I am sitting here on the floor of my rented room, my computer propped up on some currently empty plastic boxes, having just lit some lavender incense and made a fresh offering of water for the Gods. Listening to the Pagan Radio Network online, just relaxing and trying to think of something to write about. I have committed to myself to start blogging again… writing here has been how I have reconnected with the Divine, with Magic, and with Myself… or my Highest/Deepest/Truest Self….
Its funny how, as a Witch, you can study symbolism and magic and the occult and the many correspondences and connections of folklore and magic, and by seeking and learning this knowledge it can change you. You look at the world differently, the Acrostic Eye as Starhawk has called it, and you find inspirations and wisdom in odd places. In the recent move and packing and unpacking I discovered a box full of Witchy/Pagany books and some of my Witchy tools and assorted shiny items. At the same time I have been rereading some favorite books, including Wyrd Sister’s by Sir Terry Pratchett.
(about whom Sia has much good things to say…)
In that fine book there is a scene where having helped to summon a Demon to bully information out of it, on the spur of the moment in the middle of Nanny Ogg;s old unused washroom – using only what was at hand and their minds and wills, Granny Weatherwax has the following exchange with it.
“Shut up . We have the sword of Art and the octogram of Protection, I warn you.”
“Please yourself. They look like a washboard and a copper stick to me.” sneered the demon.
Granny glanced sideways. The corner of the washroom was stacked with kindling wood, with a big heavy sawhorse in front of it. She stared fixedly at the demon and, without looking, brought the stick down hard across the thick timber.
The dead silence that followed was broken only by the two perfectly-sliced halves of the sawhorse teetering backward and forward and folding slowly into the heap of kindling.
~Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett (C)1980
This doesn’t mean, of course, that Witches every really give up our love of shiny objects of various sorts. But they are Tools through and by which we enact our Wills, not crutches to be relied upon or without which we are helpless.