I really had no idea how to title this blog on magick.
I know what I want to say and how I want to say it, but I had no idea how to summarize it in a few words. So, ignore the title.
Here’s what I want to talk about: smaller groups build trust more quickly and magick more effectively.
Before you have a chance to say it: I’m not saying large groups can’t. Or don’t. Or won’t.
(Witchcamp is amazing.)
I’m talking about my own experience in small groups I’ve taught or co-taught. Smaller groups build trust more easily and the magick becomes more effective sooner.
This supports me as a teacher and facilitator in the work I want to do.
It also supports those in the group to do whatever they set out to do. Or what they began to realize they needed to do for their personal brand of magick.
The Quest for Vulnerability
I didn’t realize how much easier it was to step into vulnerability when I taught in person. You could see me make mistakes or take a breath or burp or trip over my own feet.
I could show you how I forgot what I was doing or that I needed to confer with the other teacher right in front of you because we needed to change a plan that wasn’t working.
Online, I have outlines. When I’m on Zoom, you don’t see me and the other teacher in the secret chat trying to figure something out.
I wonder if it’s making things less vulnerable because you can get away from others. You can turn off a camera and you can look away.
But there is also something more vulnerable when you can be in your own space with your own stuff and do the things that will regulate you and make you comfortable.
A balance, to be sure.
How do we balance this? Can we? Do we?
What Can be Done
Create a safer container. Hold people to those agreements.
Be me. Offer space for you to be you.
Have smaller classes.
This is where I’ve learned the most. There have been days when my classes have been smaller online. I get it. If the weather is great, I might be tempted to skip sitting inside to head out into the world.
The smaller group connects more quickly. We have more space. Perhaps people don’t feel as rushed when they speak. I as a facilitator don’t feel like I need to say things more quickly to hear everyone’s voices.
We can do the one thing that seems to be missing in everyday life: listen. Listen deeply. Be fully present, as best we can. Show up for each other. Get to know each other. Begin to really feel we’re not alone.
Trust. If only for that hour or two. If only for five minutes.
It’s a start.
It might be the only place where things can drop down, fall away.
Finally be released so our shoulders can relax.
(If only for a second.)
From the trust, we bring a little faith (?), hope (?), and magick (!) into the world.
Of course, I have some classes coming up. And I’m limiting the size.
Check them out. Tell your friends. I’d love to share these journeys with you.