The Mystical Hermit
The key to understanding mysticism in the Tarot is the Hermit card. The definition from my favourite tarot deck says:
Illumination from within, secret impulse from within; practical plans derived accordingly. Retirement from participation in current events.
Book of Thoth, Aleister Crowley
The first sentence beautifully and succinctly articulates my rather ponderous description of mysticism as a superior method of magic. Incidentally, it also describes the key to understanding the Tarot – it is from within one’s own consciousness that insights arise, not from the tarot cards. The second sentence sums up what I suspect many of us see when this card appears in a tarot reading. Although the notion of the Hermit brings to mind sexual abstinence, I regularly find that this card represents a secret liaison, a tryst, a secret love affair.
Alistair Crowley precedes this description with his mnemonic:
Wander alone; bearing the Light and thy Staff,
And be the Light so bright that no man seeth thee.
Be not moved by aught without or within:
keep Silence in all ways.
Solitude and Silence
Solitude and Silence are the Keys to mystical endeavours, but clearly they are not practical in today’s society. Besides, we are Tarot Readers – our clients expect us to Speak! Short periods of silence during a reading while we contemplate the message of the cards are great for raising tension in the client, but they scarcely help in our mystical journey. The injunction of the last line would be impossible for us.
As Tarot readers, we perceive the life of the Hermit as one of solitude, with no interaction between other humans, much less any interest in worldly events: this is not the role-model for tarot readers where the main topics are relationships, sex and business. I believed true spiritual progress was to be found in yoga, meditation, and isolation from the world. Although I could not quite see myself as a monk, a substantial part of me saw the life of the sannyasi as quite attractive. So after many years of meditation, vegetarianism and teetotalism up to the ripe old age of 22, I found myself with a Spiritual Master who systematically dismantled the entire edifice. In the best traditions of the Guru/chela relationship, I reluctantly and tentatively began to do what he did; drink alcohol, eat meat, cook very hot curries, go to the pub, and gamble. And so it was that I soon found myself reading the Tarot on Brighton seafront – Nature fortuitously found me an office to work from. It very quickly dawned on me that people were very likely to act on my pronouncements – a sobering thought. People joke about Tarot readers, saying it is just some fun, but believe me; they take what is said very seriously. People could be getting married or divorced, have affairs, change jobs or move house on a chance comment made by a stranger who looks at random selections of pretty coloured cards. The incongruity of the integrity of my spiritual aspirations versus my new career as a tarot reader caused me heartache for many years. Fortunately I could see the incredible spiritual progress I was making, but even so, how can fortune telling have anything to do with it?
The Fool beyond Society
Thinking about this conundrum was generally not a good idea, as I never got anywhere with it. For a long time I considered the Fool, someone outside society who could say things the general population could not or would not say, as a possible candidate. Certainly Crazy Wisdom was an incredibly strong aspect what was going on in my life. So many bizarre and weird things were going on, and for the most part my teacher said nothing, or talked about something else, which left me none the wiser. I also pursued an analogy with the gypsies, a group of people outside general society, who travelled from place to place, and of course told fortunes, but it did not quite hit the spot. From a very early age I understood the concept of being in the world, but not of the world, which became particularly apt when I was going through quite amazing spiritual experiences while still having to live in the world, keep up with my teacher, and do readings. Even this did nothing to help me understand how or why complete strangers would pay me to talk about their lives, and suggest courses of actions when it was obvious that I had never done anything like that in my own life. An obvious example is me being a man advising women on their marriage or relationships, when a) I am a man, b) I have never been married, and c) I was not that lucky in relationships with women. For some unfathomable reason, the ability to read the tarot was the qualification.
Throughout all this, my teacher was weaving his magic, silently, causing deep and profound changes within and around me. By now, even though I was following his Path, I had friends who were on the Path, and even if my teacher never discussed anything spiritual, I found I had to talk about my experiences, and talk about the spiritual techniques I had learned. What was most unnerving was that my friends who were on a similar path also found themselves helping people and giving advice, particularly on relationships. They were in the world, but not of it, and they found it difficult to find fulfilling or long lasting relationships. Clearly, there was something wrong with the Path of the Hermit.