Let me apologize up front for the tone of this entry. I shall probably talk much about myself and my family, but it’s just the mechanism by which I demonstrate how I read the cards. Usually, I’m both the reader and the querent, so a lot of my examples will be recollections. Thus, I am sorry if it seems self-absorbed.
Anyway, Dad’s in the hospital with fluid on his lungs, and while he’s improving greatly – he has the nurses bringing him strawberries and other “verboten” goodies – he’s 88 and I am deeply worried about him. When we’re young, our parents seem omnipotent, omniscient. In my case, my parents were of the “Great Generation,” the one that survived the Great Depression and won World War II. Truly we stand on the shoulders of giants (I forget who said that).
All of this brought to mind with a sudden, sharp immediacy the warm feelings engendered by the RWS’ and compatibles’ versions of the Six of Cups. One can almost feel herself a kid again, safe and surrounded by folks who care for our needs, leaving us to run and to play, making our castles and forts out of drying sheets.
However, the Six of Cups can also bring other memories with pangs of their own. I guess it’s just a “National Maudlin Introspection Day” celebration, but my thoughts while contemplating the Six of Cups went something like this:
I haven’t been at this blogging business for long, but already I can tell this blog isn’t going to be like the other cartomantic/tarot blogs I’ve read. I’m far from experienced; I lack the erudition and the intuition that others command. For me, looking at the cards sometimes – just sometimes – takes me to someplace else. Somewhere, somewhen else. I can’t explain it any better than that. It’s a very personal, and oftentimes emotional thing for me. Images come to mind in response to what I see and I follow them…within the intellectual framework of the meanings I’ve learned by rote, though sometimes I vary from them. Anyway, I guess this blog is going to be more of an exploration of one would-be cartomancer’s encounters with these mysterious cards. Perhaps my musings will serve, if no other purpose, to illustrate how one particular person reads the cards.
And now for today’s card, the Six of Cups.

This is the Albano-Waite version.
And it hits me between the eyes in a very personal way. This card is at one and the same time both a comforting embrace and a mocking revenant of a past that never was. It haunts me. It’s as the poet said:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.
The Road Not Taken
You see, it is ages and ages hence, and I am telling you with a sigh: I took the other road. The safe one. The road for sleepwalkers who coast through their lives never really living them. My waking came far too late, for, as Evelyn Couch (Kathy Bates) said in Fried Green Tomatoes: “I’m too young to be old, and I’m too old to be young.” I went from 21 to 60 and stayed there until I was 42, and let me tell you, in the South, 42-year-old women are supposed to be faded grandmothers, who live vicariously through their young and sport “W” stickers on their gas-hogging minivans. I’m still wanting to stay out until the dawn breaks, being careless and a bit tipsy, having all night talks with friends the likes of which one can’t make when old. We grow so careful with our “selves” even as we realize we don’t know what those are, and as Descartes and Locke would say, the self isn’t contiguous but sequential with each one a little different from the last. So gone are the late night talks about everything and nothing, gone is telling “our BFF” secrets we wouldn’t ever want to come to light. No more soul-baring. But that’s that.
Now as for the Six of Cups….
The standard definition of this card is “nostalgia” or something from the past coming back to one in the present. When reversed, it can indicate the Miss Havisham personality type, someone sitting in the closet with her dusty, dry maiden’s wedding gown and her moldy cake, waiting for a bridegroom who never came and now never will. Whew. That hits a little too close to home.
When looking at the picture (always a wise course of action when we’ve drawn a pictorial card) we see also that this appears to be the giving of a gift. Is the masculine figure a boy or a little person? Two souls as yet unsullied by the realities of life, enjoying a moment of pure joy…is this card designed to cause us to associate one of our own memories from our own innocent memories?
Now take a look at the Six of Cups from the Tarot of the Old Path:

Tarot of the Old Path Six of Cups
Here, it looks almost as if the guy is trying to flirt with the woman, and she’s giving him the “brush off.” In a case such as this, when the traditional meanings are steeped in my head but the image doesn’t match it, I confess…I resort to the dreaded LWB. The OP Tarot authors say: innocent and undemanding love, nostalgia, memories. I just don’t “get” that impression visually from this card, so I stay with what my subconscious mind “knows”…even though the picture doesn’t match.
Now, let’s look at the Barbara Walker Tarot’s Six of Cups:

Here, I get the negative side of that “parents as omnipotent” feeling we have as kids. To the tiny figure crouched on the floor, “Mother” is a Goddess. It reminds me of parts of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, where Pink’s smothering mother (like Eddie Kasprack’s overprotective mother from Stephen King’s It) is A Force To Be Reckoned With or some such. Ms. Walker describes this card as representing deep memory, looking to the past for help in the present, a search for Mother-Wisdom, and a return to childhood. I normally don’t like LWBs but I always keep them in case the imagery doesn’t fit with what I know…provided, that is, that the LWB’s author gives an interpretation that makes sense with the picture. Ms. Walker has done that here.
And now to the Noblet TdM:

When read in the context of suit and number, the six of cups relates to harmony, reward, balance, and peace, all at the emotional level. It’s also the number of Tiphareth. This could include healthy nostalgic moments, too, I suppose. Sedillot defines the card as meaning: easy communication, harmonious emotinonal rapport, creative impulse, or a new friendship. Negatively, she describes it as sadness, bad dialogue or lack of dialogue, or bad company. Tiphareth connotes spirituality, harmony, beauty and compassion. For Christians or those of other religions who admire Jesus, Tiphereth is the sphere of “Christ-Consciousness.” Amazing how rich in meaning the non-pictorial minors are, no?
Yet for me, even when I’m reading the TdM, I often find myself experiencing that stab of things from the past…it may be different from yours. However, whatever your warm, hot cocoa recollection is, that’s the healthy side of the six of cups.
It’s just that sometimes that card hits you right between the eyes, speaking Ray Batty’s words to you with some mockery and vehemence:
“All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.”
And so they are.
Signing off, a little low today. Sorry.

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