When the Words Aren’t There…

There are times when something that is such a normal part of your life becomes distant. It’s still there, only the edges have become hazy and there’s an air of memory to it, like something half-forgotten yet would almost be tangible if you could only wrap your fingers about it and draw it closer. But like smoke, it remains unattainable and subject to the faintest of breezes… Grasping fingers slide through the air and come back wanting.

​We’re not supposed to talk about the fallow times -those periods where the voices of Gods and spirit allies grow quiet. There’s this perceived sense of weakness, that you’ve somehow “lost” your mojo or that the Gods have forsaken you, whatever that Christian guilt-laden statement is supposed to mean… Yet these moments are an essential part of any relationship any of us will cultivate with a God or spirit. The way of the world is to be caught up in cycles. Times of plenty, times of hunger. The rise and fall of a leaf on the wind. As creatures of the world, we, too, are caught up in cycles.

All of us will experience these times. All relationships ebb and wane and have their moments when communication is difficult and frustrating. Sometimes the Moon is in Pisces and nothing works and you fucking hate everything. But things change. And that change serves a deep need within us if we have a hand in it; as witches, we should strive to always have a hand in the changes in our life.

For weeks now I have been… frustrated. I’m coming out of it now, but this time is not so far gone that it can’t still be smelled upon my skin. The surging of the Spring tide came, ushering forth great currents of energy, and I found myself unable to see the course anymore. I couldn’t feel the patterns about me. The course of events that was so easy to feel out had vanished and I still don’t know if it’s because those options have been made impossible or because I’m so close to them that that’s why I can’t see/feel them anymore.

My Lady will not speak to me. She had been standoffish and annoyed, but now She is silent. She has nothing to say; She’s already said everything that needs to be said. My familiars, too, are quiet. What could they have to add? She had already spoken. I have work to do and they will not enable me to be distracted or divert energy to other tasks.

And yet, for as much as those spirits have cloaked themselves in silence, there are flashes of spirits about me, transient spirits that I spy just outside the house, walking the lonely night paths. I don’t know where they’re going or why they pass so closely in the night, but there they are …when nothing else and No One else is so clearly noted.

But this time is passing. The fallow time has come to a close and now I’m in that moment when the seed lays dormant in the earth, so deeply asleep that even the strongest of dreams can’t reach it. This is a bone-deep pause, the moment before the building that leads to the burst. But it’s not yet that time.

I’ve pulled myself together. These times have a way of… shaking things up within us. They break us out of patterns of monotony, where devotion became habit and action became half-thought. They shake everything loose, tossing up the dust and leaving you choking, flailing, without words because what would you say? They Who would speak have already said all that needs to be said. But the raging winds of Spring have blown free the dust. The air is clear, and so, now, is my sight.

Their words still won’t come, but the glances have grown softer. I’m doing what I can to follow through on what has been said, finding time when there is none to do what has been asked of me. Funny thing, if you ask a God if They want something of you, and They say no, but you keep asking if They would like something of you, eventually, They will demand it. And more.

But the course is revealing itself. Some of the dust that has been cleared had gathered on the map. There is a path starting to reveal itself, and there’s so very much to be done. I’ve a new devotional schedule to adopt, a statue to create, and an identifying mark to finally make good on.

Sometimes we create our own spiritual struggles. And all the worry, bemoaning, and divination won’t fix a thing. It only escalates the pain, forcing us to see what we’ve done, to see the only way forward, and to be left with only one option. Such a fallow time was the way I inadvertently forced myself to stop fucking around and to choose to do the things I thought I needed to be asked to do.

2018: Take Yourself Seriously.