Man, the Seven of Swords. You know, when I first started messing around with these cards, this one always felt… squirmy. Like looking at a kid with chocolate all over their face and an empty cookie jar right behind them, trying to act innocent. That was my first gut feeling. It wasn’t about outright evil, more like, someone trying to get away with something sneaky.
I’d pull it, and the book would talk about deception, theft, cunning, avoiding confrontation. And I’d nod, sure, makes sense. But it didn’t really sink in, you know? It was just words on a page until something real happened, something that smacked me right in the face with exactly what this card signifies.
I remember this one time, it was years ago, I was trying to get a small community project off the ground. Nothing huge, just a little initiative to clean up a local park. We had a few volunteers, a small budget from some local businesses, and a pretty clear plan. Or so I thought.
We had this one guy, let’s call him Mike. Good talker, real enthusiastic at the meetings. Always volunteered for the “big” stuff, like getting supplies or coordinating with the city. Sounded great on paper. But then, things would start to get… weird. He’d say he’d ordered the rakes and shovels, but they wouldn’t show up. He’d promise to pick up the trash bags, and then we’d be scrambling last minute. Every time I asked him about it, he’d have some elaborate story. Traffic, a sudden family emergency, a mix-up with the supplier, you name it. It was always just plausible enough that you didn’t push too hard.
The day of the big cleanup arrived, and half our promised supplies were missing. We were short on bags, no extra gloves, and the specialized tools he swore he’d gotten from a buddy never materialized. I remember looking at him, and he had this sort of shifty-eyed look, half-apologetic, half-like he was trying to figure out his next excuse. We made do, of course, because that’s what you do. But it was way harder than it needed to be.
The Realization Hits
Later that week, I was doing some accounting for the project, just tracking receipts and what not. And I noticed something. A couple of small invoices for things we had bought, but they were from places I knew Mike frequented. Nothing massive, maybe a few bucks here and there for bottled water or some small snacks, but they were billed to our project fund. And it didn’t quite line up with what we actually consumed.
It wasn’t about the money, really. It was tiny. But it was the principle. The constant stream of excuses. The way he’d always volunteer for tasks that gave him a bit of control over the funds or the resources, and then just… fumble them. Or worse, redirect them slightly for his own convenience.
That’s when it clicked, man. Hard. Like a brick hitting me. That’s the Seven of Swords. It’s not always some grand heist. Sometimes it’s just someone, like Mike, trying to pull a fast one, taking little bits, maybe even just trying to avoid doing the actual work by making up stories, hoping no one really notices or calls them out. It’s about being sneaky, trying to get away with something, hoping your cunning is enough to skirt the consequences.
I mean, the card shows a guy walking away from a camp, with five swords, leaving two behind. You always wonder, why leave two? Is he overloaded? Is he being generous? Or is he trying to make it look like he didn’t take everything? That day with Mike, it was so clear. He took what he thought he could get away with, left just enough of the appearance of effort, and walked away thinking he was clever. He wasn’t stealing our whole budget, but he was definitely swiping bits of our trust and resources.
My Evolving Understanding
After that, when I’d pull the Seven of Swords, it wasn’t just a concept anymore. It was Mike, fidgeting and looking away, with some half-baked story tumbling out. It was the feeling of being slightly off-balance, knowing something wasn’t quite right but not having solid proof. It’s that gut feeling when someone’s trying to manipulate a situation for their own benefit, without being upfront about it.
And it’s not always malicious, either. Sometimes it’s someone trying to escape a situation that feels overwhelming, taking a shortcut because they’re just too tired to do it the right way. Or maybe it’s you trying to avoid an uncomfortable truth, sneaking around your own responsibilities. That’s a tough one to admit, when the card is about you being the sneaky one.
I had another moment, years later, where I was juggling too much work, and I kinda… let a few things slide, hoping no one would notice. Missed a deadline here, didn’t proofread something perfectly there. It wasn’t intentional sabotage, just a desperate attempt to keep my head above water. When the Seven of Swords popped up in a reading for me, I had to laugh. Or grimace. It was me, trying to sneak through a tough spot, hoping my minor omissions would go unnoticed. I was that guy leaving two swords behind, hoping it looked like I’d done some work.
So now, for me, the Seven of Swords is about that cunning, that strategy, that little bit of slipperiness. It’s about figuring out if someone’s playing you, or if you’re playing yourself. Are you being strategic, or are you just trying to get away with something without facing the music? It’s about that silent maneuver, that quiet escape, whether it’s from responsibility, from truth, or from a situation you just don’t want to deal with head-on. It’s about not being completely transparent, and the consequences, or lack thereof, of that lack of honesty.
