July 13 – 19, 2026
One of the reasons I had to skip last week was because the cards were all reversed, all but one, and I just didn’t have it in me. This week? Joke’s on me, Universe. Joke is on me. I hear and obey.
- 10 of Pentacles, reversed
- 4 of Cups, reversed
- Hierophant, reversed
- 6 of Wands, reversed
- Ace of Swords
Ace of Swords for the win! And so we’ll just concentrate on him. If you did require a quick rundown of the reversed cards, it would be a recitation of “nopes,” as in, energy to hold up the sense of a happy home base? Nope! Energy to get over an episode of emotional immaturity? Nope! Energy to imagine a different approach? Nope! And here is a sort of skewed one; sometimes a reversed Hierophant shows up when somebody has built a religion of worshiping themselves. That’s a lack of emotional discipline. Bundle that with immaturity, and something can snap.
So we might say the dusty field in this reading is barren, supporting no healthy life, no expansive thinking beyond our own disappointment, no impetus to get up and try until something works, just a couple bushel barrels for a harvest of self-involvement.
I don’t like the atmosphere of this week. HOWEVER, COMMA!
However, while we are kicking around these dried up rows and cursing, what breaks in the sky, at the horizon? Lightning! And with it the rain, to wash away all the bad feeling and defeatist attitudes, and replace them with a sudden flash of hope and optimism.
The Aces of the Tarot suits are, as I read them, cards that signal an initiation. That’s a rite of passage, a formal invitation, a ceremonial introduction into a group. It’s a beginning, and in Tarot a very specific one. Instead of just knowing you want to belong to something and point yourself somewhere, the Tarot wants to direct your attention to how we communicate. Maybe a lack of communication is what got us into this situation in the first place.
We use language and action to communicate to others what we feel, what we think of them, what we think of ourselves, and what we want people to think about us. Those last two can be completely different.
When you stagger through the process of learning to differentiate all the voices yapping in your head and issuing out of your mouth, it’s a drastic learning curve to some sort of mastery. Ideally, mastery in the Swords would be the ability to cut out all the noise and ego, and use communication for the good of ourselves and others. It would mean we have learned discernment about what should and should not be highlighted or shared, and when to say it, if it is deemed useful.
We also learn that truth is the highest form of communication and while the truth might make people mad, lying to them is the bigger sin, and something that is hard to forgive.
So we welcome this Ace of Swords, appearing in a landscape of feeling too low, too disheartened, too hurt, and too empty. There is another way, says Ace of Swords. You won’t master it overnight. But if you make a vow to tell the truth from now on out, it will lead from this place, where nobody can stay.
