card, the Eeyore of the tarot. Mars in Scorpio takes no prisoners.
The 5 of Swords (“Defeat”) resembles a “dying cockroach” with its legs waving futilely in the air. It also suggests the “Kick me!” sign that practical jokers tape to the back of unsuspecting victims. From the mental perspective of Swords, I might see it as having one’s “head where the Sun don’t shine.” It may give up before it ever really gets started. The earthy charm of Venus is anathema to the chilly idealism of Aquarius, which will depart the field before succumbing to such alien sentimentality. But there can also be a petty vengefulness to it as it tries to right imagined wrongs of its own vigilantic surmise (the worst kind of “social-justice warrior” is of this type).
The earthbound pentagram in the 5 of Disks (“Worry”) may have its “ear to the ground,” but it lacks traction in pulling its fragmented and interrupted insights into a coherent form that can be put to good use. Stiff-necked, stubborn Taurus is unmoved by the impotent dithering of miscast Mercury, so little good can come of the pairing. It can be extremely self-demeaning: if I were reassigning astrological decans I might give it Venus in Virgo (the sign of its fall) and call it the “doormat” card on which everyone wipes their feet.
Other than the overbearing 5 of Wands, none of these cards has anything positive going for it. They come across as a miserable litany of whining from underachieving slackers who have been called to account for their negligence. Five may be the archetypal “number of Man,” but the scoundrel isn’t always at the top of his game. Mars in Geburah will have its pound of flesh.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on March 25, 2024.
