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The bitch about being a witch

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You can see every glass ceiling from here to eternity. You know what each layer represents, and what will happen when you start bumping up against each one. You know you will break through them. You sometimes struggle to be patient, to understand that the rewards on the other side of that ceiling not only have to be earned, but will only be fully appreciated when they're gleaned the hard way. No shortcuts. The entire journey is an exercise in much more than patience; it is almost like an exercise in spiritual temperance. Others on similar journeys will get frustrated when you fall behind, or forge ahead, of where they are on their own path- we are social creatures that cherish common ground, after all.


Peering through all the layers of glass, you see who you will eventually become. The longer you stay engaged in this dance, the more you like that future-you. The strength you employ now will eventually bloom into a powerful sense of self-possession. The resilience that has gotten you this far will slowly transform into a harmony with yourself and the universe that is breathtaking in its completeness. You begin to understand- really understand- where you come from, who came before you, who you are now, and why you were meant to become the individual you will be after many tomorrows have passed.


But for now, you keep plodding along the crooked path, sometimes forging ahead despite the obstacles, while other times stopping to rest and listen to the whispered secrets and wisdom. The eyes are always watching...from the puddles, from the trees, from the clouds. Watching to see how you will handle the gifts and the traumas and the quiet times. They judge and punish- or reward- at their own leisure, with recourse being as uncommon as it is unnecessary. Occasionally, some of the shadows slink onto the path with you, offering guidance that develops more and more meaning the farther along that you travel. Other times, you come across creatures who reject any affiliation with linear time, social decorum, and other laughably narrow-minded human constructs. You begin to realize that, in this realm of life and death and the Other, there is no end.


And then you break through that glass ceiling that suddenly makes the endlessness not only 'okay', but downright comforting. Later, you See sad things happen to those you care about, and suddenly you are reminded of the price of knowledge. Yet, as much of a bitch it is to be a witch at times, you cannot fathom being anything (or anyone) else.

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