I saw a meme a few weeks ago (Days? Months?) where it said “Life is saying ‘I’ll have more time in two weeks; over and over until you die.” which I of course can’t find but I can’t help but laugh and relate. I don’t remember being quite as busy since I went to college, or first had kids…I’ve been spending a lot of mornings prioritizing various work and projects, and being a little like “wait, how the heck are we midway through May” (please insert the previous 4 months, because I’ve literally said it every month this year.)
It’s now less than two weeks before The Morrigan’s Call retreat, and I have my two workshops just about ready, a meditation to clean up and some rituals to memorize. I’m at day 92 of #100DaysOfJournaling. I have my intern clients arranged, and meeting with them, as well as my supervision sessions. I’ve done a whole lot of art, and my garden is still in the process of being prepped for the season. And my usual work for my program, as well as training, and life as a mom with a very messy house.
Warning: This post will contain a lot of swearing, talk of violence, hate and ignorance.
Many of these days, I feel as though I struggle very hard with focusing. Something about the last two years has taken a toll and what might’ve been a light struggle has become a full blown hurdle. There are days where it takes me all morning to journal a single page because I have to stop, stand up, move, or do something else- my attention span feels like it’s become that of a toddler. Oh, email, what’s that in my inbox? Oh, this reminds me, I should check my assignments. Oh, my bullet journal is behind, I should update that. Did I order masks? Has that order from the shop shipped? Two hours later- there’s a single paragraph in my journal.
I have a growing list of things I can blog about, but each day becomes a fight to find some spoons and the center of a piece of paper. It’s really awful, if I’m completely honest.
It’s not a complaint, just putting it out there. Because I know I’m not the only one. I see it, I hear from so many. Figuring out how to return to normal isn’t easy, particularly since we can’t go back completely. I’ve stopped beating myself up. I’ve stopped trying to think up excuses that make me feel better and just acknowledge that I’m having a hard time, and doing my best. It’s a rollercoaster- some days, I feel like I’m getting all my ducks in a row, and other days, I’m reminded I serve a shapeshifting Goddess who turned my ducks into squirrels who ate some caffeinated nuts…
It helps to be in the right frame of mind. Knowing that I’m doing a lot, under a lot of pressure (even if it’s my own pressure!) and that I’m not at the 100% capacity I used to be has eased some of the burden. I still have days where I’m certain that the Universe is dropping down upon me (either in my head, or my chest) but taking things one day at a time, one thing at a time (or at the very least, divided into clear steps that I can tackle bit by bit)
On top of all this very normal stuff-
well, normal for a witchy polytheist, it seems like there’s a lot going on outside of my bubble- instead of being able to enjoy a very beautiful and warm Saturday morning, I ended up attending a women’s march. Now, in NY, choice is codified in our state constitution, but I still felt compelled to attend, and to provide support with my voice. I know people like to say things like “take your politics away” but sorry, folks- being a witch is political. You know what happens after the government takes away Roe v Wade? They go after the non-Christians, and the "non-normative" folk. Gays, lesbians, queer, trans, minorities, interracial marriage, pagans, atheists among a few that will be a target for silencing. We use our voices now, or risk losing them.
The March itself was small because my area is small, but the turnout was bigger than I expected. There was even a counter protest by local “religious” zealots, but that number was much much smaller. I think about 100 marchers to 10 counter protestors- and at least a third of them were kids. It felt good, to be with like-minded people, speaking their voices. So even though I was feeling sad, depressed, frustrated that here I was, on a 2022 morning fighting for the shit I shouldn’t have to fight for (the right to choose), I was also immensely grateful for the moment. It was empowering.
After I got home (and napped), I got word of what happened in Buffalo, NY. Buffalo is like my second home in my heart. I went to graduate school and lived there for 10 years. Moving away was hard, and if I had a choice, I’d be living back there today. So hearing that some racist crap pile had the audacity to do what he did, hurt like hell. I was worried for my friends that still live there. I find it ironic that certain parts of our government push for the regulation of a woman’s body to protect something that isn’t even born, but does little to protect the life of those already living. I find it sad and frightening that 10 people were simply going about their day- grocery shopping- only to be murdered because of the color of their skin.
This is where the trauma kicks in- this is where I start struggling to focus. I feel like our world is going backwards again, and instead of things getting better, they are getting worse. It’s 2022, and this is the shit that happens? It’s frustrating. It’s angering. If you aren’t angry, I don’t know what to say. This needs to stop, and yet, what can we do? (The answer is to vote. To vote for those who want to fight against this sort of violence.)
Last night was a lunar eclipse- one that left us under a gorgeous blood moon for an hour. It was powerful, and one of my thoughts at the time was whether my ancestors would’ve seen it and been afraid, or would it be auspicious. Would they see it and think it was a sign for change, a sign that bad kings and rulers needed to be taken down? Was it time for the oppressed and hurt to rise? I had no answers except for what was in my heart- and that it’s time for a change, it’s time to fight back.
Under the blood moon, I talked to my Goddess, and I prayed, and I performed a lesser banishing pentagram ritual. I saw two shooting stars, and I made a wish. But mostly, I gazed into the endless sky with all the stars and I found peace. Life is hard, made harder by hateful, controlling individuals, but I was also reassured in a way- humans have survived a lot of shit throughout history, and we’ve grown, even if just a little. (and maybe not all of us. There are definitely some individuals out there that are still neanderthal cavemen who “think” with their club.)
We can only do so much, and what we can do might not feel like it makes a difference. Our voices, our stories, our shared connection does though. We have a right to be angry when people are literally killing others because of hate. We have a right to be angry when we are told our bodies have less autonomy than a corpse, and what is a fundamentally human right being denied to us because of our biology. We have a right to be angry because it’s all a lie being told to us to hide others seeking wealth and power wanting to keep others locked into poverty and oppression.
But the important thing is that we don't give up hope. We don't despair. We fight. We might need to step back, heal, regroup and refocus. Strategies and approaches might have to change, but if we simply let it go, and give in, we lose from the start. The other important part is to remember that you aren't alone, even if you are stuck in a place that lacks support for what you are fighting for. The great thing about our times is that we have a way to reach out to those across the world. So stand up, fight if you can, rest when you are able, tend to your spirit and community and self, and connect to those that will strengthen you.