The Voice and the Void
Dec. 5th, 2006 06:26 amMonday during lunch I finally started reading Evolutionary Witchcraft by T Thorn Coyle (aka
yezida), someone I learned about from
queenofhalves. It's been a very long time since I've identified as a witch, but
queenofhalves's accounts of the focus on personal growth and development, and her own experiences with it, have impressed me. And, frankly, I've been looking for a spark to inspire me.
I certainly got what I was looking for. The Introduction alone, an account of Thorn's spiritual questing, heartened me. She has found a place now, and made it her own through depth work and bringing her own sensibilities to it, but for more than 20 years she was a wanderer, looking for "it" in a variety of traditions as she herself grew and matured.
Like me, she does not cast a circle for ritual work, she casts a sphere. I enjoyed reading her process, but when I got to the poem she uses to seal the sphere I felt resistance. The words were nice, but they certainly were not words with which I resonated.
Then it hit me: I didn't have to use her words. They were an example. I can use my own. In fact, the whole ritual she presented was for instruction and inspiration. I could take what I needed and leave the rest, and it would be okay.
For a Queen of Swords, who likes to know what is correct so I can be right, this is a huge step in maturity and confidence.
After I was finished reading, I put the book down, rested my elbows on the counter, clasped my hands, and put my forehead on my knuckles. And I reached out.
I guess I'm actually past being surprised when the response comes quickly. But this time there was an uncharacteristic chiding in the Voice: Why do you search when all your life I have been closer than your breath?
( As always, the Voice was right on. . . )
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I certainly got what I was looking for. The Introduction alone, an account of Thorn's spiritual questing, heartened me. She has found a place now, and made it her own through depth work and bringing her own sensibilities to it, but for more than 20 years she was a wanderer, looking for "it" in a variety of traditions as she herself grew and matured.
Like me, she does not cast a circle for ritual work, she casts a sphere. I enjoyed reading her process, but when I got to the poem she uses to seal the sphere I felt resistance. The words were nice, but they certainly were not words with which I resonated.
Then it hit me: I didn't have to use her words. They were an example. I can use my own. In fact, the whole ritual she presented was for instruction and inspiration. I could take what I needed and leave the rest, and it would be okay.
For a Queen of Swords, who likes to know what is correct so I can be right, this is a huge step in maturity and confidence.
After I was finished reading, I put the book down, rested my elbows on the counter, clasped my hands, and put my forehead on my knuckles. And I reached out.
I guess I'm actually past being surprised when the response comes quickly. But this time there was an uncharacteristic chiding in the Voice: Why do you search when all your life I have been closer than your breath?
( As always, the Voice was right on. . . )