Most of the time when I pull the 9 of Pentacles I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief. To me, this card has meant the end of an extended period of work. Harvest is coming. I hold to that interpretation, in most cases.
But, like all things Tarot, the meaning of a card goes deeper than one understanding. This system is one to unpack and learn from over a lifetime. Literally. It is constantly asking me to think deeper, higher, or come at something from a whole new angle.
So it is with the 9 of Pentacles.
A few days ago I could not get out of bed.
I got hit with about 28 hours of extreme fatigue. I fed the cats, watered myself, and took an occasional pee. That’s it. I was tapped. Out. Drifting in and out of sleep. Half-listening to an audiobook.
It reminded me of the days after I got back from a week-long stint in the hospital for a massive infection. I slept, listening to audiobooks (from the same author and narrator, a combination that feels like a big hug).
But, this time, there was no hospital stay to recover from.
I hadn’t been injured, I didn’t have an infection. I’d been feeling a little drained, sure. Aware that I was reaching past my need for solitude. And I’d arranged to be alone for three days to remedy that.
What I had not arranged for was feeling like an energetic Mack truck hit me at full speed.
There I am, laying in bed, groggy and distantly concerned about my well-being. I decided to pull a card for some insight, and the 9 of Pentacles popped out of my deck.
I closed my eyes and let myself mull it over, in that juicy half-conscious state.
(This state is a great place for all kinds of meditation, by the way. Your analytical mind has a lot less power.)
Why had I pulled a card of harvest? Of completion? Of stability and independence? When I felt like anything but ripe, full, and ready.
It’s easy to get hung up on preconceived ideas about what a card means. My growth with the Tarot came the same way yours may have: starting with the little white book that comes with a deck of cards; branching out to bigger–still slender–volumes from different authors, or with different decks; researching meanings online; taking courses; finally, and perhaps most fruitfully, combining all that information and processing it through my personal experiences, perspective, and intuition.
This isn’t a static or linear path. I continue to learn from other authors and readers, friends, clients, and teachers. Even with this dynamic approach to learning about the cards, I find myself getting stuck with an interpretation.
Having just one way to read a card means that I will inevitably encounter a situation where that interpretation falls flat.
This is a gift.
It forces me to either sit in a feeling of falseness, or expand my understanding. I will always opt for the latter. I spent decades living in the former, and that flavor holds no appeal to me anymore.
That being said, at the time I drew the 9 of Pentacles I was also a barely functioning human being. I placed the card beside me in bed and fell back asleep. What needed to come through would come though. It always does. I might have a dream, or hear a line in my audiobook, or get a download when I was back to being a functioning human. It can come from anywhere.
I slept all day, through the night, and finally roused myself when the cats started yelling for breakfast around 8 the next morning.
I felt like shit. Muzzy-headed, headache, sore body. What you’d expect from a full day of sleeping. Gentle was the mantra of the day. Restorative yoga, some sweet meditations. I read half of my favorite book. Fed myself. And while I cared for myself, I kept catching glimpses of the 9 of Pentacles.
Gradually, cohesive thoughts began to form.
As I mentioned, prior to my zombie day, I’d been feeling overextended. Solitude is an absolute essential for me. Without some regular time of solo reset built into my life, I will crash. I don’t usually pass out for a whole day, but I do get very tired and I tend to dissociate. Due to life being life, my normal me day slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, it just worked out that way.
By the time I was feeling “oh, something is off”, I was already scheduled for three more days of interactive time.
Also, in the week prior I’d made several big, quick decisions about my living situation. Then I pulled through a rather large, eerily specific manifestation. At the time, I didn’t give these things much energetic credence.
I felt fine, you know? That tricky “fine” that cortisol delivers. A little checked out, maybe, but nothing too intense. I enjoyed a few relaxed days with friends, then moved to my new housesitting gig.
That night, I was alone for the first time in over a week. I got some groceries, ordered dinner. All was well.
Right?
Well…this brings us back to our card.
Each one of the Pentacles on the 9 card requires tending. Energy. Work and care.
They are incredible resources, but they didn’t just come out of nowhere.
On top of that, each Pentacle then carries a weight of its own. In order to harvest the fruits of our labor, we expend more energy.
It’s the old adage, mo’ money, mo’ problems, you know? When we have a lot of resources (loved ones we want to spend time with and support, opportunities we want to explore, decisions we need to make–especially when all the choices are yummy ones!) it takes a lot of energy to hold them all.
Here’s a thing a lot of self-improvement people and spiritual folk won’t tell you: the more in tune with your body, your intuition, and your energy you become, the more sensitive you will be to any misalignment.
It’s a double-edged sword, my friends. I believe that if I’d found myself in a similar situation ten years ago, I would have soldiered through. I also would have relied more on alcohol and niceties, but there’s the tradeoff, hey?
Instead, I fell headfirst into bed. The 9 of Pentacles came up to remind me that all that gardening takes effort. It’s great to see the results of our labor, but we can’t afford to ignore the energy it takes to get there. More importantly, we can’t afford to ignore the impact that has on our bodies.
One other aspect I feel coming through this card is its emphasis on stability. The card shows a figure in fine garb, surrounded by the Pentacles in a lush garden. She knows where her next meal is coming from. She’s got things pretty well sorted.
When I arrived at this current housesitting gig, I was arriving at a place I knew I would stay for the next two months. This came after months of opportunities arising, then falling through, then thinking I’d be shifting countries entirely because I wasn’t finding a place to stay in Dubai.
That night, I had landed in the most stable spot I’d found in almost a year. And my body breathed a sigh of relief.
For 28 hours.
We do this. It’s a natural part of our biological functioning. Running on some level of adrenaline and cortisol while moving through uncertainty serves us super well, because it helps stave off illness and tiredness. Then, when we reach a point where we can relax, we’ll often crash, to some degree or another.
The 9 of Pentacles offered a sense of reassurance to me. I’d been through a lot, and was now in a place where it was safe to let go.
If this card is coming up in a reading for you, take a moment to consider this perspective. Where are you carrying a lot? Particularly if you’re carrying a lot of things you’re really excited and grateful for. Remember that those things still take effort on your behalf. And where are you able to find a sense of stability? A place to let go of everything, just to be?
This card may be asking you to give yourself some space to do exactly that. You’ve been tending the garden for so long. Can you take a few hours, a few days even, to step back and integrate your blessings? Carving out that time for yourself can help you appreciate what you have more deeply. It can give you more space to continue cultivating goodness and expansion in your life.
Also, sleep is fucking great. 10/10 would recommend.