I often say that witching is like learning to play a musical instrument, the more you practice, the better you will get and the less you will have to think about it. Think about typing. I was taught to touch type some thirty years ago and nowadays I have to actually think about it if I want to know where the letters are (especially as I write in English on a French AZERTY board)
Well that is how it is with witching. Living the life (OK I had to say it, didn’t I? Walking the walk as well as talking the talk) becomes a habit so that you are unable to come into contact with any being without making a deeper contact, finding out what they are about, fiddling in their spirit … it is quite literally a way of life. Exactly as it becomes second nature for a doctor to notice if a person’s hands are damp or dry, their skin grey or flushed etc., we pick up on spirit. Animal or human, we’re not fussy.
I have a funny story. Walking through a town with my own Moon Son a small dog walked up to us and said “hello” to me. Well of course he didn’t open his mouth and actually “say hello” but he made contact so I gave him my attention and replied “hello, little friend, what do you need?” and he indicated a house. So we walked over to the house and banged on the door, wished the dog well and continued our walk. I didn’t look back because I knew my job was done but my Moon Son fell about laughing at the expression on the owner’s face when she opened the door and found that her dog had knocked on the door to be let in.
That’s what it is about. Always being there. Always being available. Always being vigilant. Tiring, you bet it is! Sometimes we think we ought to give it all up and just go live up a mountain somewhere… but people and animals would still find us there. If you are called to this way of life, there is no escape. Your own emotions will even come and find you. Having to work witchcraft that someone you love with all your heart finds someone else because you are not free to be with them … oh yes, we do all that. We do self-sacrifice big time!
However, there are some lovely wee gals out there. Some succulent names exist for them. I won’t use them here. They are the witch equivalent of the “hats on Sunday” Christians who go to church and then behave in a most unchristian manner towards their neighbours for the rest of the week. (I have nothing against Christians by the way – I go to Mass regularly!) Now to these lovely girls (slim, young and impressionable) I have to say – “Sorry, sweetheart, but no matter how many yards of velvet you wear, or how much silverware with which you weigh yourself down, in any form or sigil, you are not a witch.”
Tough innit? You are young, gorgeous, able to imagine yourself in a Twilight movie and you have to bow out to a fat, middle aged woman with her sleeves rolled up who doesn’t even know the twelve names of Gaboobit. She doesn’t even use the normal tools – a teacup and a breadknife FFS???? Yes kiddo, but that’s the difference. I live it – my breadknife IS my athame. My teacup IS my chalice because I do it all. 24/7 no holidays – not just when I feel like it.
You’ll read more of this under O is for Ogg ( no visible velvet or silverware!)