2007-10-07 1:48 p.m.
Dancing Through the Witchwood, We Began to Sing...
For the lyrically impaired, or those who just want to sing along:
Cartouche
If I share this with you, never speak a word
They would never understand if they ever heard
Gemini, Capricorn, rising in the east
Dancing through the witchwood, we began to sing...In between dark and light, in the underworld,
Wrapped around your finger like a string of pearls
Smiling face, empty hand, seven golden rings
Dancing through the starlight, we began to sing...Ah, still I hear the whisper..."Cartouche" Caramel colored leaves spiral in the air
Diving right into the ground, 'round the winding stair
Stories carved out of wood, jester and the king
Dancing through the moonlight, we began to sing...Ah, still I hear the whisper..."Cartouche" Memories, black and white, hide behind the glass
In the mirrors and the smoke, it's all fading fast
Written word, turn the card, Winter into Spring
Dancing through the witchwood, we began to sing...
I love that song. It sounds like Halloween to me. And since it's October, it's time to start busting out the Halloween stuff.
That song makes me want to dance. There's a pagan ring here on campus, where some kids built a stone ring for their pagan celebrations, where two of my friends and I went last year in February. We spent most of the night there, dancing and singing and running around, just being free and happy. The next day one of our other friends had a seizure and things went to hell, but that night is crystallized in my memory as one of the few perfect moments of my life.
So there you have it.
Yesterday I spent the day with a friend, and somewhere we got off on the subject of the many ways in which we're messed up, and all of the issues we have. It was quite the conversation. I felt totally drained afterward. It's hard to reveal so much of yourself to someone you actually know.
I have a lot of problems. I sort of know why I have them, where they came from, but I don't know how to deal them. The fact that I can't remember most of my life to this point, either, doesn't help much. I'm sort of scared of facing most of these parts of myself down, but I'm more afraid of not. You know?
And then Halloween is coming up. It's always been my favorite holiday. I love the magic and mystery that are tied up with it. I love how it's the holiday I've always celebrated with friends, laughing and frolicking.
There are so many things that are confusing about life. So many things that I'm always unsure about. And half the time I say things knowing they're not true, especially about what I believe. Not so much here, I'm very careful to only tell the truth in my journals, but in conversations with people.
This is most obvious when people talk to me about religion.
The more time that passes, the more and more I realize that I'm a pagan. Not a witch, I'm not that specific. But the idea that there's more than one god out there somewhere is one that makes sense to me...as does the idea that those gods are just faces of each other, like sides of a coin. And yet I'm still claiming not to have any belief on the matter to my friends, Christian, Witch, Buddhist, and Atheist alike.
I believe in magic. I believe in my tarot cards (which have proven right one time too many, without ever being proven wrong, leading me to now refuse to read for myself or for anyone's futures. I only read for other people's present). I believe in reincarnation and the cycles of time. But the only place I can even express this to myself is in my journals.
At the same time, I am pretty much incapable of believing in anything. I can't really believe in people, because I didn't grow up with reliable people who I felt I could trust. I only began trusting friends at the end of high school. I only began trusting people with the three girls I think of as my sisters.
They believe in magic and all that, too, but none of us know what to call our ecclectic beliefs. The problem mostly stems from two trying desperately not to believe in anything, kinda like me, and the third was raised Christian.
I sound crazy.
Maybe I am. I want so much to believe in something, maybe that's what all this is. But then October rolls around and the air smells like cinnamon and burning leaves. The wind feels like whispers and magic. The sun is warm and honey gold, but chill and crystal at the same time. And no matter how rational I felt in September, something about October calls me back to the old Celtic and Norse legends that I love, to dreams of places and times I could never have seen, to magic and mystery, to tarot cards in candlelight (forbidden though it is in the dorms), to singing and dancing with friends in a pagan ring under the full moon in the meadow.
I suppose I should just content myself with the thought that, even if this is just a flight of fancy and I'm truly just nuts, at least I'm nuts in a way that makes life more beautiful and makes me happier, rather than in the many unhappy-making ways one could be nuts. I should also probably be happy that it lends me such wonderful fodder for the stories I write (and yes, Jane, you can have the first signed copy of my first published novel, should I ever get to that point.).
So happy October. Go out and feel the magic. Dance through the nearest witchwood, and if you don't have one, pretend you do.
Hugs.
PS- This template is minorly irritating at times in the formatting arena (what with centering, italics, etc., so if there are weird formatting issues, that's why. Oh, and because quizzes are amusing:
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