I call myself a witch, and you can call me that as well if you like. We all call ourselves “something,” don’t we? Labels are important little trinkets to enjoy for a lifetime or two. I’ll tell you right up front, I am not bothered if you find me superstitious or ignorant, and I don’t care if you judge me silly or evil. I don’t entertain fantasies of being well liked or admired, I just “am” the woman I came to be and that alone is enough to fill my heart with appreciation.
I am not sorry for myself, or ashamed of myself, and I can say quite confidently that I am not striving to be particularly proud of myself either. I simply strive to be authentic. In the end, I am the only judge that I will ever stand before as worthy or unworthy of the life that I have cast for myself here upon the earth mother.
I am not alone; I have sisters and brothers. I take a peculiar joy in my nakedness, for it has been hard earned. Tearing off ones wardrobe and strutting around gloriously imperfect isn’t comfortable, but, for me, it is a necessary evil.
When I rise and employ my rituals, I am not foolish; I am connecting my spirit to the divine life force. I am seeking (and I am finding) that peace in which I seek within the core of the pink tinged dawn.
I don’t worship idols; I worship the passion behind their creation, I worship the blood, sweat, and the tears upon the hands that fashioned them. I worship the earth on which they stand, the moon under which they glisten, the sun that warms them, the bird that perches upon them, the dog that urinates pressed against them, and I worship the rain, sleet, and snow that cleanses them. I worship not the idols; I worship the sensual joy that looking at them, touching them, and bowing before them brings to the human heart and mind.
I don’t find darkness ugly, have you ever danced naked on a moonless night and found healing in the sheer benevolent love of life within your own belly? I have, and it is brilliantly soothing.
One evening, long decades ago, I was traveling alone. I was lying across the bed in my hotel room, I was drowsy, I was warm and comfortable, but, I was not asleep, I am certain that I was not asleep. My eyes were closed and I was thinking about going downstairs for dinner when I felt a warm presence enter the room and slip along the wall behind me. The energy was feminine in both form and feeling, the room was suddenly shimmering in a soft glittery golden hue. I was not afraid when I felt the feminine energy fold me within her golden arms. I was not afraid when she held me to her spirit body and lovingly whispered into my ear a minutiae of scenes from my entire life, a life that was yet before me. I was not afraid when she told me that no matter what happened here, that I was unconditionally loved and that I was being safeguarded and that although I would know sadness in my lifetime, I would be fine and all would unfold as it should, and that I would always be loved and happy no matter what happened. Then, she held me for a while until at some point; I melted into her warm golden light and breathed in her wisdom and compassion. This union was mysterious and sensory, complete and satisfying. When “she” left, she left in the same manner that she had approached, softly, quietly, tenderly, lovingly, like a new Mother creeping into the nursery to check on her sleeping infant.
I know without a doubt that she revealed an eternal mercy upon my young woman self on that cold winter evening that now seems so long ago and so far away from the mature woman that I am today… She left the gifts of comfort, trust and faith in things that I don’t necessarily understand. I comprehend now that I am immortally connected to her through a great silver umbilical cord that ever pulsates with light and love. When I think of her today, I think of her as The Great Mother, the feminine force that sparks within all of humankind. She has never forsaken me, she lives within me. She comes to me in times of great sorrow and in times of great joy. She guides my hands and my heart, she soothes my soul, she grants me passion, and within my spirit, she lights fresh fires of restoration with each sunrise.
You are free to believe me or to brand me mentally diminished, but, I am a witch, and as a witch, I am encircled within the arms of the original Madonna, I walk within the vigilant ever golden eyes of the Great Mother. I am energized and warmed by her perpetual compassion and mercy. I dance and leap within her golden radiance and my spirit will never grow bitter, for I am but one of the countless keepers of Her magical ways. Blessed Be.