For an explanation of this Spiritual Memoir
blog series, see THIS post.
blog series, see THIS post.
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| Radiant Rider Waite deck |
Card number 9 of the Major Arcana of the tarot.
(See pics in this post from various decks)
(See pics in this post from various decks)
My Interpretations of the Card
"Sometimes the path is to stand outside in the cold and hold up our light, unwavering and unafraid..."
Aha! Ask and ye shall receive ... I've been wanting to do a Major Arcana card, and mentioned this desire in my last Spiritual Memoir post, and I got it on my very next draw. Hooray! Plus, I love the Hermit card! It's one that I can really relate to (because I'm really a bearded old man ... well, maybe on the inside... :) .
The Hermit has a traditional meaning of seeking truth by taking time in solitude and asking oneself the "hard" questions. I love that meaning, but today, I'm seeing a different angle for him. As I look at these Hermit cards I have posted in the blog, I get a sense of the silent drudgery that is sometimes the path for truth-seekers. Sometimes it's magic and sparkles and dramatic senses of connection and power ... but often, as we are on the path of learning about ourselves and mastering our lives, we stand outside, in the cold, alone, holding up the lamps of truth that only gently light the way. And, the tarot teaches us, that is a relevant and powerful part of the experience.
I love the Hermit card from the Tarot of the Magical Forest (below). I love the bear - I love the symbolism of the bear fattening up so it can go hibernate in its cave. But I can't help but wonder why he isn't in his cave yet? Has he not found it, or is he intentionally weathering the winter without turning his brain off during hibernation? I get the impression he's deliberately stepping outside of normal bear-ness, and standing in his greater truth: "My mind will stay on, my eyes will stay open, and I will consciously weather this storm."
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| Tarot of the Magical Forest deck |
In general, in the tarot, nine cards represent solitary ventures, and being with oneself. Both the nine of cups and the nine of pentacles show individual, independent success; the nines of swords and wands depict individual torment. True to form, the Hermit as card #9 of the Major Arcana represents the Mother of individual quests: that of facing the dark, cold night in solitude, but with the light of truth ever flickering in hope and subtle warmth.
Spiritual Memoir: The Hermit
As I've stated in previous posts, like THIS one, I never wanted to serve a "mission" for the LDS (Mormon) Church, but did, because I didn't know what else to do with my life. This memoir will tell you a little about the invaluable experience I had during those challenging 18 months, and how feeling totally isolated and alone in a spiritual and emotional winterland gave me a powerful Hermit experience.
To start, I want to make it totally clear that my experience as a missionary was completely atypical! Almost every other person I've talked to that served missions scratch their head in amazement at how unusual my experience was from the start. If you don't know what a Mormon missionary is, THIS LINK will give you a quick rundown. I went to Santiago, Chile for my mission. Note, that as a missionary, I spent 18 months with every second of every day dictated to me of how I could dress, who I could and could not talk to, what I could read or listen to, when to wake up and go to bed, etc.
For some reason, I had the understanding that on my mission, I would basically be hanging out with non-participatory members of the Church only, working to entice them to engage back into a "Mormon" lifestyle. I had no idea that I was expected to approach strangers on the street and ask them if I could come into their home and teach them my religion. (I thought that girls didn't "proselytize"). Upon entering the Missionary Training Center, both of my teachers were off of work - one was on her honeymoon, and the other injured his knee. Since I already spoke Spanish, I was basically there just to learn "how to be a missionary", but without teachers, my little class just sat around and drew Ninja Turtles on the white board for three weeks.
When I arrived in Chile, I was assigned a Uruguayan companion (whom I had to spend 24/7 with and whose side I could not leave under any circumstances) who did not speak any English, and whose culture was very different from mine. She told me the first day that we were going to walk up to some guy on the street, engage him in conversation, and ask if he we could come to his house and teach him our religion - and that it was my turn to talk, I had to do the whole thing with her standing silently by my side.
"No," I said resolutely. "Absolutely not - I'm an introvert, I don't walk up to random people and talk to them."
She laughed. "You'll be doing it every day for the next 18 months. We have to make 20 street contacts a day between us," she replied.
"Um, no," I responded. After a few days of being told by the entire missionary system that my refusal to make street contacts was totally unacceptable (especially in the eyes of God), I prayed for help and started making street contacts. Each and every time I made one, a little part inside of me died.
Enter my desperate, lonely journey into the cold wilderness of the Hermit.
After six weeks I was moved to a different part of town, and had a new companion. To this day we are the best of friends. It helped to have my constant companion be someone who understood my background and culture. We still obeyed all of the rules and took our work seriously, and it was heaven to be in the presence of such an awesome person (I LOVE YOU KATIE), and I prayed and prayed and fasted and worked with faith to have some type of understanding of why I hated everything about being a missionary (they say that God will open your heart and give you peace if you do stuff like this). Nothing happened, and when Katie and I were separated, a bigger chunk of me died inside.
For a year of my mission, I pushed and tried and "let go" and obeyed, obeyed, obeyed. Every time we invited a person to be baptized a member of the Church and they said no, I exhaled a sigh of relief - I felt like the church just complicated the already challenging lives of the good people we taught. For a year I wandered in the dark cold wilderness of the Hermit, completely alone, and without any light (meaning: I didn't have the little lamp yet). In fact, it felt like all others had gone into a safe cave to hibernate, and I couldn't sleep, and found myself completely alone and awake in the dark cave. After a year, I was assigned to train a new missionary as my companion, a sweet gal from Peru. In this case, I was supposed to be the strong one, insisting she make the street contacts. She was afraid to, totally understandably. But with the responsibility of pushing her falling on my soldiers, I had an emotional breakdown. I began to have extreme social anxiety, and every day would just wander the streets with her in silence, trying to hold in my tears. We'd go home for lunch, and I'd tell her I was going to pray in the bedroom, and just bury my face on my bed and sob for as long as I could get away with.
I talked to the Mission authorities, and they said, "Pray more, testify more, have more faith!" So I did. And nothing happened. I never entered peaceful hibernation like the others, I never felt myself safe in the hands of God. I was aware of my hunger and the painful loneliness of sitting in the dark cave.
Then, one day, while I was studying the scriptural canon of the church, I was praying for anything from God, any word of help/advice, and I flipped open my scriptures, pointed at a random verse and read the LDS scripture of Doctrine and Covenants 124:49. It reads:
Ok, three witnesses. Three separate cases of me getting the message to GO HOME. In the Scriptures it says messages from God come from the mouth of two or three witnesses - my prayers had been answered! I went to my Mission President with the story. This amazing man listened to my story and replied, "I can't argue with spiritual confirmations like that - let's get this ball rolling for you." Yes! Finally! I felt like I'd taken up the lantern, and left the cave, and was going to brave the cold winter winds with my little light, and find my way to springtime and warmth.
Soon after, he contacted me and said protocol requires I see the mission psychologist.
Dr. Hurst asked on our first meeting, "What is the problem?"
"I think I'm not supposed to be here. I haven't felt the 'spirit of God' since I got here, I hate everything about it - I think it's a big mistake. I've been 100% obedient and pray every day asking for emotional/spiritual support ... and I feel worse and worse, like a sense of foreboding. So I work harder, testify more, read more, sacrifice more, and I feel darker and deader inside. Then, I got these answers that told me to go home. I think I need to go home."
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he referred me to his boss.
I did telephone conferences with the head missionary psychologist in Salt Lake City, who informed me that I most likely needed to repent of a sexual sin that I was still holding on to. That was hilarious to me, because I had my first kiss when I was 18, and after a six-month relationship where I lived in Ohio and he lived in Utah the whole time, and absolutely no sexual anything in our relationship, I had never even dated anyone again. "You're barking up the wrong tree," I told the guy. "I'm purer than Mother Mary."
My whole life I've had a tendency towards depression (never at that point medicated), but when I took a psychological profile test thing, I tested only 4% for depression - I didn't feel depressed so that made sense. They put me on anti-depressants anyway though, because it would probably fix whatever it was inside my soul telling me to GET.OUT. Um ... ?!?!?!
I was still in the wintery wilderness, I was still alone in my mind 99% of the time, cold and desperate and sad ... but I had my lantern. And the lantern of God's gentle reassurance and love still glowed. Nothing was putting it out.
All of this took about two months, and I finally started refusing to go out into the streets anymore. They put me with several different companions, ranging from a senior couple (whom I LOVED) and another young girl missionary like myself who had health problems and couldn't proselytize for that reason (whom I LOVED). But as time wore on, there was pressure from somewhere (Salt Lake, the Area Presidency? I don't know from where) to get me back on the streets.
Finally, I told my Mission President that I was going home. Period. He told me that he'd arrange it, but as part of protocol, I need to meet with the Area Presidency for an "exit interview."
I met with Elder Carl Pratt. I told him the same story, glowing in my delight at getting an answer, and feeling peaceful about God finally answering my prayers in a most unexpected way. Everything was going to be ok - it was all happening for a reason!
Elder Pratt looked at me and said, "I don't know who you think you are, but this story is approaching blasphemy. A Prophet of God called you to serve 18 months, to proselytize for 18 months. Get.back.out.on.the.streets."
I was stunned. "I can't!" I whispered with tears welling up in my eyes. "I ... I can't!"
"You can and you will. Stop this nonsense."
"But ... what about my spiritual confirmations? What about everything I've been feeling and these physical manifestations of God's voice coming to me, through the scriptures and the voice of the Prophet's talk and my mom...?"
He cut me off. "True spiritual revelation never contradicts what your Priesthood leaders tell you. I am your Priesthood leader and I say get back out on the streets and do your work. If you go home now, it will be a dishonorable release. There is no back door here. Get back out on the streets." He excused me from the meeting.
I rushed back to my Mission President and told him everything. The poor guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't contradict his superior in the Church, but he also knew he couldn't put me back out on the streets.
I stood strong, in the harsh cold weather, holding fast to my lantern. I knew what I knew. And all that was happening was that the cold winds and icy snow were revealing themselves to me as cold and heartless and icy, as compared to the warmth and light of my lantern.
A few days later, my Mission President told me there was an opening in a PR missionary position at Chile's Church Headquarters, and because of my education in marketing he might be able to get me transferred over to the position. He fought hard for me, and finally Elder Pratt said if I hit all of my numbers for street contacts and lessons being taught for a week - if I went back out on the streets for a week, he'd let me transfer over. My sweet companion took charge and did all of the work for a week to make sure we hit our numbers. I was transferred, and worked the last 4 months of my mission in a position that I enjoyed (though I did see a lot of the ugly underbelly of a bureaucratic, man-led religious institution).
In January 2006, I returned home honorably from my mission. I stayed active in the Church for another six months, and even worked at Church World Headquarters in Utah for a few months, trying to stay loyal to and optimistic about the institution. But when I realized that spring was popping up in the world around me, and this institution was holding me in a cold, brutal winter, I followed my inner lantern's guidance to the warmth of personal connection to the Divine.
For a few years, I was really bitter about my mission. Today, I still see how it was a cold and cruel period in my life, but that it was the perfect opportunity for me to see the contrast between the cold silence of institutionalized spirituality and the warm lantern of a personal connection with Divine Source. It opened my eyes and experience in a way that nothing else ever could. I, standing completely alone, completely vulnerable, found and held my own light.
As I've stated in previous posts, like THIS one, I never wanted to serve a "mission" for the LDS (Mormon) Church, but did, because I didn't know what else to do with my life. This memoir will tell you a little about the invaluable experience I had during those challenging 18 months, and how feeling totally isolated and alone in a spiritual and emotional winterland gave me a powerful Hermit experience.
To start, I want to make it totally clear that my experience as a missionary was completely atypical! Almost every other person I've talked to that served missions scratch their head in amazement at how unusual my experience was from the start. If you don't know what a Mormon missionary is, THIS LINK will give you a quick rundown. I went to Santiago, Chile for my mission. Note, that as a missionary, I spent 18 months with every second of every day dictated to me of how I could dress, who I could and could not talk to, what I could read or listen to, when to wake up and go to bed, etc.
For some reason, I had the understanding that on my mission, I would basically be hanging out with non-participatory members of the Church only, working to entice them to engage back into a "Mormon" lifestyle. I had no idea that I was expected to approach strangers on the street and ask them if I could come into their home and teach them my religion. (I thought that girls didn't "proselytize"). Upon entering the Missionary Training Center, both of my teachers were off of work - one was on her honeymoon, and the other injured his knee. Since I already spoke Spanish, I was basically there just to learn "how to be a missionary", but without teachers, my little class just sat around and drew Ninja Turtles on the white board for three weeks.
When I arrived in Chile, I was assigned a Uruguayan companion (whom I had to spend 24/7 with and whose side I could not leave under any circumstances) who did not speak any English, and whose culture was very different from mine. She told me the first day that we were going to walk up to some guy on the street, engage him in conversation, and ask if he we could come to his house and teach him our religion - and that it was my turn to talk, I had to do the whole thing with her standing silently by my side.
"No," I said resolutely. "Absolutely not - I'm an introvert, I don't walk up to random people and talk to them."
She laughed. "You'll be doing it every day for the next 18 months. We have to make 20 street contacts a day between us," she replied.
"Um, no," I responded. After a few days of being told by the entire missionary system that my refusal to make street contacts was totally unacceptable (especially in the eyes of God), I prayed for help and started making street contacts. Each and every time I made one, a little part inside of me died.
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| Crystal Visions Tarot |
After six weeks I was moved to a different part of town, and had a new companion. To this day we are the best of friends. It helped to have my constant companion be someone who understood my background and culture. We still obeyed all of the rules and took our work seriously, and it was heaven to be in the presence of such an awesome person (I LOVE YOU KATIE), and I prayed and prayed and fasted and worked with faith to have some type of understanding of why I hated everything about being a missionary (they say that God will open your heart and give you peace if you do stuff like this). Nothing happened, and when Katie and I were separated, a bigger chunk of me died inside.
For a year of my mission, I pushed and tried and "let go" and obeyed, obeyed, obeyed. Every time we invited a person to be baptized a member of the Church and they said no, I exhaled a sigh of relief - I felt like the church just complicated the already challenging lives of the good people we taught. For a year I wandered in the dark cold wilderness of the Hermit, completely alone, and without any light (meaning: I didn't have the little lamp yet). In fact, it felt like all others had gone into a safe cave to hibernate, and I couldn't sleep, and found myself completely alone and awake in the dark cave. After a year, I was assigned to train a new missionary as my companion, a sweet gal from Peru. In this case, I was supposed to be the strong one, insisting she make the street contacts. She was afraid to, totally understandably. But with the responsibility of pushing her falling on my soldiers, I had an emotional breakdown. I began to have extreme social anxiety, and every day would just wander the streets with her in silence, trying to hold in my tears. We'd go home for lunch, and I'd tell her I was going to pray in the bedroom, and just bury my face on my bed and sob for as long as I could get away with.
I talked to the Mission authorities, and they said, "Pray more, testify more, have more faith!" So I did. And nothing happened. I never entered peaceful hibernation like the others, I never felt myself safe in the hands of God. I was aware of my hunger and the painful loneliness of sitting in the dark cave.
Then, one day, while I was studying the scriptural canon of the church, I was praying for anything from God, any word of help/advice, and I flipped open my scriptures, pointed at a random verse and read the LDS scripture of Doctrine and Covenants 124:49. It reads:
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, that when I give a commandment to any of the sons of men to do a work unto my name, and those sons of men go with all their might and with all they have to perform that work, and cease not their diligence, and their enemies come upon them and hinder them from performing that work, behold, it behooveth me to require that work no more at the hands of those sons of men, but to accept of their offerings."A bell went off in my head, and I felt the warm loving presence of God in my life. It was like a warm, glowing lantern appeared in the cave for me. It couldn't be! Could my answer come in the form of a light (and not hibernation)? What was I thinking!?!? So I picked up a Church magazine that had a General Conference talk (or messages from Church leadership) on missionary work. I was going to read the talk to pep myself up. I flipped it open, and the first thing my eyes landed on was a sentence by Gordon B. Hinckley, then President of the Church that said:
"...I wish to say that the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve are united in saying to our young sisters that they are not under obligation to go on missions...."I distinctly remember the quote being from a recent conference talk, but as I am researching it for this blog post, it looks like the quote is from 1997 (I was in Chile in 2004-2006). So I don't know what that's all about. But this is definitely the quote, because it goes on:
"We do not ask the young women to consider a mission as an essential part of their life's program. Over a period of many years, we have held the age level higher for them in an effort to keep the number going relatively small. Again to the sisters I say that you will be as highly respected, you will be considered as being as much in the line of duty, your efforts will be as acceptable to the Lord and to the Church whether you go on a mission or do not go on a mission."
--"Some Thoughts on Temples, Retention of Converts, and Missionary Service"
Gordon B. Hinckley, 1997 October General Conference, full article HERE
Gordon B. Hinckley, 1997 October General Conference, full article HERE
Maybe what I read was a different talk that said the same thing - I'm surprised this isn't matching up like I thought it would (time-wise). Anyway... The next day I was allowed to check my email for messages from my family, and my mom, who is SUPER-DE-DUPER Mormon and pro-mission had written me a message along the lines of, "Honey, I'm worried that you are beginning to destabilize. I want you to know if that if you decide to come home from your mission early, I'm totally ok with it - I want you to be happy and healthy, and it seems like you're deteriorating into a dangerous space."
Ok, three witnesses. Three separate cases of me getting the message to GO HOME. In the Scriptures it says messages from God come from the mouth of two or three witnesses - my prayers had been answered! I went to my Mission President with the story. This amazing man listened to my story and replied, "I can't argue with spiritual confirmations like that - let's get this ball rolling for you." Yes! Finally! I felt like I'd taken up the lantern, and left the cave, and was going to brave the cold winter winds with my little light, and find my way to springtime and warmth.
Soon after, he contacted me and said protocol requires I see the mission psychologist.
Dr. Hurst asked on our first meeting, "What is the problem?"
"I think I'm not supposed to be here. I haven't felt the 'spirit of God' since I got here, I hate everything about it - I think it's a big mistake. I've been 100% obedient and pray every day asking for emotional/spiritual support ... and I feel worse and worse, like a sense of foreboding. So I work harder, testify more, read more, sacrifice more, and I feel darker and deader inside. Then, I got these answers that told me to go home. I think I need to go home."
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he referred me to his boss.
I did telephone conferences with the head missionary psychologist in Salt Lake City, who informed me that I most likely needed to repent of a sexual sin that I was still holding on to. That was hilarious to me, because I had my first kiss when I was 18, and after a six-month relationship where I lived in Ohio and he lived in Utah the whole time, and absolutely no sexual anything in our relationship, I had never even dated anyone again. "You're barking up the wrong tree," I told the guy. "I'm purer than Mother Mary."
My whole life I've had a tendency towards depression (never at that point medicated), but when I took a psychological profile test thing, I tested only 4% for depression - I didn't feel depressed so that made sense. They put me on anti-depressants anyway though, because it would probably fix whatever it was inside my soul telling me to GET.OUT. Um ... ?!?!?!
I was still in the wintery wilderness, I was still alone in my mind 99% of the time, cold and desperate and sad ... but I had my lantern. And the lantern of God's gentle reassurance and love still glowed. Nothing was putting it out.
All of this took about two months, and I finally started refusing to go out into the streets anymore. They put me with several different companions, ranging from a senior couple (whom I LOVED) and another young girl missionary like myself who had health problems and couldn't proselytize for that reason (whom I LOVED). But as time wore on, there was pressure from somewhere (Salt Lake, the Area Presidency? I don't know from where) to get me back on the streets.
Finally, I told my Mission President that I was going home. Period. He told me that he'd arrange it, but as part of protocol, I need to meet with the Area Presidency for an "exit interview."
I met with Elder Carl Pratt. I told him the same story, glowing in my delight at getting an answer, and feeling peaceful about God finally answering my prayers in a most unexpected way. Everything was going to be ok - it was all happening for a reason!
Elder Pratt looked at me and said, "I don't know who you think you are, but this story is approaching blasphemy. A Prophet of God called you to serve 18 months, to proselytize for 18 months. Get.back.out.on.the.streets."
I was stunned. "I can't!" I whispered with tears welling up in my eyes. "I ... I can't!"
"You can and you will. Stop this nonsense."
"But ... what about my spiritual confirmations? What about everything I've been feeling and these physical manifestations of God's voice coming to me, through the scriptures and the voice of the Prophet's talk and my mom...?"
He cut me off. "True spiritual revelation never contradicts what your Priesthood leaders tell you. I am your Priesthood leader and I say get back out on the streets and do your work. If you go home now, it will be a dishonorable release. There is no back door here. Get back out on the streets." He excused me from the meeting.
I rushed back to my Mission President and told him everything. The poor guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't contradict his superior in the Church, but he also knew he couldn't put me back out on the streets.
I stood strong, in the harsh cold weather, holding fast to my lantern. I knew what I knew. And all that was happening was that the cold winds and icy snow were revealing themselves to me as cold and heartless and icy, as compared to the warmth and light of my lantern.
A few days later, my Mission President told me there was an opening in a PR missionary position at Chile's Church Headquarters, and because of my education in marketing he might be able to get me transferred over to the position. He fought hard for me, and finally Elder Pratt said if I hit all of my numbers for street contacts and lessons being taught for a week - if I went back out on the streets for a week, he'd let me transfer over. My sweet companion took charge and did all of the work for a week to make sure we hit our numbers. I was transferred, and worked the last 4 months of my mission in a position that I enjoyed (though I did see a lot of the ugly underbelly of a bureaucratic, man-led religious institution).
In January 2006, I returned home honorably from my mission. I stayed active in the Church for another six months, and even worked at Church World Headquarters in Utah for a few months, trying to stay loyal to and optimistic about the institution. But when I realized that spring was popping up in the world around me, and this institution was holding me in a cold, brutal winter, I followed my inner lantern's guidance to the warmth of personal connection to the Divine.
For a few years, I was really bitter about my mission. Today, I still see how it was a cold and cruel period in my life, but that it was the perfect opportunity for me to see the contrast between the cold silence of institutionalized spirituality and the warm lantern of a personal connection with Divine Source. It opened my eyes and experience in a way that nothing else ever could. I, standing completely alone, completely vulnerable, found and held my own light.
