Yours truly has the dubious distinction of possessing a psychic stomach. Whenever the seasons change, I often sense the shift somewhere in the region of my belly button a week or two before even small outward signs appear. It’s a kind of restless excitement, a loss and a yearning, a hollow feeling as big as the whole world. Or maybe it’s just gas and I’m attributing something significant to it, à la confirmation bias. Or perhaps, to the astonishment of all, it’s psychic gas!
Anyway, whatever this temporal gastroenterological thing is, it always drives me low-key crazy. Rather than just stew in it as in years past, irritated and existential, this time ‘round I decided to use a spread to see what I can do with this change in season and thus, energy. My shitty diagram is below. Do it whenever you feel or see the shift of season around you.
In the reading I did for myself, I got The Hermit in the first position, Death in the second, and The Star in the third.
The energy available to me during this period is the stillness and inner retreat of The Hermit. As anyone who has practised meditation knows, it takes a lot of effort—and energy—to be still. The Hermit resists the draw of outward distractions that would only tap energy that could be better spent on contemplation. She tends her own flame exactly so that it can shine brighter for herself and those around her.
Tending this flame isn’t always an easy process. Diligent and mindful stillness requires the sacrifice of those things that would work against The Hermit’s energy, things like fruitless and pointless distractions. To properly utilise The Hermit’s energy will require the Death of emotional, mental and spiritual clutter. In a way the very process of a retreat is Death: in removing myself from things, things are removed from me in turn. This is good and right and leads to renewal.
Renewal, though, is a funny thing. It isn’t always visible. The Star tells me that even if I succeed at utilising The Hermit’s energy, the results might not be materially tangible. Nevertheless, the inward qualities of The Star—hope and connectedness—will make all the difference to me. To a layperson, a single star’s twinkle might not be especially discernible, but the collective gives us the glory of the Milky Way.