Wednesday, April 05, 2006

The Book of Shadows

The Witch keeps a diary, a diary of shadows, where he or she writes down everything experienced beyond the mundane life. The book is always thick as a brick, as mist, because the life of a witch is so eventful and so beyond interesting that there will always, every new day and night be new things to write about, to recall and tell. One second in a witch’s life is more exciting than a hundred years of a mundane existence. A witch documents his or her life, because his or her life is worth documenting, and sharing with others.

A witch is a seeker, seeking knowledge and understanding and experience beyond boundaries, beyond narrow interpretations of Life. And thus such a person also seeks kindred souls, inevitably, because there is strength in numbers and joy in sharing. A book of shadows, even though it is quite personal for any given witch, can be shared among many, not only through the course of one lifetime, but through generations. And it is. What we do in life echoes in Eternity, whether we write it down or not.

We are piles of experience, growing ourselves.

I sit here, in my dark attic, making my Magick. There is power in spells, if they come from that place of fire within, where we all burn and boil. Power rests within a Human Being, not outside us. Words, enchantments, spells, crystal balls, tarot and everything of what I call crutches are useless without the fire burning in us all. This is a Fire way beyond the physical, one to rival the Universe itself, because it is the very Universe made flesh.

Witches have invented aid through the ages, various conduits, various ways to focus Power, but they are not really necessary, and once a witch realizes this, they can be quite useful.

I reach out to the Fire, reach back into the distant past, distant future, the night of future past, now, where I hold all that in my hand, and transform myself. There is a sound, a cry in the night. I throw my bait into the boiling river of time and Shadow.

I sit here, by my table of wood and mist, with my bell and book and candle, calling to Eternity.

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