Series: The Major Arcana
He sits in a little campsite down by the river and into the woods. He has a campfire and a meager shelter. A rusted coffee pot sits on a makeshift rack over the fire, and steam comes from the pot. He sits on a log near the fire and plays a harmonica. He is the Hermit.
You stumble upon him quite by accident as you search the woods for meaning. He gestures for you to come join him on the log, and he pours you a dirty tin cup of coffee. You accept it graciously and even take a tentative swig of the swill. It tastes better than you expect.
“You have to look inward for your truth,” he says, without preamble. “This is as good a place as any for self-contemplation.”
You nod as though this is a self-evident truism. But you think you understand what he means. Here, away from the world, away from its distractions, you find yourself more willing, more able to perform self-analysis.
“Truth comes from your own soul,” he continues. “You’re not going to find that in the world around you, at least not in the same way. Isolation can be good for the soul, at least for a while. You’ll learn about yourself, and you’ll learn about the Universe.”
The two of you sit in silence for a long moment. Finally, you stand up and thank him for coffee and the words of wisdom. You’ve decided there are worse things than being a Hermit.