She changes everything she touches. Everything She touches changes.
This chant has been on my mind lately. And the “She”, to me, is Time.
This post has been in progress for a while now. I have been thinking about where I began on this path so many years ago, what I wanted from it, what I hoped to find in the online Pagan community, what I wanted from life in general, and how all that differs from where I find myself now.
I think it safe to say that I have moved pretty much completely out of the “Maiden” phase of my life (if you subscribe to such a theory). I don’t go looking to be different, to carve out my identity, to find a place and a path that is just the perfect fit.
I’ve done that. For years I did that. Even when I first started trying to make my own way, I was still searching. Still hoping for someone to tell me I was doing it right. Trying so hard to live up to some imaginary standard. Am I eco enough, am I liberal enough, am I honourable enough, am I artistic enough, am I enough? It gets to the point where you feel like you’re drowning.
And then, as they say, Life Happens. Things change, and you find yourself without the time to worry about such things. My life smashed my thumb with a hammer and brought me back to hyper focus. I could no longer force myself to care about the things that used to occupy my mind in my youth.
I lost all interest in the things that made the Pagan Community tick. Aside from the constant fighting and outrage over the misrepresentation of the week, the addiction to study and record keeping lost its lustre for me as well. My sought after project, creating a big book of shadows to pass down to my children, became less and less important once my children actually arrived.
These days, I’d rather capture their smiles with my D80 while running in the sunshine or run with them, than think about herbal remedies or crystal healing. When my baby is cutting a tooth, I reach for the gripe water – the same brand that my mom used when I was a baby. When my little girl scrapes her knee, polysporin goes on the bandage.
There are no poultices or potions. The only thing I still really make myself is hand lotion. The only remedy I really use is honey for a sore throat.
Does this make me less a Witch? Does the lack of a practise or the lack of a solid theology make me less of a Pagan? Does it matter to me any more?
The last one I can answer: Nope.
The practises I used regularly in my youth can still be called on when needed. I can still move energy through my body with a single breath. I use it when I need it (and with a teething baby, trust me, it’s needed).
These days I don’t like to think in terms of differences. I like seeing how many “New Age” practises have been accepted into the mainstream, and just are generally accepted parts of life. I like thinking about people as fundamentally the same. We all think, we all feel, we all need.
So where does that leave us? This blog has evolved slowly over the years, and will probably continue to do so. I have been thinking about what it would take to finish the Wheel of the Year page. And whether I should keep it as a reference. Beltane is coming up. Hopefully, we will be done with snow by then. We’ll see. I have a new book I’m reading for an Animist Book Club dealie. Keep ’em peeled for a post on that.
I may or may not post more on FB. I am tending to prefer IG for my social media right now. Now that it is starting to get sunny and warm, I will have more to post. I’m also going to start-up the 52 Weeks of Calgary BP again. Stay tuned.