SHE GRANTS PERMISSION. The witch. What i am, what i do…is real. is enough. right now. with dirt under my ragged nails and my eyes bagged and of two different size. IS as the gesture, the effort, the being. That is why Witch appeals to me. Somewhere, always, i know it is already true. I am already worthy. Here is not yet another endless self-improvement quest toward becoming some coveted projection. Witch stands on what i already, inherently am, what I do naturally. I don’t have to spend the rest of my life reaching for what is ever out-of-reach; I am, in fact, beseeched, commanded, OBLIGATED not to.
Witch doesn't wait for permission. SHE GRANTS IT. She knows spirituality is not an accessory.
She isn’t waiting to get certified in one more thing. She isn’t wondering if she’s reached a high enough level. She has begun and is offering generously from where she is. She edits, but only just enough to clarify her articulations. She isn’t crafting an image of perfection. She isn't concerned with adding lines to her CV. She gives voice to what she is and does, the culmination of her experience. She is giving birth to what has come to term.
So I touch myself, sometimes tentatively, sometimes, (often) with a bit of cringe. The bones underneath the soft skin of my face, here, meeting the atmosphere, as it has been since the day i was born, (despite infinite attempts to mould it into a screen image with just the right amount of teeth and confidence and perfectly lively hair). This is my aliveness, my incarnation, as it has been brought to being by forces beyond me, of me. What is it I don't like about her, and her and her? They are my sisters; they are me. Why not permit them their humanity? Allow the ugliness and suffering and shame - embrace them as experience, as the path itself. Humbling. Necessary. Sacred. Teaching through experience that i am vulnerable…therein lies my potency.
What is it to live as the human that I am?
Witch.