I have never done two posts in one day, but I did not feel that I could not say something. Yesterday Terry Pratchett died. We all knew it was coming – he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s seven years ago – but it’s still a hard thing. He faced his illness with courage and good humour, continued to write books right up to the day of his death, and advocated for the Die with Dignity movement.
Knighted in 2009, Sir Terry Pratchett, for those who don’t know, was the author of the Diskworld fantasy novels. These books contributed directly to the development of my own spirituality, which is ironic, considering that he was a dedicated atheist. As a matter of fact, no word of a lie and no joke, his book The Wyrd Sisters is required reading for my tradition, and we encourage you to read as many of his books as possible. I believe that his insight into human nature was unique and perhaps shall never again be equaled.
Synchronistically, Sara Amis quoted him in an article she posted on March 9th:
Your average witch is not, by nature, a social animal as far as other witches are concerned. There’s a conflict of dominant personalities. There’s a group of ringleaders without a ring. There’s the basic unwritten rule of witchcraft, which is ‘Don’t do what you will, do what I say.’ The natural size of a coven is one. Witches only get together when they can’t avoid it.
For a few more of his gems, check out this article published today by The Telegraph.
But my favourite quote of his formed a key point of my spirituality and gave birth to my theory of everything:
I suppose more than a little bit of Sir Terry’s Death character has made it into my vision of the Horned God: a being with humour, compassion, wisdom, and keen insight into human nature . . . though He can be a little awkward with our pop culture and social customs.
I think that I, like other fans, was deeply moved by what was posted on his Twitter account yesterday (I assume by his friends and family):
“AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.”
Terry took Death’s arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.
R.I.P. Sir Terry, and may a good God be the first to find your soul (though I think one already has.)