Come forth, o children, under the stars, & take your fill of love! (AL I, 12)

Chapter 4 — Swords

Ace of Swords

The element of air, the first of the two secondary elements we come to, is both a combination of the two primary elements — fire and water — and a reconciler between them. In the first place, boiling water over fire (or throwing water onto fire) produces steam — a gas — which is attributable to air. In the second place, fire cannot burn in the absence of oxygen, and air vivifies water, enabling it to support life. Further, it is air which supports the vapour produced when heat (fire) causes water to evaporate, and which carries it from its source to produce life-giving rain in other places. It is also connected with the breath, and necessary for life; man can go for weeks without food (earth), days without water, but only a matter of minutes without air.

The element of air forms the apex of a triangle of which fire and water comprise the base. It is an active element, and corresponds to the son in the Tetragrammaton, fire corresponding to the father and water to the mother. As such, it is associated with new life, and fresh beginnings,[1] just as the son comprises something new created by the combination of the father and the mother. As the son grows up and “leaves the family nest,” so is air an active element.

As an active and “wet” element, air has little real substance but can nevertheless fill any container, and give form to it (e.g. a balloon). Contrasted to the passivity of water, however, a container must be completely sealed to contain air, rather than just sealed at the bottom.

In occult symbolism, air is most usually associated with reason, the intellect, and communication, comprising both synthesis (combination, attributable to the form-giving powers of water) and analysis (separation, attributable to the destructive powers of fire). Through synthesis, the reason perceives patterns and relationships between phenomena, codifying them into knowledge, and through analysis the reason breaks those relationships into their component parts, allowing it to form inferences and to project into conclusions; the attribution of air to reason and intellect refers to its role as a reconciler between fire and water.

As depicted in the small cards, the progression of the element of air down the Tree of Life shows the development of the combinations between fire and water, between force and form, between will and love. It illustrates the tension and the harmony between will and love, and the study of the suit of Swords is instructive as to the ways in which the intellect — the “executive faculty” of the individual — can act as a reconciler between those two concepts as the individual attempts to put “love under will”[2] into practice, and also as to the ways in which the intellect can serve to frustrate that reconciliation.

Two of Swords

The ideal manifestation of the element of air is peace. This is a dynamic rather than static peace; for true peace it is not sufficient for the two parties to merely refrain from opposition, but they must also be able to fully express their own natures, for only when this is restricted is there any incentive for conflict. Here the element of air is acting as a true diplomat, perfecting balancing the differing — but, here, not conflicting — interests of the primary elements.

The attribution to the ascendant decan of Libra is natural, that sign being primarily concerned with balance and harmony. The rulership of the Moon brings a quality of reflection to the Two, signifying that the differing interests of fire and water are reflected perfectly by the element of air with no “contamination” by its own interests. Air is the ideal ruler in this card, governing the affairs of its domain with complete indifference and no thought for itself. It is an aphorism of AL I, 22: “Bind nothing! Let there be no difference made among you between any one thing & any other thing; for thereby there cometh hurt.”

Three of Swords

The Three of Swords is sorrow, the only card attributable to the supernal sephiroth which has a “negative” connotation. By forming the triad, an element of form has been introduced, and the self-interest absent from the Two here begins to materialise. Yet, above the Abyss, the ideal is still perfection, and the element of air does not allow that self-interest to interfere with its task. The sorrow of the Three is akin to the “universal sorrow,” a general rather than specific feeling of pathos arising from the intellect — now possessing sufficient form to perceive itself — understanding that it does, itself, possess no individuality or any real interest of its own, and quietly resigning itself to the fact. Unlike the two primary elements, as a reconciler the element of air has to take a back seat when its job is done, and must moderate its own activities as well as the different interests of fire and water; as the saying goes, “three's a crowd.” The nature of the “hurt” prophesied in AL I, 22 has now become clear, although until we cross the Abyss it will not become manifest.

The succedent decan of Libra shows the sign in its full strength, the full implications of the nature of balance becoming clear; the scales must be perfectly still and steady. The influence of Aquarius reflects the “awareness” of the element of air of the nature of its own being, Aquarius being associated with independence, freedom and expression. The heavy rulership of Saturn keeps these feelings under check, however, and forces the Three to accept the hard but inevitable lesson of its own nature. It also signifies the fact that enlightenment cannot be attained through reason alone, that reason can only serve as a facilitator to “love under will,” and that any actions taken on its own account will inevitably disturb that balance.

Four of Swords

The truce of the Four of Swords echoes the peace of the Two, but below the Abyss and into the realm of the actual its nature is much degraded. Truce is temporary, a cessation of hostilities between two conflicting rather than complementing interests, and the element of air here has its work cut out for it. The significance of Chesed — the form sephirah of the actual triad — is the attempt of air to create a structure through which those conflicting interests can be reconciled, but all the Fours contain the seeds of their own downfall, and below the Abyss that structure can only ever be temporary, foreshadowing its own failure and the ensuing recommencement of battle.

The attribution to the cadent decan of Libra is apt, as in the final decan the powers of the signs begin to fade, and the balance and harmony inherent in Libra here begins to weaken. The influence of Gemini — the mutable sign of air itself — reinforces this fading, and brings with it its negative qualities of petty manipulation fuelled by self-interest, a diplomatic strategy that cannot be long successful. The rulership of Jupiter — the father of the Gods — is suggestive of temporal rather than natural law, and unlike the inevitable and necessary physical laws of Saturn, the temporal laws of Jupiter can, and inevitably will, be broken.

Five of Swords

All the Fives show the appearance of the “flaws” inherent in the Fours, and in the Five of Swords the uneasy truce of the Four has finally failed, resulting in defeat. Geburah is the change sephirah of the actual triad, and its destructive forces have broken the structure which was tenuously holding the truce together.

The astrological attribution is to the ascendant decan of Aquarius, where its tendencies towards independence, freedom and expression are untempered by the other air signs, and it contemptuously dismisses and breaks through the structure holding it back in the Four. The self-interest of the element — which was shakily held in by the Four — has emerged triumphant, the process of “love under will” being frustrated, and defeated. Naturally, it is the individual himself who is defeated, since although his intellect tends to identify itself with his individuality, it really is not, and has no interests of its own; the interests it perceives are illusory, and their pursuit can only lead to futility. The rulership of Venus here brings its negative qualities of illusion, its attractive power pulling the intellect away from its proper role as reconciler by presenting it with dreams of its own self-interest by conspiring with the natural idealism of Aquarius; it is the opposite of the clearly reflecting property of the Moon in the Two. The king has here turned away from the interests of his country, and it suffers accordingly, as will he.

Six of Swords

Returning to the middle pillar, the element of air is once more able to achieve balance, to rectify the previous error. The Six of Swords is science, the impartial application to the pursuit and use of knowledge; in this case, of self-knowledge. By combining the Four and the Five, by making the structure of the truce flexible, the intellect is able to successfully reconcile will with love, to fulfill its true purpose on the actual plane.

In its succedent decan, Aquarius is more stable, and avoids the error of the Five. The communicative and interactive influence of Gemini reacts well with the outgoing and creative nature of Aquarius, and the rulership of Mercury completes the picture, its emphasis on communication and inter-personal dynamics blending to make the Six the ideal communicator, the perfect diplomat on the actual plane. The perceived self-interest of air is not absent here, but it is identified with its true purpose; the true scientist investigates nature because of a genuine love of knowledge, not for personal aggrandisement, and likewise in the Six of Swords the element of air identifies itself with what it is, the reconciler between fire and water, and subsumes itself joyfully in its task without the distraction of competing personal interest.

Seven of Swords

Below the Veil of Paroketh, the element of air degrades rapidly and remains in degradation, for this is the individual plane, and the most fatal error the element can make is to confuse itself for a real individual, to turn away from its true task and to chase its own illusory ambitions. Netzach is the change sephirah of the individual triad, and the Seven of Wands represents intense mental activity. The element goes out of its way to be “helpful” in its task as reconciler, but below the Veil of Paroketh the true nature of the self is veiled, and the intellect works according to its own distorted reflections. Unable to perceive the true nature of will and love, the intellect cannot succeed in its task; its actions are all futility. Will and love cannot be forced to conform to an ideal; if they cannot express their true natures, conflict will be inevitable.[3]

The cadent decan of Aquarius is influenced by Libra, but this balance is centred on the fading idealism of Aquarius, and not on the true centre of gravity of the self, and can therefore only be unstable. In its rulership, the Moon here reflects the tempestuous promptings of the unconscious self, instead of the true will which is veiled, condemning the intellect to seek balance upon an unstable point, a desperate task that can never succeed. A diplomat can never be successful in bringing reconciliation unless he has a clear understanding of the interests of both parties to the dispute; if he bluffs, they will soon see through him, and abandon the negotiating table no matter what he does, since he has become wholly irrelevant to them.

Eight of Swords

Hod being the stability sephirah of the individual triad, the error in the Eight of Swords is, in a sense, of the opposite kind to the error in the Seven, but has a common source in the misidentification of the self. Instead of going forth and attempting to reconcile love and will, even if that is done on the basis of a misconception of them, the Eight retreats into itself, and instead attempts to fix itself in its own interests. It abandons its task, the fixity of its illusions of importance distracting it. But, since it in fact has no individuality of its own, the only result of this turning away can be an interference with both love and will.

The Eight is attributed to the first decan of Gemini, a very insubstantial sign, and with no external influences to mediate its tendencies towards shallowness, superficiality and gullibility go unchecked, leaving the intellect oblivious to the fact that it is being distracted, the structure of its own phantasms going just far enough to cover the lack of depth to which it is prepared to look. The rulership of Jupiter enhances this tendency to fix itself in illusion, the expansionary influence of Jupiter indeed being evident, but serving merely to compound the house of cards the mind is building for itself.

Nine of Swords

Uniquely amongst the four suits, not even returning to the middle pillar can abate the errors of the element of air when settled into the individual plane. Indeed, rather than compensating for the errors of the Seven and the Eight, the balance attained in the Nine of Swords serves only to fix the error of the intellect even further, for now the equilibrium reached provides a way for the intellect to remain permanently in its illusion. The Nine of Swords is cruelty, and it is the mental cruelty arising from the fact that the intellect, no matter how hard it tries, cannot by itself provide a way out from its own labyrinth. Without being informed by the will — which is concealed by the Veil of Paroketh — the intellect is condemned to chase phantasms of its own making which cannot satisfy, even if caught. This card is an aphorism for the phenomenon of the mind trying desperately to complete a task for which it is not suited.

The astrological attribution is to the succedent decan of Gemini, the analytical, intellectual and discriminating tendencies firmly established, but under the rulership of Mars these are allowed to control, instead of being controlled. The shallow and superficial nature of the Eight is not in evidence here, but it has been replaced by a zeal which blinds the intellect to its own shortcomings.

Ten of Swords

The complete physical manifestation of the element of air in Malkuth is ruin. Analysis is a destructive process, and in the Ten of Swords that destruction has reached completion. Division is necessary in the role of air as a reconciler of fire and water, for the differing interests of those two elements must be balanced, and in order to balance them there must be careful discrimination between them. This card shows the difficult nature of the task of the intellect, and on what a fine edge success in the matter must rest, since that same division and discrimination will — if not perfectly focused — tend to drive a wedge between the two parties whose reconciliation is being sought, and exacerbate the problem it is trying to solve. As Crowley says in Magick in Theory and Practice:

Knowledge is, moreover, an impossible conception. All propositions come ultimately back to “A is A.”

All logical propositions can only be understood in terms of other logical propositions, and in the absence of axiomatic truths whose truth can only be demonstrated outside of the realm of reason, any chain of logic must ultimately be circular; pushing reason to its limits will ultimately expose the impotence of reason itself, resulting in its own destruction.

Yet, oddly at first, there is hope in this card. Unlike the oppression of the Ten of Wands, and the satiety of the Ten of Cups, ruin is final; if all is destroyed, there can be no more destruction — “there is that which remains.”[4] In the aftermath of total ruin, the only direction in which development can occur is upwards, and any restrictions which may have previously railroaded that growth are now absent. When reason has destroyed itself, we are still left with love and will, and nothing now to keep them apart. The pushing of reason to its own destruction is a valid magical technique, and is an arcanum of the Masters of the Temple.

The attribution to the cadent decan of Gemini signifies the fading away of the intellect, and the rulership of the Sun highlights the real truth of this card, that this far down the tree, what has been destroyed was almost entirely deleterious in any case, and the result of its destruction is actually to allow the shining through of the self which it was previously veiling; the flower blooming on the blighted battlefield will grow unimpeded towards the Sun.

Footnotes

1. As illustrated by the common expression “the winds of change.”
2. AL I, 57
3. See the discussion of the Two of Swords on page 61.
4. AL II, 9

© Copyright 2006–2024 Erwin Hessle

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