In the past months, I have been walking—diving—deep into the energy of The Hermit. I've explored the essence of other Tarot cards as well, but this is the one I feel most at home in.

The Hermit, with his nonjudgmental presence, grants us the space to be fully present with our inner world—to sit with what we seek, what we need to know, and what is waiting to be discovered within us. He is not only a guide into solitude but also a teacher, illuminating the path to deeper self-awareness. With his lantern, he reveals what we need to see: the beauty, the discomfort, the shadowy corners we might prefer to ignore, and the radiant light within us that we may struggle to recognize.

To embrace The Hermit is to embark on a journey toward true self-understanding and love. He does not show us what to "fix," because there is nothing broken—only truths to uncover and wisdom to integrate. His presence leads us to a place of clarity and acceptance, helping us see things as they are, without illusion or resistance.

I have to admit, The Hermit is one of my favorite energies to embody. I cherish solitude. I avoid crowds. I feel most at peace when alone or in the quiet company of someone who fits seamlessly into my heart and soul. And that is the first poem for The Hermit:

HOW I GO INTO THE WOODS
by Mary Oliver

"Ordinarily I go to the woods alone,
with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers
and therefore unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed
talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.

I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone
I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune
as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned.
I can hear the almost unhearable
sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much."

But The Hermit’s journey isn’t always gentle. Sometimes, in his wisdom, he stops by a lake and asks us to dive. And that is the hardest part of his energy for me—going underwater. I have never liked the feeling of being submerged, and perhaps that is why this part of The Hermit’s path is the most challenging for me.

Because when you dive, when you go deeper and deeper, you meet a silence unlike any other. The absence. The missing. The opportunities you lost. The regrets. The hug you didn’t give. The words left unspoken. The moments you let slip away. The courage you couldn’t find. The truth you refused to see. Everything is there, waiting beneath the surface.

It feels like a battle with ghosts. Sad, painful, overwhelming, even frightening at times. But it is also enlightening. With each dive, you grow stronger. Each lake reveals more. Each descent grants new clarity.

And that is the second poem for The Hermit:

GO IN AND IN
by Danna Faulds

"Go in and in.
Be the space
between two cells,
the vast, resounding
silence in which
spirit dwells.

Be sugar dissolving
on the tongue of life.
Dive in and in,
as deep as you can dive.

Be infinite, ecstatic truth.
Be love conceived and born in union.
Be exactly what you seek,
the Beloved, singing Yes,
tasting Yes, embracing Yes,
until there is only essence;
the All of Everything
expressing through you
as you.

Go in and in
and turn away from
nothing that you find."

This is The Hermit’s gift. He does not lead us away from ourselves—he takes us into the depths, into the quiet, into the truth. And with each step, with each breath, with each dive, we emerge more whole.