I laugh as the wind blows the long curls off of my daughter’s face and she smiles at the gentle touch. “Thank you, Wind Spirit!” I say.
My mother is visibly uncomfortable. She prefers to thank the God that made the wind. Which. In my opinion, is kind of like saying thanks to God instead of the chef that made your food because God made the chef. Which, while technically true, is also kind of rude.
Then again, she has also definitely been friends with people who thought it was appropriate to leave those little Christian preaching notes as tips, so – rudeness is definitely a different thing to them.
But here’s the thing, I don’t think the Wind Spirit is separate from the Goddess who made it. I just think its easier for me to converse with and understand a Wind Spirit than it is with me to understand and converse with an infinite being of many planes who is so far beyond me I can’t even fathom it. So I talk to the Wind Spirit. And the Water Spirit. And the Spirit of our home. The Spirit of the land. Understanding that they are all one and the same. Separate and together.
In the same way that Goddess and I are not truly separate. But perhaps, not truly together either. Humanity has its oddities and mysteries. The Christian mystics used to know this. But now, if it’s not an old English translation that was butchered by an angry King to suit his needs and fuel the sexism and desperate need to legitimize white supremacist power grabs – it must be demonic.
For the longest time, I felt like I had abandoned Christianity, but as I remember more about the history of this complex faith, I feel like I’m beginning to understand that I just abandoned what old white men said about Christianity. I refused to force the Spirit inside into the small box assigned to it.
Over and over again the prophets, understanding Goddess far more than the priests, were still killed by them for blasphemy. How this unholy body of ‘patriots’ and ‘militia’ think that they are the only true believers – speaks volumes to just how much they do not understand their own history.
I didn’t abandon my Goddess. I abandoned the idea that I was by nature evil and wrong, and the only way to atone was blind obedience – not to the Goddess – but to men who claimed Her power. I abandoned the idea that I needed any intermediary between myself and my Goddess. I abandoned the idea that my Goddess was anything other than entirely Herself.
And ffs, I set on fire the idea that my Goddess gives a single fuck about ‘borders’. Or that She is indifferent to white supremacy. Or that She loves unborn babies more than Mexican toddlers. Or that She respects white fear more than Black Lives. Or that women should be obedient to ANYONE. Or that gender is a Goddess construct. Or that Jesus said anything about sexual orientation. The list goes on.
So I will always be a Witch. A woman who is her own and communes with the Goddess as the Goddess calls – and not by the prescription of any other, be it mother or preacher, lover or friend. I will see beyond. I will dream, and pray, and cast, and light candles, and read cards, and meditate and stretch and talk to trees. Because that is how I Witch. To Witch is to live as a free woman.
To Witch is not to turn your back to your Goddess – but to finally, finally see her face to face.