Witchvox Article

Author: Crick [a WitchVox Sponsor]
Posted: April 19th. 2009
Times Viewed: 1,815

On this springtime morning I find myself walking alongside a bubbling stream, deep within the embrace of the forest. As I pause and listen, I can hear the voices of the many who have gone before me. Desires sought and memories created as the chorus of life sings its song through the voice of this wooded wonderland.

Ahead of me lies a rocky gorge, over which several waterfalls cascade with a determined purpose, undeterred by the challenges that lie before them. Undines can be seen gleefully playing hide and seek amongst the clear cold spray which glistens with the colors of the rainbow.

For a moment I am reminded of the challenges that those of us who embrace the mystic ways, face from those of our own species. But as the stream surges forth over the mighty boulders that it encounters, so shall those who truly believe in themselves. Off in the distance a Robin begins to sing it�s mating song. And suddenly I hear the strange voice of a Dryad as she adds her own words to the chorus.

It is a song so complex and filled with ancient mysteries that it cannot be explained. And then without restraint I too begin to sing along. The awareness of birth, life, death and rebirth goes surging through my soul.

As a witch, the need to connect with a reality unblemished by the hand of man is almost overwhelming. Slowly, the awareness of the springtime breeze as it caresses my brow brings a sense of peace and contentment. With a slow, deep breath I restrain my urge to shout out my thanks to our Sacred Mother whose touch I can readily feel. As the Sylphs go gliding quietly by there remains the knowledge that our mother resides deep within our hearts and thus she needs no such display.

Here deep in the forest, I am as one with myself, for I walk this earth as a witch.

The anxieties of a world lost are but a distant memory, though it is but a heartbeat away. On this spring morning, I realize that life is a creation of the mind, but that eternity is a reality that is forever etched in time. It is much like the shadows, hidden in the crevices of the boulders, which line this woodland stream. Just in sight but out of reach as the wonders of each shadow await discovery.

As I sit down along the edge of the stream, my hand reaches out to touch the awakening earth. Deep within its layers lays a sense of stability that course up through my arms. It is an inner strength that belies the fragile nature of our being. We fill our lives with self imposed complexities, but the truth is so much simpler. The answers that we seek are contained within our spirit.

Like the fiercely independent hawk soaring so high up above in the deep azure sky, we but need to find the strength to break free of our own earthly restraints. Such are the thoughts that this old witch bears on this spring time morning. And yet as I look out at the surrounding forest, visions of those from so long ago begin to fill my mind�s eye. What were their fears and desires? Were they so different from our own today?

I begin to think of the first pagans who became blinded to the will of the Gods. What were their thoughts? What caused them to turn away from the seeking of the mysteries of life that are spread about like pieces of a mysterious puzzle? For such lost souls began to lose the ability to hear the calling deep within their souls. In fear of the unknown they created false religions in order to become lost in the masses of the deaf and dumb.

For the voice of deity became drowned out by the pleating cries of man. The souls of these frightened children became mired in the muck of ignorance. Their spiritual growth becoming stunted as they lose the will to walk as individuals. For the will of the Gods is not a lesson taught en masse. To each is a life of seeking and the need to understand that which is just beyond our ken.

But as I look about the forest with it silent voice waiting to be heard, a comprehension of the wiles of man begins to set in. Religion is an enclave created by man as a shelter for those who have lost their will to face their fear of the unknown. It is a refuge for those who have lost the strength to surge forward in search of answers to their very existence and thus their place in the grand scheme of life.

Religion has become a resting place for those who have decided and indeed are encouraged to deny and thus ignore the will of the Gods. For is it not the will of Deity, that humans seek out that which they don�t understand and perhaps fear? Is it not the true nature of a pagan to walk upright as an individual in search of the light hidden within the darkness?

Many there will be who shall call themselves pagan and yet they simply mouth the words of man. They are content to bear the name but lacking in the spiritual fire that feed the flames of any genuine urge to seek out the will of the Gods. But then judgment of others is not the province of any one human, for ultimately we shall each answer to a power much greater then ourselves.

Off in the distance I can see a blue heron quietly standing on one leg as it contemplates on thoughts hidden from the world. It is then that this tired old witch realizes that we are each responsible for our own destiny and thus our denial or acceptance of the will of the Gods. We each must decide whether to give our individual wills over to the blinded masses that form into the static path that humans call religion or do we reach within and find the will to be pagans.

For it is such individuals who will keep the flame of spiritual discovery brightly lit. And so I silently give praise to the Gods for allowing my spirit to follow the path of witchcraft in lieu of the artificial path of man. For it is the will of the Gods, that will define my existence within this realm rather than the artificial offerings of man.

ABOUT...

Crick

Location: Manheim, Pennsylvania

Website: http://whisperingwood.homestead.com

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