I spend too much time alone these days, or only with my wife. Don’t get me wrong, Kate is wonderful to talk to, and we chew over mythology and symbolism most productively. I have some stuff I want to write up about Maenads from our last conversation about that. But she’s not terribly witchy.
Last night, for the first time in many months, I went out to a party. A friend insisted. It was the 40th birthday of another friend, one I cared about, but hadn’t seen in person in at least two years. (There are a lot of people I haven’t seen in person since the restaurant closed.) And I had a really great time. It was wonderful to get out and be around people and talk and hang out. At some point, I remembered I had Crossing the River in my bag and pulled it out and went around showing people. One friend, a writer himself, actually sat down in the middle of the party to read my piece, and told me how good he thought it was, and how beautiful my language was. It’s a high compliment, coming from him.
But best of all, there were witchy people there. Jillian, who’s a hedgewitch, and Mila, who’s also a Hecatean, especially. The three of us gabbled and plotting and snarked a bit. There may have been a cackle or two. I now owe Jilli a “witchy cheese plate,” owing to an online exchange a few days ago, and my brain is bubbling nicely on the idea. Mila, meanwhile, is writing a book about Captain Hook, and this morning as I did my tarot study, the conversation we had last night and the work I was in the middle of collided, and now we’re collaborating on a Neverneverland Tarot, which has my mind on a different simmer. I now have to go read the book, as it’s been many years.
Projects are good, but even better was simply to talk with people who understood, who knew what I meant when I talked about using the stories, of building your cabin in the dark woods, who understood the magic in reaching out and taking hold of things, of walking through graveyards. It was good to talk to sister witches, is all.
Pardon me, I’m going to go take that walk in the graveyard.