So how are we to approach this card?
We must approach The Hermit from the standpoint of Ground, and the reason for this is practical rather than cerebral. The Hermit is engaged in a very deep process of negation, of turning away, an approach that ironically goes on to included affirmation. The famous words of Jesus come to mind:
"If you have faith even as a mustard seed, then you can command a mountain to move, and it shall.”
This "mustard seed" is what's meant by Ground. The gravity of mind, which is the existential feeling of "I am", leads to the realization of Ground as organismic consciousness (i.e., Centaur/Mermaid awareness). The very attempt to discover one's Center is itself a movement not in but from Ground. This movement is ultimately absurd, for the timeless can't be approached in a temporal way. Every beginning has an end, but begin one must, or else how to learn this important lesson?
To fully grasp what this means we must evoke all we've learned about The Magus, who’s but The Hermit in his youth. The Magus, having performed his juggling act of integrating various perspectives, must rise to a more inclusive level of selfhood. He must become The Hermit, whose task it is to differentiate (not dissociate) what was so that he may faithfully perceive what is. In other words, The Magus becomes The Hermit once his perspectives are digested, when he transcends but also includes them in a higher level of selfhood.
Says Crowley:
"The adept must control a concrete and coherent mass if he is to hurl it from him in one clean cut gesture."
Ground is always present, we're just rarely clear enough to perceive it. To be sure, dynamic Ground (Eros) and Embrace (Agape) are two different words describing the same reality, but most of us are inclined toward one or the other. The Hermit favors the former. The mindset of The Hermit and The Magus differs greatly from that of The Star or The Priestess, as the former two are masculine approaches while the latter two are feminine. It's important to understand what's meant by the terms "masculine" and "feminine": A man can have a feminine approach just as a woman can have a masculine approach. In The Lovers we saw The Hermit uniting these two principles, giving birth to "hermaphroditic awareness," that is, uniting Male and Female, Yin and Yang, Conscious and Unconscious, Apophatic and Kataphatic, Eros and Agape, and so forth. The masculine approach tends to be active while the feminine approach tends to be passive. The full employment of one will inevitably give rise to the other, because they’re to aspects of a single phenomenon. Be passive long enough and eventually that passivity will become pregnant. Actively seek something which can't be sought, and you'll eventually see the futility of seeking.
Otherwise you’ll stay on that hamster-wheel until you learn your lesson!
The Hermit is the ninth trump---the number of Yesod, sphere of the moon. What this means is that The Hermit must travel through the Dark Night of the Soul, and he must travel alone.
Or does he have company?
Notice in the lower-right portion of the card that Cerberus, the Hell Hound, is following The Hermit with two heads looking forward and one looking back. This malicious mutt is also shaped like a hand, the body part to which this card is attributed (Yod). Tackling first the issue of the ambivalent heads, we see that The Hermit runs the risk of having to backtrack, occasionally returning to the psychological depths where integration was left incomplete. Just as we encountered the Ape of Thoth in The Magus, we encounter Cerberus in The Hermit. The Hermit isn't allowed to have any company, remember. He must absorb and transcend all dualities if he's to uncover the unity of Kether (union of Sun and Moon). We see an example of this in spiritual teachers who show obvious spiritual attainment but poorly developed ethics. Or in the many people who show admirable intellectual capacity but have the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old.
Taking the second issue---that of the hand-shaped-hound---we must turn to the well-known myth that views the hand as a symbol of personal destiny (e.g., “palm-reading”). The Hermit doesn't know what it is! His destiny is totally unknown to him. This is a dangerous state of affairs, for if we don't know what our destiny is then we can't know what direction we should be traveling in. The next level of growth is in sight only when we know what our destiny isn't, and we can know that only by reflection, when we look at something totally and realize "I'm not that."
We also see the spermatozoon in the lower-left portion of the card rising up from the depths. Its color is purple, which is the color of The Star (Nuith), and she’s none other than the goddess of unlimited Space and Embrace. We see within it a fetus, symbolizing the rebirth of consciousness into a new growth-phase. This is Crowley's amelioration of the I.A.O. formula. His new formulation, V.I.A.O.V., represents the consciousness of the newborn "trailing clouds of glory" and remembering the Bardo realms traversed before entering into life as a human child.
For consciousness to embed on a more inclusive level of growth there must be a death to the old level (Thanatos). In the present card, the Egyptian god Typhon represents this death. He's the serpent seen winding around the Orphic Egg, a symbol which we've already examined. Here, the Orphic Egg symbolizes the abyss that separates the old from the new level of conscious integration, the so-called Babe in the Egg of the Western Magickal Tradition.
The Hermit realizes the indivisibility of Ground and Embrace in the final trump, The Universe, which was truly present from the start. This is intimated in The Hermit by the fact that he's traveling through a field of wheat, for The Universe is associated with the planet Saturn, who’s also the Roman god of the harvest. What this means is that all efforts toward integration can be likened to the preparation of the soil for the seed. A (mustard) seed that’ll blossom into the flower of self-actualization.
The Hermit is in search, but unlike most expeditions he's not searching for an external object. The Hermit is searching for an inner treasure. He's searching for contentment, he's searching for truth, and he's searching for meaning. The Hermit is searching for that which can't be found through searching, and he's beginning to understand this.
An old Zen anecdote reads:
"A dunce once went searching for fire with a lit lantern. Had he known what fire was, he could have cooked his rice much sooner."
Like The Fool, The Hermit is on a pilgrimage leading back to the timeless Now. The only difference is that The Hermit has been at this for quite some time. Weary of search, he's beginning to settle into his own skin. The next card in series, Fortune, gives us a bird's eye view of what The Hermit is about to discover there. He's been at this whole pilgrimage business for many lives now, and once he discovers this he's bound to become quite weary of the whole thing!
The Hermit must stop searching there and look directly at what's here. This requires a space in which to work without distractions. So the search goes on, only this time the search is taking place within rather than without. Nonetheless, all searches will prove futile because search implies a movement away from oneself, as we've seen. To search means that something is at this moment missing from you and affirms that you don't see yourself at all, for the fact of the matter is that nothing can be added to you by searching. Things can only be added to you as flowerings of your own potential, but the potential has always been there. Growth can occur only from Ground. Ornaments can be added to you, but not real flowers:
Flowers have to be grown, not manufactured.
In the beginning, The Hermit will need solitude. In the beginning phase of his work---the searching phase---he’ll need a safe haven in which to experiment. In the beginning, search is needed. The Hermit must search every corner of his mind for any semblance of an entity that can claim “I”. The Hermit isn't really searching for who he is but for where he is, and the answer to this riddle is necessarily contradictory. Everything The Hermit looks at within and without is, at the same time, not who he is and is who he is. When love arises, for example, The Hermit can look at it and is therefore not that. But at the same time, the observer isn't separate from what it observes. The witnessing self m
ay be separate, certainly---that which witnesses both the observer and the observed is felt to be separate---but the observer, as a reaction to the observed, isn't separate from what it's reacting to (See Crowley's "Magick in Theory and Practice", p.643-646).
We've already discussed the issue of relationship, and how The Hermit does or doesn't fit with the external world. We've also discussed the conflict between society and samadhi. We've seen that The Hermit, walking through his field of wheat, is about to stumble into a scene that he probably hadn't anticipated being a part of. He's about to stumble into an environment where he'll be asked to do exactly that which isn't in his nature to do:
The Hermit must stand up in front of a crowd full of people and perform a marriage ceremony!
What does this mean?
When I use the term religious I'm not referring to something outside of daily life. Rather, I'm referring to that which runs like a thread through every facet of life, conscious and unconscious, night and day. When you go to church and feel oneness with Deity, you're being religious. But you're also being religious when you abandon all belief in order to experience life directly, without the medium of priest, guru, or porcelain icon. Spirituality is something you do. Spirit is beyond the doing and the doer. Spirituality can differ from person to person, whereas Spirit is beyond difference and similarity. Spirituality is like so many stairways to heaven. Spirit is both heaven and the stairway itself. Spirituality can be defined. Spirit always remains outside of its definitions.
An analogy:
To become the best dancer she can be, a ballerina disciplines her body to become elastic and strong. She focuses her mind upon the perfecting of each movement. This is done religiously and without the slightest conflict between dance and dervish, mambo and meditation. Finally, a day comes when our tiny dancer finds fulfillment in the spontaneous and effortless movements of her body. This is just as much spirituality as you'll find in any church, temple, or mosque. In fact, you'll find more spirituality in dance!
The main point is that for Spirit to be realized the self must be transcended. You must be ready and willing to disappear, and in that order. All things have their season. You can be willing to disappear and yet, if you're not ready, nothing will happen. You can sit for hours in meditation futilely searching for Spirit---trying to disappear is part of the futile search---but you'll only find spirituality there, not Spirit or Ground.
Spirituality is necessary, remember. Without spirituality nothing’s possible. What happens when our hypothetical ballerina becomes exhausted from dancing for hours at a time? She falls effortlessly into sleep! It's the same with spirituality:
Do it totally and perhaps someday you'll relax into Spirit.
I say "perhaps" because expecting it will only create more searching. This is what Aleister Crowley is saying when he says,
"Do what thou Wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the Law, Love under Will."
The work of The Hermit isn't to live a spiritual life but to discover Spirit, and to take that discovery into the world and to live there as Spirit, as a light in the darkness. This is the work of The Chariot, and I wouldn't be surprised to find the god Hermes (The Hermit) himself hiding inside that golden armor!
Says Crowley:
"Be the light so bright that no man seeth thee!"
It's very difficult to live as Spirit in this unspiritual world, but this is exactly what The Hermit must do. If he avoids this task, then we're dealing with the shadow aspects of this card:
•Avoidance
•Aversion,
•Fear
•Escapism
•Cowardice
The Hermit must find a place of solitude in which to work, where he can be alone, but he must eventually learn to carry that solitude wherever he goes. This is usually where the difficulty comes in. What would you do, for example, if you were a married man with five children and a demanding job? What if this was your life and your proclivities were introversion, self-reflection, and contemplation? I don't mean escapism, but rather, a penchant for solitude. What would you do? Life would become a hell, wouldn't it? The mind’s trying to go one way and the environment’s pulling you in the opposite direction.
This is an issue that The Hermit must face. There's a conflict---symbolized ominously in The Moon trump---between the many responsibilities one has to tackle, the identities that deal with each of them, and the arising of Spirit which annihilates all identity.
In such a situation Ground looks more like Ground Zero!
The Hermit runs the risk of finding himself in the agonizing state of The Hanged Man, if he's not mindful.
A time-tested solution to this problem lies somewhere in a good support group. A supportive spouse, friends, church, councilor, or what have you, is an indispensable tool during psychospiritual crises. Unfortunately, though, it rarely works out that way. More often than not, The Hermit is forced to carry this torment privately, in his inner-world. The Hermit may grow more and more isolated from his closest companions. He may become irritable, seemingly for no reason at all; and the sad fact is that there’s no escaping this "no exit" state of mind.
So what's the solution?
Can you consciously choose to be choiceless? When someone insults you can you choose to not let it affect you? Can you be alone, immediately, without even a thought to keep you company? Can you make the world disappear in a flash of illumination? I can't think of any other way to put it other than by posing it as a question. In short, are you the master or is the world the master of you?
If a sick society shuns you then it’s done you a great service, but if you shun society while contributing to the society you shun then you're faced with a massive problem. The solution? Be alone. Don't be lonely but be alone. The Hermit has come to know the difference between the two. If you're lonely then you're not prepared to be alone. How can you be alone if you're still longing for the world or any small part of it? You must be willing to die to the "I". If you're afraid of dying, then you'll be afraid of living too because they're not two different things. Furthermore, you must be willing to die alone. You don't have to die alone, but you must have the capacity to do so. If you're afraid of dying alone than you'll be afraid of living alone too, and for the same reason. If you can exist as an absence in the midst of everyday life, then you'll start to see life as a game. How serious can it be if you can make it disappear at will? If you're on fire, now that's an emergency! If you can't pay your phone bill on time, you'll live.
The Hermit is the ninth trump, remember; and the number nine represents a turning-within upon oneself.
Just as the number six is one that moves out of itself, the number nine is a number that folds in upon itself. And although The Lovers is associated with zodiacal Gemini, it's also in many ways associated with zodiacal Cancer. The Lovers is the sixth trump but, as we've seen, The Lovers card also contains the ninth trump, The Hermit. This introspective "folding in" is exactly the process The Hermit is engaged in. The Sephira to which the number nine is attributed is Yesod: the foundation of the Tree of Life from whence this process unfolds (or in-folds!). With this in mind, we can see that The Hermit is behaving pragmatically, for he's starting his journey with where he is, and with all that he is (economy). In the Yogic tradition, this is known as pratyahara: The withdrawal of the senses from the external world. It's this intensity of inner-awareness to which we can compare The Hermit and the first of our four Nines:
The Hermit/Nine of Wands: In the Nine of Wands, entitled "Strength", we see the sun drawing energy from the moon like water through a straw. You'll recall that Cancer is ruled by the moon and is symbolized by the hermit crab totem, a symbol of hibernation and incubation. We've learned that the moon is associated with the ninth Sephira, Yesod, wherein "mind stuff" moves like so much debris. This mind-stuff is the moon-fuel which feeds the solar machinery of The Hermit (Qi). In other words, The Moon gives birth to The Sun (Holy Embryo). To accomplish this requires remarkable vigilance; vigilance
requires intense energy; and energy mustn't be squandered. The Hermit, having returned to the world as The Chariot, must be commanding a vehicle with a reciprocating engine.
The Hermit/Nine of Cups: The result of the above transfusion is that the mind becomes incredibly still. Energy typically wasted has now been successfully reintegrated back into the organic unity of Self. The ocean is calm, and the moon is clearly reflected in the water. When the sun rises in the morning it'll be nigh impossible to discern the difference between sea and sky. This usually results in moments of incredible peace, crescent wonder, and ineffable bliss; what Zen refers to as satori. The danger inherent in these moments is that one can again become attached to them. They're beautiful, indeed, but as transitory as pleasure and pain. The Hermit now learns the difference between happiness and bliss. (The title of the Nine of Cups is "Happiness".) When this state passes away, as it inexorably must, The Hermit may become cynical, apathetic, and contemptuous of the “mundane" world around him. If this happens, we're then dealing with the next nine:
The Hermit/Nine of Swords: The Nine of Swords is entitled "Cruelty", and immediately raises some questions. First, Yesod shouldn't be a turbulent place to live at this point. The Hermit has successfully stilled any and all turbulence within himself, right? Many modern-day teachers of meditation, even the in-depth sort, advertise meditation as a sort of fairy-filled landscape of peace and bliss, forgetting that it has quite the opposite effect on the psyche at many stages. Many Hindu deities, for example, are shown to be quite wrathful, and it's strange that many so-called "enlightened" teachers fail to acknowledge this. The Hermit has become more conscious of his deeper impulses, it seems only natural that he'd become more keenly aware of his shortcomings. The only problem is that he may not be conscious enough to divine their origin. If the root is not cut then the weeds will only grow back again, and sometimes even thicker! Until The Hermit learns to live in the world as a timeless presence he's almost sure to return to the world of Time---the realm of grasping, avoiding, and interpreting---resulting in more and more anguish, divine homesickness, and samsaric isolation.
Predicting The Present Page 15
