Revisiting MBTI & the Tarot Court Cards: A Reflection and Revision (2019 & 2025)

Six years ago, I attempted to map the 16 Myers-Briggs Type Indicators (MBTI) to the 16 Tarot court cards using a symbolic wheel and a mixture of structure, intuition, and trial-and-error. At the time, I included David Kiersey’s temperament groupings in my calculations and tried to distribute the four pairs of traits evenly among the Tarot ranks (Page, Knight, Queen, King) and suits (Pentacles, Swords, Cups, Wands).

I’ve returned to this project with a simpler approach. While I still believe that Tarot and MBTI are not systems meant for one-to-one correspondence, I’ve found surprising results in aligning them through trait-to-symbol associations.

This post compares the Kiersey-MBTI version from 2019 with an MBTI-centered version, both of which explore how these two systems may echo each other.

The 2019 Version (Kiersey Modification of MBTI):

I assigned the suits to the MBTI cognitive functions:

Sensing (S) → Pentacles
iNtuiting (N) → Wands
Thinking (T) → Swords
Feeling (F) → Cups

The Attitudes (E/I) and Lifestyles (J/P) could fall into any rank, but I made sure each MBTI temperament group (SJ, NJ, SP, NP) and each Kiersey group (NF and NT) included one card of each rank. (Follow this link to see how that looked.)

The 2025 Version (MBTI-Centered Mapping of the Tarot Court Cards):

I align the four MBTI pairs with all the characteristics of the court cards:

Extraversion (E) → Knight / Introversion (I) → Queen
Judging (J) → King / Perceiving (P) → Page
Sensing (S) → Pentacles / iNtuiting (N) → Wands
Thinking (T) → Swords / Feeling (F) → Cups

Each personality type is assigned one Tarot court card, matching both suit and rank constraints. Here's how they line up:

SJs – Grounded, Loyal, Responsible
ESFJ ... King of Cups - Nurturing, emotionally steady leader
ISFJ ... Queen of Pentacles - Devoted, grounded caretaker <-- me
ESTJ ... King of Pentacles - Practical and authoritative
ISTJ ... Queen of Swords - Cool-headed, dutiful, principled

NJs – Visionary, Intuitive
ENFJ ... King of Wands - Bold, motivational, future-focused
INFJ ... Queen of Cups - Gentle, empathic, inwardly deep
ENTJ ... King of Swords - Commanding strategist with clear logic
INTJ ... Queen of Wands - Confident, inwardly fiery, visionary

SPs – Observant, Action-Oriented
ESFP ... Knight of Cups - Emotionally expressive, spontaneous
ISFP ... Page of Cups - Gentle, artistic, emotionally sensitive
ESTP ... Page of Pentacles - Practical, curious, hands-on learner
ISTP ... Page of Swords - Cool, alert, quick-thinking

NPs – Inventive, Idealistic
ENFP ... Knight of Wands - Energetic, expressive, visionary
INFP ... Page of Wands - Dreamy, imaginative, hopeful
ENTP ... Knight of Swords - Fast, sharp, idea-driven
INTP ... Knight of Pentacles - Steady, cerebral, dedicated

The earlier system was an ambitious attempt to align the tarot court with both MBTI and Kiersey’s modifications. The results were inconsistent. Many court cards felt misaligned with the emotional tone or functional energy of their paired type.

In contrast, the current system is cleaner, more internally consistent, and symbolically richer. It’s based directly on MBTI’s four dichotomies and maps onto the Tarot suits and ranks surprisingly well. Neither version is “correct,” of course. But this newer approach feels more like a conversation between systems, rather than a forced equivalency.

If you’ve worked with Tarot or MBTI, or both, I’d love to hear what resonated for you. What court card do you see in yourself?

Egipcios Kier * Card 41 Dissension and the Ace of Cups

My goal is to write about each of the Egipcios Kier cards that Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates with the suit of Cups. I’m beginning with the card she links to the Ten of Cups: card 41, Dissension.

At first glance, the title of this card seems difficult to reconcile with the Ten of Cups. We usually associate that card with harmony, gratitude, and emotional fulfillment. Yet perhaps the title points to something that comes before lasting peace.

The central image shows four figures with raised arms. Rather than fighting, they appear to be praying, singing, or participating in a shared ritual. The scene feels expressive rather than hostile.

Stuart Kaplan explains that the figures represent competing groups within Egyptian society and understands the card as internal conflict, failed negotiations, and division. Nelise Carbonare Vieira, however, sees something quite different. She associates the card with discovering one's gifts and finding the courage to reveal them to the world.

At first those interpretations seem unrelated. But perhaps the deepest dissension is not between people. It is within ourselves.

Most of us have hidden parts of ourselves at one time or another. We silence our voices, question our gifts, or avoid expressing what matters because we fear rejection. Yet that inner conflict cannot last forever. Eventually something within us asks to be heard.

Vieira writes that we must make space in society to reveal our gifts and our values. I find that insight compelling. Authentic community is not built by suppressing our differences but by bringing our true selves into relationship with one another.

Perhaps that is why this card precedes harmony. Emotional fulfillment does not come from avoiding conflict. It comes from allowing truth to emerge with honesty and compassion.

As the Kotzker Rebbe taught, "There is nothing so whole as a broken heart."

Sometimes the first sign of healing is not peace. It is the holy disturbance that makes peace possible.

What the Seven of Swords Really Means

Most people see a sneaky thief. I see a smart tactician.

In Pamela Colman Smith’s image, the Seven of Swords shows a performer dancing across a stage while holding the blades of five swords  with the backdrop of an armed camp, On the stage's backdrop, two more swords stand upright in the ground in front of a row of colorful tents; a group of soldiers is gathered around a smoking campfire. The man's self-satisfied smile is striking. For many readers, this card screams deception: theft, betrayal, lies, cowardice. It’s often seen as the card of someone cheating to get ahead.

But what look again. What more does it mean?

This man could be disarming a dangerous enemy that threatens a community. He’s taking the weapons that might be used against them and leaving quietly before anyone notices. There’s no bloodshed, no confrontation, just good strategy. His mission is risky. He holds the blades with his bare hands and risks hurting himself. He isn't unethical; he hasn't left them defenseless. The two swords he has left behind are a message: We were here. We are a dangerous adversary. Think twice before tangling with us.

Key Words (Light Side):

• Disarming the enemy
• Stealth
• Clever plan
• Reclaiming what was stolen
• Strategy
• Hidden motives

Key Words (Shadow Side):

• Betrayal of self
• Self-deception
• Isolation
• Avoiding confrontation
• Impulsiveness
• Overconfidence

What the card really means:
This is the card of unconventional strategy and victory. Direct conflict isn't always the best way to achieve goals, in peace or in wartime. The Seven of Swords doesn’t ask us to deceive anyone; it challenges us to think clearly and outmaneuver what threatens us.

When this card appears, consider alternate ways to respond to danger. Let the enemy worry what might be next if they mess with you.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers.

What the Two of Pentacles Really Means

It’s Not About Balance—It’s About Avoidance

Most contemporary writers interpret the Two of Pentacles as a sign of balance, adaptability, grace under pressure, and the ability to juggle life’s many demands. It’s often seen as a card that applauds your flexibility and suggests you can handle whatever life throws your way. This leads some readers to say: Don't worry, you've got this.

But what else could it mean?

In the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, a playful figure dances while juggling two pentacles inside a lemniscate. Two ships sail smoothly and safely over incredibly high waves of a rough sea.

From one perspective, the card is a kind of “don’t worry, you’ve got this” message.

Take a closer look at the figure's garments. He wears a bright red hat that’s not quite a dunce cap, but certainly reminiscent of one. His clothing is oddly theatrical, almost like part of a costume. Some readers have suggested he’s standing on a stage, playing a role.

The lemniscate also appears above the head of The Magician—a figure associated with both making dreams come true and with deception.

The card may suggest a period of multitasking where everything is still under control. However, you should ask if he is really in control, or simply trying to look like he is. This fool's performance may be his way of ignoring a precarious situation, or even trying to deceive others into thinking he’s more balanced than he really is.

Before we go further, here are the keywords I associate with this card:

Keywords (Light Side)

• Adaptability
• Grace under pressure
• Flexibility in fluctuating circumstances
• Multitasking
• Managing demands
• Finding harmony or your divine path
• Trying to make dreams come true

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Disorganization
• Unclear goals
• Trying to balance too many things
• Delaying decisions
  
• Chaos
• Poor time management
• Splitting your energy
  

These light side keywords reflect the best-case scenario: someone who stays "nimble and quick" under pressure and navigates competing demands with flexibility and poise. Dedication and adaptability can help you achieve your goals, but you must know what your goals are.

In my experience, the Two of Pentacles often appears when balancing act is already faltering. You’re walking a tightrope, and it’s beginning to sway. One misstep, and everything could fall.

This is the card of conflicting goals and lack of commitment to a clear goal. It often shows up when someone is trying to serve two masters or maintain appearances while everything is unraveling beneath the surface.

It says: You’re not really choosing.

Even upright, the card can suggest that things aren't working particularly well. If you don’t make a firm commitment soon, everything could fall apart. Reversed, the danger becomes obvious: chaos, confusion, failure, and burnout.

What the card really means:

The Two of Pentacles often appears not because someone is skillfully balancing, but because they’re avoiding a difficult decision.

This card isn’t just about doing too much; it’s about refusing to let something go. You might be clinging to two different goals or two versions of yourself, while quietly hoping that someone else will come along and reveal your divinely ordained direction. But not all dreams are meant to be pursued at the same time. Some must be sacrificed so that others can flourish. And no one else—not your partner, not your mentor, not your tarot reader—can pinpoint your path for you.

That’s why I read this card as a wake-up call: Stop performing. Start choosing.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers.

The Road Given: A Reflection on the Knight of Pentacles

One of my favorite blogs is Leaf and Twig. The artist recently posted a photograph of a broad, snow-covered path through sparse woods, accompanied by a caption that struck me deeply:

the road given
is the road
that must be traveled

This short poem suggests that the path we're on, however dull, unpleasant, painful, or unexpected, is the one we must walk. There are a number of ways of looking at it:

Simple fact - we can address what is before us or curl up and do nothing
Initiation - some experiences are unavoidable and essential for growth
Surrender and trust - we didn’t choose the path, accepting it will be healing
Destiny or karma - what has been handed to us isn’t random
Radical acceptance - there is no point in wishing we could be elsewhere

There’s ambiguity in the word “must.” Is it a burden to endure or a sacred duty to embrace? Either way, the message is clear: stop wishing for another life and step fully into this one. The road before you is the one you're responsible for.

I'd like to remember this poem and bring its message into my tarot practice. What cards might reflect this vision of walking the road given?

Cards that reflect avoidance or escapism:

The Moon - illusion, confusion, refusing to see what’s real
the Seven of Cups - fantasy, imagining alternates instead of inhabiting your life
the Queen of Cups - not seeing reality, daydreaming instead of acting

Cards that suggest reluctant acceptance:

The Hanged Man - stuck or suspended, forced to see life from a new angle
the Five of Cups - grief, focusing on loss, failing to value what remains
the Queen of Pentacles - accepting limitations for now, giving more than you receive

Cards that show determination to walk the path:

The Fool - the journey of life, stepping into the unknown, the road opening ahead
The Hermit - walking with wisdom, seeking truth, becoming a guide to others
The Chariot - focused, resolved, determined to continue despite obstacles
the Eight of Cups - courage to step into the unknown
the Ten of Wands - the burden of responsibility, but also commitment to completing the task

And the card that may be most aligned with the poem:

The Knight of Pentacles - steady, grounded, and quietly resolute. Unlike the archetypal hero of The Chariot, he’s an ordinary person: a farmer who earns his living from the earth. Armored not for war but for labor, he surveys his fields and plans his work. He has already begun turning the soil, relying on the weather and the seasons to contribute to the harvest. His path may not be glamorous, but he is faithful. And through that faithfulness he gives shape and meaning to his life. 

 
The cards above are from The Robin Wood Tarot, the Universal Tarot (PCS), and the Oneness Tarot.

(And since I'm posting about my favorite 'blog, here is a link to an episode from my favorite YouTube channel: Jen That Good News Girl.)

What the Nine of Cups Really Means

It’s not a satisfied man with his arms crossed. It’s a woman whose water just broke.

The Nine of Cups is often described as the “Wish Card” and is considered a symbol of comfort, contentment, satisfaction, and wishes granted. The neatly arranged golden cups and relaxed, welcoming figure are usually read as positive signs. But one day, I pulled this card and didn’t see the smiling man at all.

Instead, I saw a woman in labor. The cups had spilled. Her water had broken. Something was about to be born and the moment filled with jubilation.

At the time, I was visiting a new town, trying to decide if I should move there. The Nine of Cups told me: Yes, this is your place. The next stage of your life will begin here.

And it did.

That’s when I realized another meaning of this card: it’s not the wealth and satisfaction at the end of a journey and the achievement of goals. It’s the breath right before birth. The water pouring out before the first cry of your baby. It is a release that signals something real is coming.

Keywords (Light Side)

• Feeling of plenty
• Hospitality
• Wishes granted
• Emotional fulfillment
• Gratitude
• Generosity
• Sensual pleasure
• Water breaking before labor

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Dissatisfaction
• Indulgence
• Greed
• Hidden emptiness
• Over-sated
• Opulence
• Moral decay
• Emotional imbalance
• Need to give up material things in favor of a spiritual quest

What the Nine of Cups really means:

This card invites you to prepare for something new to be born. You may achieve your wish, but listen to your heart to know what you are hoping to birth.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers!

The High Priestess

The High Priestess reminds us of the connection between our physical and spiritual lives. While her imagery often evokes hidden knowledge and ancient wisdom, she also challenges the dualistic view of body and soul that has been integral to much of Western thought since the ancient Greek Orphics, Pythagoreans, and Platonists. Instead of suggesting that the soul is entirely separate from the body, the High Priestess embodies the idea that consciousness, intuition, and spirituality arise from the physical reality of our existence.

Her symbolism reminds us that understanding life’s mysteries is not distant or unreachable, but woven into our lived experience. By understanding this, we can enhance our spiritual lives, personal journeys, and character development. Through the lens of Jewish tradition and the imagery of the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, we can see how the High Priestess guides us toward a deeper understanding of the unity between body and soul.

Symbolism and Imagery

In the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the High Priestess sits serenely on a cubical stone, symbolizing the material world that grounds her spiritual wisdom. Behind her, a veil embroidered with pomegranates hangs between two pillars, suggesting a gateway between realms. Beyond the veil lies a body of water, an emblem of the unconscious mind, flowing toward the distant horizon.

The veil and pillars evoke the First Temple, referencing sacred mysteries and the duality of human nature: body and soul, conscious and unconscious, good and evil. The High Priestess, positioned between these dualities, acts as a mediator, embodying the central pillar of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Her serene presence invites us to approach these mysteries not by rejecting the physical world, but by embracing its integral role in our spiritual development.

The Apparent Dualities of Human Nature

The celestial symbols on the High Priestess— a lunar crown representing the moon’s phases and a cross representing the sun’s cycles— remind us of the Jewish solar-lunar calendar and the cyclical nature of life. These symbols emphasize that human experience is deeply rooted in physicality. Our bodies are not obstacles to enlightenment but vessels through which intuition, emotion, and divine wisdom flow.

Jewish tradition underscores this unity. Deuteronomy 30:11–19 urges us to “choose life” and to recognize that divine wisdom is neither hidden nor distant:

“It is not in the heavens... nor is it beyond the sea... The word is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.”

This teaching aligns with the High Priestess’s scroll, which reveals all but one letter of the Torah. Her flowing robes, which fall to the crescent moon at her feet, suggest that divine wisdom arises from within our physical nature. The High Priestess reminds us that holiness is not achieved by escaping the body but by embracing it and choosing life in all its fullness.

Connections to Jewish Tradition

In Jewish tradition, our two inclinations— the yetzer tov (good inclination) and yetzer hara (evil inclination)— are natural parts of our being. The High Priestess, seated between the black and white pillars, symbolizes the balance between these forces. She teaches that both are essential for survival and growth.

Her role contrasts with the Devil card, which depicts chains and entrapment. While the Devil represents our inclinations as burdens, the High Priestess shows us how to integrate them into a life of freedom and purpose. Freedom, she teaches, is not an absence of constraint but a harmonious relationship with the currents of life, much like a bird soaring on the wind or a canoe navigating a river.

The cubical seats of The Priestess and The Devil reflect the message of Deuteronomy with its images of two stones, freestanding pillars, one placed on Mount Gerizim and the other on Mount Ebal, representing life and death, good and evil, respectively. Just as the Israelites were instructed to choose life, so too does the High Priestess urge us to choose wisely from within the framework of our physical existence.

Personal Insight

While meditating on this card, I have often seen an empty canoe in the water behind the High Priestess— a personal symbol from my shamanic journeys. To me, this canoe represents the unguided spirit traveling through the waters of life, a poignant reminder of the connection between body and soul. It also serves as a metaphor for navigating life’s mysteries: our journey is guided by intuition, which arises from our physical nature.

Modern Perspectives

Modern tarot scholars offer rich insights into the High Priestess’s symbolism. Norma Cowie emphasizes the pillars as representing the contrasts within us— unconscious negativity and conscious striving for goodness. Laura Tempest Zakroff likens the High Priestess to the heart, pumping life through the body while symbolizing the hidden depths of consciousness.

Robin Wood’s depiction of the High Priestess places her outdoors, surrounded by nature. Her pentacle necklace underscores the harmony of body and spirit, while her open book suggests that wisdom is accessible to all who seek it. These interpretations align with Doreen Valiente’s Charge of the Star Goddess:

“If that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you shall never find it without.”

The High Priestess challenges us to trust our intuition and embrace the path that flows from within.

Conclusion

Spiritual growth comes not from denying our physical nature but from understanding and embracing it. The High Priestess reminds us that wisdom and guidance are not distant or hidden but arise from the union of body and soul, of heart and mind. Her invitation to “choose life” calls us to explore the depths of our nature and act with awareness, balance, and purpose.

By contemplating her symbolism, we learn that freedom and growth are not found in rejecting the physical world but in engaging with it and mastering ourselves. Through her, we see that the mysteries of life are already within us, waiting to be discovered.

The High Priestess invites us to choose life, not by ignoring the body but by recognizing that our consciousness and spirituality arise from it. She encourages us to explore the depths of our nature while embracing our physical life. We can balance the various aspects of our minds and choose a path of growth and wisdom. The High Priestess encourages us to seek spiritual maturity and the mastery of our physical life.

Egipcios Kier * 18 The Moon

The Moon has long been associated with illusion, uncertainty, dreams, and the subconscious. Yet moonlight does something remarkable. It doesn't banish the darkness. It softens it, revealing just enough for us to keep walking.

Like the traditional tarot image, this card shows two canines gazing toward the moon. Here, the wolf becomes the jackal of Anubis, guide of the dead, while the crayfish is replaced by a water scorpion, a creature that lives between water and air. Together they evoke instinct, mystery, and the unseen paths we must sometimes follow.

Unlike many tarot interpretations that emphasize fear and deception, I've come to appreciate the moon differently. Over the years I've noticed how moonlight transforms an ordinary landscape. Harsh edges disappear, familiar places become mysterious, and a quiet path emerges where none seemed visible before.

Perhaps intuition works the same way. It rarely floods us with certainty. Instead, it offers enough light for the next step. We don't need to see the whole journey before we begin walking.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira describes this card as a search for one's true identity, the recovery of forgotten gifts, and a gentler way of expressing ourselves. Her words are compatible with the moon's quiet guidance.

The Moon reminds us that not every path is meant to be walked in daylight. Sometimes wisdom comes softly, inviting us to trust what we can already see rather than fearing what remains hidden.

Index of Egipcios Kier posts

I have been analyzing cards from the Egipcios Kier Tarot Deck, relying on the imagery of the cards, Stuart Kaplan's LWB, traditional tarot meanings, and Nelise Carbonare Vieira's website, Tarot Door. So far, I have reviewed less than a quarter of the deck, but here is an index of all the cards; it contains links to posts I've completed.

1 The Magician
2 The Priestess
3 The Empress
4 The Emperor
5 The High Priest
6 The Lovers
7 The Chariot

8 Justice
9 The Hermit
10 Wheel of Fortune
11 Strength
12 Hanged Man
13 Immortality (Death)
14 Temperance

15 Passion (Devil)
16 Obelisk (The Tower)
17 The Star
18 The Moon
19 The Sun
20 Resurrection (Judgment)
21 Transformation (The World)

22 The Fool

23 The Laborer (King of Wands)
24 The Weaver (Queen of Wands)
25 The Navigator (Knight of Wands)
26 The Prodigy (Page of Wands)

27 The Unexpected (Ten of Wands)
28 Uncertainty (Nine of Wands)
29 Domesticity (Eight of Wands)
30 Exchange (Seven of Wands)
31 Impediment (Six of Wands)
32 Magnificence (Five of Wands)
33 Alliance (Four of Wands)
34 Innovation (Three of Wands)
35 Desolation (Two of Wands)
36 Initiation (Ace of Wands)

37 Art and Science (King of Cups)
38 Duplicity (Queen of Cups)
39 Testimony (Knight of Cups)
40 Premonition (Page of Cups)

41 Dissension (Ten of Cups)
42 Preeminence (Nine of Cups)
43 Delusion (Eight of Cups)
44 Expressiveness (Seven of Cups)
45 Regeneration (Six of Cups)
46 Patrimony (Five of Cups)
47 Conjecture (Four of Cups)
48 Consummation (Three of Cups)
49 Versatility (Two of Cups)
50 Attraction (Ace of Cups)

51 Advice (King of Swords)
52 Premeditation (Queen of Swords)
53 Hostility (Knight of Swords)
54 Examination (Page of Swords)

55 Contrition (Ten of Swords)
56 Pilgrimage (Nine of Swords)
57 Rivalry (Eight of Swords)
58 Meditation (Seven of Swords)
59 Revolution (Six of Swords)
60 Evolution (Five of Swords)
61 Solitude (Four of Swords)
62 Proscription (Three of Swords)
63 Communion (Two of Swords)
64 Vehemence (Ace of Swords)

65 Apprenticeship (King of Pentacles)
66 Perplexity (Queen of Pentacles)
67 Veneration (Knight of Pentacles)
68 Speculation (Page of Pentacles)

69 The Unforseen (Ten of Pentacles)
70 Cooperation (Nine of Pentacles)
71 Avarice (Eight of Pentacles)
72 Purification (Seven of Pentacles)
73 Love and Desire (Six of Pentacles)
74 Offering (Five of Pentacles)
75 Generosity (Four of Pentacles)
76 The Provider (Three of Pentacles)
77 Confusion (Two of Pentacles)
78 Rebirth (Ace of Pentacles)

Egipcios Kier Tarot * 29 Domesticity

The word domesticity usually brings to mind the comfort of home. Yet the image on this card suggests something deeper. A young boy gently rests his hands on the head and antler of a wild animal. Rather than taming nature by force, he appears to live in quiet relationship with it.

The surrounding symbols reinforce that idea. Kaplan notes that the scarab represents renewal, while the vessel below symbolizes the heart, the place where our inner life is held. Together they suggest that a true home is not merely a place, but a way of living in harmony with the world around us.

One detail especially caught my attention. A hieroglyph resembling a knife appears above the scene. At first it seems to threaten the card's peaceful mood. Yet Kaplan explains that gazelles were sacred animals whose movements signaled the coming of the Nile flood, the event upon which Egypt's survival depended. Perhaps the knife is not a threat to the gazelle at all. Instead, it reminds us that human beings flourish not by conquering nature, but by learning its rhythms and working within them.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Eight of Wands, a card of movement and opportunity. The connection surprised me at first, but I find it persuasive. The boy has already reached out and taken hold of the opportunity before him. He does not force it; he responds to it.

Domesticity, then, is more than hearth and home. It is learning to live in right relationship with nature, with community, and with the rhythms that sustain life.

Egipcios Kier - 71 Avarice

Card 71 depicts a man carefully recording his possessions. Before him stand jars of grain and shelves holding additional stores of food or wealth. He wears an elaborate necklace, suggesting that he is already prosperous. Yet the title of the card is Avarice, inviting us to ask when prudent stewardship becomes endless accumulation.

The lower portion of the cartouche contains a large jar adorned with uraeus serpents. It resembles the canopic jars used to preserve the organs of the dead. Whether or not that association was intended, the image quietly reminds us that wealth cannot outlast mortality. Eventually every account is closed.

Above the scene appear the Hebrew letter Tet (ט), several magical symbols, and what Kaplan interprets as either a waning moon or the wounded Eye of Horus. Even abundance is subject to loss.

Kaplan associates the card with greed, possessiveness, and the inability to share. Reversed, he suggests obstacles, setbacks, and frustrated ambition.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira pairs Avarice with the traditional Eight of Pentacles, a correspondence that initially surprised me. The Eight of Pentacles honors patient craftsmanship and the satisfaction of honest work. Avarice asks a different question: What is all that work for?

Labor can become an act of service, creativity, and provision for those we love. But it can also become an endless pursuit of more. The difference lies not in the work itself, but in the heart of the worker.

The man on this card may simply be taking inventory. Or he may already have more than enough and be unable to recognize it. Avarice reminds us that contentment is not measured by what we possess, but by knowing when enough is enough.

Egipcios Kier * 36 Initiation

Card 36 is watched over by Taweret, the Egyptian goddess of childbirth and protection. Although she combines the forms of a hippopotamus, lion, and crocodile, ancient Egyptians especially admired the fierce devotion of the female hippopotamus in defending her young. Taweret's strength is expressed not through conquest, but through care.

She walks beside a small human figure, probably a woman approaching childbirth for the first time. The initiate carries the ankh, symbol of life, while Taweret holds the tayet, the girdle of Isis, another emblem of protection and renewal. Together they suggest that initiation is not simply acquiring knowledge. It is accepting the responsibilities that accompany new life.

The symbols surrounding the scene reinforce this theme. The Hebrew letter Tzadi, the serpent associated with birth, and the seated teacher all point toward preparation, guidance, and transformation. We rarely enter a new stage of life entirely alone.

Stuart Kaplan associates this card with childbirth, feminine power, progress, and artistic inspiration. Nelise Carbonare Vieira pairs it with the Ace of Wands, the spark of new beginnings and creative potential. The connection feels natural. Every true beginning asks us to become someone we have not yet been.

Whether we are welcoming a child, beginning a vocation, creating something beautiful, or simply growing into a wiser version of ourselves, initiation is both gift and responsibility.

Like the small figure in this card, we do not take those first steps alone. Wisdom walks beside us.

Egipcios Kier - 51 Advice

Advice is more than receiving information. It is seeking the wisdom that helps us live well.

Card 51 shows a man kneeling before a teacher, listening with humility. Stuart Kaplan identifies the standing figure as Imhotep, the legendary architect, healer, and advisor to Pharaoh Zoser. Whether priest, scholar, or physician, he represents knowledge placed in the service of others.

The surrounding symbols reinforce that theme. The Hebrew letter Kaf (כ), meaning "hand," reminds us that wisdom ultimately finds expression in action. The feather of Ma'at evokes truth and justice, while the jackal of Anubis quietly recalls that our time is limited. We seek wisdom not simply to know more, but to live more faithfully.

Kaplan associates this card with practical wisdom, healing, recovery, and the ability to transform ideas into meaningful action. I find that emphasis refreshing. Advice is valuable only when it helps us move from understanding to living.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the King of Swords, a figure of clarity, discernment, and integrity. Like the King, Imhotep embodies the union of knowledge and good judgment. True authority is not loud or domineering. It is earned through wisdom, experience, and a commitment to truth.

Good advice, however, does not ask us to surrender our own judgment. The best teachers help us think more clearly rather than think for us.

Looking back, I realize how much my own life has been shaped by teachers. Some offered answers. Others offered better questions. The ones I remember most did not tell me who to become. They helped me discover it for myself.

Egipcios Kier * 4 The Emperor

The Emperor is about the structure that allows life to flourish. He represents authority, responsibility, and the discipline required to govern both a community and oneself. His power is not domination but steadiness.

The Egyptian pharaoh sits upon a black cubic throne, a symbol associated with Thoth, the god of wisdom and order. The throne is decorated with Bastet, whose victory over the serpent evokes protection and the triumph of order over chaos. The crook in the pharaoh's hand reminds us that leadership is expressed through guidance rather than force.

The hieroglyphs on the card emphasize work, stability, and authority. Together they suggest that meaningful leadership is earned through responsibility rather than simply inherited or claimed.

Like the traditional Emperor, this card speaks of structure, boundaries, and experience. It encourages us to establish order in our own lives before trying to influence the world around us. Leadership begins with self-mastery.

One detail especially speaks to me. Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with discovering and exercising one's gifts. Authority is not merely holding power over others; it is learning to recognize the abilities entrusted to us and putting them to meaningful use.

Egipcios Kier * 62 Proscription

Card 62 presents a ruler holding both the ankh, symbol of life, and the flail, symbol of authority and discipline. Together they capture one of the oldest tensions in political and spiritual life: the same power that protects can also oppress.

The pharaoh wears the double crown of a united Egypt, embodying both earthly and divine authority. Beneath him appears a shepherd's staff, reminding us that leadership is meant not only to command, but also to guide and protect. The stylized tree-like symbol appears incomplete, reminding me that authority alone cannot bring wholeness.

Stuart Kaplan notes that the pharaoh was considered the source of law while also standing above it. Egyptian order was understood as an expression of truth itself. That vision gave stability to society, but it also concentrated immense power in a single person.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Three of Swords. At first the correspondence surprised me, but I think it points toward the emotional cost of authority. Every exercise of authority risks causing pain. Justice requires difficult decisions, yet authority without compassion easily becomes tyranny.

Perhaps that is the deepest lesson of this card. Power is never an end in itself. Its purpose is to preserve life, protect the vulnerable, and create the conditions in which a community can flourish.

A strong ruler can unify and protect a society, yet this card also reminds us of the harsh realities of authority. The pharaoh stands as both protector and punisher. He guards his people against threats from within and without, but the card also warns of the dangers of absolute power and its corrupting influence.

Egipcios Kier 45 * Regeneration

Sometimes life falls apart.

A relationship ends. A dream dies. The foundation we trusted gives way beneath our feet. In those moments, regeneration begins with the quiet decision to build again.

Card 45 captures that process. At its center, a man raises a small djed pillar, the ancient Egyptian symbol of stability and resurrection. Its modest size is significant. Renewal rarely begins with dramatic victories. It begins by lifting one small thing back into place.

The ancient Egyptians celebrated this act in the Raising of the Djed ceremony, in which the pillar was lifted before the sowing season as a sign that life would return. Associated with Osiris, the djed became a symbol of restoration after loss, reminding us that even what has fallen may stand again.

The card's other symbols reinforce that hope. An ear of grain recalls the Egyptian Field of Reeds, where life continues beyond death. The Hebrew letter Hei (ה) hints at the divine Presence that accompanies renewal. Together they suggest that regeneration is more than recovery. It is participation in the ongoing work of creation.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Six of Cups. I find that correspondence especially meaningful. We do not rebuild from nothing. We rebuild from memory, from relationships, from skills we thought we had lost, and from the quiet gifts that have remained with us all along.

My teacher, Rabbi Alan Berg, once explained why we break a glass at a Jewish wedding. In our moment of greatest joy, we remember the destruction of the Temple. Then, when sorrow inevitably comes, we are able to remember joy. The two belong together.

Regeneration is not forgetting what was lost. It is discovering that hope survived the loss.

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.

This Post is For You

I find myself neglecting to write about the deck that I began to explore recently. Currently, I have three intriguing posts in various stages of "incompletion." I will dedicate tomorrow afternoon to completing one of these pieces, but before I do so, please let me know which of the following topics sparks your interest:

Card 24 - The Weaver: I will explore the three goddesses of Fate who appear in the myths of several European and Indo-European cultures.

Card 62 - Proscription: I will attempt to unravel a few of the intricate threads of idea of power and our intricate relationship with it and with the sources of authority in our world.

Card 9 - The Hermit: I will consider the possible origins of the early Christian inclination towards solitary desert asceticism, entwining it with the symbolism of The Hermit card.

Alternatively, I am drawn to the alluring image in Card 13 - Immortality. The image beckons me to ask, not for the first time, why we so often link harvest and mortality. Could it be solely the influence of the invented folk song, "John Barleycorn Must Die," or is there some deeper more arcane source for the connection of these two disparate concepts that echo in our collective unconscious?

When All Else Fails, Read the Instructions

In my recent studies of the Egipcios Kier Tarot, I've come across intriguing patterns in its symbolism. I've been intrigued by the consistent arrangement of symbols and their meanings, as described by Stuart Kaplan in the deck's Little White Book. However, I've realized that there's more depth to the deck than I initially thought. To shed light on this, I'd like to share some insights I recently gained from the Introduction of Kaplan's LWB.

Kaplan and I both recall a time when the tarot was mistakenly believed to encapsulate ancient Egyptian wisdom. However, we concur that the true value of any tarot deck lies not in its historical origins, but in the universal accessibility of its content.

An esteemed tarot expert, Kaplan asserts that the Egipcios Kier deck is equally authentic whether viewed as a repository of Egyptian knowledge or as a conventional tarot deck. In his Little White Book, he distills the descriptions of ancient Egyptian deities while encouraging further study of a dozen or so books on Ancient Egypt, tarot, and mythological symbols.

Notably, while the Egipcios Kier (EK) deck, like others, consists of 78 cards, only the Major Arcana maintain the titles and imagery of  more familiar decks. The Minor Arcana in EK differs. It lacks the traditional divisions into suits of numbered and court cards. The distinction between Majors and Minors is in the arrangement of symbols in the upper and lower thirds of the cards, while maintaining a consistent artistic style throughout the deck. The fastest way to differentiate Majors from Minors is to glance at the bottom left: a symbol denotes a Major Arcana card, and a number indicates a Minor Arcana card.

A distinct hallmark of each EK card is the cartouche, split into three unequal sections. Its Major Arcana cards frequently bear four symbols in their upper portions, of which Kaplan elaborates on three: an Egyptian hieroglyph, an alchemical sigil, and a letter from a magical alphabet. In contrast, Minor Arcana cards exhibit a different trio in the upper section: an Egyptian hieroglyph, a Hebrew letter, and a letter from magical alphabet.

The bottom third of each card's cartouche is unique. Browsing through all the cards to just view the lower images is mezmerizing.

In the card's title field, the Major Arcana showcases the card title, a Hebrew letter, a planetary symbol, a zodiac sign, and the card number. The Minor Arcana titles consist of the card title, a Latin letter, a planetary symbol, the card number, and an Arabic numeral corresponding to the magical letter at the top of the cartouche.

The phonetic value and ideographic significance of specific hieroglyphs are detailed in the section of Kaplan's Little White Book that pertains to each card.

While I usually eschew astrological connections in tarot interpretation, this deck includes astrological symbols, and as Kaplan suggests, they "contribute to the overall interpretation of each card." He contends that every person embodies the characteristics associated with the planetary and zodiac signs depicted in the deck to some extent. Understanding these qualities thus becomes crucial. Kaplan provides two comprehensive lists for reference.

Planetary Influences:

Sun: overall dominion
Moon: sentiment, intuition
Mercury: intellect
Venus: emotions
Mars: enterprise
Jupiter: wisdom
Saturn: experience
Uranus: inspiration
Neptune: insight, keen vision

Zodiacal Qualities:

Aries: ruled by Mars. Leadership, creativity, boldness, ambition, kindness
Taurus: ruled by Venus. Stability, consistency, conservatism, strong emotions, love of material beauty
Gemini: ruled by Mercury. Restlessness, duality, quick intellect, friendship
Cancer: ruled by the Moon. Determination, fluid emotion, love of home and children, indulgence
Leo: ruled by the Sun. Deep emotion, strong-willed, reliability, adaptability, sensitivity
Virgo: ruled by Mercury. Order, analysis, caution, prudence, generosity, loyalty
Libra: also ruled by Venus. Energy, justice, thoughtfulness, sentimentality, love of art and beauty
Scorpio: also ruled by Mars. Tenacity, dignity, reserve, courage, firmness, shrewdness
Sagittarius: ruled by Jupiter. Candor, impulse, nobility, independence, impatience, diligence
Capricorn: ruled by Saturn. Scholarly, thinking, slowness, self-reliance, love of teaching and knowledge
Aquarius: also ruled by Uranus. Inspiration, eccentricity, frugality, fidelity, love of nature
Pisces: ruled by Neptune. Persuasiveness, intuition, honesty, calmness, friendliness

The significance of the letters in the mystical alphabets isn't explicitly elucidated by Kaplan, leaving ample room for personal interpretation. I've noted parallels between some of the Minor Arcana's magical letters and those of the Transitus Fluvii Alphabet, itself derived from Hebrew. As I am somewhat familiar with the traditionally ascribed meanings of the Hebrew letters, I'm inclined to apply these interpretations to the Transitus Fluvii letters on specific cards. (A few of the magical letters in the deck seem to come from the Malachim Alphabet.)

Reading Kaplan's introduction has been quite enlightening. I will apply the knowledge I've gained in future analyses of the cards. Each time I look at the cards, they reveal a richness of symbolism, inviting me to decipher their messages.

Egipcios Kier * 63 Communion

Card 63 depicts a husband and wife seated beside one another on ornate chairs. Their feet rest firmly on the ground, suggesting stability. The woman embraces her husband, her arm wrapped gently around his shoulder, while he holds a lotus fan. Both wear elaborate necklaces and lotus flowers, symbols of beauty, prosperity, and shared life.

Although Egyptian profile drawing can make the couple appear distant, the woman's gesture reveals intimacy. They are distinct individuals, yet they face the world together.

Above them appear several symbolic figures, including the Hebrew letter Alef, the silent breath from which speech begins. Below them stands an incense burner. Kaplan explains that it represents fragrant offerings rising toward the gods. Together these symbols suggest that communion involves both spoken and unspoken forms of presence.

Kaplan associates this card with peace, joy, love, contentment, and harmonious family life.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira, however, pairs it with the traditional Two of Swords. At first that correspondence seems surprising. The couple appears united rather than divided. Yet the Two of Swords reminds us that lasting harmony is not merely the absence of conflict. Healthy relationships require honesty, attentive listening, and the courage to face difficult conversations together.

The incense rises even when no one speaks. The silent Alef reminds us that every conversation begins with quiet attention before words are formed.

Communion is more than living beside another person. It is learning to share both silence and truth.