Embracing the Hermit Archetype

In this involuntary period of self-isolation, Gabriella Tavini considers what might be gleaned from channelling the Hermit.

Illustration by Rachael Olga Lloyd

While dawn birdsong and spring blossoms rouse us from hibernation, global circumstances prevent us from emerging in full bloom. I think about The Hermit card and it seems 2020’s hibernation period is going to be longer than we thought. 

Self-isolating may feel like a solitary journey because on some level, it has to be. Although we’re in hibernation physically, are we actually being awoken from a different sort of hibernation, one of lower-level consciousness? A place where we’ve taken a bite of the apple of Capitalism and drifted into unconscious slumber for far too long. 

Stories and videos which spiritualise coronavirus have been permeating our newsfeeds. They’ve been met with both disapproval and praise. Disapproval because the fact of the matter is: people are suffering and people are dying at an alarming rate. Approval, because spiritualism soothes fear of the unknown. If spirituality breeds meaning and encourages humanity to strive for a more meaningful life—so mote it be. 

The UK is on the cusp of lockdown. Businesses have shut; schools are closed, and those who are privileged enough to do so are working from home. Yes, money is tight. Yes, there’s uncertainty and yes there will most definitely be sacrifices; however, savouring this slower and more thoughtful environment gives us space to reflect. Enter The Hermit.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The Hermit is the ninth card in the Major Arcana. The number nine indicates the completion of a cycle and the anticipation of the new cycle. It’s about finding meaningful value, a meaningful path after a long journey. The journey is the transition, a retreat from the world to reflect and learn to connect with our true voice and vision, to return to the outer world with strength and knowledge.

“Only by withdrawing from the outer world can we awaken the inner self.” - Rachel Pollack, Seventy-Eight-Degrees of Wisdom: A Book of Tarot 

Contemporary culture rewards action, materialism and performative ways of living, so we usually perceive the word “hermit” as negative. This is a misunderstanding. 

In his right hand, The Hermit holds a lantern symbolising the unconscious light within us all. It’s that gut feeling. That sixth sense. That place where we can check-in with ourselves and reflect on whether we’re living in a way that feeds our soul. Whether we follow the light or not is another matter. For now, we take comfort in the flame. All that being said, if we don’t protect the flame from the elements, it will go out. 

Inside the lantern is a six-pointed star. Six is associated with beauty, stability and harmony illustrating the aligned cosmos and humanity’s vulnerable place within it all. In his left hand, The Hermit appears to be leaning on a staff. In most tarot decks, the Hermit is illustrated as an elderly man, so it’s understandable to assume he needs assistance getting from A to B. However, do not be fooled—for The Hermit’s staff isn’t really a staff; The Hermit leans on his trusty wand. The disguised wand is a reminder: even though our personal power may not always be visually present or even feel present, we all have the creative capacity and strength to choose how we spend our precious retreat. That being said, it's also worth noting that our individual circumstances: our financial situation, ethnic background or class will either benefit or hinder our ability to access personal power. 

The Hermit can also represent a teacher in our lives. Our current quarantine is many people’s "normal reality." Currently, there are 13.9 million disabled people in the UK who rely on tech or a carer to help them go outdoors. And that’s not even counting those who are prevented from going outside because of mental illness. It’s a sobering fact to discover that one in five of us will be affected by a disability at some point and according to Mind UK, one in four people will experience a mental health issue every year. 

Artists such as Frida Kahlo and Leonora Carrington spent periods of time in isolation due to mental and physical health issues. The reasons for their seclusion was beyond their control, but self-imposed seclusion while working seems to be the choice of many able-bodied creatives. In Susan Cain's book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, she highlights how "solitude matters, and for some people, it's the air they breathe." Indeed, solitude is the incubator for many solo creatives and their craft.

Painter and diarist Frida Kahlo, known in Mexico as la heroína del dolor, “the heroine of pain” wore her suffering, quite literally, on her canvas. Frida’s lengthy periods of convalescence meant painting became her only relief from the painful reality of her injuries. She contracted polio at an early age, which seriously injured her right leg. She was involved in a bus crash where a metal handrail pierced her lower body, breaking her spinal column, pelvis and two ribs. Kahlo was hospitalised for one month then sent home to recuperate; however, throughout life she underwent around 30 operations and never fully healed. The Broken Column is a self-portrait of Frida wearing a steel corset as part of her treatment for polio. 

The Surrealist painter and writer Leonora Carrington was inspired by hypnotic visions, dreams and the occult to create uncannily original portrayals of her isolated reality. She suffered a psychotic break when her lover, Max Ernst, was arrested and sent to a concentration camp. Soon after, plagued with paralysing anxiety and haunted by disturbing visions, Leonora was confined to a mental institution where she was further tormented by the brutal medical treatment she received. Evidence of Leonora's solitary existence is depicted in one of her most iconic paintings, The Inn of the Dawn Horse.

Both Frida and Leonora's uniquely harrowing experiences resulted in creativity that embodied the horror and enlightenment of The Hermit archetype. 

In times of darkness, we’d be wise to look for The Hermit’s lantern, flickering like a lighthouse, a symbol of safe passage through choppy waters and rocky ocean beds. What can the hermit archetype and these resilient artists teach us? Well, a few things: empathy for those whose pains are greater than our own; acceptance, the realisation that some circumstances are out of our control, that we must make peace with the cards we’re dealt and use the tools at hand; discernment, the realisation that your worldview is unique to everyone else’s; and last but not least, bravery, to have the courage and the passion to sculpt your own vision of what it truly means to live well, no matter the sacrifice.

So let’s withdraw: finish watching Season three of Sabrina, read that next Book of Shadows, study tarot and most importantly, make time to reflect. Let’s keep in touch with loved ones. Let’s meditate and use spell-casting for comfort and healing. And let’s keep sharing what we’ve learned, so when we return to the outside world, we can shape a more fulfilling and enlightened world to live in. Because although this may be a solitary journey, we’re all in this together.

Six Ways To Celebrate Winter Solstice

Source: Unsplash

Winter Solstice, also known as Yule, marks the shortest day and the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. It usually falls on the 21st or 22nd of December and was historically celebrated by Germanic peoples, and today by Neo-Pagans, including Druids and witches. Many worshippers head to sacred sites like Stonehenge, but there are plenty of ways to celebrate at home. Some rituals are strikingly similar to those we see in Christianity, which have no doubt borrowed from older traditions.

1. Honour the Sun

It’s mind-boggling that we're expected to live at the same pace all year round. And that goes without mentioning Christmas mania, which undoubtedly adds another layer of stress to the burnout cake. Meanwhile, our furry friends and botanical buddies hibernate. So why don’t we follow suit? If we look back through time, it was crucial for our ancestors to pay attention to the landscape around them. Frost threatened to cause irreparable damage to seeds, leaving families or whole villages without crops for a whole year. Predicting the weather and preparing for specific conditions meant the difference between life and death. Modern living means we're no longer so limited by nature. But do we need nature more than we realise? Yuletide was such an important festival for our ancestors because Midwinter was a time of great hardship. There was less food to forage and a higher risk of becoming ill from the cold and dying. Our forebears had no choice, but to slow down in order to preserve energy. Consequently, the return of the sun was greatly anticipated because it brought the promise of warmth, life and sustenance, signifying the most threatening months were over. Honouring the sun is as simple as acknowledging its presence. Watch carefully how the sun rays burn through the cloud and fall through your window. Alternatively, light a candle to meditate on the significance of the sun and how its existence is crucial to all living things. 

2. Midwinter Manifestation

Winter is a time for drawing inwards and reflecting on the year that's passed. There's no better time to acknowledge our mistakes and let go of behaviours that no longer serve us. Make it a ritual to sort through belongings you no longer use and give them away. Think of these belongings as symbols of wasteful thought-patterns. And who knows, maybe they’ll serve someone else better? Welcome new ideas for the year ahead to bring hope and motivate growth. Write your wishes on a piece of paper and burn them ceremonially over a candle, a woodburner or an outdoor fire. Then watch the embers carry your wishes up into the aether. 

3. Create a Yule altar

Altars acknowledge the mystical and inexplicable forces of life. Adorning altars seasonally is a beautiful way to stay present and honour nature. There is no right way to create an altar and it doesn’t necessarily have to look beautiful, as long as it's beautiful to you. There is no right way to use it, either. Without being prescriptive, here’s an idea for inspiration. According to Scott Cunningham’s book Wicca, some Wiccan altars embody the four elements. To represent Fire, light a candle of the festive kind: red, white, or green and say, “May the coming year give me the fire in my belly to fulfil my intent.” For Water, (a cup filled with tap water is fine) you can speak the words, “May the coming year make my mind fluid like the river to help me overcome obstacles.” To represent Earth, collect sacred Midwinter plants such as pine cones, holly or ivy. Place them on your altar and say, “May the coming year keep me grounded in times of chaos.” And lastly, Air. Find a bird's feather, a wind instrument, or hang wind chimes above your altar and recite the words, “May the coming year grant me the space to listen to my inner wisdom.”

4. Get Familiar with Protection Spells

Travelling home for Christmas to spend time with family can stir up a cauldron of mixed emotions. Know that you are not alone. The family complex creates conflict when we find ourselves unwillingly regressing into a less conscious state, resuming our teenage role under parental rule. No doubt, this regression evokes uncanny experiences. The best way I've heard it explained is by the hosts from one of my favourite podcasts, This Jungian Life. One analyst, Lisa Marchiano says, "When you go back into the family situation, it feels as if someone has cast a spell.” According to Marchiano, the only way to resist the spell is to retain consciousness, which basically equates to boycotting festive overeating and drinking. Pertinent, one of folklore's recurring themes is that the consumption of enchanted food or drink renders the protagonist unconscious or trapped in a magical realm. 

Another observation made by Marchiano describes her own experience of family complexes at Christmastime, "one minute, you're fine, you're in your adult persona, you're competent and individuated. But then you get within 50 paces of the family home and all the brothers and sisters are there and you're under the witches spell, back to being fourteen feeling resentful and incompetent.” For those that were treated like Mum's little prince or princess, being fourteen again might be the TLC we needed! Alternatively, it could dredge up old negative familial patterns. Regardless, protection sigils are great tools to remind us to stay conscious and resist the urge to regress. 

5. Go Evergreen

Holly and ivy are two of the only plants that thrive during Midwinter. Holly, with its thorny leaves and bright red berries, is a role model of scathing resilience and great beauty. Ivy, on the other hand, is virtually indestructible, scaling great heights, weaving its slender branches round anything that supports its growth. This plant teaches us two things: to be adaptable to our ever-changing landscape and to weave meaningful, long-lasting relationships. In the middle-ages, these qualities were highly valued because the foundation of individual survival depended on loyal friendships, trust and the fruitfulness of your wider community. Both sacred plants were symbolic of fertility, the return of life in spring was a reassuring reminder of the warm abundant months ahead. Bringing these sacred plants into the home during Midwinter is not solely about festive aesthetics, but carries the unconscious symbolism of life triumphing over death. 

6. Listen to Folk Music

The wheel of the year has turned full circle. And once again, the scent of cinnamon and clove and pine needles fill the air; all is familiar. But what about the music? Often we listen to Christmas carols, some new, some old, all descendants of a lineage of music making that goes back to ancient times. Music making and listening is arguably one of the oldest creative acts of humankind, and there’s some evidence to suggest music came before speech. Researchers at the University of Maryland, College Park (UMCP) and Rice University’s Shepherd School of Music say that “Music did not emerge as a result of the emergence and development of language. Music came first. The language part came later.” If this is the case, what instruments did our ancestors play? It’s likely that percussion came first because rhythm can be created on any surface. It seems wind instruments followed shortly after. In 2012, researchers found a flute made from bird bone and mammoth ivory, which they estimate to be between 42,000 and 43,000 years old.

If music is older than language, is it possible that music bypasses our conscious mind and speaks to the deep consciousness, a place where we remember our roots? Maybe that's why music moves us emotionally and physically: it captivates our minds, beats in our blood and speaks to our hearts. At this dark and cold time of year, we need it more than ever.