Tarot lessons – Just the Tarot

The Hanged Man Tarot Card: Finding Peace When You Can’t Move Forward

Explore The Hanged Man Tarot card as a symbol of suspension, powerlessness, reversed perspective and radical acceptance—and discover what it means when you cannot force life forward.

At first glance, The Hanged Man seems like a rather unpleasant Tarot card.

A man is hanging upside down by one foot. His hands are behind his back. He isn’t going anywhere, and there doesn’t appear to be anything he can do about it.

And yet there is something peculiar about him.

He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the situation.

In the familiar Rider-Waite-Smith version, Arthur Edward Waite goes considerably further and gives the man a halo, transforming the image into something approaching spiritual illumination. But the essential image is much older than Waite’s deck. Earlier Tarot de Marseille versions already show the same strange figure hanging upside down with an unexpectedly composed expression.

So perhaps we don’t need the halo to understand him.

Instead, let’s look at what is actually happening to this man.

The Hanged Man Poster – 13 X 19 – Available on Etsy

What’s in the Card?

1. Suspension: Life Has Come to a Stop

The most obvious thing about The Hanged Man is that he is suspended.

He isn’t walking somewhere. He isn’t working on something. He isn’t fighting an enemy or pursuing a goal.

He’s literally going nowhere.

That’s very different from many of the other figures in the Major Arcana. The Charioteer is moving forward. The Hermit has deliberately withdrawn from the world. The Magician is actively manipulating the objects on his table.

The Hanged Man can do none of those things.

His normal activities have been interrupted.

We all encounter periods like this. A plan stalls. A relationship enters limbo. An illness interrupts our routines. We’re waiting for somebody else’s decision. Something we depended upon disappears. We simply don’t know what comes next.

Our natural response is usually:

“How do I get things moving again?”

But The Hanged Man raises a different possibility.

Perhaps, for the moment, we aren’t supposed to be moving.

Sometimes suspension is not an empty space between important events. The suspension itself is the experience.

2. Powerlessness: He Cannot Change His Circumstances

This brings us to the more uncomfortable aspect of the card.

The Hanged Man isn’t merely resting.

He’s powerless.

One foot is tied to the structure above him. His hands are behind his back. Whatever brought him into this situation, he cannot simply decide that he’s had enough, stand up and walk away.

That makes The Hanged Man a remarkably useful card for situations involving things outside our control.

We tend to associate personal power with the ability to change circumstances. If something is wrong, we fix it. If a door is closed, we find another door. If something isn’t working, we try harder.

Usually that’s excellent advice.

But sometimes there genuinely isn’t anything we can do.

And continuing to struggle against an unchangeable situation doesn’t necessarily give us more power. Sometimes it merely exhausts us.

The Hanged Man confronts us with one of life’s most difficult truths:

There are circumstances we cannot control.

The question then becomes not “How do I control this?” but:

“How am I going to live while this is true?”

Tarot and the Art of Alignment – Available on Amazon

3. Reversed Perspective: The World Looks Completely Different

Now something interesting happens.

Because the Hanged Man cannot go anywhere, his perspective changes instead.

Quite literally, his world has turned upside down.

The trees, the earth, the sky, other people—everything familiar is suddenly being seen from an unfamiliar angle.

Nothing necessarily changed in the outside world.

His position within it changed.

This may be the great gift hidden inside the card.

When our usual methods stop working, we may begin questioning assumptions we never previously thought to question.

What if success isn’t what I thought it was?

What if this relationship isn’t what I believed it was?

What if the thing I’ve been desperately pursuing isn’t actually what I need?

What if the situation I’ve been calling a disaster looks entirely different when viewed from another angle?

The Hanged Man doesn’t necessarily give us the answers.

He interrupts our habitual way of looking for them.

Sometimes we don’t acquire a new perspective because we’re wise enough to seek one.

Sometimes life turns us upside down until we have no choice.

4. Serenity: Acceptance Without Defeat

And finally we come to the strangest feature of the entire card.

The Hanged Man looks serene.

That’s remarkable.

If his face showed terror, the card would be about victimization.

If he were struggling against his restraints, it would be about imprisonment.

If he looked defeated, it would be about despair.

But he doesn’t.

Somehow, this man who cannot move, cannot escape and cannot control his circumstances has found peace within them.

That doesn’t necessarily mean he likes what has happened.

Acceptance isn’t approval.

Nor does acceptance mean that he will remain suspended forever.

It simply means that he has stopped fighting the reality of the present moment.

There is an enormous psychological difference between:

“This must not be happening.”

and:

“This is happening. What now?”

The first keeps us locked in combat with reality itself.

The second gives us somewhere to stand—even when, like The Hanged Man, we aren’t technically standing at all.

The Four Lessons of The Hanged Man

Taken together, the picture gives us four stages:

Suspension: My normal life has stopped.

Powerlessness: I cannot presently change this situation.

Reversed Perspective: Since I cannot change the situation, perhaps I can see it differently.

Serenity: I can stop fighting what I cannot presently change.

That’s considerably richer than simply defining The Hanged Man as “waiting” or “sacrifice.”

Sometimes the card may indeed indicate a sacrifice. Sometimes it may simply tell us to wait.

But at its deepest level, The Hanged Man seems to address one of the most difficult human experiences:

What do we do when there is nothing we can do?

His answer is extraordinary.

We stop.

We surrender the struggle—not necessarily forever, but for now.

We allow ourselves to see the situation from an entirely different perspective.

And perhaps we discover that peace does not always have to wait until the problem has been solved.

When The Hanged Man Appears in a Reading

When The Hanged Man appears, it may be useful to ask:

* Where has my life become suspended?

* What am I trying to control that I genuinely cannot control right now?

* What might this situation look like if I turned my assumptions upside down?

* What would acceptance look like if I stopped confusing acceptance with defeat?

The Hanged Man does not promise that someone is about to cut the rope.

He offers something stranger and perhaps more valuable:

the possibility of finding peace while we’re still hanging there.

Is Justice Really the Karma Card?

The Justice Card and an exploration of karma.

What if the Justice card isn’t really about getting what you deserve?

That familiar interpretation—“Justice means you’ll get what’s coming to you”—turns the card into a kind of cosmic courtroom. Somewhere in the universe, an invisible judge is apparently keeping score.

But there may be a much more interesting—and useful—way to understand Justice.

Karma Isn’t Cosmic Punishment

In popular Western culture, karma often gets reduced to cosmic revenge: do something bad and sooner or later the universe will smack you for it.

But karma is fundamentally about action and consequence. Actions create causes. Causes produce effects. Those effects create new circumstances from which further actions arise.

Seen this way, Justice becomes a remarkably good image of karma.

Justice poster – 13 X 19 – Available on Etsy

The Scales and the Sword

Look at the two objects Justice holds.

The scales represent cause and effect. Everything we think, choose and do enters the balance. Nothing happens entirely in isolation. Actions have consequences.

The sword represents those consequences becoming manifest. Eventually the abstract chain of causes produces an actual result.

The seed becomes the harvest.

And then notice Justice herself.

She isn’t angry. She isn’t pleased. She isn’t getting even.

She is impersonal.

Gravity doesn’t punish you for stepping off a roof. Fire doesn’t become angry because you put your hand into it. Cause and effect simply operate according to their nature.

That gives us a powerful metaphysical definition of the card:

Justice represents the law by which causes become consequences.

What Might Justice Mean in a Reading?

Suppose someone has spent years in a job they hate because they’re afraid to take a risk. Eventually they find themselves exhausted, resentful and wondering how their life became so small.

Justice doesn’t necessarily say, “You deserve this.”

Instead, it might say: Look at the chain of causes that brought you here.

Fear led to staying. Staying led to stagnation. Stagnation led to unhappiness.

That’s not punishment. It’s cause and effect.

And here’s the important part: the chain isn’t finished.

A different choice today creates a different cause—and potentially a different future.

Or imagine someone repeatedly entering relationships in which they ignore early warning signs. Justice appearing in a reading doesn’t have to mean that the universe has sentenced them to another disastrous relationship. It may be asking them to recognize the pattern itself.

What choice keeps setting the same sequence in motion?

Change that choice, and you begin changing what follows from it.

Justice Looks in Two Directions

This makes Justice both retrospective and prospective.

The scales look backward: What have I already set in motion?

The sword looks forward: What will follow from it?

And that gives the card considerably more agency than the old idea that Justice simply means “you’re going to get what you deserve.”

Justice isn’t necessarily announcing an unavoidable cosmic sentence.

It may be saying:

Look clearly at the causal chain. If you want a different consequence, this is where you change the cause.

And perhaps that is where Justice becomes not merely a card of karma, but a card of personal power.

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 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 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.

The Happiness Compass: What If Joy Is Trying to Tell You Something?

Exploring the idea that happiness is a compass that points us in the right direction.

We’ve all heard the old saying from the 1960s:

“If it feels good, do it.”

Unfortunately, our culture often teaches the exact opposite.

Work a job you hate because it’s practical.

Stay in a relationship that’s gone stale because it’s your duty.

Ignore your dreams because they’re unrealistic.

Somewhere along the way, many of us begin wearing our unhappiness like a badge of honor, as though misery proves we’re responsible adults.

But what if we’ve misunderstood happiness?

What if it isn’t a luxury?

What if it’s a compass?

Happiness Isn’t Random

One of the central ideas in my book, Tarot and the Art of Alignment, is that happiness isn’t merely an emotion that comes and goes.

It’s directional.

It points.

When we’re moving toward the life we’re meant to live, something inside us quietly says:

“Yes…this is the way.”

Likewise, when we drift away from our authentic nature, life begins to feel heavy, flat, and strangely empty.

Our emotions aren’t simply fluctuations. They’re messages that point us in the right direction.

The Simplest Question

Perhaps the most radical question we can ask ourselves isn’t:

“How much money am I making?”

Or…

“What will other people think?”

It’s simply this:

Am I happy here?

If the honest answer is no, don’t treat it as a failure. Treat it as information.

Your inner compass is trying to get your attention.

Isn’t That Just Hedonism?

Whenever people talk about following happiness, someone inevitably objects:

“That sounds selfish.”

Or…

“Life isn’t supposed to be fun all the time.”

I agree. This isn’t about chasing pleasure.

There’s a profound difference between pleasure and fulfillment.

Pleasure asks:

“What feels good right now?”

Fulfillment asks:

“What kind of joy helps me become more fully myself?”

Real happiness isn’t the endless pursuit of dopamine. It’s the quiet satisfaction that comes from living in harmony with your deepest nature.

Happiness Is a Side Effect of Truth

One of the biggest misconceptions in our culture is that happiness comes from accumulating enough “stuff.”

More money.

A bigger house.

A nicer car.

More followers.

Those things may be enjoyable. But they’re not necessarily meaningful.

Real happiness comes from something much deeper.

It appears when we’re living with integrity.

When our actions reflect who we really are.

When we’re doing the work we came here to do—even if that work is difficult.

Happiness isn’t the goal.

It’s the glow that appears when we’re moving in the right direction.

Entering the Flow

Psychologists call it flow.

The Taoists simply speak of being in harmony with the Tao.

Athletes call it being in the zone.

Whatever name we give it, most of us have experienced those rare moments when intention and action become one. When life seems to go perfectly.

Time disappears.

Energy rises.

Life feels strangely enchanted.

Synchronicities seem to increase.

Everything flows naturally.

To me, this is the Happiness Compass operating at full strength. The needle of the compass isn’t spinning in circles anymore – it’s pointing solidly in one direction.

Why We Lose Our Way

The tragedy is that most of us weren’t taught to trust this inner guidance.

We were taught to obey.

To fit in. To be practical. To put duty ahead of authenticity.

Eventually the compass is still there…

But it’s buried beneath expectations, obligations, financial worries, and the opinions of other people.

Eventually, we may not even remember what genuine happiness feels like, because we’ve forgotten who we truly are.

How the Tarot Can Help

This is one of the reasons I love working with the Tarot.

The cards don’t tell us who we’re supposed to become. They remind us who we already are. They gently reveal where we’ve ignored our intuition, overridden our happiness, or wandered away from our authentic path.

The cards are about helping us realign with ourselves and answer that basic question: Am I happy? If the answer is no, they tell us why.

Perhaps happiness isn’t something we have to chase. Perhaps it’s simply something that we need to remember.

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Adapted from Chapter Six of my new book, Tarot and the Art of Alignment: Using the Cards to Remember Who You Are, which explores how the Tarot can become a practical compass for discovering your authentic path and living with greater joy, purpose, and synchronicity.