While I laid awake in bed,
My feet trod synapse paths
Toward the stone circles of
Neolithic rituals of grief
That I could not touch
Toward Arcane and Awen
I wandered, alone
And though I suffered
There were none who cared to hear of it
My rage, lust, humour, dissipated
Like a white noise cloud
As Cerne Abbas slept on
And so in silence I walked
Something clicked,
And my head cocked like a gun
Looking for the Sourc
And yet that noise came from Within
And was masked by the
Cachophany of my loud inner voice
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The Hermit is a card of wisdom gained in solitude. In the 3rd and 4th centuries, extreme social isolation was considered a way of attaining perfection or enlightenment. This was a way of de-programming or re-programming the brain. The Hermit is an ascetic, and is essentially the opposite to most spiritual folk I meet today; particularly online.
In readings, I don't usually come across the Hermit as anything other than guidance for how to be... To me this indicates that many of us have lost our ability to think or at least think clearly. We almost denounce the act of thinking or reflecting, turning instead to scrolling, reading, TV, and mindless chatter. I think we are in a state where we defend ourselves from introspective healing as it requires us to be willing to know ourselves, to be in silence, and to dare to touch difficult emotions from a place of stillness.
This poem is about my commitment to doing that-- which I undertook during late night breastfeeds,(While I laid awake in bed) during which I created these poems. I allowed Awen to flow through me and articulate what I couldn't touch without losing my composure. What I found was that my inner voice was very loud, but it was also very quiet about the things I really needed to be thinking about and processing. Almost like a radio with poor signal. This silencing of my most authentic thoughts has caused damage to my relationship with myself, but also with others, adding a shallow veneer to it. That's why I wrote about all the most "me" aspects of myself dissipating... dulling. Taking time to think deeply about what is hiding underneath is an act of self compassion and opens you up to a whole world of beauty and wisdom.
As a side note, you may see, unlike other staff holding characters in the cards, the Hermit leans on his staff of power- allowing the divine to support him, trusting in the divine, not needing to wield power.
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