Little Synchronicities

I've always been a proponent and practitioner of synchromysticism, even before I had a word to affix to it; it ties in with my perception of magick as the art of probability enhancement and coincidence management. My ability in these arenas varies, largely dependent on my energy levels and where my attentions are focused, but sometimes it snaps back to the forefront of my consciousness in obvious and unsubtle ways. When it does, I know to attend to it, because that's when things happen.

Last month I started watching the new MCU series WandaVision on Disney+, and is often the way for me, it quickly shifted from diversion to a deep-dive into a minor obsession. Things like this invariably open channels of inquiry and imagination for me, and I've learned over a lifetime of Being Like This to just go wholeheartedly into it and see where it takes me. Along the way, connections are formed and, to quote Tolkien (I think), way leads on to way. And along the way, there are signposts. Synchronicities. That's how you know you're on the right path.

A week or so ago, already fully enwrapped in Wanda Maximoff's journey of owning and controlling her power, I was doing my weekly(ish) reading with my combo oracle deck, The Well-Worn Path/Hidden Path. The card that flipped up that morning was this one, the Fire card: 

A red-haired woman, dressed in red, with a spiral of fire-red energy emanating from the palms of her hands. Huh. That reminds me of something...

(Yes, I realize her jacket reads more purple than red in this photo, but work with me here)

A little synchronicity, enough to make me sit back and go "Huh. That's interesting." Around that same time, something happened that came as a sad surprise, the sort of thing that makes you contemplate concepts like Life and Death and Meaning and so forth. Because those themes were present in my current fandom focus, they wove easily into my observations of what happened (it was the sudden death of an older work colleague, if you're wondering). Then something else happened, and then something else happened, and at the end of that chain came a thing that made me understand that I was coming in to my own power, both magickal and mundane (assuming there's even a divide), on a new level. My card reading this morning amplified it, and today's passage from my favorite daily meditation book further clarified and sealed it.

Synchronicities. Coincidences combining, probabilities turning to actualities. This is why I do what I do, this is because I am who and what I am. The takeaway? Pay attention. There are always signposts along the way. What moves you, motivates you, inspires and inflames you, right now? No matter what it is, no matter how mundane or "silly" it seems, look at it, let it lead you down into the depths of your imagination and then see where you end up. 

Imbolc

photo http://www.thegypsythread.org

 February Eve has come, bringing with it just enough warmth and rain to wash away the last of January's snow. Now begins the up and down dance of February, cold this day, warm the next, snow here, rain there, the tug of war between winter and spring. Beyond my window the sky is a soft grey-blue, and what was white yesterday is now a soggy greenish brown. If the rains promised for today were to stop long enough to allow me a walk in nature, I might see signs of life just beginning, the tenderest soft shoots of green just barely breaking the surface; those little hints of life are sustenance enough for me, at this time of year.

For years we've joked about how Imbolc is the sabbat that everyone always skips, because the weather is always wretched. It's true enough that my coven isn't meeting for the sabbat this year, but it's less because of the weather (which is, admittedly, fairly wretched per usual) than because of the ongoing pandemic. The virus that has reshaped our world over the past year has also reshaped itself, appearing in some new and more easily transmissible variants; and while vaccines do now exist, not everyone is able to get one yet, as they are being rolled out in phases with the more vulnerable being first to receive them. It could be well into the spring or even summer before I'm eligible, with the same being true of most of my coveners. And so we wait, as the earth waits, for the return of light and life and hope and all those things that are promised by the spring's awakening.

Yuletide

 May the reborn sun bring a little warmth into this world. 

Yule log tutorial

Samhain

 

Passages

Back in January, drummer Neil Peart of the band Rush died, and in the wake of that, I started binge-listening; I'd always liked the band, but in the aftermath of Mr. Peart's death, I came to love them. And out of all those songs, one in particular grabbed and held me, to the point that I found myself listening to it multiple times a day, even hearing it in my mind upon waking and sleeping. The song is called "Time Stand Still."

Turns out it was a prophetic song, as the world I knew was about to be changed, in ways both temporary and permanent. The pandemic, of course, has brought some of those changes; another change is in progress now, as one of my beloved cats transitions from this life into whatever comes next. At the moment, I'm feeling the helpless dumb disbelief that is rather preferable to the other state, which is a panoply of wretched emotions held together by bitter weeping. Being a witch and understanding the cycles of life and death doesn't make the pain any lighter, or the loss less acute. In days to come, my spiritual life will (I hope) be a source of renewed strength and comfort as I grapple with the space his absence leaves in my life; but for this moment, I can't summon the strength to so much as light a candle. I will, in time. Right now, I wait, and I grieve.

"Freeze this moment a little bit longer," says the song; "make each impression a little bit stronger. Experience slips away." Please do, if you can. Because of the song, I remembered to do so, a little.

We're All Solitary Witches

And just like that, the world changed.

Not long after my last post, we started hearing about an emerging virus causing first localized, then more widespread infections in China. Fast-forward four months and we're now in a global pandemic, a situation of a magnitude never before seen in our lifetime (well, save that of a handful of centenarians who lived through the 1918 Spanish Flu outbreak). Regular life has changed--schools, businesses, restaurants, nearly all forms of outward public life are closed indefinitely--and with that, our spiritual lives have changed as well. However active we might have been even a month ago with coven or grove or meetup or moot, today we're all solitaries again, even as we strive to turn social media platforms into ways to keep in contact with our chosen spiritual families.

Both the Wiccan trads I am connected to have provisions for the individual practicing alone. I personally have the added advantage of living with/being married to my magickal partner, so we have the option of working together as well as separately during this indefinite period of social isolation. Most everyone has access to books and the internet to guide them into developing a personal praxis (which you should already have done anyway, pandemic or not). We've all got a lot more time on our hands now thanks to COVID-19, so what are you waiting for?

These are weird times--wyrd times. Paganfolk like to talk about liminal states, but this is what it feels like when the whole world we know slips sideways into one. The earth is changing because of this. People are changing because of this. I can think of no better time than now to get grounded in your practice, reconnect (or connect for the first time) with the spirits of the land you're on, get in touch with the ancestors, get in touch with your gods. Develop a simple daily rite, if you don't have one already, even if it's something as simple as just pulling a Tarot card. Magick won't make the virus go away, but it can strengthen you and shape the ways you respond to the situation in which we now collectively find ourselves. Being grounded, being rooted, spiritually makes a profound impact on our ability to contend with what mundane life throws at us. We need that right now in ways that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago.

Following John Beckett's suggestion, I've started keeping a plague diary, a handwritten personal memoir of life during the pandemic, and it's a discipline I highly recommend. Not only is it helpful to write out what you're feeling and experiencing, but it gives you something to look back upon later, and something for those who come after to look to and learn from. I've found myself looking into personal accounts of life during the flu epidemic in 1918 to see what we can learn from them. All of us have ancestors who lived through that--we wouldn't be here otherwise--and now is a good time to try making contact with them. Some day we ourselves will be those ancestors that our descendants, physical or spiritual, will turn to when their worlds erupt.

Above all else, stay home, stay well, stay sane. Wash your hands. Wear a mask (you can easily make your own with a bandanna and two hair ties). Social distance of 6 feet when you must go out. As the governor of my state tells us in his daily briefing, we will get through this together. I believe that. Stay strong, my friends.

New Year, New Title

As my focus has shifted over the past couple of years, and my admittedly sporadic posts took on a different tone, I came to the conclusion that it was time to change the name of the blog. When I started it lo these many years ago, my intention was to write about capital-W Witchcraft, the sort of bats-cats-and-hats stuff I came to call Classic Witchcraft. And while that is still entirely appealing to me, the fact remains that I'm more focused these days on my practice as a traditional Wiccan--a practice which encompasses Witchcraft in all its lovely permutations.

The title is Scots Gaelic, which honors a part of my ancestry, while the subject matter--the harp and the sword--honors two of my interests, along with the deeper symbolism inherent therein, which I invite the reader to ponder as they will.