The Paradox of The Safe: What We Guard and What We Free
Unearthing the Ghastly Lenormand Deck
There was a period in my life when I used to visit Amsterdam at least once a year. I would meet my agent there to plan work for the year. He introduced me to collectors, art galleries, and other artists living in that incredibly beautiful city. I loved spending time there.
One evening, we were invited to a small gathering at his home—a grand mansion overlooking one of the canals that encircle the city like the rings of a tree. As soon as I stepped inside, something immediately caught my attention: the house was filled with gigantic, antique safes.
These imposing, dark metallic objects stood out everywhere. Some were simple cubes of aged metal, while others were adorned with faded yet intricate gold-painted designs—geometric patterns, flowers, and elaborate baroque compositions that had been softened by time. There was something mysterious about them, all of them tightly closed. I couldn’t help but let my imagination run wild, wondering what treasures they might hold. Precious stones? Piles of banknotes? Important documents? Or perhaps, nothing at all?
Noticing my curiosity, our host smiled and explained that the safes had been in his family for generations. His ancestors were wealthy merchants with offices around the world, and the safes were relics of that bygone era. As we continued chatting about Amsterdam's history and his family, he walked over to one of the safes standing alone in a corner of the drawing room. With a charming smile, he asked, “What kind of music do you like, Andrea?” Slowly, he opened the heavy, creaking door, revealing its surprising contents: a collection of CDs ranging from pop to classical music and jazz. I couldn’t help but laugh. At least one of the mysteries was solved! I shared my earlier musings with him, and he explained that most of the safes were empty, while the few in use served as eccentric pieces of furniture, holding CDs, records, books, and even a stereo. It was an amusing and unexpectedly charming twist to their imposing presence.
Safes are fascinating objects. They evoke the imagery of old films, grand heists, spy games, treasures, and secret documents. From The Pink Panther to James Bond and MI5, safes often take centre stage as the strong and jealous guardians of secrets and valuables. How could I not create a card inspired by such a romanticized object?
The Meaning
The core meaning of the card revolves around the concept of safeguarding—protecting what we hold dear with determination and resolve. These could be material possessions, cherished memories, emotions, or relationships. The card encourages us to stay vigilant about what truly matters to us, as these things might be at risk of being “stolen” or lost.
On the other hand, the safe also symbolizes secrecy—things we choose to keep hidden, whether due to shame, fear of judgment, or a desire to maintain control. These secrets could be trivial or deeply significant, but the card reminds us to be cautious. No safe is impervious. Every safe has a vulnerability, and sooner or later, its contents may be exposed. Secrets can be discovered, material possessions come and go, and relationships evolve. Not necessarily in negative ways, but change is inevitable, and it might challenge our ability to cope.
So, what is the point of locking something away? Perhaps we should reconsider what we choose to “store” in our metaphorical safes. Maybe it’s better to leave them empty or fill them with things of little consequence—like the art collector in Amsterdam, who used his safes as eccentric pieces of furniture.
Tarot cards are beautiful because they challenge us. They force us to reexamine our perspectives, question our certainties, and open cracks in the walls we build to shield our inner worlds. Yet, those same walls can become prisons for our thoughts, beliefs, and emotions—a dangerous trap. How fortunate we are to have tools, like tarot, to reveal what we may not want to see.
The Safe Magic
Personally, I enjoy using tarot cards in both practical and unconventional ways. I see The Safe card as a provocateur—one that challenges the foundations of my daily life, shaking the ideals, values, biases, and misconceptions I rely on. It’s a reminder that even the sturdiest walls we build around ourselves are not invincible.
I usually place The Safe on the table, shuffle the deck, and draw two cards: one before The Safe and one after. The first card represents what may force the safe open, while the second represents what I’m trying to protect. The real focus of attention, however, is the second card, as it must answer two questions: What am I trying to protect? And from what?
We might protect an idea from a concept that challenges its truth, a value that could be flawed, or a memory we don’t want to lose (though is that memory still accurate, or has it been reshaped by emotions, needs, and feelings?). It’s fascinating to explore the answers to these questions. Of course, the card preceding The Safe can also play a crucial role in understanding the matter.
Let’s try a simple example: I drew The Earth, The Safe, and The Sun.
There are infinite ways to interpret this triplet, and I encourage you to pause here, reflect, and think about what it might mean to you before reading my interpretation.
When I drew the cards, I was thinking about my life, so my reading is quite personal. For me, this triplet reflects something that has always troubled me. It reminds me of a memory from my childhood.
I was about ten years old, playing with my brother in the kitchen—our “chef” phase. We were helping our mom bake a cake, all of us singing, dancing, and enjoying the moment. It was a merry time. While the cake was baking, my mom started washing dishes, tidying up the kitchen. Suddenly, it felt like the music stopped, the dancing and laughter faded. I stood there, silent, overwhelmed by an almost unbearable melancholy.
Sensing my mood shift, my mom turned to me and asked what was wrong. I think my answer startled her: “Because all of this, one day, will be gone...”
That’s what I see in this reading—my lifelong desire to stop time at moments of peak happiness and my deep sorrow at the thought of losing the people I love and the fleeting magic of life’s most beautiful moments. I now understand where this feeling comes from: being “uprooted” and living in Buenos Aires, far from my family, during a formative and vulnerable year (if you want to discover more, you find here my recount of my Buenos Aires year). That experience left me with the painful belief that everything—especially joy—is always on the verge of being lost.
But now, as an adult, I’ve learned from those past traumas. Life is like a river: it flows, and we must flow with it. Resisting the current only causes pain and difficulty. This philosophy forms the foundation of my deck. Carpe diem—seize the day—and memento mori—remember you will die. Not just in the literal sense, but metaphorically: remember that everything changes, evolves, and passes. The secret is to flow with the current.
Returning to the triplet: The Earth, The Safe, and The Sun. Together, they remind me not to fear change. The moments of "perfect" happiness may fade, but that’s an illusion. There will always be new, magical moments where life feels more vivid, colorful, and beautiful. The cards tell me not to freeze time or cling to fleeting perfection because life—The Earth—always moves forward. It will inevitably open the safe and release its contents. But is it theft? I think not. Life opens the safe to free what’s inside—to release us from the constraints of time and bring us fully into the present.
That cake, baked so long ago, and the singing and dancing in that little kitchen now have a different flavour—richer, more profound. They no longer feel like moments stolen by time but rather as precious memories of love, affection, and playfulness. They shine with serenity and gratitude, no longer tinged with melancholy.
And what do you see in this triplet? Did it challenge your perspective, emotions, or ideas? I’d love to hear your thoughts if you wish to share.
have a creepily beautiful week
Andrea