Unsurprisingly, I’m going to talk about magick. And the pandemic. And the year I have made it through.
The year you have made it through too.
First of all, congratulations.
I imagine there have been times when you thought you’d never get here. Or times when you thought ‘here’ was a lot closer than it ended up being.
And really, I’m not sure where I am now, just further along this stretch of life.
I haven’t spent hours in meditation or learned a new language.
I haven’t learned to only eat green things or to avoid sugar.
I have just allowed myself to be human. And a witch. And a creatrix. And a kitten mom.
For one of the first times in my life, I allowed myself to show up for myself when no one else was watching. I learned that I was not aligned with who I thought I was.
Today, I congratulate myself for coming back home to the magick I am.
(Even if it took a pandemic, near death, more deaths, kittens, a fire, liminal relationships, some boundary building, many pints of ice cream, yoga, and going to bed at 7pm more nights than in previous years.)
Making Magick Happen Anyway
A month. That’s how long it took before I gave in. At that time, I was convinced magick online was…okay. I mean, it was passable, but it was NOTHING like gathering in a circle.
NOTHING could replace that. *hand on forehead*
Until I realized/remembered magick has always been adaptable. Borne out of necessity. Woven from what was available.
The humans, not as much.
Magick, to me, is what happens when you breathe, when you move, when you weep, when you lay down on the sweet ground and stare up at the sky. It is the coming together of energies, the realization that the separation between brain and being is only apparent when sought out.
Magick is everywhere, anywhere, not dependent on moon phases or ingredients. It is the thing you do when the thing must be done.
So, online I went. Online so many went. Online so many people already were, waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
(I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I plan to be there more, even when I can be in person again. I promise.)
What I’ve Learned (or Already Knew, but Now Admit)
YOUR TOOLS WORK.
(When you remember where you put them.)
- Self care
- Daily practice
- Iron pentacle
- Devotional practices
- The ocean
- The vast expanse of your inner landscape
- Following the patterns of thought and action
- Taking on challenges
- More of the things I offer to others
- More quiet and space
- Patience and compassion
If this were a witchcamp, I’d be writing down all of these lessons and putting them into action as soon as I got home. For two weeks, give or take a day.
But this time is different. Fingers crossed and back-bending toward hope.
A Sacred Promise to my Magick
I’m pretty sure some things are going to change once the stay-at-home orders open up (not for a while, I’m sure, but stay with me). I’m going to want to hug everyone. I already want that. I didn’t realize how much I would miss the warmth of my friends. The hugs I used to cringe from because I grew up with Midwest-how-quick-can-I-do-this-without-being-rude. I’d gotten better, but I always thought of myself as a heart-open, but-I-don’t-need-to-touch-everyone person.
I was so very wrong.
(I’m betting Aphrodite always knew.)
I promise to listen and to see you.
I promise to remember your needs too.
I promise to stay slow and be grateful for rest.
I promise to take care of myself because I know best.
I promise to say what I mean. When I mean it.
I promise to seek out joy.
I promise to trust my gut now that I’ve gotten quiet enough to hear it.
(What might you promise as the being you are now?)
And I will remember that nature tells me that everything changes. All the time, without fail. Not always in ways I expect. Not always in ways I desire.
Magick is not interrupted. Though maybe it hiccups. Or sighs first.
And then it adapts.
This morning as I went for my daily walk, the crocuses were opening.