Seven of Pentacles (Rider Waite Tarot)
First Impressions
Patience. Caution. Slow and steady. This is what the Seven of Pentacles makes me think of when I see it. When I first started studying the Lenormand, the Tree reminded me of this card. The idea of slow and steady growth, of returns and results showing only as time goes by.
I don’t think this is a negative card on first impression, but nor is it a very exciting or upbeat one. Look at the face on the figure. Patient, resigned, downcast, maybe a little exasperated. “Come
on already!” But knowing that some things can’t be rushed. Anything he does or doesn’t do now won’t make things happen any faster. The seeds have been planted - literally - and now it’s time to just sit back and wait patiently (or not) and wait for them to come to fruition. It‘s almost there, and the long wait to get to this point shows in his expression. His hair is dark and shaggy, disheveled, and his mouth is downturned.
He’s dressed like a peasant, a yeoman farmer, in blue sleeves and hose underneath an orange jerkin with a white rim or collar. His short boots are orange too. At least, they are in some colourations. In others one is orange like his jerkin and the other is more of a brown. A trick of the light, as if one is discolored by the shadow of the bush nearby? He’s leaning with both hands on a hoe, hands folded one atop the other on the end of the handle, and looks as though he’s stooping slightly in the process of resting his chin on those hands; this emphasizes the idea of the stooped and weary posture, the back bent in toil. His feet are planted far apart on improbably pale blue vegetation over the brown soil, and there are purple mountains in the far distance. It’s a colorful card.
The main focus of his gaze is the bush or shrub beside him. Covered in wide flat leaves (like grape or pumpkin leaves?) and standing up to about the height of his bent head, six large golden pentacles the size of dinner plates grow all over it. A seventh is on the ground, between the man’s feet.
Overall my first impressions are of weary patience, of rest after long toil but knowing that there will be rewards in the long run. Now he just has to wait for it.
But what’s with the boots?
Creator’s Notes
The Pictorial Key to the Tarot says of the Seven of Pentacles:
Waite said:
A young man, leaning on his staff, looks intently at seven pentacles attached to a clump of greenery on his right; one would say that these were his treasures and that his heart was there.
Not quite right, as the seventh pentacle, the one on the ground, looks to me to have escaped his notice. I wonder if there’s something in that. I doubt it’s there because Pamela ran out of space to cram it into the shrubbery with the rest.
The second part of Waite’s description is really interesting. That his heart is on the shrub, with the treasures that grow there. To me this ties it somewhat to the Four of Pentacles, in which the central figure clung so tightly and possessively to his pentacles. But in this case, for the Seven, it is his treasure, and his heart, because of the work that has gone into it. Because of all that he has invested in getting them to this point. We don’t necessarily see that in the Four, just that the pentacles are dear to him - whether due to their financial value or because of any sentimental attachments, we don’t know. Maybe it follows from the Seven? Maybe after all that toil and hard work, he goes on to cling tightly to the newly harvested pentacles?
Others’ Interpretations
Waite defines the card as:
Waite said:
Divinatory Meanings: These are exceedingly contradictory; in the main, it is a card of money, business, barter; but one reading gives altercation, quarrels--and another innocence, ingenuity, purgation. Reversed: Cause for anxiety regarding money which it may be proposed to lend.
These interpretations, I must say, leave me cold. So I went back to the first place I ever looked at the Rider Waite Tarot, ten years or more ago now.
Joan Bunning, in her online Learning the Tarot course, has some interesting perspectives on this card:
Bunning said:
On the Seven of Pentacles we see a man who has labored long and hard in his garden. The foliage is full, the blossoms are out - it seems that his work has paid off. Now he's taking a break to admire his handiwork. How satisfying it is to see such fine results! How rewarding is sweet success!
The Seven of Pentacles is a time-out card. It represents those moments after a rush of activity when we stop to catch our breath and look around. The man in the picture has paused to contemplate the fruits of his own labors, but he could also pick that fruit. In readings, the Seven of Pentacles can indicate a reward that will come your way, particularly as a result of your own efforts. Take it and enjoy.
This card is also a call for assessment. When we're busy, we don't always have time to reflect on what we're doing and why. Are we still on course? Are we getting the results we want? Serious problems can develop if you don't take stock at key moments. In readings, this card suggests that you take the time to be sure you're meeting your goals.
The Seven of Pentacles can also indicate a crossroads. In life, there's a tendency to continue with familiar routines. To go in a new direction isn't easy. The Seven of Pentacles may be telling you to figure out if you need a course correction, or even a complete about-face. You're not yet committed to a certain path, but you could be soon. Change is still possible.
The Seven of Pentacles is not a card of endings or final decisions. The game is not over, but only on hold for a moment. Once you've gotten your breath back and checked your strategy, be ready to jump back in and work even harder than before.
I see this, Bunning’s interpretation, as saying that the Three of Pentacles is a parallel to the Four of Swords. The suit of Swords deals with difficulties, so the Four is a time of rest and respite in the midst of trouble or struggles; the suit of Pentacles deals with work, so the Seven is a rest after heavy labour.
Symbols and Attributes
From an astrological standpoint, the Seven of Pentacles is represented by Saturn in Taurus. Saturn is an orderly planet, carrying a careful and structured influence that deals with time (see its mythological connection to Kronos), management and preservation of material resources. Combined with the fertile and grounded Earth-based energy and determination of Taurus, we see that careful maintenance in physical matters requires great effort and determination, but yields great results. In its own good time.
Elementally the suit of Pentacles is linked to the stolid and practical Earth element, dealing with physical matters such as work, growth and possessions. The number seven is a number of rest and reflection, of having or regaining control. In this respect, it underlines the Seven of Pentacles’ role as depicted here. This is a time when there is nothing for the farmer to do but rest, and wait for his labours to bear fruit. It is important to note that the Golden Dawn title of this card is “Lord of Success Unfulfilled”; it hints as discouragement rather than patient resignation.
Also consider that the Sevens in the Minor Arcana are linked to the Chariot, the seventh trump in the Majors. On first glance there seems to be little in common between the exotic and exciting Charioteer and the boring and bored farmer. But the Chariot is about willpower and confidence, and what can be accomplished when it is exercised. In the case of the Chariot is manifests as victory, as conquest. In the Seven of Pentacles it bears more literal and prosaic fruit.
The central image on the card, the human figure, appears to be a farmer or peasant, a man of the land. Such people are traditionally practical and full of common sense, keepers of tradition. They toil on land that has been passed down from father to eldest son for generations, and for the most part worked the land much as their fathers and grandfathers have done before them. So in this card he represents not just tradition but also cycles. Farming is a cyclical activity, following a regular pattern throughout the seasons. It’s not work that can be rushed. No matter what you do, the potatoes have to grow before they can be harvested; they can’t be planted too early no matter how hungry you are; nor can they be harvested early. The farmer is well aware of this; note the resigned expression on his face, the way he looks at the greenery.
He wears the blue of reflection underneath an orange tunic. Orange is a colour of determination. So we could see the farmer’s clothing as illustrating how his focus on the end result, his emphasis on the harvest, as eclipsing all else. He is reflective, true. But it is bent toward his labours, focused downward to mundane matters.
Notice how the farmer’s boots are mismatched. They are identical, but of two different colours. Sometimes this is very apparent, in other printings of the Rider Waite Tarot you have to look for it (as I had to in my own deck, the pocket Rider Waite). One is the same orange as his clothing, the other is more of a brown shade. Brown is an earthy colour, indicating groundedness and the potential for growth. As it seems highly unlikely that this was accidental on the part of Pamela Colman Smith or the printers, it must be assumed to be a deliberate choice. It’s been discussed to death on the forum as to what it means. Some have suggested that the orange of energy and confidence as opposed to the brown of matter and growth represents having one foot, as it were, in the realm of the mind and one in the realm of the mundane. Add the blue of the spirit and we have the mind, body and spirit all rolled into one. Unity, roundedness in the one figure.
But why are they two different shades in the first place? If having all three colours was so important, wouldn’t it have looked better to have the boots
both be brown and the jerkin orange? So there must be some symbolism behind it. Umbrae gave a hint once about it, about a Masonic ritual that entailed removing only one shoe. So I did some digging around online, and found quite an interesting article on the Masonic Dictionary regarding the ritual of Discalceation.
Apparently it derives from the Book of Ruth in the Bible, wherein wealthy landowner Boaz (!) removes one shoe and therefore - obscure though it seems to me - buys back Naomi’s family land.
Ruth 4:7-8 said:
Now this was the manner in former time in Israel concerning redeeming and concerning changing, for to confirm all things; a man plucked off his shoe, and gave it to his neighbour: and this was a testimony in Israel. Therefore the kinsman said unto Boaz, Buy it for thee. So he drew off his shoe.
Wikipedia says that the Boaz in this story, who later marries the widowed Ruth, is not the same judge Boaz for whom the pillar of Solomon’s Temple is named, but it’s an interesting coincidence given the Masonic ritual. The article on the Masonic Dictionary website gives some explanation of the verse:
www.masonicdictionary.com/discalceation said:
“Redeeming” here means the taking back or recovery of land or property pledged for a debt;
“changing” refers to the transfer of ownership. As both were then, as now, matters of importance, it is evident that the plucking off of the shoe, as a pledge of honor and fair dealing, was of equal importance, comparable with our swearing to our signatures to documents before a Notary Public.
Note that “to confirm all things a man plucked off his shoe. . .” not his “Shoes.”
Taking off one and handing it to him with whom a covenant was made was a symbol of sincerity. Removing “both” shoes signified quite another thought.
So if I understand it correctly (which I freely admit I may not), Boaz took off one shoe to show that he was sincere, that he was affirming his truthfulness and honour in restoring Naomi’s land back to her line. In the case of the Biblical story, Boaz married Ruth and through some odd wheelings and dealings his and Ruth’s son was somehow declared to be of the line of her late first husband so his lineage would not die out; so the land remained in Naomi’s line. I don’t get it. But that’s beside the point. So if it is translated ahead to the Masonic ritual, removing only one shoe and not the other is like swearing an oath, pledging faithfulness to the oath and the grade and the Masonic lodge in general.
The article goes on to say:
www.masonicdictionary.com/discalceation said:
The Rite of Discalceation - from the Latin, “discalceatus,” meaning “unshod” - is world wide.
[… as the website doesn‘t go into detail of the rite itself, I skipped on down to the end of the article …]
A man removes his hat upon entering a home, in the presence of women, or in a church, not as a symbol of humility, but of reverence. The worshipper removes his shoes on entering a holy place for the same reason.. He who walks “neither barefoot nor shod” offers mute testimony - even though, as yet uninstructed, he knows it not - that he is sincere. Who walks with both feet bare, signifies that he treads upon that which is hallowed. - Source: Short Talk Bulletin - Apr. 1933, Masonic Service Association of North America
So not only is it one of Waite’s throwaway Masonic references, of which he was so everlastingly fond, but it is a testament to the farmer’s respect for the work he does - what is the traditional Irish blessing called out to farmers? “God bless the work”, isn‘t it? - and the sincerity of his intentions.
But enough of the blesséd shoes! On to the focus of his attention, the pentacles that grow on the bush before him. The leaves are broad and shaped vaguely like grape leaves or perhaps pumpkin. Pumpkin leaves would match better with the size and shape of the Pentacle-fruit, but grape leaves would better correspond to fruitfulness and abundance.
The six pentacles still on the bush seem to be haphazardly arranged, but it has been suggested that there is a method to the madness:
The overall shape of the pantacles on the mound resemble that of the Sephiroth on the right side and center of the Tree of Life (Kether, Tiphareth, and Yesod in the center - Chokmah, Chesed, and Netzach on the right.) The lone pantacle could be said to be Malkuth, or quite possibly Daath.
Now, I intend no disrespect to RChMI at all, but I don’t see it. Not really; the lines aren’t as clear as I would need to view it that way - but then, not being too conversant in Qabalah as perhaps I ought for something like this, I would need to be hit over the head with it to notice it myself. The central pillar, the three pentacles nearest the left-hand frame of the card, are straight and neatly spaced out enough for me to agree with it. The right-hand pillar is a little more organic, and I can’t quite see it. But for the sake of argument let’s say I see it completely. What does it mean? Just another one of Waite’s references to the Tree of Life? Doubtful. Rather than look at the fact that only two-thirds of the Tree of Life are present, let’s look instead at what
isn’t there. The Pillar of Equilibrium and the Pillar of Mercy are there. The Pillar of Severity isn’t, or at least it’s offscreen. So that puts a much gentler spin on the image, that there’s no room for severity, for harshness here. To be a farmer, to show a yield for his efforts, he must be kind on himself as well as on the land. I mean, farming and this sort of (often thankless) toil isn’t soft and cushy, it isn’t that there’s no severity to be found, but I see it as meaning that things can be cruel enough (late frosts, blights, poor prices for crops) without beating yourself up about it all on top of it.
And what of the single lonely seventh pentacle on the ground? From a practical standpoint I wonder if the farmer had already cut that one away, and found it isn’t ripe, isn’t ready for harvesting. Oh well, one wasted. But the others are still ripening, and he just has to be more patient. Wait a little longer.
Another possibility: as it’s on the ground, he isn’t looking at it, it’s not in his sights. Perhaps in his focus on what’s still in the offing, on what’s not ready yet, he isn’t paying attention to what
is ripe and ready. Perhaps he wouldn’t look so resigned, so downcast, if he realized that at least one of them is ready, that his labours are about to be rewarded.
The background of this card is fairly unexciting. Ubiquitous gray sky. But there are also far-off purple mountains, representing a quest for esoteric and spiritual knowledge. But it’s well in the distance; something for another day, perhaps when his work is done here.
My Interpretations
This is always a card of patience for me. It shows that there is always a need to take your time, that the best things, the richest harvests, are worth waiting for. If it isn’t ready now, if you have to hold your horses and wait, don’t beat yourself up about it. Patience, and delicate plants, are best in gentle and forgiving hands. I would also see it, if it applied in a reading, to refer to natural cycles. To everything happening in its own good time. Because some seasons can’t be rushed; no matter how empty the belly or how long the time, if a crop is to be planted in the spring and harvested in the autumn, then that’s the way it’s got to be. And there’s no two ways about it. So the Seven of Pentacles would indicate to me a somewhat fatalistic perspective, that you have to let things happen when they’re supposed to happen. And that may lead to impatience and resignation, but there’s not much that can be done about that beyond simply accepting it. Whether you like it or not.
After going into the significance of the mismatched shoes and all the Masonic stuff, I gained a new perspective on the card as well: that of honest, sincere effort, or a person whose intentions are well-meaning and honest. The image of the honorable and weatherbeaten man of the land.
From a practical standpoint, it is about an effort whose payoff has been a long time coming. And the person in question has a lot of time and energy devoted to it. Perhaps to the exclusion of all else. And now, after all the time of waiting has seemingly come to nothing, or at least no results yet, he begins to question whether it was worth it in the long run. Don’t despair, it will pay off.
