Deepening into mystery, a phrase of importance and vagueness. Each day is, actually, a mystery. No matter how many horoscopes you read, weather reports you study, and life experiences you have, nothing is certain.

The matters of the heart are no different. The matters of the spirit are no different.

I got back from California Witchcamp yesterday. It was deep in ways I hadn’t expected, ‘easy’ in ways I also hadn’t expected, and my brain wants to figure it all out. I want to write a perfect summary of what happened and what changed.

But I can’t. Not yet, anyway. Not ever, possibly.

What I Want to Say (and Can’t)

I could tell you that magick is ephemeral and ‘you had to be there.’

I could tell you that certain things are private, and that’s true. But what I have learned about myself is not something I tend to hide for too long.

I like to share what I think I know. It helps me organize my thoughts. It helps me start to see what I should be looking at. It helps me clear away the brush, the duff, and the MOOP (matter out of place).

I also can’t share things that I don’t understand. I’ve tried. And it’s exponentially harder with those who weren’t there. I feel like I’m trying to share an inside joke. One that’s impossible to explain. ‘You had to be there?’

I want to tell you about what I heard and saw.

I want to tell you about how my body felt.

I want to tell you what I think I know about myself now.

But not yet.

What I DO Know

I tried interacting with someone who didn’t go to the same camp, and I felt awkward and weird. I felt outside of myself and that relationship because I was half where I was and half landing in my home.

I was split and unable to land on the ‘me’ I was arriving as.

Should I be what I have been? And possibly more recognizable?

Should I try on the new me? And possibly be less of the person who left a week ago?

I’ve come to some new rules for navigation:

• Don’t try to talk about it. Any answer or explanation I give in the first week is not complete. It is just the broad stroke or the easy answer. Let things settle.
• Take at least 24 hours to be still, to rest. Yes, say hi to beloveds (who didn’t come) and share pictures, let them know I am home safe and sound, but don’t try to answer ‘How was it?’ just yet.
• Talk with those who were there, if I can. Download the things that are itchy in my brain. Talk about these things in the context of those who were there.
• Be kinder. I am already upset at myself for being ‘weird’ in re-entry. Of course, I am. Of course, I will be. I have a new or shinier set of insides, and my outsides still look the same (besides too many bug bites). It’s disconcerting and it’s gonna be a weird time for a minute. Do what I can.
• Don’t write long blog posts about how you are changed. Wait. 🙂

This is just a blog to document the new rules. I’m sure more will come, some will fall away, and others will be refined as I integrate all that I am.

Because I already am what I have become.

Let her be welcomed home.

Let her put her feet up and rest.

The days will come, the things will be revealed, and the words will begin to form in the shapes of understanding.

No matter what, I was always on the way to this new place carved out by my own breath and smoothed by the container of community.

I’m not sure if this is healing (yet), but I do know this is important.

Let it rest too.