The Hermit
The Hermit is one of those cards that, like the Eight of Cups or the Four of Cups, is a classic tarot card for asexuals, aromantics and/or other people who identify on the aromantic or asexual spectrum. So much so in fact, that it almost plays up to classic stereotypes about aspec people being solitary figures. According to these stereotypes, aces and aros are those who have taken themselves up and out of the world of sexual desire, and are romantically and emotionally barren. More petty and exclusionary stereotypes say that this bleak and bland world is chosen out of haughtiness, prudishness, or being overly choosy in their taste of partners. The more sympathetic stereotypes (especially in more religious circles) say that someone’s lack of sexuality or romantic attraction is in fact a noble path, divinely mandated and bestowed to afford someone the choice of an ascetic, monastic life, to immerse oneself in spiritual teaching and study, as our Hermit here must have surely done.
All of these stereotypes fall flat of course, because they focus on an image of asexuality being a course that is “chosen”, either out of moral arrogance, relationship pickiness or religious devotion. They completely ignore the voices and lived experiences of asexuals and aromantics, for whom their sexuality is just as innate and just as natural as anyone who would be lesbian, gay, bisexual or heterosexual. It leans heavily on the labels and perceptions cast upon asexuals and aromantics from others outside of their communities, instead of centering their voices, and honoring what they have to say about themselves and who/what they are.
So how do we go past the stereotypes, and actually claim this card as a symbol that is genuinely, radically affirmative of the aspec experience?
We can start by taking a look at what this card is traditionally taken to mean: as a symbol of inner contemplation, and a seeker’s journey, often solitary, towards spiritual enlightenment. The “often solitary” part is important, as a key aspect of the hermit experience is a withdrawal from society and general life in the “outer world”, to focus on one’s development and healing in their inner world. It means a period of intense introspection, where one has to engage in deep and focused interrogation of who and what they are, to confront and wrestle with aspects of themselves that they may have been ignored, repressed, or suppressed. Through a better understanding of these aspects, one comes closer to fully integrating these parts into the whole of their being, to become a truly self-actualized individual.
This doesn’t necessarily have to be limited solely to one’s journey into asexual or aromantic discovery, but it is no less important. When I started to think more seriously about what my own experiences and patterns of attraction meant for me and my own asexuality, I also came to realize that my own capacity for same-gender sexual attraction was something that was very real. Like my asexuality, it wasn’t just something I could seriously forget about, or ignore, or pretend wasn’t genuine. That it happened in the ways that it did led me in my path to specific people in my life, who further helped me to understand my attractions further. It’s what led me to the “biromantic” part of “Biromantic Demisexual”.
For asexuals and aromantics, The Hermit gives us a two-part invitation — nay, a demand — from the universe. First it is a demand to remove yourself from the relationships, situations and environment that may be causing you to second guess your identity or path as a newly minted queer person (and remember that coming out and being out as queer has nothing to do with how old you are, and there is no shame in coming out later in life). And second, it’s a plain and simple demand to sit yourself down, and sort your own self out.
So in turn, what would that look like?
On a practical level, this could take the form of living a literal interpretation of the Hermit and the Hermit’s lifestyle: to take a few hours, or a day, or even a weekend to completely unplug and disconnect from the Internet, Email, or Social Media. During this period, cancel your social obligations. Find a place where you can be afforded some measure of privacy, and just let the silence take over. (In a pinch, I’ve used stairwells in buildings, or bathrooms with the lights shut off and the door locked — though this obviously would work best for a shorter period of time.) This could be a place where you can connect with some measure of nature, like a open field in a park, or a room where you can isolate yourself from the rest of the universe around you. It’s been said that the more one quiets their mind, the more they can hear the universe or God talking to them. Being someone who identifies as being spiritual and religious myself, I’m inclined to say that I agree.
But spiritual beliefs aside, it’s hard to argue against there being a tangible benefit to separating oneself from the tumult and breakneck pace of social media. While social media can be a source of powerful community, as well as providing a platform to provide mutual aid to others in need (emotional or otherwise), there is no doubt that it amplifies abusive and harmful voices, as well as unhealthy and unrealistic expectations of ones own life when the timeline or wall is replete with overly positive posts and over-processed pictures of those who seem to be living their best queer life — as opposed to you. (Who clearly isn’t.)
The Hermit also tells us to remove ourselves from elements in our lives that are clearly toxic and unhealthy for our overall inner mental environment. A large part of this could also take the form of reclaiming what are usually attributed to culturally romantic or couple activities, to affirm and ultimately celebrate one’s own expression of asexuality. My favorite example of this is the self-date: an activity that is usually ascribed to paired romantic activity involving a couple, but is instead associated with being self-affirming and single. Going to movies by oneself, or taking oneself out to a particularly fancy and expensive dinner, or taking oneself out to an intimate cafe…those were all things I did myself to, to remind myself that I didn’t need a partner, or someone I was conventionally dating to enjoy all of these activities. Taking myself out to dinner was remarkably and refreshingly satisfying. Going to see movies alone was incredibly emancipating; I could enjoy movies all I want, without dealing with the complaints of others — either against the movie itself, or against me and how I’d talk at the movie for doing something entirely out of left field.
The Hermit tells us that these activities can be so incredibly important in helping us to not just better understand ourselves, but to help us see that we can enjoy any social activity just fine on our own, without the expectation of having to do these solely with a romantic partner. In our love-centric, sex-obsessed world, these kinds of understandings are so important, now more than ever.
After a particularly rushed and rocky relationship imploded, I finally heeded the advice of a trusted friend and confidant to just be by myself for at least a year. Not only would this give me the time to look back on that relationship and what I could learn from it, but it would also give me the the space to explore my own self in a truly independent way, without the interference or distraction of a partner or relationship. So I took the plunge and explored what it truly meant to be alone; I went on many, many self-dates which involved doing activities alone that I’d taken for granted as being things I could only do and enjoy in the presence of a romantic partner (or even a friend).
It’s hard to put into words the effect this had on me. It felt like a straight-jacket that had been put on me long, long ago was starting to loosen. I didn’t feel the manic anxiety that I used to feel when I was on my own; that need to check up on my partner, to do something for my partner, or to quickly be somewhere else so I could be with my partner. Instead, the only person that I had to do any of those things for, was me. When I realized that, it dawned on me how incredibly self-empowering and self-affirming that made me feel. Being alone didn’t feel anymore like this mortal fear I’d had of having to face the world by myself. It didn’t feel like I’d been missing out and not fitting in with everyone else, by being in a park sitting alone while everyone else was seemingly caught up in their own private universe with their partner.
It felt liberating.
I realize that a lot of what I’m saying was only possible because I had the financial means to do so, and was fortunate enough to live in a place where doing all of those things by myself was possible. But I nevertheless feel that there are ways to apply these ideas to one’s life that honor the limitations unique to their situation.
One final note about The Hermit is the importance of the Hermit’s lamp. Not only is The Hermit shining a light on the inner work that you need to do for yourself, but it also represents how important that light can be for others as well. That means sharing the insights and experiences you’ve gained and witnessed in your own personal journey with others, whether it be through queer or aspec groups you’ve joined, through your own writing or art, or through your posts on social media (when you eventually find your way back to it). The world needs your story, especially for the many others out there who are, or about to embark on the same journey you are.
One common thread I see among many people’s journeys about how they came to identify as asexual, aromantic, or aspec, is that it took a great deal of time to see it in themselves, and to reconcile that with their greater conscious self. Their journeys all involved a massive amount of self-reflection, self-interrogation, and inner dialogue before being able to fully integrate their asexuality or aromanticism with who they were, or who they thought they were. Hand in hand with that was a process of recognizing and confronting the sexual, romantic and gender norms that often warp our perceptions of who we are, and what kind of relationships we should be having.
When we zoom out, it’s easy to see that this doesn’t just apply to people who are exploring their own aspec identity…it also applies to all people exploring their queerness, after having recognize that the traditional labels of cisgender or heterosexual no longer apply to them. Thus, The Hermit also teaches us that many others are taking the same journey we are; we are not truly alone in our trip, and when we shine our light to help us see the path forward, in our words and in our stories, we not only help ourselves, but we go on to help others too.
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