There’s an ancient myth where when one is in the deepest dark of the forest, a hermit, a wounded healer, comes along to impart wisdom to help a troubled soul get out of the forest. It just goes to show you that you cannot escape the world. The world will meet you where you are and impart something you need to direct you where you need to go.

The old hermit is the one who has been holding the secrets of life and his mission in life is to quietly bring this wisdom to the world. We’re reminded in such myths that we all have roles to play in this life — even the one who tries to hide from the world cannot escape the fact that the world will seek him out and force his hand at understanding his place in the world. Notice that it is the “deepest, darkest of the forest” when the hermit appears. It is usually in the depths of our suffering that something shakes us and awakens us to a realization needed to move forward.

Our fortunes rub against the psyche in unique ways. The inner world is the place that takes care of you and interiority will sort through your problems. This is where the master speaks. The hermit that resides in our hearts knows what we need to go forward. It knows where we need to be directed, so we listen. We lick our wounds and shake our fists and ponder what we are called to be and, in the meantime, the directions are being laid out for you.

What other forms does the hermit take? The hermit may appear in dreams, thoughts, the presence of another, or a vision quest where the ordinary is struck dumb by the symbolic. 

In my life I’ve had dreams where I’ve had conversations with wise figures. When I awakened, I could remember exactly what was said and saw the lesson that was imparted to me through it. This is why recording dreams and interpreting dreams is important. A dream unanalyzed is a missed opportunity for understanding. I can account for countless numbers of times where individuals have come into my life to redirect me on the path and offer guidance that served me well.

Cognitive behavior psychologist, Dr. David Byrne speaks about a time in his life that changed him forever. His son was born unable to breathe.  His son was blue and they placed him in an intensive care unit.  He thought his son was going to have brain damage because he couldn’t breathe.  Byrne spiraled into the worst thoughts and possible outcomes as a result of this.  Unable to sleep, sick with worry, he went to the hospital and asked to see his child at 3am.  The child was in an incubator and his whole body was shaking to get a breath. Nurses gave Dr. Byrne a glove. Byrne gently placed his hand through the hole of the incubator and touched his child. It was as if he was blessing his son.  

Byrne said, “Eric, I want you to know we love you and are going to be with you every step of the way. When he returned home, he received a call from the nurse. She said, “the strangest thing happened when you left. The baby started breathing on his own and he is bonding with his mother.” The good doctor was literally the wounded healer and the son was a sort of wounded healer for his father in his own right.

In his book “The Wounded Healer,” Henri Nouwen writes about the anguish of his dark night of the soul. Interestingly enough, Nouwen never lost his ability to write. In fact, writing helped him reclaim his balance. Here was a noted spiritual writer imparting spiritual wisdom to others when he himself was suffering.  It is in the suffering that we are liberated to find the true self. Easier said than done when you’re in the depths of depression, but it is true and a theme that plays out in literature and if one is aware of this and allows it to play out, it will be made manifest.

Nouwen wrote: “Who can save a child from a burning house without taking the risk of being hurt by the flames? Who can listen to a story of loneliness and despair without taking the risk of experiencing similar pains in his own heart and even losing his precious peace of mind? In short: “Who can take away suffering without entering it?”

If “myths are the dreams of society,” we can document any number of ways in which the hermit appears. Merlin serving as a mentor to King Arthur in the Grail quests to Gandalf and Bilbo and Frodo in “The Lord of the Rings,” Yoda and Obi Wan in “Star Wars” lore to Dumbledore in the Harry Potter series.  But reality has its own way of inspiring us to see.

Sometimes the most extraordinary experiences are vision quests where the psyche meets the symbol. Whether it’s a hummingbird, a cardinal, an animal that appears in an unusual place at an unusual time and jars us into a deeper presence of the extraordinary or a person who calls us when we are thinking of that person and in our most dire circumstance and deepest need.

One last story may serve us well. A father and son used to fly fish together. When his father died, the son took his father’s ashes to their favorite fishing hole where his father taught him how to fish.  He didn’t catch any fish that day, but he didn’t seem to mind. He pondered his father’s life and the stories he learned from his ole’ man. When the time was right, the son said a prayer and released his father’s ashes into the water. Suddenly, fish started slapping the top of the water all around him. It was as if there was a joyful ovation meeting the man in his final resting place.

What an extraordinary moment for the son to behold. Somehow the moment spoke to him and told him what he needed to know to help him in his grief. The wounded healer in the form of Mother Nature strikes again. The son knew what was being said, and, for a time, it made everything seem all right.