Egipcios Kier * 24 Unraveling the Threads of The Weaver

The Egypcios Kier Tarot is a deck designed and illustrated by an Argentinian occultist and published in Buenos Aires. The deck is accompanied by an English commentary written by tarot scholar Stuart Kaplan.

As I continued my study of this captivating deck, I discovered a tapestry of themes woven into card 24 – The Weaver. As I’ve noted in earlier posts, each card shows a cartouche divided into three sections, each containing various symbols and images. It occurs to me that the upper section of the cartouche may relate to the “upper worlds” or to spiritual matters, the lower section to the “Underworld” or unconscious impulses, and the middle section to our daily lives here in this world.

In the top third of this cartouche we find three symbols:

The magical letter: A curious symbol resembling an ‘M’ lying on its side with circles on its ‘feet’ remains a mystery to me. Lacking an understanding of this symbol, I considered my understanding of the letter M. Its sound is within every word for ‘mother’ throughout the world because it is the first sound a baby makes when learning to speak. The Egyptians drew a vertical wavy line to depict this sound and to represent the primordial waters of creation; this symbol changed only slight over the millennia and between cultures and became ‘M’ in the Latin alphabet.

The snail hieroglyph: Today, the word ‘snail’ evokes the idea of slowness, as in the term ‘snail mail,’ or the poetic ‘lock upon the garden gate’ of psychedelic folk music.

Exaggerated in the hieroglyph are the snail’s antennae, the longer ones hold its eyes, a shorter set contains its olfactory organs. The size of the antenna here suggest a reaching out of oneself for wider awareness of the surrounding world and a quest for understanding.

Only its delicate shell protects the snail. This suggests we should be more aware that the protections we construct around ourselves are more fragile than we imagine.

The snail shares a connection with royalty. Ancient Mediterranean peoples obtained a purple dye from the Tyrian sea snail and only royalty could afford to wear fabric colored that exquisite hue.

The conversive ‘Vav’: The Hebrew letter Vav resembles the hooked lights used in the Sorcery of Hekate to draw our aspirations to us. According to the teachings of Chabad Lubavitch, the name of the letter means ‘hook,’ an object that holds two things together.

As a prefix, Vav is a conjunction. Adding a Vav to the beginning of any word creates the meaning ‘and’ or ‘but,’ connecting or separating words and phrases. In biblical usage, it can convert a verb from the past to the future tense, or from the future to the past tense, linking the two times into a single moment, hence the saying, “There is no earlier or later in the Torah.”

The Vav illuminates the power of language and communication. It symbolizes our ability to bridge the gap between ourselves and higher realms, to shape this world through our thoughts, speech, and actions.

Another image appears in a smaller cartouche that overlays both the top and middle of the card:

Nurturing mother: A seated woman crowned with sun and moon nurses an adult-looking infant pharaoh who is wearing the double crown of upper and lower Egypt. The tableau may represent the goddess Isis and her child Horus. The image encapsulates the patient process of nurturing a child from infancy onward. Just as a snail’s shell offers limited protection, so does the maternal presence safeguard a child, blending strength and vulnerability.

The fact that this small cartouche is present in both the top or "upper world" section of the card and the "middle world" section suggests that maternal nurturing is both a divine and very human act.

The bottom third of the cartouche reveals another trio of enigmatic symbols:

Cryptic fence: A curious symbol consisting of green crosshatching reminds me of a garden fence, but I have been unable to determine what it signified in ancient Egyptian culture.

The cobra: A rearing cobra wraps itself around a lotus stem. This single serpent spiraling around a staff or pole is the emblem of Asclepius, the Greek god of healing. It was a common healing symbol in the ancient Mediterranean region and was even mentioned twice in the Hebrew Bible, where is referred to as Nahash or Nehushtan. (In contrast, today’s more commonly seen image of two snakes entwining around a staff was actually the symbol of Hermes, the god of merchants and a psychopomp who guided the dead to the underworld.)

The lotus flowers: Two more lotuses, atop long stems, appear on either side of the cobra. Lotuses grow from the muddy beds of streams and ponds, their flowers blossoming on the surface of the water; their stems are not usually visible to us. Lotus flowers appear in the art of earliest Egypt and continued to be depicted frequently throughout the culture’s history. Like the snake, lotuses represent healing but also spiritual rebirth. The lotus was valued for its use in perfumes and its scent believed to revive the spirit. In Egyptian mythology, the lotus flower was the first thing to emerge from the watery primordial chaos, and when it opened, the sun was born from it. The myth reflects natural observations of the flower: at sunrise, the lotus blossom emerges from the water and opens; at fall of night, it closes and submerges below the surface of the water.

The heart of the cartouche displays a powerful image:

The Loom: A bare-breasted woman, an unexceptional sight in ancient Egypt, is working a loom anchored to the wall. She crouches on the floor as she methodically guides the shuttle with her left hand and holds the frame of the loom with her right hand. She is creating a tapestry of green thread that resembles the crosshatching in the ‘fence’ symbol below. Her task is slow and repetitive, requiring patience and persistence, but allowing some creative expression. The loom is a universal tool and symbol, and the tapestry made with it is a metaphor for the interwoven nature of existence. As the Weaver manipulates warp and weft she is mirroring the divine act of creating the universe, and the threads of the loom suggest the Thread of Fate.

This evocative image weaves together the mundane with the divine just as the act of weaving suggests creation and nurturing. The small cartouche that impinges on the central image repeats the idea of holiness and nurturing.

Weaving is a solitary task. However, the growing and processing of wool and flax required the participation and labor of many members of society in complex relationships with each other. The fabrics created by the weaver would also benefit other people and society in general.

The card’s title includes another triad of symbols:

The Venus Symbol: Venus is known for evoking emotions, especially love. This symbol is prominent in other tarot decks, especially on The Empress card, which often shows a pregnant woman. In this card, working the loom is comparable to maternal care. Physical birthing was, for the most part, biologically inevitable, but striving for a more conscious and active role in transforming the world, the Weaver mirrors the goddess’s creativity.

The ‘U’: The twenty-first letter of the English alphabet suggests uracil, a key component of DNA, which forms the tapestry of existence. On the periodic table of elements ‘U’ is the symbol for uranium. Its esoteric value is connected to inspiration, optimism, and creative self-expression.

Numeral 6: The Pythagorean meaning of this number is harmony. It is the numerical value of the Hebrew letter Vav which appears at the top of the cartouche. Both letter and numeral link divine insight with successful earthly endeavors.

Kaplan unravels history:

Egyptian weavers, who, it was believed, had been taught their skills by the goddess Isis in the distant past, produced an array of items, from sails to clothing, and bandages to shrouds. Their textiles were made solely of flax, because, according to Kaplan, the use of leather and wool were forbidden in their culture. Egyptian linen was renowned and desired, because it was dyed vibrant colors and often embroidered with exotic designs. (Today, Egyptian cotton is famous, but cotton was not available to the ancient Egyptians.)

Both upright and reversed meanings reveal layers of meaning:

According to Kaplan, the upright meanings encompass many ideas: From traditionally feminine work to patient craft, the Weaver embodies diligent effort to create an object of beauty and usefulness. The card indicates the ability to weave different aspects of life together meaningfully as well as the nurturing protectiveness of motherhood.

Kaplan provides us with these reversed meanings: Mediocrity caused by impatience, disarray, and neglect.

Other possibilities for interpreting the card: The card brings to mind the beauty of virtue and strength as expressed in a passage from the Book of Proverbs. The Woman of Valor “seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands…” The text continues:

She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong.
She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of snow for her household, for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

This card shows a weaver who may embody many of those qualities. However, this tarot card can also be interpreted in more traditional ways.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira, a Brazilian blogger who has written extensively about the Egipcios Kier Tarot, associates this card with the Queen of Wands, which to me is the card of Hestia, goddess of the hearth, and a sybol of female strength. Vieira suggests The Weaver indicates the “certainty of being able to provide for one's needs.” (Pamela Colman Smith added a domestic cat her card, implying psychic awareness. In ancient Egypt, domestic cats were considered women's pets and were often portrayed inhabiting homes; however, it would seem wise to keep those playful, curious animals away from the threads of a loom.)

The Thread of Fate:

The central image of the weaver brings to mind the Greek Moirai, the three Fates, who control the threads of individual destiny. Klothó, with her long braid, holds a spindle and distaff, gathering material to spin the thread. Láḥesis, her bare foot showing as her gown pools on the floor around her, carefully studies the quality of the thread and measures it for purpose. Átropos, wearing the rich extravagant clothes the three have created, cuts the thread.

The theme of female figures in control of destiny is found in many European cultures, perhaps originating in the remotest Indo-European past. Romans, for example, believed that the three Parcae recorded the thread of life for every being, even the greatest of gods. The Norse feared the three death-bringing Norns, whose name means ‘to twine’ and who drew water from a sacred well to nourish the World Tree, thus shaping human destiny. The Wyrds of Anglo-Saxon mythology also dwelt by a well under a world tree and, like the Greek Fates, they spun, measured, and cut the thread of fate. Seven goddesses who wove the thread of destiny inhabit Celtic mythology. Many similar female beings are preserved in eastern European folktales and there are some scattered references to fate goddesses in Indian literature, too.

A Call to Divine Craft:

The Weaver speaks of magic within the mundane, the transformation of fibers into fabrics, and even the preservation of ancient traditions in modern times. The loom bridges past and present, inviting us to engage in acts of creation that connect us to history's threads.

Every tapestry tells a story. I have a tallis, a prayer shawl, that was hand-woven for me by Laine Schipper, a woman who attended my synagogue and whose husband, Joel, would wrap them both in his tallis (which had originally served as their chuppah, marriage canopy) during the closing song of the service each Shabbat.

In conclusion:

I am mesmerized and baffled by the blending of related but disparate elements in this card. The threads in this card are too many and too intricate to discuss in a single blog post.

Each time the card appears in a reading, a different theme may come to the fore. Many of the following themes can be derived from this rich imagery:

- the creative powers of sound and speech
- the primordial waters of creation
- the beauty of tenacity, dignity, and courage
- patience and persistence in creative expression
- reaching outside ourselves for awareness
- maternal nurturing
- protection and fragility
- relationship between earth and heaven, the mundane and the divine, a mother and child
- healing and medicine
- spiritual rebirth
- the interconnectedness of life
- the value of relationships
- the Thread of Fate

When The Weaver appears in a reading, it may suggest that the querent is in a period of creating or shaping his or her destiny, and should be encouraged to be patient and persistant. The appearance of this card might indicate a need to nurture an idea, project, or relationship, recognizing the delicate balance between strength and vulnerability. The card may also be a reminder of the interconnectedness of a person's actions and the broader tapestry of life, urging that person to consider how daily tasks and creative endeavors contribute to his or her spiritual and material world. Moreover, The Weaver can highlight the power of communication and the significance of nurturing one's inner and outer worlds, suggesting that the querent weave together different aspects of his or her life to find harmony and purpose.

Today, the card has spoken to me of a connection to the celestial realm while doing my daily tasks in this world, and the privilege women can exercise of birthing and nursing children. I recall my disappointment when I realized I’d never have children, but I rejoice now in my writing endeavors. The card reminds me of the fragility of life and relationships and encourages me to treasure them.