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Penthasilia  Penthasilia is offline
Join Date: 08 Jun 2010
Location: Ohio USA
Posts: 4,304
Maat tarot IDS

Card/Number: 10 of Swords/18

Card Image: see attached

First Impression: A powerful 10 of Swords- most artists will draw the swords piercing through, but few truly show the horror of the act. This card does, blood splattered and running freely, no soft or silent act, but utter and violent brutality.

Card Description: A man lays on the floor of an ornate room with vaulted ceilings, sun-filled windows, marble statues/altars with a gorgeous woven rug. His white robe is flung off his body, which lies pierced by 10 swords. Rivulets of blood seep from the body, onto the cloak, into the carpet, while an arc of blood streams on one nearby marble slap- almost in testament to the brutal slaying in this church-like building, aghast at the carnal scene that lies within.

Masculine/Feminine/Neutral: Masculine

Colors: red, white, blue, yellow and brown

Senses: the violence permeates the room, the force of it hitting you, rattling your bones. The smell of blood, dust, decay and death fill your nostrils as the taste of tears, bitterness and hopelessness sit heavy on your tongue. The anguished, horrified cries of silence ring in your ears.

Symbols: slain man, bloodied, marble statue/crypt, swords, light filled windows, church-like room

Story (Intuitive): My gut clenches as I walk in the room, the wrongness permeating my core. I am a priestess and daughter of Death, yet this is not Death alone, but a pervasive and ugly bastardization tinged by oppressive cruelty and injustice. My heart, my whole being, aches for the loss. This time, this place though- seems wrong. And as I begin to wonder, the scene changes before my eyes. And now, I stand in the place that I stood just last night, the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. A place with similar horrors and pain, souls lost in a cataclysm of fear, betrayal and brutality. "Oh Mother", I whisper, as I did last night, "help me give them peace. At the very least, let them feel my tears and compassion for their suffering and loss.". I weep in silence, as I remember the macabre scene of last night, of the gaity of the Halloween crowd laughing/squealing at the makeshift haunted prison-castle which ground like salt into the wounds of the wrongness of the spirits remaining. I hear the whispers- the same voices of last night, the voices of the lost- floating around me. "If you never believed in evil before, believe in it now- because you can see that it exists. But, it does not exist in the stories of hell and demons, but rather in the depravity of man, whose actions are self-explained by a deranged sense of morality, fed by societal movement and religious beliefs.". Oh, how it hurts! The ache, the pain! The nauseating permeation of corrupt evil that lingers in these stone walls. I see the dove, the dove from the 3 of swords, mourning in her death cry, bloodied carcass on the roof- mixed with the sounds of madness and fear. It is too much! I do not know what to do. How do you stop this madness, this evil? HOW? There is no way to right this wrong- no words of solace that will remove this black mark. "Bring them home daughter", my Mother whispers in my ear, "for that is part of your gift, as well as your curse. You feel their spirits, but also their pain, but that allows you to take their hand and guide them home.". I close my eyes, the realization filling me, the understanding and wisdom taking hold. I cannot change the wicked, that is their work- either in this lifetime, or the ones to follow. But I can bring the suffering home, and in the midst of this strange scene, I somehow become disconnected from the crowd- being truly in this space, and I begin my work- showing them the way- one by one. They are grateful, their empty eyes now filled with purpose, their misery lifted as they realize their suffering has ended. And as one young man walks by, he stops and looks at me with appreciation in his eyes, "Fear not the dead, my lady, it is the living your must show caution with. Please, try to teach this to the others, the ones here that do not understand.". I nod, this too is part of my work. He walks toward his rest, head held high, and I thank him softly for his words and hold them close to my heart.

Astrologic: week of the last quarter moon in Virgo, planetary ruler: Jupiter

Element: fire

Keywords: overkill, the end of a situation

Meanings: betrayal, backstabbed, hitting rock bottom, the worst of a situation

Quote: "Fear not the dead, my lady, it is the living your must show caution with."

Evil does not reside in hell, or even within demons, but can often find a comfortable home in the heart of the self-righteous man.

***I no longer doubt the significance of the syncronicity that has occurred between events in my life as I study this deck. The trip to Eastern State Penitentiary yesterday, followed by the 10 of Swords today, is a marked reminder of that bond. It was in the loving words of a spirit finally allowed to depart that the quote for this card was found. Heed his words, feel the pain of those whose lives were lost in a horrific manner, then you too can help ease their pain, and guide them home.

I would encourage anyone interested to read the history of ESP- founded by the Anglican/Quaker movement in Pennsylvania- the idea was that forced confinement with no human interaction, "honest" labor and reading of the bible would produce penitence and reform in prisoners. Many grew mad. Unable to help themselves, deprived for human interaction, they were tortured mercilessly when they tried to speak to other inmates, or even themselves. These methods were considered "humane" by the guards of that time and included atrocities that often ended the lives of the inmates. Many of these, in the early days of the prison, were people incarcerated for stealing due to the poverty and depression of the times, stealing in order to feed their families and live under a solid roof. Let us never forget their story, for we risk returning and repeating history when the past gets long buried.
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