tarot blog – Just the Tarot

The Hermit and the Light No One Was Meant to See

Exploring the nature of solitude as exemplified in The Hermit card.

Why do we let our lights shine?

There’s an old country and western song that proclaims, “You can’t be a beacon if your light don’t shine.”

But suppose you don’t want to be a beacon? Should your light still shine?

The Hermit is one of the most interesting paradoxes of the Tarot.

We see an old man standing alone on a mountain peak, holding a lantern high above his head so that its light shines into the darkness.

Only…

There’s nobody there.

The number of people who are actually seeing his light appears to be exactly zero.

That tiny detail invites us to question one of the most common interpretations of the card.

Most Tarot books tell us that The Hermit has withdrawn from society, gained wisdom through solitude, and is now returning to share that wisdom with humanity.

It’s a beautiful story.

The problem is that the card itself never tells us that story.

There is no path leading back to civilization. There is no village waiting below. There are no followers gathering around him. The image simply shows a solitary man standing quietly on a mountain, holding up a lamp.

Perhaps another wanderer on a distant peak catches sight of it. Maybe a passing Yeti looked over and wondered, “I wonder what that old dude is up to?”

Perhaps no one sees it.

The picture doesn’t seem very concerned with the audience.

*The Hermit – 13 X 19 inch poster by Dan Adair –* Available on Etsy

The Hero’s Journey

The traditional interpretation may come from one of humanity’s oldest myths.

The hero enters the wilderness, gains wisdom, and returns transformed.

Jesus withdraws into the desert.

The Buddha leaves the palace before awakening beneath the Bodhi tree.

The knights search for the Holy Grail.

Frodo returns to the Shire.

We’re so accustomed to this pattern that we naturally assume The Hermit must be following it as well.

Surely no one would choose to live alone forever.

Surely solitude is only a temporary stage before returning to the world.

But is that really what we’re looking at?

The Nature of the Hermit

In an earlier post, I suggested that there are many expressions of the Hermit archetype.

Some people withdraw because life has wounded them. They need silence to heal. Eventually, they return.

Others retreat for a season to study, write, pray, or rediscover themselves.

But the true Hermit is something different.

Solitude isn’t a strategy.

It isn’t therapy.

It isn’t preparation for the next chapter.

It is simply his nature.

He isn’t hiding from humanity.

He isn’t waiting for humanity.

He’s exactly where he belongs.

If he retreats only so that he can eventually come back and teach everyone else, then he isn’t really a Hermit at all. He’s simply taking a very long vacation.

The Hermit in the Tarot doesn’t appear to be preparing for a return.

He simply stands on his mountain with his lamp.

The Lamp

So why hold the lantern aloft?

If it isn’t meant to illuminate the world, what is it illuminating?

Perhaps the answer is beautifully simple.

The Hermit is illuminating himself.

That is the real purpose of his solitude.

Away from the endless noise of civilization, he can finally hear his own thoughts.

He can meditate.

He can write.

He can ask the deepest questions without someone else’s voice rushing in to answer them.

He is discovering who he really is.

John Muir captured that spirit perfectly when he wrote:

“I’d rather be in the mountains thinking about God than in church thinking about the mountains.”

The Hermit’s mountain is not an escape from life.

It is the place where life finally becomes quiet enough to hear.

The Gift of the Hermit

Ironically, people who truly become themselves often end up helping others without ever intending to.

Someone may see the light from that distant mountain and find hope.

Someone may read the Hermit’s journal centuries later.

Someone may simply be inspired by knowing that another human being lived authentically.

But that isn’t why the Hermit holds the lamp.

Helping others is a beautiful consequence.

It is not the purpose.

The purpose is to live honestly.

To know yourself.

To become the person you were created to be, even if no one is watching.

Perhaps that’s the greatest lesson of The Hermit.

Not every light is meant to attract a crowd.

Some lights exist simply because they are true.

Available on Etsy as a downloadable PDF book

The Strength Card and Fearlessness

Exploring quiet fidelity to our values as the greatest form of strength.

Are you living fearlessly in the midst of chaos?

In the past, I’ve written about how the Strength card beautifully illustrates the Hindu principle of Ahimsa—the practice of harmlessness. (See The Strength Card, Ahimsa, and Your Magical Anti Shit-Head Cloak.)

In its simplest form, Ahimsa teaches that when our own hearts are truly peaceful, we cease moving through the world as agents of violence. The remarkable claim of the tradition is that this inner harmlessness also becomes a kind of protection. Peace itself becomes a shield.

Today, though, I’d like to explore another aspect of the Strength card.

Fearlessness.

Look carefully at Pamela Colman Smith’s illustration. The woman doesn’t overpower the lion. She doesn’t wrestle it into submission. She approaches it with gentleness, compassion…and with a complete absence of panic.

The great lion becomes, almost unbelievably, a house cat waiting to have its ears scratched. She’s fearless and so the lion is fearless.

Strength Tarot Poster by Dan Adair – available on Etsy

What Is Fear?

Fear is not a character flaw.

It’s part of being human.

Deep within the brain are networks whose job is to constantly scan our surroundings for danger. When they detect a threat, our limbic system responds instantly. Our heart rate rises. Adrenaline and cortisol flood our bloodstream. Muscles tighten. Attention narrows.

Fight.

Flight.

Survive.

It’s a marvelous system. Our ancestors lived because of it.

Thank you, nervous system – good job!

The problem isn’t fear itself.

The problem is when we never leave that state.

Modern life has a remarkable ability to keep the alarm bells ringing. Financial worries. Health concerns. Relationships. Politics. Endless news feeds. Before long we’re swimming in stress hormones that were designed for emergencies, not for everyday living.

Eventually the body grows exhausted.

And so does the spirit.

The Western Idea of Fearlessness

Our culture loves fearless heroes.

Movies are filled with square-jawed action stars who stare down impossible odds without breaking a sweat. They defeat violence by becoming even better at violence.

It’s entertaining.

But it’s also a fantasy.

That kind of fearlessness isn’t based on peace.

It’s based on becoming more dangerous than whatever threatens us.

The mystic quietly disappears and the sociopath takes center stage.

The message becomes: “You don’t have to be afraid if everyone else is afraid of you.”

That’s a strange definition of courage.

Nothing has actually become peaceful.

We’ve simply dumped more adrenaline into the system and called it victory.

A Peaceful Heart

Whenever we declare war on fear, something curious happens.

We activate the limbic system that we’re trying to quiet. When we use phrases like, “battling our fear,” we immediately wake up our fear center. Battle? Did someone say battle?

Why do we battle something?

Because we’re afraid of it.

So we create a strange paradox.

We try to conquer fear…with fear.

The Strength card offers another path.

It doesn’t ask us to destroy fear.

It asks us to stop feeding it.

That doesn’t mean we ignore danger. It doesn’t mean we stop listening when our instincts warn us that something is genuinely wrong. We don’t need to take up nude skydiving just to prove we’re fearless.

We notice fear.

We thank it for trying to protect us.

And then we continue walking with a peaceful heart.

The lion is still a lion.

But we are no longer terrified by its roar.

Quiet Fidelity

When I think about genuine fearlessness, I don’t think about action heroes.

I think about the husband who spends years caring for his wife through cancer, quietly getting the wheelchair ready every morning.

I think about the single mother working two jobs so her children have food on the table and shoes on their feet.

I think about the husband or wife who continues showing kindness and faithfulness long after romance has faded into ordinary life.

Henry David Thoreau famously wrote that “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

Perhaps.

But I think he overlooked something.

Most people live lives of quiet fidelity.

They get up every morning.

They show up.

Even when hope seems unreasonable, they continue hoping.

Even when depression whispers that nothing matters, they keep looking for beauty.

Even when illness or grief comes to visit, they continue choosing life.

That, to me, is what the Strength card is really about.

For most of us, fearlessness doesn’t mean living without fear. Perhaps the rare saint—or the rare sociopath—can make that claim.

The rest of us simply learn not to let fear become the author of our lives.

We acknowledge it.

We thank it.

We refuse to let it drive.

And little by little, we discover that the lion was never conquered.

Only our relationship to it changed.

As Joseph Campbell so beautifully observed:

“The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”

Perhaps the greatest treasure isn’t on the other side of fear.

Perhaps it is the peaceful heart we discover while walking through it.

Tarot and the Art of Alignment – Available on Amazon

The Chariot and the Battle Before the Battle

The paradoxes of the Chariot card and learning self control.

The Chariot may be the strangest card in the Tarot.

It is supposed to represent victory, yet no battle has begun.

It represents movement, yet nothing is moving.

It depicts a chariot, yet there are no horses—only two sphinxes.

There are no reins.

There is no whip.

There is no enemy.

Nothing appears to be happening at all.

Was It Intentional?

And that may be exactly what Pamela Colman Smith, the illustrator of the Waite Tarot Deck, wanted us to notice.

For generations, The Chariot has been interpreted as a card of willpower, determination, and conquering obstacles. Yet when we actually look at the picture, those obstacles are nowhere to be found. There is no battlefield, no rough road, no charging army. The charioteer isn’t straining. He isn’t shouting commands. He simply stands, perfectly still.

It’s almost as though the card is asking us to question our assumptions.

Perhaps the real battle isn’t out there.

Perhaps it’s in here.

The black and white sphinxes seem to embody opposing forces: reason and emotion, courage and fear, planning and intuition, the conscious and unconscious mind. Left to themselves, they would almost certainly pull in different directions. Yet the charioteer doesn’t force them into submission.

In fact, he has no reins.

That omission is astonishing.

If this card were really about domination, the reins would be the most important object in the entire picture. Pamela could easily have painted magnificent golden harnesses stretching from the driver’s hands.

Instead, she paints…nothing.

The message seems surprisingly modern.

You don’t move forward by pulling harder.

You move forward by becoming aligned.

The Chariot Poster – 13 X 19 Inch Print – Available on Etsy

The Chariot and Wu Wei

There’s an old idea in Taoism called wu wei, often translated as “effortless action.” It doesn’t mean laziness or passivity. It means acting without inner conflict. The master doesn’t appear powerful because he exerts more force than everyone else. He appears powerful because nothing inside him is working against itself.

The same principle appears in the martial arts. Beginners rely on muscular effort. Masters move with astonishing economy because every part of the body is working together.

The Chariot seems to celebrate that same kind of mastery.

Not force.

Alignment.

The Years that Lead to a Moment

Think about the biggest moments of your own life.

Writing the book.

Leaving the job.

Starting the business.

Falling in love.

The visible action often takes only a single day.

The invisible preparation may take years.

Long before the wheels begin to turn, something inside us has to come into harmony. One part of us can no longer be saying, “Go,” while another whispers, “Stay safe.”

Most of us believe we’re stuck because life is difficult.

Sometimes that’s true.

But just as often, we’re stuck because different parts of ourselves are pulling toward different destinations.

“I want to follow my dream.”

“I don’t want anyone to criticize me.”

“I want intimacy.”

“I’m terrified of being vulnerable.”

That’s a motionless chariot.

Not because there isn’t a road.

Because the driver hasn’t yet become whole.

Seen this way, The Chariot isn’t asking, “How strong is your will?”

It’s asking a far more interesting question:

How divided is your mind?

When those inner divisions begin to dissolve, movement becomes almost effortless. The struggle isn’t eliminated because the world suddenly becomes easy. It’s eliminated because we’ve stopped fighting ourselves.

Perhaps that’s why Pamela painted a motionless chariot.

She wasn’t showing us the moment of victory.

She was showing us the battle before the battle.

The quiet, invisible work of bringing ourselves into alignment.

Because once that work is complete, the journey has already begun.

Available on Etsy as a PDF Downloadable Book

The Lovers and Falling in Love with Love

The archetypal power of love in the human heart.

When most people look at The Lovers card, their attention goes immediately to the man and woman.

But perhaps they’re not the real subject of the card.

Perhaps the real story is the angel.

Are You in Love with Your Lover… or in Love with Love?

It’s a curious question.

When we fall in love, what is it that actually transforms us? Is it another human being? Or is it the mysterious experience that awakens within us?

We’ve all known that feeling.

You meet someone. Conversation becomes effortless. Ordinary days suddenly seem enchanted. Music sounds richer. Food tastes better. Even standing in line at the grocery store doesn’t seem quite so terrible.

The world hasn’t changed.

You have.

Love has reorganized your perception.

And what’s fascinating is that this transformation often begins long before we really know the other person.

The Lovers Tarot Poster by Dan Adair – 13 X 19 – Available on Etsy

The Golden Aura

Relationships don’t always last.

Some become lifelong partnerships. Others end in disappointment, heartbreak, or betrayal.

Yet even after the relationship is over—even after anger has replaced affection—we often remember those first weeks or months with remarkable clarity.

We remember the golden feeling.

The sense that life itself had become brighter.

Which raises an interesting possibility.

Perhaps what we miss isn’t only the person.

Perhaps we miss the state of consciousness that love awakened within us.

The Angel in the Card

This is why I find the angel in this illustration so compelling.

The two human figures occupy the foreground, but towering above them is a radiant angel, pouring light over the entire scene.

The humans may tell the personal story.

The angel tells the archetypal one.

In Jungian psychology, an archetype is a universal pattern that lives within the human psyche. Love is certainly one of those patterns. Whenever it awakens, it changes the way we see ourselves and the world around us.

Suddenly, things that once seemed important lose their urgency.

Small gestures—a smile, a touch, a glance across a room—become deeply meaningful.

Love rearranges our priorities almost overnight.

The Human as the Vehicle

Ram Dass once spoke about grief in a way that has stayed with me.

He suggested that when someone we love dies, leaves us, or simply disappears from our lives, it feels as though our heart has been torn out.

Why?

Because we mistake the person for the love.

His suggestion was that the beloved is the vehicle through which we experience that profound state of love. When the vehicle disappears, it feels as though love itself has vanished.

Whether or not you agree with his spiritual conclusions, the psychological insight is worth considering.

Perhaps another person doesn’t create love inside us.

Perhaps they awaken something that was already there.

Which Comes First?

It’s impossible to know.

Does falling in love activate the archetype of love?

Or does the archetype become active first, allowing us to fall in love with someone we might otherwise never have noticed?

Most of us have looked back at an old relationship and wondered:

“What in the world did I ever see in that person?”

Perhaps the answer isn’t that we were blind.

Perhaps, for a brief time, we were seeing through the eyes of love itself.

Bringing the Angel Home

The Lovers card offers a beautiful challenge.

Instead of waiting for another person to bring love into our lives, what if we learned to cultivate that quality ourselves?

Not necessarily romantic love.

Simply love.

Loving your home.

Loving your work.

Loving the people you meet.

Being a little slower to judge and a little quicker to help.

Offering compassion to strangers—and to yourself.

Whether you see love as divine energy, a psychological archetype, or simply one of humanity’s greatest capacities, the effect is remarkably similar.

Life becomes brighter.

And perhaps that is the true lesson of The Lovers.

The couple may come and go.

But when love itself finds a permanent home in your heart, no one can take it away.

The Hierophant and Choosing Your Teachers

Who were your greatest teachers?

Who has earned the right to teach you?

That may sound like a strange question, but it’s really the heart of The Hierophant.

Human beings inherit an astonishing amount of knowledge from those who came before us. Language. Music. Art. Meditation. Psychology. Even Tarot itself. Every generation stands on the shoulders of countless teachers.

If each generation had to reinvent the wheel, civilization wouldn’t have gotten very far.

That’s the gift of The Hierophant.

At its heart, The Hierophant represents wisdom that has been tested, preserved, and passed from one generation to the next. He is the archetype of the teacher.

The Hierophant Poster – 13 X 19 – Available on Etsy

Who Changed Your Life?

Think for a moment about the people who genuinely changed the direction of your life.

Maybe it was Ram Dass.

Carl Jung.

Joseph Campbell.

Alan Watts.

A beloved grandmother.

An art teacher.

A therapist.

A meditation instructor.

None of these people simply possessed information. They embodied something. They had walked a path, learned from it, and then offered what they had discovered to others.

That act of passing wisdom forward is the true essence of The Hierophant.

The Shadow Hierophant

Every archetype has its shadow.

The shadow of The Hierophant is the false teacher.

History is full of them.

Some seek money, power, admiration, or control while wearing the robes of spirituality. Others may be sincere but become trapped inside rigid beliefs, insisting that their truth is the only truth and everyone else is wrong.

The ancient Sufi saying captures it perfectly:

“A donkey laden with holy books is still a donkey.”

Knowledge alone doesn’t make someone wise.

Available as a downloadable PDF book on Etsy

Choosing Your Teachers

We live in an age overflowing with gurus.

Scroll through YouTube for a few minutes and you’ll find hundreds of people promising enlightenment, wealth, healing, awakening, or secret knowledge.

So how do we choose?

A genuine teacher doesn’t ask you to surrender your mind.

They don’t demand blind obedience.

They don’t make themselves the destination.

Instead, they point beyond themselves.

They encourage you to test what they teach against your own experience.

The healthiest teachers aren’t interested in creating followers.

They’re interested in creating independent human beings.

The best Hierophants quietly say:

“I’ve walked this road before.”

“Let me save you a few unnecessary mistakes.”

“Test everything I tell you.”

“And someday, I hope you’ll surpass me.”

That’s Ram Dass.

That’s Joseph Campbell.

That’s Mr. Rogers.

That’s the Zen master who smiles when the student finally understands.

Becoming the Hierophant

Eventually, life invites each of us into the role of teacher.

Not because we’ve collected enough books or memorized enough quotations.

But because we’ve suffered.

We’ve loved.

We’ve failed.

We’ve learned.

We’ve become just a little wiser than we were before.

The real question isn’t whether people listen to us.

It’s whether we’ve earned the right to speak.

The Buddhists have long emphasized the practice of Right Speech. Among its many teachings is a warning against pretending to possess spiritual wisdom we haven’t actually attained.

That is the Shadow Hierophant.

Claiming authority before we’ve earned it.

Perhaps that’s why this old saying has endured for centuries:

Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates:

Is it true?

Is it necessary?

Is it kind?

The Hierophant reminds us that wisdom is more than knowledge.

It is knowledge tempered by humility.

And perhaps the greatest teachers are those who quietly invite us to become teachers ourselves—not by repeating their words, but by discovering our own.

The Emperor and Ruling a Kingdom of Socks and Dishes

The role of The Emperor’s energy in our daily lives.

How are you ruling over your kingdom right now?

No, I don’t mean your imaginary kingdom where you’re a titan of industry or maybe a pirate.

I don’t mean the video game kingdom where you’re the greatest slayer of orcs of all time.

I mean your kingdom.

The one with socks on the floor.

Laundry that’s piling up.

Bills that still need to be paid.

Dishes waiting in the sink.

You know…

The kingdom you actually have control over.

The Emperor and The Empress

The Empress and the Emperor are the only true matched pair in the Major Arcana. In a previous post, I suggested that the Empress represents our ability to receive abundance. The Emperor represents our ability to organize it.

The Empress is how we receive the world.

The Emperor is how the world receives us.

The Empress is the generative principle.

The Emperor Poster – 13 X 19 Inches – Available on Etsy

The Emperor is the organizing principle.

Both of these energies live within every one of us. They aren’t male and female so much as complementary ways of being. Like the Emperor and the Empress themselves, they’re opposite ends of the same spectrum.

The Empress is relaxed, open, and completely at ease.

The Emperor is covered in armor from head to toe.

The Empress is soft and receptive.

The Emperor is firm and projective.

The Emperor is Our Place in the World

Sooner or later, every one of us has to leave the safety of the family nest and make our way in the world. We have to earn a living, work with other people, find a place to live, pay the bills, keep the house in order, and somehow hold it all together.

Yes…it’s that dreaded stage of life we call . . . adulting.

The Empress is the part of us that nurtures our identity as it grows.

The Emperor is the part that carries that identity into the world and quietly says:

“This is who I am. I have a right to be here.”

If The Empress is the Universal Garden, The Emperor is the guy who built the garden beds, carried in the sacks of manure to fertilize it and remembers to water it all every morning.

So How Do We Claim the Emperor’s Energy?

By developing self-control without becoming controlling.

By cultivating quiet confidence instead of arrogance.

By becoming competent at what we do.

By keeping our promises to ourselves.

The Emperor doesn’t ask us to dominate other people. He asks us to govern ourselves.

Not as a tyrant.

As a wise ruler.

Not with harsh self-criticism.

With gentle but strong guidance.

Despite his throne, his crown, and his armor, the Emperor’s work isn’t really about kingdoms at all.

It’s about picking up those socks.

Paying the bills.

Keeping your word.

Creating healthy boundaries.

Standing up for yourself without trampling someone else.

Every small act of self-government strengthens the Emperor within us.

And perhaps that’s the real lesson of this card.

Before we can rule a kingdom, we have to learn to rule ourselves.

Tarot and the Art of Alignment – Available of Amazon

The Empress and the Abundance of the Heart

The Empress and the abundance of love.

Would you like to be an Empress?

You might read that sentence and think:

“Who, me? The muffler’s about to fall off my car. I can barely pay the rent. The kids need new shoes that I can’t afford, and my apartment looks like a disaster area.

Do I want to be an Empress? Yeah… right.”

What Does an Empress Look Like?

Let’s take a minute to really look at the Empress card before you rule yourself out.

The Empress Poster – 13 X 19 Inches – Available on Etsy

What do we see?

A beautiful woman reclining comfortably on a simple couch. She’s wearing a flowing robe, and her head is crowned with stars. In one hand she loosely holds a scepter topped with a golden globe. Resting beside her is a shield bearing the symbol of Venus.

Behind her stretches a peaceful forest, with a waterfall flowing gently through it beneath a clear blue sky.

What else do you see?

If your answer is, “Nothing,” you got that one exactly right.

What’s Missing?

When we hear the word Empress, certain images immediately come to mind.

Royal courts.

Tables groaning beneath crystal goblets and golden dishes.

Ladies-in-waiting glittering with jewels.

Magnificent ivory thrones.

You know…

Money.

Power.

Status.

Truckloads of doe-ray-me.

Not This Empress

Yet none of those things appear in this card.

She’s reclining on a simple seat instead of an elaborate throne.

There are no servants.

No palace.

No symbols of worldly power.

Yes, she carries a scepter, but she holds it so casually that it almost feels like an afterthought. Her crown is made of stars rather than jewels. Even her shield bears not a lion or dragon, but the symbol of Venus—the emblem of love.

The forest, the waterfall, and the open sky are her royal hall.

What does that tell us?

The Empress and Abundance

The Empress is often described as the archetype of abundance.

But this is a very different kind of abundance.

It isn’t measured in bank accounts or luxury cars.

She doesn’t need possessions to convince herself she’s wealthy.

Her richness flows outward from her.

It doesn’t flow inward from the things she owns.

Her abundance is written upon her shield:

Love.

So how do we incorporate that Empress energy into our own lives?

The Empress and Filling the Well

Julia Cameron observed that creativity is not a bottomless well.

Eventually the well must be refilled.

Sooner or later, the creative life asks us to stop producing and simply receive.

The Empress understands this instinctively.

She would probably tell us that resting isn’t the opposite of creating.

Resting is creating.

When we step away from frantic schedules and consciously enjoy the beauty already surrounding us, we’re expressing Empress energy.

Reading.

Walking.

Listening to music.

Cooking.

Taking a bath.

Watching clouds drift across the sky.

Standing outside beneath the moon.

These aren’t interruptions to creativity.

They’re how creativity breathes.

They’re how we absorb the abundance that already exists simply because we’re alive.

The Empress as a Spiritual Practice

Perhaps the most important symbol in the entire card is the small shield bearing the sign of Venus.

It reminds us that love isn’t something we have to earn.

It isn’t something we have to chase.

And it isn’t something other people give us permission to experience.

Love is our birthright.

It already lives within us.

It flows from the heart rather than into it.

That means we can practice Empress energy every single day.

Making our homes beautiful.

Growing flowers.

Lighting a scented candle.

Preparing a meal with care.

Creating peaceful spaces.

Being fully present in our own lives.

These simple acts may seem ordinary.

The Empress would call them sacred.

Becoming the Empress

So…

Would you like to be an Empress?

Perhaps you already are.

The Empress doesn’t ask how much money is in your bank account, what kind of car you drive, or whether your furniture belongs in a palace.

She asks a much quieter question.

Can you recognize the abundance that’s already present in this moment?

Can you slow down long enough to appreciate beauty?

Can you create a little more peace?

Can you let love flow outward into the world through the smallest acts of everyday life?

If you can…

Then you’re already wearing the crown of stars.

The Magician and Learning to Hide Your Magic

Magic might exist best in silence.

The internet has made the world’s spiritual traditions available to anyone with a curious mind. In the space of an afternoon you can watch videos on Tarot, meditation, astrology, Wicca, Hermetic philosophy, or ancient shamanic practices.

That kind of openness creates an illusion that every spiritual subject is now safe to discuss openly.

Unfortunately, that isn’t always true.

The Price of Being Different

The word eccentric simply means “off center.”

Imagine society as a great circle. Most people live comfortably near the middle, sharing many of the same assumptions about life, religion, and reality. They may disagree about politics, music, or sports, but the foundation of their worldview is remarkably similar.

A spiritual journey often carries us away from that center.

We begin asking unusual questions. We become interested in synchronicity, Tarot, meditation, dreams, symbols, or ancient traditions. We may even come to believe in things that many people dismiss without a second thought.

Naturally, we’re excited.

Whenever we discover something meaningful, our first instinct is to share it with the people we love.

And that can be a grave mistake.

The people listening may smile politely while privately wondering whether we’ve lost our grip on reality. Sometimes the judgment remains unspoken.

Occasionally it comes back with surprising force from people we trusted completely and that can feel especially devastating.

The Magician – 13 X 19 inch poster by Dan Adair – Available on Etsy

Protecting Young Beliefs

This is especially important when you’re just beginning your spiritual exploration.

New beliefs are like tender seedlings pushing through the soil. They aren’t yet strong enough to withstand harsh weather.

They need time.

They need experience.

Most of all, they need protection.

Sharing those fragile discoveries with someone who has already decided they’re nonsense is like inviting someone to stomp through your garden wearing heavy boots.

The damage isn’t necessarily that they change your mind.

The damage is that they plant seeds of doubt before your own understanding has had time to mature.

History Is Shorter Than You Think

It’s easy to assume that hostility toward unconventional spiritual practices belongs to the distant past.

We remember the witch trials and the Inquisition, when innocent people were imprisoned, tortured, or killed because they were suspected of practicing forbidden arts.

Yet fear of the occult has appeared much more recently.

During the Satanic Panic of the 1980s, innocent people were accused of bizarre crimes involving imagined occult rituals. The most famous example was the McMartin Preschool case in California, where extraordinary accusations dominated headlines despite the complete lack of supporting evidence.

Witnesses testified that Virginia McMartin, who ran a day care center for preschoolers in Manhattan Beach was, “leading children into secret underground tunnels where they dressed up as witches and flew around in the air. Other parents made similarly shocking allegations about McMartin Preschool, accusing the employees of cannibalism, blood-drinking and infant sacrifice.”

Only 40 years ago, right here in the United States, a county attorney indicted a woman for dressing up like a witch and flying around the air.

Let that sink in.

Why the Magician Keeps Silent

There is an interesting clue in the very word, “occult.”

It simply means, “hidden.”

We usually think of hidden knowledge—teachings that are not widely known—but perhaps there is another lesson as well.

Some things are best kept private, even from people we thought we could trust.

There is quiet wisdom in that.

Not every insight needs to become a public discussion.

Not every ritual needs an audience.

Not every spiritual experience needs to be explained.

Sometimes the greatest magic grows best in silence.

The greatest secrets of Western Occultism were passed down from adept to student, always hidden from the prying eyes of the crowds, the priests, and the judges. That’s how they survived through the many years of the Dark Ages. Perhaps that’s how they’ll survive again.

That is one of The Magician’s deepest lessons—not simply learning how to work with unseen forces, but learning when to keep them unseen.

Four Paths to Becoming the Hermit

An exploration of being alone in the world.

Of all the figures in the Tarot, none stands more completely alone than The Hermit.

Unlike the Fool, the Magician, or the Emperor, the Hermit has intentionally stepped away from the crowd. He has withdrawn from unnecessary human contact, choosing solitude over society.

That seems almost contrary to human nature.

Aristotle observed that anyone who has no need of society must be either a god or a beast. Yet the Hermit is neither. He is simply a human being who has walked a very unusual road.

So how does someone become the Hermit?

1. The Wounded Hermit

For many people, the journey begins with pain.

They reached out sincerely. They loved, trusted, and tried to belong. Again and again they were hurt, rejected, or misunderstood.

Eventually they withdraw—not because they hate people, but because they need to protect what remains of their heart.

For some, this is the first step toward becoming the Hermit.

2. The Disappointed Hermit

Others are not driven away by wounds but by disillusionment.

They have done everything society promised would bring fulfillment. They built careers, earned money, fell in love, married, raised families, or achieved success.

Yet something still feels empty.

Status, romance, wealth, and recognition eventually turn to dust, leaving them quietly asking:

“Is this really all there is?”

3. The Called Hermit

Sometimes the first two experiences awaken something deeper.

After enough disappointment, a person begins to long for truth rather than comfort. They become convinced that life must contain something more profound than endless striving.

This is where the spiritual search begins.

The Hermit is no longer running away from the world.

He is walking toward wisdom.

4. The Natural Hermit

Some people simply possess the temperament for solitude.

Introverts often discover that being alone restores rather than depletes them. What began as an escape from pain gradually becomes a place of peace.

They don’t merely tolerate solitude.

They flourish there.

For these people, being alone feels less like isolation and more like coming home.

The Hermit’s True Gift

For some, the Hermit is only a season of life—a place of healing before they return to the world.

For others, it becomes a lifelong calling.

They gradually realize they never truly fit the expectations of the culture around them. Solitude begins as medicine but eventually becomes as necessary as breathing.

The Hermit archetype doesn’t create that feeling of being different.

It simply shines a lantern on a truth that has always been there.

Sometimes the greatest journey isn’t learning how to belong to the crowd.

Sometimes it’s discovering who you become when the crowd is no longer needed.

Saturn, The Tower, and Why I Meditate on The Fool

Saturn Transits and The Tower Card – How to NOT get run over.

As an Aries, I was recently dismayed to discover that Saturn has entered…

Gulp… Aries.

If you know anything about astrology, you probably understand why that made me nervous.

Saturn doesn’t exactly have the reputation of being the life of the party.

Saturn’s Bad Reputation

Saturn is often associated with:

* limitations

* delays

* responsibility

* endings

* hard lessons

* tearing down what no longer works

In other words…

Saturn has a way of rearranging your life whether you asked for it or not.

Sound Familiar?

If you’re a Tarot reader, that description probably reminds you of another archetype.

The Tower.

The Tower burns down the building.

It strips away certainty.

It leaves you standing in the ashes wondering,

“What just happened?”

A difficult Saturn transit can feel remarkably similar.

Sometimes it seems as though a cosmic steamroller has flattened your best-laid plans.

But They’re Not Exactly the Same

This is where I think people sometimes misunderstand Saturn.

The Tower is total collapse.

When the Tower appears, something fundamental is breaking apart.

It’s dramatic.

It’s shocking.

It’s often terrifying.

Saturn, however, is usually much more selective.

Saturn doesn’t destroy everything.

It destroys what isn’t solid.

That distinction makes all the difference.

Think of Saturn as a Strict Parent

I’ve always thought of Saturn as having a fatherly quality.

Not cruel.

Just uncompromising.

Imagine a parent walking into your room and saying,

“You haven’t used half this stuff in years. It’s time to clean it out.”

That’s Saturn.

Old habits.

Old beliefs.

Old ambitions.

Old identities.

If they’ve stopped serving your life, Saturn starts carrying them to the curb.

It may not feel pleasant.

But it isn’t random destruction.

Every Ending Makes Space for a Beginning

One thing that’s easy to overlook is that Saturn often marks the beginning of an entirely new chapter.

Yes, something is ending.

But something else is quietly making room to begin.

That’s why so many people look back on difficult Saturn periods years later and say,

“I wouldn’t want to go through it again…

…but I wouldn’t trade what came afterward.”

Why I Meditate on The Fool

When I’m going through Saturn energy, I don’t usually meditate on The Tower.

I meditate on The Fool.

That may sound strange at first.

The Fool is the card of beginnings.

Fresh energy.

New possibilities.

A journey that hasn’t been written yet.

The Fool steps into a completely unknown future with little more than hope, trust, and curiosity.

In many ways, that’s exactly what Saturn is asking us to do.

The Real Lesson

Here’s the conclusion I’ve gradually come to.

Saturn isn’t really asking us to suffer.

It’s asking us to let go.

Those are not the same thing.

The suffering often comes from trying to hold on to something that’s already finished.

When we resist Saturn…

the process feels brutal.

When we cooperate with Saturn…

the same energy becomes a tool for rebuilding.

You Can’t Stop Saturn…

…but you can work with it.

You can’t negotiate with it.

You can’t outrun it.

But you can decide whether you’ll spend your energy clinging to yesterday…

…or building tomorrow.

That’s why, during difficult Saturn transits, I keep coming back to The Fool.

Not because the journey is easy.

But because every meaningful journey begins the same way.

With one uncertain step into a brand-new world.