I went to a store for witches today. I did not buy anything, though I imagine that if I can return there, I would find something I would want enough to make a purchase. It was a bit surreal to go into a bit of rough section of town and find this fancy-dancy, come in and buy your animal skulls and your sage for smudging, sort of shop.
I thought that if I knew precisely what magick I needed right now, it would make sense to buy a candle or do something. But the magick I actually need, if I parse and think and sit with it, is just to do what I know I need to do. Clean the house, put things in order, give myself rest and care, drink more water, do anything to better myself, be up in time to see some sort of sunrise or present enough to go see a sunset. That’s magick I need first before I start summoning crows and invoking spirits for aid. Faith in self is the baseline to power any magick. The idea that I can lay an intention and see it come to life is what magick requires. So, in a way, the best witch I can be is a witch that doesn’t have a desk full of bottles and has a made bed. Let us proceed with thus in mind, so mote it be.
The magick consideration is not for me, per se, but for my desire to have clarity in my relationship with J. Is it even a relationship right now? Has it been slowly dismantled in plain view? I stew and I draw lines in the sand. I assess potential ultimatums. And then, I get a desperate call, something personal has happened that shatters a status quo that has been relied upon for him, for his good sense and comfort. This change suddenly ripples through everything in his life, all the recent shocks to the system, back to the very beginning…the very first wrong endured. His life feels insecure, unsafe, and there’s nobody to help. Still. He called me. He joked about coming out and crashing on my couch. I was very earnest. I said he could, whenever. I was very earnest and intended to do my level best to show I cared and was available and present. Thank you, he said, in that way you can’t disbelieve and then, the next day, my comforting has gone out into the wind and his mood is black. Petrifyingly so. I am as much as a gnat on the back of this elephant of thought. Then, a flicker of specific, personalized desire, desire for connection, for contact, for me. Then, silence. I do not flail, or demand, or wibble in any visible way. I do not sigh at the cavalcade of fellow well-wishers who post and social mediate the situation asserting how gladly they would befriend and be kind and support if only he’d allow them such access. I go and do and go to the witch shop wondering what this all means…and return to a message wherein I learn that he’s on something to help him sleep.
This is letting me rest and I hope, will bring a bit of Glinda into tomorrow’s tasks.