re*witched

It’s a good day today. It’s one of those days where I’m feeling especially witchy…

I especially like Joanna Newsom as this Winter decends, and the Solstice gets closer.

Her music isn’t a big blast of thundering fire. That’s one kind of light, but it’s not the kind of light I’m talking about. It’s more like shimmering little embers ready to jump the spark and kindle a new, tiny, yet vibrant flame.

Didn’t H.G. Wells say that the Path of Least Resistance was the path of the loser? Well, you can suck my the dirty tip of broomstick, Mr. Wells! Yeah… Bet you like that, eh, loser-face? Ha!

Yeah… That’s right my witchez, I’ve chosen the Path of Least Resistance for myself.

It’s not like I’m opting out or choosing a Wiccan Pillow Pet instead of a pentagram. Bunnies and their implied “fluffiness” are only worth discussing in terms of Ostara decor. Instead, I’ve chosen what is more gentle to my spirit. Less of my own B.S. and fuckery, and more of how things really are.

Speak your truth? Fuck that. I’m walking and talking my truth, because it’s all I’m able to see since I stepped on my rose quartz colored glasses. No cosmic soaring through the bellies of strange and sometimes angry gods for this girl. There are no more bells and whistles or wild rides for now. My gods have decided we’re done with all of that awesome Cosmic WTF of the last few years.

I’ve cried and prayed and cursed the names of all my gods at times, when I no longer wanted to believe or have anything to do with it. Those are the bad days that I hope are behind me. I’m no one special. Just a witch. I don’t have to be any more than that to experience great spiritual growth or connection to my gods. It’s a very healthy and intensely liberating thing for me. Keepin’ it real simple, yo. 

These days, when I’m keepin’ it Crafty, life is awash with gentle sparks, and shimmery wisps of smoke that stir yet disappear all too quickly. Not as evocative, visual, and visceral as the way I used to know the gods, in my days of Erisean Madness That Bringeth The Kali-Ness, Which Sendeth The Shiva-Nes, Oh Fuck-Yes-Gods-Yes.

It’s like Joanna Newsom vs. The Misfits. I enjoy both, but they’re two very, very different types of musical experience. 

Witchcraft gives me a way to will warm sunshine and comfort within, right when the chill is the worst. It’s about empowerment, choice, proactiveness, and patience. I also feel a great sense of groundedness from my Underworld work. It’s a place I’m glad to be. I feel safe with my gods, where I once shuddered in fear at the can of worms I opened for myself.

But on a really, really, good day?

I am Thunder.

Since I decided to re-witch myself, I’ve noticed a very curious thing… Balls that I normally struggle to juggle seem to fall magickally into place like bit fat sparkly dominoes. An extra coating of good karma, pixie dust, or luck has weaseled it’s way into my affairs. The answers are just simpler, quicker, and to the point.

Enter my newest pal, Clear Voice. God? Guide? Ghost? I don’t really know. I wish I did, but it’s told me that it’s not really important. It’s the message that matter.

I don’t know what this Clear Voice is, but it’s a new thing. Very calmly, with no drama or discernible personality, it will wearily rattle of simplest of reasons for why things are how they are. It’s the truth illuminated for what it is, no sugar coating or games. I simply see it.

Clear Voice is the one who says to me “You don’t need to go to Target to buy a new black belt.” I’ll think to myself where this fits. Clear Voice then repeats one of it’s little oft-quoted rules “You have the gift of abundance. Even when resources are low, you will always have more than enough of what you need.”

I then found another black belt that I’d lost. I thought it was too small, so I didn’t even bother to look for it. As it turns out, it fits perfectly. No need to run to Target at all. I had exactly what I needed right there.

This happens to me almost daily. I’ve asked Clear Voice if I can trust them, and I know in my bones that I can. These happy little accidents and coincidences add up, making my life invariable easier and more manageable.

The sugar coating is really in the outcome. It’s not so much that I know the future. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Depends on how oracular I’m feeling. Now that I’m empowered with the truth, what am I going to do with it? I don’t know if it’s a god or a guide or a spirit. I get a twinge of lunar energy, maybe some Athena action? Clear Voice has shed light on a lot of things I can change if I choose to. Other times, I get flashes of stuff about other people. Just random snippets, but nothing I’d ever want to know. I don’t see how it’s helpful to me, but learning to filter it must be part of the process.

Clear Voice has also given me a very simple set of rules with which to help me navigate some of these potential obstacles.

Since I’ve been paying attention, I notice that I’m feeling better. More stable. More grounded. More capable. Whatever seeing the truth has brought me, it’s not anything like I thought it would be.

Clear Voice is a guide-or-whatever of few words. Words seem to exasperate it. It would rather let me figure out which rule it’s hinting at would best help me in the situation. It gets a bit impatient if I’m a bit slow.

A few years ago, I had my first experience with claireaudience.

Now… this?

Clear Voice? Do you have anything to add?

“No need to fight.”

The path of least resistance is needed right now. I know that. It’s just kind of odd to me that this path is it… This is the easy path?

Shit. I need to go smoke some weed now. This makes my brain hurt. Clear Voice is very business-like and serious, and it harshes the candy-coated buzz of the outcome. I won’t fight it. I’ll just breathe it all out. Another one of Clear Voice’s helpful hints.

Breathe. Simple enough for me.

I may walk alone, but I’m well armed.

There is still fight in me yet, despite the darkness that promises to suck me into it’s jaws at any moment.

A few months back, I said that I didn’t want this anymore. Whatever this is. I’m past figuring out why or thinking I’m crazy. I’m more preoccupied with how.

You see, it doesn’t ever really change. The light always dies, and I always falter in it’s absence. For you, maybe it’s simply a change of seasons. The days are shorter and the nights are longer and darker. For me, it’s as if any light I had is slowly snuffed out.

Kali takes over where Persephone leaves off. My life is a darkly twisted mass of Kali and Persephone patterns, manifesting themselves over and over again.

Why must all of my gods be so dark? I never wanted this, but it’s not mine to choose. It’s simply a part of me. I’m a bacon-wrapped pork chop. No matter how you slice it, it’s all the flesh of swine. Days of swine and roses? Would you toss a bacon wrapped porkchop to a throng of hungry pitbulls without an exit strategy?

I don’t like being a porkchop or Kali’s bitch.

I do like bacon however. It’s the only thing that stops me from going full metal vegan.

In winter, the light dies. My light begins to die. It’s physical, mental, emotional and everything else in between. Depression! Fibro symptoms! Existential crisis! Kali purges! Huzzah! Each damn year. It happens, no matter what I do or believe. The dark coaxes me and calls me, yet I cannot abide it. All I want to do is hibernate.

Proactively working with the Underworld instead of fighting against it is the only way. I’ve tried on my own, and failed. So, I’m taking the path of least resistance. Working with the dark to preserve the light.

I will fight for my own light, but I will also try to learn to walk more boldly into the darkness.

It’s not much, but it’s all I got.

I may be crazy, but I’ve survived this far. I don’t want to survive. I want to live.

Yet I keep asking myself when the days grow darker, and my soul slips farther away from spring… Is living in the shadow of so much darkness really living?

I have a long way to go. I don’t care about why, Hades.

I need the how. How can I make it through the winter?

I’m in love with fall this year. It’s like I’m walking into the void with more protection and ammunition than I’ll ever know what to do with. I’m not mourning the slowly waning light, instead I’m looking forward to that cold spark that snaps my spine to attention. The veils are thinning and I’m surprisingly ready for it. It’s been years since I’ve felt that way. The last few winters have brought Kali Parties of epically destructive proportions.

Ugh. It’s my Kali Party, and I’ll cry if I want to.

For the record, I don’t. I’m done with tears. Fuck tears. The Kali work I’ve done got me here, and I did it on my own without any help. That’s good, but it wasn’t exactly helping me in the MunDanish world

I’m not afraid of Kali Ma this year. I’m working with her through the underworld, cue Hades and Persephone.

I know. Both. How Wiccan of me! Other than Ganesh and random appearances from Shiva and Anubis, I don’t often party down in divine masculine town.

Did some ritual work. Had some help. It’s not bad.

I was given a very lovely piece of obsidian as a gift recently, a symbol of Hades that I was not aware of.

I finally got around to putting together a decent permanent altar in my home, and found a good spot for it.

Even though I have a freezer full of veggie burgers, I kept smelling roasting or barbequed meat. Sort of a juicy, fatty, garlicky smell.

Helloooooo, Hades! You’re definitely *not* as shy as your Queen. This is an interesting change of pace. (And lady… Still so shy? After all this? You’re still a mystery, even now.)