I have been spending a lot of time alone lately. Possibly a little less than usual, but it has felt like more. The emotional awakening I am experiencing has been – by and large – a good, if painful process. I feel more myself than I have in a decade, and as I remember me to myself, I am also struck by how much more immediate both the pain and joy of life feel to me now. I recall how this used to be my lived experience all the time, and I mourn a little for the years lost to inner estrangement.

The Hermit is a symbol, above all else, of solitary reflection. He stands apart from the bustle of other cards holding a light up to a looming shade. As the part of the Major Arcana that represents the approaching dark night of the soul, he has paused for a look at how far the Fool has already come on his journey.

When the Hermit appears it is an invitation to pause and reflect. To spend time alone and reconnect with the inner wisdom we all possess. It is tempting to fill time with distraction and noise, lest feelings of isolation overwhelm us, but the Hermit understands that being alone does not have to mean being lonely.

In the years of my emotional estrangement, I didn’t feel anything with particular intensity. I grew to strongly prefer my own company over spending time with others. I knew this grew out of a number of conditions; being partnered to someone who’s company I could barely tolerate, and the circumstance of singlehood which required me to learn how to enjoy my life without companionship. It was something I had actively cultivated in the past, but in that time came quite naturally.

I assumed it was due to some profound emotional growth that I could be alone – indeed even prefer it – with such aplomb. I saw it as an asset to my happiness, though I worried about the degree to which it might be difficult to find a partner who could understand and respect my desire for space.

Recently I was exposed to the idea that the kind of self-isolation I was practicing might not be about me having achieved such profound equanimity, but in fact that the opposite was true; that extended periods of alone time were a trauma response to cope with emotional disregulation.

This suggestion absolutely bowled me over. Still awakening to myself, I was able to more readily access my deeper feelings and know immediately this is what had been happening for me over the last few years. That being alone was the only way I could sufficiently control conditions to allow myself to process what I was feeling. That the sometimes desperate impulse I would have to be by myself was due almost exclusively to my inability to access my emotions in situ if any other stimuli was present.

What I had framed as a measured response to upsets and conflict was instead a powerful strategy to disassociate in moments of stress. To distance myself from feelings that felt unsafe or unmanageable until such time as I could approach them without additional distraction or obligation to consider the experience of others in the same moment.

Understanding this suddenly shifted my perception of what alone-time really meant for me. Coinciding with a renewed intensity of desire to feel connected to others, it illuminated how often I was denying a penetrating loneliness; rejecting the notion that I want and need emotional intimacy and presence to feel fully nourished meant I was not seeking or maintaining it in any meaningful way.

The appearance of the Hermit put much of this in context. The last few weeks have been particularly instructive regarding how connection and aloneness interact. How by the development of a more nuanced perspective I more clearly felt the distinction between solitude and loneliness. In tandem, it became more conspicuous the differing quality of attentive presence versus simply being in company. An intentional effort at connection or a distraction in the form of companionship.

It is more obvious than ever to me that solitude and connection are meant to be in harmony, not treated as rival claims for temporal resources. Just as the experience of being alone does not need to mean loneliness so too should time spent with someone be treated as meaningful in its own right. Without agenda or objective, being present with another person is a gesture of love for both people. By giving freely of my authentic self, I free you to do the same. By knowing I am listening with open-hearted care, you are assured of my considerate attention. This above all else, is how love is demonstrated as an act, rather than a nebulous desire or abstract intent.

Looking back with the hope of illuminating the future path is the essence of what the Hermit is urging. Understanding the value of solitude in pursuit of this aim is the lesson for this moment. Cultivating an attentive pose toward this work will be the best purpose for however long my time alone may last.

Sometimes my cards speak to me with such clarity. Other times I fail to connect the threads into an intelligible message. This can occasionally be instructive in the sense of needing to focus my attention and study the result more carefully.

More often, it is when it is telling me something I don’t want to hear or don’t feel ready to accept.

This morning feels like one of those times.

It’s unusual enough to pull so many major arcana cards at once, but to have ALL of them be reversed is truly extraordinary. Though there are schools of thought that ignore reversals, I tend to read them as presented. Each of these particular trumps have a lessened but still significant positive meaning in their reversed position. It might be the lens of the particular moment I am in, but I find it hard to trust.

And maybe there’s reason for that. My intuition seems geared only to notice potential harm. Though I am not by nature a pessimist, the radar in my head is unquestionably tuned for picking up danger. Some subconscious pattern recognition process is running at all times. My body knows what it is sensing long before my mind catches up. I am still learning to trust it; not to shout it down when it warns me against something I want to ignore, or discount as paranoia. So far, the warnings that were right still didn’t save me from whatever hurt I was heading for, it just let me suffer in advance, knowing it was coming.

I know I am doing what I ought. I am taking care of myself as best I can. I am moving my body, being still with my soul, and learning to navigate the conversation that occurs in the space between these two efforts. I feel like I have climbed to the precipice of something necessary and dangerous without realizing I was doing so and it is only a matter of time before the fall.

There’s almost certainly nothing I can do about it, except to keep my eyes open on the way down.