The Lie of the Easy Transition: Why the Six of Swords Ain’t a Cruise Ship
Look, when people talk about ‘transition,’ especially in those fluffy self-help circles, they make it sound like you just click your heels three times and poof! You’re on the other side, sipping cocktails on the beach. I’m telling you, that’s total garbage. Transition is messy. It’s usually forced, and it feels like you’re rowing a leaky boat through thick, gray water, leaving behind stuff you weren’t even sure you were ready to ditch.
That’s why I always go back to the Six of Swords. It’s not just a cool picture of someone taking their problems (the swords) to a calmer place. It’s the playbook for how to actually pack your bags when the ground beneath you is actively burning. I’ve logged this card’s energy hundreds of times, but there was one period—the one that started this whole blog, frankly—that drilled this lesson into my skull permanently.
I Had to Row My Own Damn Boat: The Great Apartment Evacuation of ‘22
I know this card, I really know it, because three years ago I found myself in a situation where I literally had to physically and emotionally vacate a toxic environment under intense pressure. My former business partner—let’s just call him The Snake—decided overnight that our shared living and working space was suddenly his solo venture, and he used every dirty trick in the book to try and force me out with zero notice.
One Friday afternoon, I walked in and the locks were changed. All my gear—my filing cabinets, my custom-built desk, everything I needed to earn a living—was inside. I had spent nearly a decade building this business and this life, and suddenly I was standing on the curb with two duffel bags and a churning gut. This wasn’t some gentle breeze telling me to move on; this was a Category 5 hurricane kicking me out the door.
The Practice Begins: Operationalizing the Six of Swords Energy
What did I do? I didn’t cry (not much, anyway). I pulled the Six of Swords from my practice deck and I stuck it right on my temporary wall. I treated the transition, that awful, stressful, unplanned two-week scramble, as a military operation guided by the card itself.
The core instruction of the Six is simple: move the necessary items (swords/problems) to safety. Not all the items, just the necessary ones.
Step 1: Identify the Necessary Swords (Prioritization)
- I started by ignoring the emotional swords—the anger, the resentment, the feeling of betrayal. Those were too heavy to carry in the boat.
- I focused solely on the practical swords: securing my client list, retrieving my essential tax documents, and getting the minimum amount of professional equipment I needed to work remotely.
- I spent three days maneuvering through lawyers and police just to get 30 minutes in the space. I didn’t waste those minutes grabbing sentimental junk; I grabbed the files that paid the rent. That was the first act of peace: letting go of the excess baggage.
Step 2: Get in the Boat (Acceptance of Motion)
The boat on the card is moving forward, but it’s still in the water, not yet on the shore. That meant accepting the discomfort of being unsettled. I refused to sign a long-term lease right away. I crashed on couches and in cheap extended-stay hotels for almost two months. I hated it. Every day felt uncertain. But I remembered the card: you have to allow the forward momentum to take hold before you stop rowing. If I had stopped to settle too soon, I would have dragged the chaos of the old situation right into the new one.
Step 3: The Arrival and The Calm Water (The Peace)
It took 65 days for me to finally sign a lease on a new, quiet apartment and set up a proper office. When I finally arranged my desk, I pulled out the Six of Swords again. The water outside my window looked calm, and the noise from the street didn’t bother me the way it used to.
The transition hadn’t been smooth. It was funded by depleted savings, fueled by sheer panic, and mediated by angry phone calls. But because I had intentionally treated the move as a sacred, necessary evacuation—a Six of Swords journey—I arrived without the emotional weight of the place I had left behind. The peace wasn’t instantaneous; it was the quiet realization that the journey itself had stripped away everything that wasn’t vital.
That whole mess is why I preach the power of the Six of Swords. It’s not about magic; it’s about the sheer determination to prioritize your own well-being and get yourself, physically and mentally, to better shores, even if you have to row like hell to get there. Don’t wait for permission. Just grab your necessary baggage, get in the boat, and start moving. That’s the real practice, folks.
