Queen of Swords


Queen of Swords

by Athena Shakti 
Like most women, I have had my fair share of bad relationships/ breakups. Like many women, I managed to string them together in a string of miserable pearls. Like some women, I tried to sort myself out of them using the tarot.
I spent years sitting at my coffee table pulling spread after spread. I asked all the wrong questions and obsessed over men that were so much better gone. I wanted to know why the relationship didn’t work. I wanted to know if there was another woman. I wanted to know if he would ever come back. The tarot is patient, but only for so long. After a while, it begged me to ask my real question which was a very stark: why doesn’t he love me?
Why doesn’t he love me?
That’s a hard question to ask, and a harder one to answer. After a few years of being away from that, I can safely say that even that was the wrong question. These men were not for me. They were unhealthy and not suitable to who I was or who I was becoming. It was absolute grace that they fell (or ran, in some cases) from my life. Those painful exchanges with all those Kings tempered me into a woman that learned real Strength.
I know that now. But back then….sheesh.
Why doesn’t he love me?
Spread after spread. Over and over. And after a while…she started to appear. Amidst all the threes of swords and the sevens of swords and the inverted Aces of cups, she started to show her face. And I hated her. She was in the middle of all of my suffering and I had no idea who she was. That damned Queen of Swords—sometimes upright, sometimes inverted—kept pushing her face into my readings. With every man. At the finish of every failed “relationship”.
She became to me the Other Woman. The Invasive Ex. The one who stole the affection of whatever man I was losing, or kept his heart after she was done with it. She poked in with her sharp wit and clever tongue. She was smarter than I was, which is why he wanted her. She was prettier than I was, which is why he preferred her. She was the things that I was not, and she was ruthless about getting whatever she wanted—which was obviously the man I was losing. This Other Queen became “the bitch” in my spreads. There she is again….And for years—even after the pain was gone—I continued to see her that way. The Queen of Swords was the woman who ruthlessly blew things apart just with her very presence.
Why doesn’t he love me? Because he must want her.
Or. Maybe. He didn’t love me because I was her. I was the bitch. I was the one with the sharp tongue and the biting wit. I had the ruthless streak with the side of vicious. I was the bomb in the room. I’ve never been the Other Woman, but I sure as hell have been the Invasive Ex. Mayhap for all that time, I was actually the Queen of Swords and I was just too blind to see it. I hated her for ruining all those relationships—when now I can see that I actually did the ruining. Because on a meta level, I always knew that each and every man was a waste of my time and my intelligence. And good gods, were they.
It has taken time to see the virtue of that bitch and to own my role as the Queen of Swords. Lord knows she is so much more than I ever gave her credit for and I am so grateful for the evolution through her suit. There is a time and place for all the Queens, and, sometimes, you just need to have that cold sword of logic and right at your hip and to your hand. Knowing her is a gift that comes with experience and maturity. I am forever grateful to have her integrated into my soul.
Why didn’t he love me? Because there was a part of me that I was failing to love.
This Queen taught me that and taught me how. Maybe she can do the same for you….

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