In a recent conversation with my cards, I pulled Ace of Pentacles as a card of climate change.
This could be read as reassuring—a “don’t worry” kind of response. Pentacles, after all, are the suit of Earth, and Aces are often read as incredibly positive cards and harbingers of something new and beautiful. But it felt odd that I’d get a reply with this edge of bypass to it, a Pollyanna kind of dismissal of something that feels legitimately very scary.
So, in a bit of a ‘test’ of my deck, I asked what card best represents climate change? The answer: Ace of Wands.
Another Ace, this time in the suit of fire. Now, there’s a little macabre humor for you. Global warming, and here we are in early May and the west is already on fire like never before. And yet, an Ace, which are “supposed” to be so good. But no one can argue that climate change is good. It is decidedly not good. So, why an Ace?
I think what this tells us is that we really have to unlearn the idea that there are categories of cards. Good/bad. Positive/negative. Instead, each card is neutral ground. We may already have been exposed to this idea of neutrality, and may even “know” it intellectually, but allowing that truth to take root in our bodies is another thing. I know that while I personally subscribe to the idea of neutrality in theory, in practice there are still cards that make me reflexively cringe, or sigh with relief, or feel a little lurch of fear or excitement. My body is telling me that I don’t actually see every card as neutral.
So I had to sit with this idea that an Ace could represent climate change, and release my expectation that a “better” fit would have been the Tower or something of that nature. I say I trust my cards, so I need to trust this. And Aces as climate change really emphasize the importance of neutrality.
Climate change is real. Aces say “yes” to something: yes, this is real. Climate change is also a massive force, and the same can be said for Aces: they are big energy. Climate change presents us with enormous opportunity, just like an Ace. We have to act in response to climate change, and that is what Aces offer: a chance to take action.
Read through this neutral lens, these Aces make a lot of sense. But I’m also aware that because I still have a bias towards reading Aces as “good”—try as I might to neutralize them, it’s rooted in my years of history with the Tarot—it’s allowed me some relief. These Aces feel like permission to be hopeful in the face of climate change. If I’d drawn something like 5 of Cups or 10 of Swords, even in attempts to read it as neutrally as possible, how would it have shifted my emotional experience? I have a history of understanding these cards as ‘negative’, similar to my bias with the Ace, simply because of my engagement with vast amounts of Tarot literature. I may be able to interpret it in a way that’s not explicitly ‘good’ or ‘bad’, but I’m certain I’d still have the subtle taste of resignation at the back of my throat.
I don’t have any answers or conclusions here, it’s just interesting to note what happens when we read Tarot. If we’re willing to really observe ourselves—not just interpret cards, but watch ourselves interpret the cards, which is an important distinction—then we can get a lot of information about what we long for, about what we lean towards, about what fills us with hope and what makes us feel hopeless. Practicing a more neutral style of reading, which really forces us to confront our attachments and expectations, is an incredibly useful way to practice. It helps us create more space between pulling the card and reacting to it, which can perhaps create that space in our “real” life encounters, when we most need it.
Deck pictured in the This Might Hurt Tarot