When we break up with the old patterns in our lives it can be a little scary, but it’s ultimately rewarding. That does not mean that all hell doesn’t break loose first. Because all hell does break loose.
This has probably been said somewhere and by someone at sometime, but here goes: It’s called a break up for a reason. There’s only up from here. And, yes, there is shrapnel from the release of pressure, sharp shards of metal you’ve no clue if you’ll ever piece back together again. And you won’t. You’re not meant to.
Maybe you’ll make a badass found art piece out of this “wreck” of life. But your journey after Mercury Retrograde is going to look something like this guy, right here:
Meet The Hermit
I want to know where this guy shops for boots, seriously. His overcoat is tattered but those boots are moving him forward. In fact, the cane supporting him is salvaged from the wreck beneath him, and his lantern is powered with his own inner light, vibrant electric truth–and it’s all his to see by. Beneath him is the city, which he can choose to enter or explore the clockwork hillside. The Hermit is on the fringe of things, as we often are when we go outside the norm and break away, break up, and break free.
What doesn’t resonate is cast away from the soul. The wreck beneath could represent information, ideas, that no longer serve him. Though nothing is seemingly functional anymore here, each piece has gotten him where he is in this moment.
His truth, his heart, his soul–the storm a’brewing in the lantern–is his guide. Notice the lantern also is an hourglass, with no grains, no focus on the sands of time here.
Maybe it’s just some old steampunk hippie with his old guy cane and a lantern and some strange storm brewing inside of it. The Hermit has his shit together, folks.
I have some questions I want you to ask yourself.
What does the heap beneath The Hermit’s feet mean to you? What is your “wreck”? Are there any functional pieces? What have you cast away that no longer serves you, but how has each bit gotten you to your present? How does this support you as you move forward (the cane)?
What of the city? Is the city inconsequential to you? Do you feel on the fringe of an old system and a new system of ideas, or are you the fringe, never mind the systems or ideas?
Now what of the truth contained in the hourglass lantern? Does the “storm” inside scare or delight?
This is a time of quiet introspection. Mercury Retrograde finally went Direct on July 20, which means our communication will be less wonky. However, some things may not seem to function “right” anyway. During Mercury Retrograde, to survive it, we were encouraged to avoid potential conversations that could lead to hasty decisions and petty arguments, to read the fine print of any new contracts we may be signing, but to also use this period as a time of retrospection and review, to tinker on old projects sitting on the backburner and to not “start something.” Here we find that as much as we tinker sometimes, those ideas just aren’t the right ones for us anymore or old systems just won’t do the trick. Maybe we have some rather innovative ideas or something to suggest which seems like common sense but no one wants to listen to an “old man.” Let him have his stories and his musings, they say. His time will come.
Doesn’t mean his light doesn’t shine any less or that he is any less important.
Perhaps for now, like The Hermit, we should be satisfied with our own truths, even if we feel distanced from others and from society. We cannot know anything outside of ourselves without having a look inside and sometimes taking a look at the path we’ve traveled.
A storm is nature, which is both destructive and creative, and rather beautiful. Watch closely and I bet you can predict when the next lightening strike will meet its place on the ground. Listen now for the thunder. Close your eyes to the sound. No harm will come to you. You are sheltered in the light of your heart’s truth.
Look for more Weekly Tarot with Tif on Sundays. Want more now? Visit her blog at threepaththinking.wordpress.com.