In the beginning of my time away, one of the only things that saved me was the multiple daily calls I would have with my sister. She would sit dutifully, letting me sob and trying to understand why I had isolated myself where no one knew me. She agreed that there was obviously a reason for my departure, but she wasn’t any closer to the answer than I was.
It wasn’t just dealing with internal demons. It was also about the demon I had let myself become. I’d had a short fuse, and it had only grown shorter.
Over the next weeks, small things by chance began to happen. Large scale conventions would take place not far from me. I would meet many pagan elders. These were people who felt their path and had been deeply rooted in it. They lived their path in all words and actions. Some would even come to visit and spend time. There would be lessons for me in many different areas. How all of us have the same questions and seek the truth, how some deal with grief, how some reach for, and apply, their own unique type of magic.
I had asked for my purpose. That is true. And in the spirit of “be careful of what you ask”, the Gods would accept no half-measures. I had to renew my belief down to the core of my being, and that meant paying attention to the signals, signs and words of wisdom that I would be given. For me to hear, all distractions needed to be at a bare minimum.
I began to write incantations and practice spell casting. Twice a day, I devoted specific time for reflection, prayer and other meditations. I learned gratitude for the morning sun and the evening moon. With each passing day, my belief grew, and my strength would build.
My sister and I were still talking several times a day. Now in better spirits, we would spend a great deal of time cracking each other up. During one of these conversations we wondered, if anyone could listen to our conversations, would they be amused as well?
We agreed that it was worth a shot. It would be the two of us, just talking about the normal things we would discuss. The point of it would be to show that we are as normal as non-pagans (and an excuse to talk on Friday nights as well.). We wanted to debunk the typical stereotypes to which people were normally exposed. Within two weeks, she had made all the arrangements. We had a show. The original title was “Witches In Stitches”. That name was soon dropped in favor of “Desperate House Witches”.
More time passed, and I realized that the time of isolation was coming to a close. As the end of a year would come, the desire to go home grew in strength as well. But I had to ask, if I did go home, would I lose everything I had worked so hard for? It was a true concern for me that I would revert back and the thread would be gone again. But I learned that I needed to live my path no matter where I was, who I was with, or what the daily distractions were. I endeavored to be less concerned with reactions, put a kinder (albeit, self-protective) foot forward, and go once again where the Gods would direct me.
That was over three and a half years ago. I’m happy to say Desperate House Witches is still on the air, and I am still very much on the path (and getting more rooted everyday).
Until next time, may you be blessed by the Gods.