Posted in Blogging, Confessions

I Am The Hermit

If you are like me, you envision a hermit as a man – usually an old man – who lives on his own deep in the woods. He rejects human contact. Though he often grows a garden and hunts and/or fishes, he may also steal from homes and campers when the occupiers are sleeping or are out and about. He doesn’t cut or wash his hair or long beard and is likely odorously (not a word, but it fits) revolting.

Not this hermit. This hermit lives a mostly solitary life, dresses appropriately, bathes, grooms,  and works at home to assist her hardworking husband. She enjoys social situations, but does not get her energy from other people. She goes deep inside her mind and searches for creative insight.

Many years ago, I practiced tarot reading. Some relatives and friends may be surprised at that. I did not take on clients or profit from it in any way. Still, the more I read for individual friends, the more often their present and future became known to me. It was uncanny and somewhat frightening. I stopped reading the cards and now pray and meditate for guidance.

hermitBut this is one card that still stands out. It is the card I drew as my personal card. I drew it over and over until it was stuck in my mind. I have always been the hermit. I have always drawn my energy from within rather than without, except for a few occasions during which I found myself in situations I had brought on in the mistaken idea that other people and other things were the key to living a fulfilling life.

My mother recounts that as a baby, I would scream and cry until I was placed in my crib and left alone. Then, I settled down and laid there – not sleeping – but babbling and looking around. As I grew, I enjoyed spending time with others, but was just as happy alone in my room, playing with dolls, and reading.

As a teen, I spent the majority of my time at home in my bedroom, music turned up, doing homework, reading, writing, and kicking out all who dared to intrude. I loved to take long walks in the field and woods.  I still enjoyed time with my friends and family.

Though I have grown up and am now in my forties, I am still the hermit.

I still find it interesting that this Rider-Waite tarot card is numbered with a 9 and that is also my number as calculated in the numerology of my name as well as my zodiac sign of Pisces.

I find it interesting, but I don’t live my life according to tarot, the zodiac, or numerology. No matter that each symbol fits my personality.

I’m just a hermit.

I live inside my heart and head.

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Inspiration, spirituality

Honesty Feeds the Soul

hundred dollar bill
 It has been brought to my attention that this post is not completely honest. What about the white lies? The lie that you feel great, or even fine when you are anything BUT okay? What about the lies we tell when we lie to ourselves? All of these are valid questions and I confess that I lie more often than I stated in this post. So, I am going to take care of the issue and republish with a much more honest approach. The spirit of the post remains the same. I do believe that honesty feeds the soul. It is just one of many ways to feed the soul, but it does, just the same. Look for changes to my post in the next week or so and if you have any suggestions, feel free to contact me! I welcome the input.
This morning, I read an older post from Anglo Lad and it inspired me to relate my own point of view on the virtue of honesty.
I enjoyed the entire post, but my favorite part is the story about the Rickshaw driver. My guess is that he came from little, and unlike some who learn to cheat and steal to “make” it, he empathized and put himself in the place of the passenger.
Years ago, I worked as a cashier at a convenience store/gas station  in Flagstaff, Arizona. One day, a customer came in to pay for his $10.00 in gasoline. He immediately turned and walked out of the store. I had started to get his change out of the register, so I hurriedly finished and ran after him.
“Sir! Sir! You forgot your change, sir!”
He turned around, looking confused.
“I gave you a ten dollar bill!”
“No, sir, you didn’t. You gave a hundred dollar bill. You have ninety coming back!”
He went around and around with the argument until he finally accepted it.
When I went back inside, my co-worker was aghast.
“You could have just agreed with him and kept the money.”
I answered, “Yes, I  could have done that. Then I would have felt guilty every time I thought about it.”
“Why would you feel guilty? It would be his fault!”
“No more than it would be my own if I had done the same thing.”
“But you wouldn’t have a hundred dollar bill to spend in the first place, Karla.”
I was happier with myself than I would have been if I had pocketed the extra money.
To me, honesty is honesty. No matter what the situation happens to be. Not that this does not mean one should not choose to keep one’s mouth shut at appropriate times…
I grew up with a hard-working mother and a father who lived on a small veteran’s pension. They struggled to shelter, feed, and clothe us.
Yet honesty was ingrained in me. Oh, not that I have never been dishonest. but every time I lied to someone it  almost always ended in a confession, simply because I was miserable until I made it right. I say “almost”, because there a couple of instances in which I was less than honest and all opportunity to make up for it was lost.
Those instances still bother me.
Just imagine how I would have felt if I had taken that customer’s money.
I guess my point is that being honest is not entirely selfless.
When we choose virtue over vice, we feed our souls. When we go the other way, we lose a piece of it.
Well, that is how it is for me.
How do you feel about it? Comment below! Answer honestly ;-).