Man, I remember the first time I really paid attention to The Hermit reversed in a spread. It was years back, and I was in a funk. You know, that feeling where you just wanna hide under a blanket, ignore the world, and figure your life out? So I pull the cards, and there it is, this guy with his lantern, but upside down. My first thought was, “Oh great, so now I can’t be alone? I gotta go out and socialize or something?” And honestly, that felt like the absolute worst advice at the time. I was already feeling overwhelmed by people, by expectations, by just… everything. So I just kinda shrugged it off, or tried to twist it to mean something like, “You’re too alone, go get help!” It didn’t resonate, not one bit. I just kept my blanket fort going.
For a while after that, whenever The Hermit reversed popped up, I’d just kinda struggle with it. It was like a little mental wrestling match. I’d tell myself, “Okay, it means you’re being a hermit too much.” So I’d force myself to go to a party, or meet up with friends, and inevitably, I’d just feel more drained, more disconnected than before. It was like I was trying to fix a problem by doing the exact opposite of what my gut was screaming. I wasn’t listening to the card, or rather, I was trying to interpret it too literally, too simply, like a flick of a light switch – on or off.
Then, something clicked. It wasn’t a big, dramatic movie moment, just a quiet little realization. I was doing a spread for a friend who was going through a tough time. She was constantly running herself ragged, always trying to please everyone, always looking for external validation, asking literally everyone she knew for advice on what she should do with her life. She was surrounded by people, surrounded by opinions, but totally lost. Like a boat without a rudder, just drifting on everyone else’s currents. And what popped up in her spread? You guessed it – The Hermit, reversed.
That’s when it hit me. It wasn’t about whether you were physically alone or not. It wasn’t about being a recluse versus being a social butterfly. For her, that reversed Hermit wasn’t saying, “Go socialize more!” because she was already doing that in spades. It was saying, “You’re avoiding your own inner wisdom.” She was so busy collecting everyone else’s light that she couldn’t see her own lamp. She was looking for answers everywhere but within herself. And that, my friends, was the real problem.
After that, my whole perspective on The Hermit reversed shifted. I started seeing it less as a simple opposite and more as a distortion or an imbalance of the upright Hermit’s energy. It wasn’t just about not seeking solitude, but about misusing the quest for wisdom. It was like you had the lamp, but either you were pointing it in the wrong direction, or you were too afraid to light it up at all. Or maybe you were just wandering aimlessly in the dark, thinking you were on a quest, but really just lost.
I saw it surface in different ways after that too. Sometimes it would appear when someone was isolating themselves too much, yes, but not in a way that led to introspection or growth. More like pulling away out of fear, or bitterness, or just to avoid facing something uncomfortable. They were alone, sure, but not for wisdom. They were alone to stew. No lamp, just a dark room. And other times, like with my friend, it was that absolute avoidance of true solitude. Constantly busy, constantly surrounded, because the thought of being alone with their own thoughts was terrifying. Always looking for external validation, never trusting their gut. Like they were outsourcing their entire inner life.
So, what I’ve learned from all those pulls, all those head-scratching moments, and all those observations, is that The Hermit reversed isn’t just a simple “no” to quiet time. It’s a deeper conversation about where you’re seeking your truth and how you’re using your quiet. Are you retreating for genuine reflection, or are you just hiding from the world? Are you soaking up external wisdom, or are you letting it drown out your own inner voice? It’s a big flashing sign that says, “Hey, buddy, check your compass. Are you really on your own path, or are you just pretending to be? Are you using your light to truly guide you, or is it flickering out because you’re scared to really look?” For me, it’s a powerful nudge to bring things back into balance, to reconnect with that inner teacher, and to truly use solitude as a tool, not a hiding place.
