The Seven Of Swords tends to pop up in the Tarot when someone is thieving off you – I’ve seen this proven true countless times. Here, the fabulous Aries Carla Ciccone demonstrates.
I use the Tarot on your site the way my grandmother prays—often and with faith. While I was in Florence last week, I hit “play again” at least four times, because the Seven of Swords kept appearing. He wasn’t always in the same spot, but always in the spread, looking over his thieving shoulder. The Empress came up every time, too, but she’s a welcome sight, and her presence in my life has been steadily growing since I got to Italy.
A month before this, I found my scent soul mate in a small, crammed Verona profumeria. There was a #3 on the bottle and the word L’Impératrice aka The Empress, underneath it. I felt like a more sensual, fierce version of myself when I wore it, and I loved it so much that I got two more bottles to give to friends.
On my last day in Florence, I packed my bags, but didn’t zip them, spritzed myself with The Empress, and went out. When I returned, my bags were open and stacked on top of each other in the hallway. Greta, the cleaning lady, was there way early, and rambling about how I should have left by now and she got the guy renting the other room to help her move my bags into the hall so she could clean.
Greta’s distress made me feel incredibly guilty. I scrambled to close up my bags while she talked non-stop, only moving out of my personal space once to get me an espresso, which I didn’t want, but had anyway. Kind Greta even helped me zip my luggage up. In the kitchen, while I washed my coffee cup, she asked about my travel plans. “Beata te,” (lucky you) she kept saying. In Italian, this expression seems to be laced with a bit more envy than it normally is in English, so I explained that no, I’m not lucky, not rich, and this move has been equally as financially and emotionally stressful as it has been wonderful. “Beata te,” she said again, smiling large and stepping so close to my face, I could see her lime green coloured contact lenses move around as she blinked. Bye, Greta!
The next day, in another part of Italy, I finally started unpacking. I pulled out the case to my Sofia Loren-style designer sunglasses. A dear friend gave them to me, and I had miraculously kept them intact, scratch-free and safe for four years. They were like magic. Put them on, and instant glamour, ease and Empress, no matter how crap your hair looked that day.
The sunglasses weren’t in the case.
I searched through my bags like a Labrador digging for deep buried bone. No glasses. It only dawned on me that they had been stolen after I realized that also missing were: a pair of shoes, jewellery, a hat, and every one of my L’Impératrice perfumes.
The Seven of Swords flashed in my mind. He stole The Empress from me. Or, Greta did, but still, the cards knew.
I can’t afford to buy new perfumes or fancy sunglasses, and right now, it’s all ruined for me anyway. Besides, it’s not really about what was taken, it’s that it was taken, and with a Cheshire Cat smile and a cup of coffee. At least one of those seven swords is now lodged in the most innocent part of my being, twisting itself ‘round, making me feel like a fool. In it, echoes of cheating ex-boyfriends, deceitful, slippery friends, and old scars that still itch at times with the uncomfortable memory of the thing that caused them. The lessons I should have learned but still haven’t, perhaps. The ego hurts, too. I honed my streets smarts in high school, only to be taken by a shady cleaner as a full-grown woman. Brilliant. Am I regressing?
Or, maybe this all comes at a time when I don’t need help to evoke The Empress because I’m becoming her all on my own.
How’s that for a Venus into Leo spin on this steaming dung pile?
Mercury retro fuqery? Is there something to the astrology of betrayal? The fishes of my 2nd house Pisces Moon and Venus stopped swimming in circles and are now bobbing listlessly in the shade underneath some table coral.
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