Druids and Witches all over the world and from all states of being
and knowing have been pointing me in one direction these last few days and I am thankful that they all exsist in my sphere of cognition for they assure me that not only am I never truly alone
but that we’re all not more than one thing which thing I call Goddess.
How incredibly vain it is of us to struggle with each other’s faults, just for all the world as if they were not our very own. The faults, and each other.
I don’t see worldpeace heaving over the horizon, but I do see a glimmering possibility of world understanding. Of world empathy and world knowing that what you are, that I am too. And where you are, there am I,too.
And what you destroy, I am involved in that killing, too. And what you love I, too, am in love with.
Summer has arrived down south at last, and I raise a glass of cranberry-and-cherry juice to you all,my other selves, going down into winter.
My wonderful partner stereotypically forgot my birthday on Thursday and bought me a surprise altar on Saturday. It stands in a west-facing position and is dedicated to scrying, distance and many-person magic, and the shedding of those poisonous habits I still manage to cling to.
Hecate, obviously, has full dominion over it.