Why I had to change the name of the Hermit card in my Tarot deck
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.” declares Shakespeare’s Juliet.
Maybe sometimes, but usually, a name indicates what may come.
After I began painting cards for my Tarot deck, the SparkTarot®, I realized that some of the cards needed different names now —newer indicators to call forth their meanings more readily in today’s world. One example is the Hermit card.
I never connected very well with the Hermit card in the Tarot — it reminded me of a old solitary man wearing a ragged robe, or even a hermit crab! Which was bad enough were it not for Tom Stoppard’s play Arcadia.
I saw the play Arcadia a few times in the 90’s, and through one of its plotlines, it introduced me to the questionable concept of the ornamental hermit— a person who lived alone in a small dwelling as part of the garden decor in the 18th century gardens of wealthy landowners.
While seemingly romantic in its time, as was the point when Enlightenment gave way to Romanticism, the idea itself of the ornamental hermit is problematic enough even without considering his dependent, unreachable nature.
And really, even the idea of a non-garden hermit seems to embody some of these qualities, being an occupation not seen much today.
As such, the current notions of a hermit aren’t really concepts that were connected to the card originally, which ideally had more to do with an inward process than being mysterious or anti-social.
As such, it was difficult to embody the card’s vibe, and those whom I talked with about it felt similarly. It was also unquestionably male.
It seemed that the Hermit name, which may have made sense long ago, was no longer relevant, and worse, was blocking interpretation. I knew what the Hermit card was supposed to mean, but the name was in the way. So I changed it.
In my deck, the Hermit card is called Inward. Because that is the action for that middle part of the Fool’s journey: learning patience, meditation, settling into the reflective time of middle age even, going inward, as opposed to the outwardness of youth.
An image came to me of a woman by a campfire, alone on retreat in the woods. She is seated on the ground by the fire with her hands touching the earth — grounded in her meditation.
Nearby are a lantern — a nod to the lantern the original hermit carries, also representing the illumination that meditation brings — and a snake appearing to converse with the woman. Her eyes are open, but in a gentle trance.
It’s an active moment of contemplation — a necessary step before being able to roll with the next card, the Wheel of Fortune, where the lessons of patience and long-term thinking are a necessity.
Looking at the Inward card, the name indicates the path right away — inward — and I can interpret easily from there. The symbols and her posture represent details that contribute to the meaning and relationship to other cards.
While I kept about half of the original Tarot card names the same in the SparkTarot®, about half of them — including the Hermit — seemed to need a shift, so the original intent could be more easily seen and worked with.
I didn’t know I was going to change some of the card names when I began making the deck — it emerged as I went. That was one of the most creative and meditative parts of the process, deciding when and how to bring the best aspects of a card’s meaning into its name.
Because, it turns out, there’s a lot in a name.