Written by Luckky*
If you read my previous articles on the Major Arcana we can tell that the concept of family resonates from heaven to earth. Throughout history the family and home have held the position as an anchor for tribal society. Even the most ancient artifacts found in the oldest ruins at Gobekli Tepe reveal traditions of life and death that bonded the people together. Despite the numerous wars and atrocities, it's the family connection that has buffed and smoothed the feral qualities of humans arguably leading to more maturity and sophistication.
In breaking down the court cards we find four suits corresponding to the four elements, directions and more. Cups, Swords, Wands, and Pentacles, are assembled to describe the four essential families of Romantics, Rationalist, Idealists, and Pragmatist respectively. Further examining the cards in alignment, beginning with the Kings to Queen, then Knight to Knave, a story unfolds as a guide to the relationships between the four members of a family. Thereafter, we take the Ace and walk through ten pips to find advice on how to navigate life challenges in order to reach the ultimate aspiration of the lineage. So Align your cards and follow along.
The Cups Family is a group of true romantics. They live the sweet life of the water signs with all its depth and emotion. They are as loyal and true blue as the blue blood that may flow in their bloodlines. The water family represents literal royalty and aristocracy. Water folk also represent the artistic savants. You will also see that the great poets are part of this caste as are other creators and connoisseurs of the fine arts like painters, composers, chefs and anyone who can move others with the senses. These people appreciate cuisine, confections, wines, cocoas, coffees, teas and spices for the sake of flavor. Exotic delicacies and old world delights are just as precious as rare art and artifacts. This is also the family of jewelers or even cat burglars and clandestine seducers. Empaths and homeopathic healers, distillers, potion and perfume makers, silk farmers and chic couturiers personify the Cups.
Kings of Cups is as rugged as Poseidon. A seaman who sets sail on squalls, a swashbuckling pirate retired on his riches. He may be a captain of a submarine, cruise ship or star ship like Jean-Luc Picard. He slurps black italian espresso and summons the chef to sample caviars. But as civilized as he may seem his silver tongue is forked and serpentine. The keeper of secrets, and secret venom, one who could kill you and never be caught. Much like the Merovengian of the Matrix movies his refinement and ruthlessness can be a razor sharp as a cutlass. This king likes the floor of the Monte Carlo Casino, VIP accommodations at Miami hottest clubs. King of Cups is comfortable in a crowd of his own design but rest assured, they have all been thoroughly strip-searched at the door.
Conquered only by the siren's song, he has found his Greek goddess. As if Calypso herself, who’s captured Ulysses and crashed him upon her perfumed shores, enrapturing him against the waves of her love. Flooding his lungs and loins with desire, seizing his heart as a clam clutching her pearls, pressing him down beneath herself as a sunken treasure ship and she won't share him, not even with death. Intoxicated and all too willing he drinks in her sweet salts, for she is his Lady Galadirel and he is her one true ring. You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks at her.
Outside of this intoxication, an otherwise sober king has mastered inner and outer seas. This Queen, however, explores hearts and may even play matchmaker with the maids. The Queen of Cups is patently more socially tolerant.Though she knows the art of seduction as much as her counterpart, she loves new faces. Hiring personal chefs depending on their forte, pop-up masquerades with frock designers on-demand. In the morning its sips of whip creamed mochas or butterscotch matcha lattes, fruity cocktails on Fridays and boilermakers with the boys at the roulette wheel. Intuitively she knows when to fold, when to arrive late and when to leave early. Her tailor made cleavage knows no bounds and her bubbly bosom is bodiced custom fit. This is a psychic socialite prays to Yemoya and Thetis with the occasional seance to her past-lives as Marie Antionette or Josephine Baker. Like all the Queens her beauty is undeniable and when her hips enter the room it's like the rising tide on a full moon. Fun splashed with fickle, she likes her rims salted and her powder fresh. She may be tolerant of the new but fussy with the old. Old friends and old chic are subject to a dressing down. Outdated decor is diabolique and if she speaks ill of you it’s not gossip, it’s Page Six.
What about her own wayward son the Knight of Cups? The bard beneath the Basquiat, the Dionysian bum. He rocks Hendrix riffs with the Rothchilds and Richies. Sultry and oh so scorpionic, he prefers the simple life of a lover and his loves are no less than Shakespearean. Preferring company of both Juliet and Mercutio, Marco Polo said it best, “My heart beats as much as I can breathe.'' The knight of cups has deep faith in love, it's the poison in his cup. His great passion and great weakness, a hunter like Orion but every woman his Artemis. Unlike his father who owns the waves, this eldest son surfs the sheets, searching for someone like mom, wanting to please her. Full of angst he dreams of odd chimeras from occult manuals. The superstitious sort that holds medallions and amulets on his breast like a soldier of love. The Knight is a thief of hearts, a lover of love and can confide only in the one he has learned to be his one true confidant, his soulmate, squire, knave, and personal page. The little sister.
What a darling she is in that she is a natural talent. Sincere and open, if not self conscious she is the favorite “scamp in training” of the Cups family. She is a delight to them all in her curiosity and innocence. If not delivering poems for her older brother, she's playing pop songs on piano by ear and seems to daydream making her own mischief with paintings on the ponies so they can dance or posting pics of puppies with mustaches drawn on in lipstick. Each time she blames the fairies, each time. She must be warned not to play too close to the water, though she swims like a fish, due to her habit of disappearing. Existing mostly as a phantom of footsteps, when she can be caught, the Queen takes her on “errands”. More aptly cookies at cafes, shopping runs to save her own closest from being ravaged for intimate tea parties with her wigs. The princess knows where all her favorite museum friends are. Disregarding the pedigree of classical mannequins, she renames Aphrodite to Alice and Chihulys to Cheshire Cats. Her highness struggles to keep up with the little girl and dresses ready to break a sweat with wet wipes in reach to save the Baroque period from bonbon smears. The queen laments, still thinking of how to release the blue ribbon knotted around her daughters’ scalp. Who knows how it got there… “those damned fairies.”