Village Witcheries

Y helo thar blogspot. We has not spoked at each other in a while. No point now in trying to say why; Now is the only thing that's Real, as Uncle Chuck would remind me. Where's now?

Now is two years away from 2012. Now is a world in which half the people i know don't have jobs and half of those who do are underemployed or hate what they're doing. Now is a world in which our national resources have been and are being squandered by the fistful in pursuit of the dead dreams of cold-war kids grown to treacherously myopic adulthood. Now the robber barons grow fat and gluttonous on our despair. Now is a moment - THE moment - in which we can, we must make a change.

Now, viewed through one set of lenses, is pretty effing grim - but i don't wear those glasses. What is reality? A peacock on a darkened winter lawn? Perhaps. The edges of reality seem to me to fray and tatter the closer we look. Of course there are those, those same selfish aging children, who prefer we never get close enough to the worn and ravelled bits to notice. They dangle an endless parade of Shiny Bits and String, luring us back to the cable corrals constructed to keep the sheeple penned and hemmed. Is there any safe thing we can stream from the idiot box? i wonder. i fail to trust anything too mass produced, taking the Smiley Face Principal as my guide: the more pieces there are of a thing, the more its energies are dissipated. Ov course a symbol can also be a 'physical' repository for emotional charging, so no matter how many swastikas there are, for instance, they're unlikely to ever become as trite as the Golden Arches.

But Now, another set of lenses are at hand. While the world is no more likely to end Dec 21, 2012 than at Y2K or Oct. 22, 1844, the potential for it to *change* is strongly at hand - if for no other reason than people expect it to. Whether enough people expect this strongly enough to create any true and lasting change is very much open to speculation - but for the sake of argument, i am going to proceed As If it were possible.

"Once - Majik was real, and thee Veil between the worlds was thin. And our people of the shadow worlds, the dream realms and fantasy dimensions dwelled in the woodlands, oceans, and ancient ruins of this world. They called us angels, faeries, demons or fair folke. We gave inspiration to the humans so that they may be creative: we are the dream-makers, the shadow weavers, the myth-catchers.

Now, as the natural world dies and humans lose their faith in magic, we are retrating back to our home worlds or shifting for a short time into changelines. For we see that humans no longer believe. And when magic dies, the Dreaming dies; and when the Dreaming dies, so does all the beauty of this world both dark and light. When magic goes out of this world, we go with it - and while you may not notice our passing, you shall know that we are gone by the greyness, the drab sameness of your world in our absence.

We do not wish to leave this world to its tears, its greyness. We therefore invite you to join us in a short yet sacred ritual containing magic both beautiful and ghastly. It matters not whether what you see are illusions or of the supernatural. Only Belief is important. Only Belief can keep the Dreaming alive."

Is this story Real? Is a thought of a unicorn a Real thought? (And what *about* those colorless green ideas, hm?) The fact is, as we discovered on the train, man, tomorrow never really happens. Its all the same fucking day, man. Yeah i lifted that too, but its an early version (to me) of the same truth. Who is the artist that makes the grass green? And what color is an orange, really?

It is in pursuit of the answers to these and other questions that i follow the flickering will-o-the-wisp that dares to call itself my destiny. i have stepped off a cliff, in perfect love and graveyard dust, in trust a cartoon cloud would rise beneath my feet. As long as i *believe* myself to be walking on solid ground, i am able to cross thee abyss. Is this True? Does it matter? Tho five minutes from now i may fall to lose it all, right now, just for today, this minute, this instant that shall never come again - i am in thee air.

At Samhain i wove a spell. Short and small, i did not complete all the parts that suggested themselves to me for fear of binding. But the shrine i honored and the prayer i spoke seem to have led to subtle yet definite variations - i am more and more certain i no longer inhabit the 'same' universe as this time last year. Of course one could argue that every breath creates a new world; but this is the far side of the butterfly effect. eXistenZ is not paused, but i have left a game within a game within. i need not name here thee energies i have invoked; one may look at me and judge, or ask me in the heart of the vortex. Suffice to say i feel thee dark hand ov chance steering me towards a stranger, truer, more active path than i have walked before.

i choose and guide as ever by signs and portents. A strong one - too strong, perhaps? - fell literally a week before the Solstice; an omen i've yet to fully interpret. i know only that i am Called ever more strongly: manifest-manifest-manifest. That my absurd and lunatic optimism must carry me every furthur on - and so, somehow, it does. At every turn, fall of near-crisis, something comes through and i am granted one more cloud, travel that much closer to thee far side ov this abyss. Only Belief is important, and the more i allow mySELF to believe, the more Belief itself is - sufficient.

My way now weaves a path i have not yet walked. It runs not so beside the track i walked before, tho' that still lies near (only two days away). i do not Know already where this path may lead; it is unlike thee other, unlike any other i've danced - but dance it i must. i could shy and hie me away, back to the safety of the known - but i would lose the cloud that carries me forward. My fingers know this better than i. By making this choice with eyes as open as i can, i seem also to have accessed something new. Something true. Thee ability to make things happen on a scale i've not dared touch - and perhaps beyond that, to a scale i don't yet dare perceive (but have, in sleepless dream). Time was - time is - time shall be no more.

i don't believe that has anything to do with this post directly, other than i'm listening to Current 93, Coil, Zoviet France as i write. Then again - perhaps it does. Perhaps as i step off, and step off, and step off into ever-deeper (yet narrower) abysses, to fall more slowly and less far each time; perhaps time is turning in to space.

i am become the Village Witch. For a particular village and a particular tribe; tho i've allegiances with other tribes and from time to time i have obligations to fulfill with them as well. This holiday season tested and proved both those things: as is ever the case, my presence was requested more places than i could manage to be. Well, that's social gadfly normal; but this year it seemed that i was tending to, and celebrating with, my flock at every turn.

Claiming this title feels arrogant to me; o right. What makes *me* thee old wise womyn - after all, its not like i'm the only pagan in the neighborhood. Certainly not the most initiated. And how do i even KNOW i am; just cause i've not encountered another? i don't, quite honestly. In fact, to my eyes there are unsuspected sages more places than you'd think; but they're unsuspected. Whereas i'm Out There, and the more i state this for the record, the more the universe/my tribe seems to be taking me up on it.

And so the road goes ever on. i lead a life of music, dance, spirit, theater and art, in thee absurd belief that i SHOULD be able to do so; that this is Just and Right and will somehow fall into place because. In the Now of wolf-thought, i have let go and let God/dess, and this is where S/He has brought me. One foot extended in the snake dance.