Commitment, Balance, and Vulnerability with the Four of Wands
There’s something uniquely vulnerable about getting on a mic or in front of a camera and recording myself with my partner.
If you haven’t already, check out the latest episode of Squeaky’s Cauldron, in which I talk to my current Partner, Hysum, about his experience with sex magick. It’s an intimate conversation, as is, and that’s the edited version. Funny how I don’t mind talking about orgasms, but the idea of having him telling me he loves me out for the whole world to see made me feel too exposed.
This isn’t the first time I’ve talked with a partner on the show. In episode 18 released way back at the very beginning of the pandemic, I spoke with my then-partner Steven Anderson of Metal Mysterium, about the vernal equinox. We also started our own, extremely short lived podcast, Curious Cuties.
Why so short lived? Well, I could give a handful of reasons, but I think what it comes down to is vulnerability. How much are you willing to let other people see? And how much are you willing to be seen by each other?
When you’re creating something with another person, whether it’s a romantic partner, a friend, or a family member, you have to be on the same page with those answers.
Otherwise, things start to fall apart.
I love the Four of Wands card to illustrate this dynamic, particularly because it’s been coming up for me a lot over the last couple weeks.
In the RWS deck, we see a pair of figures, holding bouquets aloft. The foreground is dominated by an archway created from four staves, connected by a draping garland. Behind the figures is a castle or settlement, as well as a grouping of people. The sky is a cheerful yellow, and the card gives off this lovely, celebratory feeling. One gets the impression that we’re looking at wedding festivities. On a more metaphorical level, we’re seeing the joining of two people in a creative (wands) endeavor.
This impression is supported by the numerology of the card, four. This is two plus two, the number of the couple. When joined like this we get four, the number of structure. There are four elements, four legs on a chair or table, four fundamental forces. This number brings us a sense of stability.
A partnership should bring this energy to the table–stability, structure, someone to lean on when we get the wobbles.
This is true in any kind of partnership. And in order for that to really work, all four legs of the chair need to be approximately the same height. Both parties need to be contributing more or less equally, and have an understanding and acceptance of each other’s expectations. Without this, instability is introduced into the dynamic.
This requires a level of honesty with oneself, and willingness to be vulnerable by sharing that honesty with your partner. “I love you” is an incredibly vulnerable thing to say, and to hear. It opens up the doors not just for rejection and pain, but for witnessing and commitment.
Honestly, I think the latter two are far more frightening than the former. While rejection hurts, allowing yourself to be seen and making a pledge of fidelity (whatever that means to you in the context of the relationship) begins to strip away the walls we’ve put up. Walls that absolutely need to be there, because not everyone deserves access to the soft, squishy, beautiful mess on the other side.
When I saw the bit of video where Hysum told me he loved me, a few things leapt out at me. One is how awkward I got, immediately.
It felt like being caught coming out of the shower without a towel.
All I wanted to do was cover up. Not because my body is shameful, but because access to it is sacrosanct, and granted only with consent on both sides.
The exchange of love confessions feels the same to me. I’m not sure if it’s because of the stage of the relationship, or if it goes deeper (looking back on my relationships, it seems to go much, much deeper). Either way, it was a moment I chose to keep to myself.
And in that moment, I saw the tenor of the interview wobble. One of the staves was a different length than the others.
Something similar, but very, very different happened with the Curious Cuties podcast. The idea was that every episode we’d talk about some interesting esoteric thing we’d been learning about that week. It would be an opportunity to create something together (a necessary ingredient for me, when it comes to relationships) and to learn something new.
But, we came to the endeavor with different lengths to our staves. Different ideas about frequency, engagement, and–that big one–commitment to the project.
What happened was, instead of lively discussions about cool, woo-woo shit, we ended up arguing.
Both of us sat across from each other feeling hurt, in different ways, because we’d come to the table from different places and with different expectations.
The Four of Wands asks that we know the length of the staves we’re working with when we decide to join forces with someone else. That we know, to the best of our abilities, that we’re starting off on the same page. That the designs for the house that’s being built include four, strong walls, level and true.
In that stability, we can celebrate. Within the structure of the Four, we have space for–well, for everything. For anything. Within the walls of that house, amazing things can be created, transformed, loved.
Four is the number of boundaries, my absolute favorite magickal practice.
(Check out these episodes for more.) Boundaries create stability. They give us freedom that we would lack, otherwise, and each of the fours in the Tarot reflects this in their own way.
A blank page is terrifying. But pair that blank page with a prompt and a time limit and off you go!
Going to a party might feel utterly overwhelming. But put a container around it–again, a time limit is a beautiful way to do this–and the prospect of being around people becomes much more manageable.
Committing to a relationship, of any kind, can seem like the worst kind of folly.
But with some honest conversations about expectations, needs, and wants, we can find ourselves opening our arms to this new experience.
Where do you find yourself feeling uneven in your relationships? Is there a conversation–or many conversations–that are asking to be had? Can you make space for a little more honesty and a little more exploration this week? And lastly, where do you need to shore up your own boundaries, so you can enter into these relationships with a little more confidence in yourself?
Take care of yourselves, lovelies. Remember to eat food, drink water, avoid the news, and connect to people you trust.
Until next time,
Use Your Voice
xx