I’ll admit to having a few fluffy bunny tendencies. In fact one of my major life totems is rabbits, so I might even construe an accusation of fluffy bunny as a compliment. Bunnies have taught me a lot about life.
As a rule however I don’t feel it necessary to claim to be magical to everyone I meet in hopes of impressing them with my witchy-ness; I figure if they need to know they will find out soon enough. Maybe my favourite fashion colour scheme of black on black will give me away.
To be sure there are fluffy bunnies of the innocuous sort, and there is even a checklist you can use to see if you fit this category. Then there are the really fluffy bunnies, those that exemplify a more sinister definition of fluffy bunnyism.
I went into a new crystal and gem shop in the local mall one day to look for a specific stone. The store lady was in there walking around and around the counters smoking up the place with sage to the point it almost triggered an asthma attack. She wanted way too much money for simple shiny rock tumbles so I left, just thankful that I managed to get out without having a choking fit.
I had to wonder though what was she thinking doing a smudge ritual and smoking out customers in the middle of the store in the middle of the day? All I could figure was that if she did it after hours then no one would see her and see how pagan-y she was being and want to buy her overpriced mystical gemstones. To be fair, maybe a really stinky customer had been in there before me.
Willow: Talk. All talk. ‘Blah, blah, Gaia. Blah, blah, moon. Menstrual life-force power thingy.’
Buffy: No actual witches in your witch group?
Willow: No. Bunch of wanna blessed-be’s. Nowadays every girl with a henna tattoo and a spice rack thinks she’s a sister to the dark ones.
Lack of Consideration
Another time recently I received an invitation to a Meetup group of witches and pagans in my local area. One of their upcoming events was getting together to “paint hawthorne trees.” I truly love the hawthorne and went to a lot of trouble some years ago to find some for my own yard. The beautiful hawthorne is also a Beltaine tree and is said to attract faeries.
The thing is, there was no mention of asking these magical trees’ permission first before a cadre of 20 or 30 people descended on them with paints in hand, looking to connect with nature spirits. I was a bit concerned too that once I started pricking my finger with a thorn in order to offer a blood sacrifice to Brigid I might upset some of those who only came for the tea and crumpets. Just as well I’m a solitary, I suppose.
I’m sure these folks mean well but somehow it comes across in my mind as lacking authenticity. Some people give us real fluffy bunnies a bad name. I write here often about kindness, something that could be interpreted as a fluffy bunny tendency, at least according to the checklist. I put some of my own Faerie philosophy developed over 20 years of study into a humorous article and there were one or two who missed the point I’m afraid. Apparently, I do not take my Faerie Faith seriously enough.
“Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?”
“Supposing it didn’t,” said Pooh after careful thought.
Sounds very Zen to me, a concept worthy of meditation.
Faeries come in all shapes, sizes, and temperaments, and to assign this or that motive or attribute to all faeries seems a contradiction of their natures. It is the same with witches. I happen to love bunnies, but bunnies have big, sharp teeth, they aren’t afraid of anything, and they know when discretion is the better part of valour. They are certainly fecund to a fault.
On our paths to enlightenment and learning, we follow our own way, let our hearts lead us balanced by good judgement, and try not to step in anything along the way. There are obvious examples we might do better to avoid such as those above, but I do think we must also be careful of the labels we use to define and dismiss others, and the labels we use to set others above ourselves (and vice versa).
Perhaps we stray only when we start to take ourselves too seriously and become convinced of our own magical importance, forgetting that the simplest act of kindness can be most magical indeed in its transformative power. Wisdom and magic are not proprietary and can be found in the most unlikely places, perhaps not so much sometimes in the places they are most loudly proclaimed to be.
In the end I don’t particularly care for white lights (I happen to prefer the dark), and I believe there can be more real magic in an interesting stick picked up while walking than in a mass produced, store-bought crystal wand. However, between faeries and bunnies and thinking that kindness is never a bad thing, and even indulging in a little basic flower and candle magic from time to time, perhaps I am a bit fluffy after all. That’s okay. With the astounding things I’ve seen and learned from this magical life, somehow I can’t see that as altogether a bad thing.