Witches and Writers


 If you are like me, you want your life to mean something more than an accumulation of days and nights passing in a melancholy blur of mundane tasks that embroil nothing more meaningful than the biological performance of breathing in and out.  If you are like me, you want more, you want joy, you want meaning, you want soft hues, and exhilarating,  bright, bursting explosions of truth and creativity…. if you dare, you want, “passion!”  

Predictably, and most essentially, if you are like me, you want to be known and understood, you want to love and you want to be loved.  I imagine this is why you write, this is why I write.  I hemorrhage words, for prose is my life blood.   This is that urgent force within me that summons all cunning hearts to come unto my own heart, so that we may dance and spin, weaving and twisting together, lighting fires, scourging and blessing each savored deliberation.

Writing (and witching) are the ways in which my dominant spirit submits to the will of my higher truth, often, a thirsty truth that has been held as an unwilling hostage in some secreted, deep and shadowy well. I read to be exposed to exotic other voyagers, to feast from their most innocent spring lambs?   To surrender myself entirely to their succulent literary magic?  I am amused by little else. I am fed by little else.  The musings of eloquent writers are my jewels, my deepest joy and highest aspiration comes from the mere hope that my words in some diminutive way can perhaps be given as jewels to others, dare I hope? Dare I yearn to bewitch with meager words?  I have fallen slain within the spirit of a crafty writer many times in my years, I am surviving now by only the twitching and itching of a most soulful need to find calm within the inked lines. 

The reader is the famished self, the writer is overwhelmed self, we are both tortured, you and I, let us dance!  Our coupling is a seductive and charitable effort.   The drought of individual passion is a mournful municipality, let us stake a claim upon the land, let us feast, drink, and be merry together we writers and witches!  

I have decided that the old saying “You cannot have it both ways” is an underrated truth.  Whatever is fleecing my soul of its fiery passion, of its enduring satisfaction, this is the day that I banish that “thing” from my life and copiously embrace my creative liberties!

So mote it be! 

I am a witch, however, I have, like most of my sister witches, studied the Holy Bible with an open, earnest heart, and there is one elegantly flawless verse that I have plucked out and seized as my own, one verse that is a monument to my truth. It shines within the book of Matthew, chapter 6, verse 21…  “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” So, I ask you, where is your treasure?  I ask you to consider your life.  I don’t mean who do you love more than anyone else, this is a question of very intimate individual passion, where is YOUR own treasure, your own exceptional pleasure on earth~ if suddenly, you were alone in the world and had only yourself to please, in what soothing ocean would your lone soul find sanctuary? For there, will be your treasure and your heart.

Published by sheilarosskuhn

I write, I am an earth mother goddess...

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  1. ~~O You Merry Vagabond, certainly so, to be sure! You my Lil Ralphie….you are a raging, engaging example of the most fortifying and rib tickling of all comedic fruits~ 😉 Ever rings a chortle in the portal! So Mote it BE!

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