Wednesday, 13 May 2015

When Court cards Go Wrong Part Two: Nutty Knights

PSYCHO-PROFILE: NUTTY KNIGHTS

Even in upright positions the tarot cards are not univocal or one-dimensional. There are shades, shadows, reflections, inflections and layers of meaning to each card. Often whether you read the cards "positively" or "negatively" depends on the theme of the reading, their position and their relation to other cards in a spread.

With the Court cards we know that they can represent a theme, a situation or an event. A Page (or Princess) can also be a message or piece of news. However, more usually they are people. Sometimes the querent, more frequently someone the querent knows, has known, or is about to know.

But what if it's not a happy sight? What unwelcome qualities could the Courts betoken in a person? What might they look like on a bad day?


Here's a Psyche Profile of the Court cards in their less likeable guise. Of course, it should be noted that they don't exhaust a personality; they only highlight those qualities or characteristics most pertinent to the issue at hand. 

Images are from the Radiant Rider-Waite Tarot, US Games Systems Inc. 

If you missed the batty Pages then catch them HERE
Moving ahead here are our QUEENS
 

Knight of Wands
The Knight of Wands is a powerhouse of drive, enthusiasm and dynamic energy. He's passionate and fiery, ambitious and determined. He is courageous and fearless with vast reserves of high-spirited confidence. A "happening" kind of guy. 

Gone a little awry, he's...well, let's take a peek. Here he is charging up the road, cutting other drivers up, speeding past "slow down" signs; hooting, tooting and shouting expletives out of the window. He's late for an important date at the airfield. 

He's having his first flying lesson, he fancies being a top pilot. He screeches to a halt. Elbowing a small gentleman out of the way, he slams out of the car and runs up the field to where a twin engine plane awaits. The smaller gentleman puffs up alongside the Knight and they exchange nods. The Knight of Wands begins to boast about his excellent sense of direction, his prowess with speed and balance, his astonishing mastery of all things vehicular and how he's going to display superlative flying skills. The small gentleman nods. Agreement concerning the Knight's all-round excellence established, they step up towards the plane doors. The small gentleman hops in.

The Knight's door to the pilot's cockpit won't open. He starts to wrench at it, twisting and pulling, swearing and shouting, finally kicking it open. He hauls himself in and gets going straight away, launching himself at the controls. 

The plane trundles down the runway, and the Knight pokes about at knobs and levers until it speeds up. The small gentleman looks on and praises his dexterity with the controls. 

The Knight impulsively presses a few buttons. The ailerons open. He grabs at a lever and the nose of the plane lifts, followed by the body. A few kilometres up and our Knight, smug, punches a few more buttons. The plane levels out. 

There's a deafening screeching noise. Red lights appear. The plane judders and begins to lose altitude. The Knight ineffectively jabs about. 

The plane plummets. 

He turns to the small gentleman beside him and tells him now is a good time for him to take over. The small gentleman turns to our Knight and replies: 'I thought you were the instructor'. 

Knight of Cups
This Knight oozes charm and elegance. He's the archetypal romantic; seductive, sensitive, loving and giving. He's equable and serene, imaginative, artistic, and trusts in feeling. Attractive and friendly, he'll sense your moods, wax lyrical, and be your general dream-boat. 

Unless he's in a bad mood. He's out on a date; it's supposed to be a romantic dinner. The roses are red, so is the wine, and sadly so is our Knight's face. He feels as if he's embarrassed himself. He perceives that he's being humiliated. 


His dinner date is tapping into her mobile/cell and he could swear (if it wasn't so uncouth) that he saw the name "Harry" pop up on the screen. And his date is smiling! Who is this contender for his affections? He decides he can catch knowing glances from other people in the restaurant. They're laughing at him. He knows it.  He can sense it. It's as obvious as the bright yellow egg on his face. 

His date excuses herself to powder her nose. Or whatever women do for hours in there - probably trying to compose herself so that she can continue with this hurtful lie without detection. She told him she was unattached and looking for love. She's playing him. He's a fool. 

He carefully stretches his hand out across the table as if to grasp the stem of his wine glass. At the last second he palms her phone instead. Gradually he pulls it towards him. 

There it is! That infernal Harry! A text. "Wow, what a great time we had at Wombat's Cocktail Lounge! Let's do it again xoxoxo".  Well! Proof. In black and white. Well, red and green actually with lots of little faces but same thing. The Knight of Cups snorts in disappointed, distraught dismay. It's a disaster! 

When his date returns to the table he starts angrily ranting, accusing her of being a manipulative witch who was deliberately pilfering his heart and decimating his good faith. What was he? A stooge to make other men jealous? He's been set-up and horribly betrayed, he'll never trust anyone else as long as he lives! He's heart-broken! Devastated! Destroyed! 

She picks up her phone and bag, collects her coat and walks out. She flags down a passing taxi, gets in and taps out a number. The phone rings through. 

'You'll never guess what, Harriet.'

Knight of Swords
The Knight of Swords always has an opinion on everything. He enjoys intellectual discussions. He talks. He loves to talk. And think. But he doesn't sit still thinking about thought, he's restless and forever on the go. He likes everything to be fast: thinking, talking, walking. He's our multi-tasking maniac: a powerful and clever whirling dervish. 

Which is sort of okay, he's quick-witted, bold and bright. If you need someone who'll rush in and save you from a burning building without hesitation or regard to his own safety, then this is your man. Gone wrong, the word "nightmare" doesn't come close. 

You don't want him organizing your vacation. There he is, storming through the first online booking app that slowly resolves itself onto his handheld gadget. It's Penguin Airlines. That will do. He clicks through quickly filling in details. No it won't do. He doesn't need that. They can get a ferry. Car, train to the coast, boat. Belgium isn't that far, is it? He deletes the app although he's already put his credit card details in and paid. 

They somehow make it to the station despite running dangerously low on fuel. The Knight of Swords flusters his family onto a train that seems to be heading in the right direction, accidentally leaving behind Little Florence's favourite doll on the coffee vending machine. Despite all the crying and screaming they make it to a platform and the Knight scrambles his family out, leaving Little Sidney's favourite comfort teddy bear on the train seat. 

As his wife drags the suitcases and two miserable children along, the Knight gets annoyed at not being able to think through all the screaming and wailing. He impatiently tells the tots to desist as the toys can easily be replaced with some other thing, like a beachball or a sunhat. If they were going somewhere hot. Which, on this occasion, they weren't. 

But a platform isn't a dock. Somehow they had boarded the wrong train and ended up at the airport. The Knight pushes to the front of a queue, asks for four tickets on Penguin Airlines and snatches out his credit card, forgetting he's already paid. His wife has remembered the passports. They get on the plane. The children, for some mysterious reason, are still noisily upset. The Knight sits alone at the back. 

They land. They disembark. Belgium! 

It's changed a bit, he thinks. Climate change, no doubt. Definitely colder. Mountains. Penguins. And whiter. And sort of snowy really. 


Knight of Pentacles
The Knight of Pentacles is an industrious and methodical chap. He's responsible, organized, patient and committed. You can rely on him. He's loyal, considered and thoughtful. 

The Knight of Pentacles is in the office. But he's having a bit of a break-down and doesn't realize it. Surrounded by towering stacks of paper and numerous files and folders obscuring his computer screen, he's not paying attention to any of that. He's too busy making a list. In fact, several. So many that he's now made a list of the lists. He thinks the family home is simply out of all order. 

Nothing is being done as it should. It's chaos. He's made a list of all the toys in the children's rooms. They should all be in their boxes, not scattered everywhere or muddled with toys from other boxes. 

That Teensy Zoo Fun Fairground, for instance. It's got so many miniature animals and plastic people in it that all the bits really should be counted to make sure none are missing, and each piece labelled. Isn't it 101 items in the box? Or was it 201? 

Then there's the books. They ought to be in alphabetical order and they should have a taxonomy of them all so that they don't accidentally re-acquire one they've already got. That would be so wasteful. It's no good getting bogged down in books you've already read but have forgotten you've read until the last revealing plot twist. Not to mention a horrific waste of money. He decides to add a list of everything they've wasted money on over the last tax year. That fluffy bathmat when they already had a bathmat. Wait. Wasn't that one in the dog basket? It was about time he separated all the dog paraphernalia onto a separate list. It wouldn't do not to plan properly. 

He knew he was being a tad obsessive and boring but one must be methodical or chaos would ensue. 

A few folders marked "urgent" topple onto his lists. 
The telephone rings. 
It's the Boss. About the Knight's catering arrangements for the office get-together and meal. The Knight had been distracted by an annoyingly impertinent wasp at the time and only dimly recalled the arrangements. Huge smelly bags dripping smelly drips everywhere had arrived with the cryptic explanation from the delivery man that they were to accompany the dessert rhubarb. The Boss demanded to know what on earth was going on.  There was a dull thud and a small click in our Knight's brain. 

'Ah,' he said, 'I always put horse manure on my rhubarb'. 

© Donna Hazel at Tarotdon Tarot






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