Okay, let’s talk Kings. Seriously, if you’re into Tarot even a little bit, you know the drill. You pull a King, and you’re like, “Great, another wise old dude on a fancy chair.” Four guys, four thrones, four elements, and zero immediate clue which one is you. For the longest time, I completely blew them off. They just looked like boring, successful dudes who had everything figured out, and frankly, I felt like a teenager flipping them off. I couldn’t tell the King of Swords from the King of Pentacles if my life depended on it. They all just screamed, “Be responsible!”
The Confusion Kicked In
My practice wasn’t about cracking open some dusty old book. It started with pure frustration. I was stuck in this awful cycle where I had great ideas (King of Wands energy, right?), but absolutely no structure to back them up. I kept pitching things—side hustles, collaborations, even just a better way to organize the damn fridge—but they always crashed and burned within a month. I’d initiate with fire and flame, but when it came to the actual grind, the logistics, the money, I’d just peace out. I was failing, and I needed to figure out if I was just a bad Wands guy or if I was supposed to be operating as a completely different type of King.
That Time I Got Absolutely Humiliated (The Pivot)
Here’s what drove the whole damn thing. Three years ago, I poured my entire savings, maybe eight grand, into buying a semi-used commercial espresso machine and setting up a tiny pop-up coffee stand at a local market. My vision was pure Wands—passion, creativity, connecting with people. I was all vibe. But I completely forgot about the Pentacles stuff. I didn’t get the right permits. I didn’t budget for the unexpected $1,500 electrical upgrade. The beans cost more than I projected. Everything. I ran out of cash in six weeks and had to sell the machine for a massive loss just to pay rent.
I was sitting there, feeling sorry for myself, when my old mentor, Mark, called me up. Mark is a King of Pentacles personified—successful, slow-moving, calculated, and rich as hell. He didn’t give me a hug. He didn’t offer sympathy. He told me I was an idiot.
He said, “You think putting on a show is running a business? You acted like a kid with a bright shiny toy. Where was the projection? Where was the signed agreement? Where was the logic? Stop trying to be the exciting King and start acting like the responsible one.”
That call hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s when I stopped reading about the Kings and started seeing them in the real world. I used my embarrassing failure as the anchor point. I had to know which King I failed to be, and which one I actually was.
Diving Deep Into the Four Thrones
I decided to treat the Kings like personality types in my own personal study. I pulled out four index cards and for a whole month, I assigned people I knew to a King. It was simple, totally unscientific, and exactly the kind of concrete action I needed.
- King of Wands: I tagged people like my buddy who always starts a new hobby every week, or the CEO of that tiny local charity. They are all forward motion, all inspiration. They move fast, sometimes too fast, and they thrive on energy. They are the bosses who pump you up before asking for the impossible. They just want to make things happen.
- King of Swords: This was the easiest one. My old psycho boss from my first office job, the lawyer who handled my divorce, the political commentator who just shreds arguments apart on TV. They are brutal honesty. They are not warm and fuzzy. They are cold, precise, and they cut through the crap. Their authority comes from their intellect, not their heart or their wallet. They are the ones who tell you exactly what you don’t want to hear, but what you need to know.
- King of Cups: My therapist, the friend who always knows when you’re having a bad day, the leader of the church group. These guys have a huge heart, but they aren’t pushovers. Their authority is emotional intelligence. They handle the feeling stuff. The King of Cups is the boss who listens to your life story, understands the problem, and then makes a calm, empathetic decision. They can be moody as hell, but damn, they know people.
- King of Pentacles: Mark, definitely Mark. My accountant. The family member who always has a huge savings account and a five-year plan. These Kings are stability. They are the successful provider, the solid foundation. They are slow to start, but once they move, they don’t stop. They are the ones who turn a passionate idea (Wands) into a solid empire. They deal with the stuff you can touch.
Figuring Out My Own Throne
After mapping out fifty people in my life, I had to be honest about myself. Turns out, I wasn’t just a King of Wands. I was a seriously messy King of Swords who was trying to act like a King of Wands. My core driving force is my mind, my need for clarity, and my tendency to over-analyze everything until it breaks. I lead with my brain, not my gut feeling (Wands) or my bank account (Pentacles).
I realized I had destroyed the coffee stand because my Swords energy (logic, analysis) didn’t kick in until after the Wands energy (passion, starting) ran out. My practice wasn’t about picking a King; it was about accepting my King. Now, when I start a new project, I don’t try to be Mark (Pentacles). I lean into my Swords energy first. I analyze the risk. I budget the money. I separate the emotion from the facts. It might not be as sexy as a Wands launch, but man, does it keep the business running. It finally clicked: you don’t grow into a King; you just need to start acting like the one you already are.
