We Forget To Create

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2015-03-06 04.51.45

It really is about each one of us. Really, it is. It’s about how each of us sees this collective creation we call life in physical bodies. Because we interact with each other and the world at large, we forget to create, instead reacting to everything else that’s happening. We let others take control of our choices, of our self worth, and eventually we lose all track of who we are and what it was we intended to do here. We become caught up in everyone else’s drama and gauge our own place in the world by what’s happening there.

We forget to create.

For women in particular, we tend to live our lives for everyone else. Our spouse, our children, our job all become more important than our own needs. We’re shamed when, as little girls, we assert ourselves, calling us bossy and pushy. As we grow into adolescence, we’re shamed further as our bodies emerge into womanhood, so worried that we might experience the joy of sexual discovery too soon.

Too soon for whom?

Then, just as we become adults and believe that we call the shots in our lives, we enter the workforce after college, marrying soon after, begin having children, and lose all sense of ourselves in the process. We’re the wife. We’re Mommy. We’re the one that everyone depends on, but gives little attention to.

We fade into the mist.

Because our worth is now tied up in how good of a wife and mother we are, any job is secondary to both of those. I remember my mother telling me that although she was more than qualified for an upper management position, if not the top one at the company itself, she was passed over for the men because they had families to support. Mouthy little witch that I was, I responded with, but you’re a single mother, supporting two children, one of whom is in college and the other profoundly deaf. All she could do was what every woman out there does, give me that knowing smile.

I was the only one on her side.

I watched as my mother’s health deteriorated, finally passing away a month before she turned sixty-six. She worked hard all of her life, a Depression-era baby, and in the end, she died from COPD and congestive heart failure, unable to enjoy the retirement she worked so hard to prepare for. She was proud of both of us, the people we had become. She loved her grandsons and was surrounded by people who cared about her.

She didn’t expect that.

As I sit here, three weeks away from my oldest son’s wedding, I can’t help but look back on the direction my own life has taken. It appears that I chose to live according to others’ wishes, knowing full well that was self-destructive, while simultaneously trying to stay true to myself. Or at least I believed that I did. That actually doesn’t work out well because you exhaust yourself trying to be two different people at the same time. The chaos inside is debilitating, and I turned it inward, creating the space for rheumatoid arthritis to take hold. That went on for around fifteen years, excruciating pain 24/7, taking its toll. Cannabis brought me to remission, something prescription drugs never did. I was just sick of hurting and was willing to try anything at that point.

That leap of faith invoked long lost courage.

A funny thing happens when you use cannabis medicinally. And no, I’m not talking about getting high and getting the giggles. Your hold on the world shifts. Your focus softens. Oh, you can get just as caught up by things going on around you, particularly if you’re an empath like I am, but you settle out sooner. You can be angry about something, for example, but not lose yourself in that anger. In a sense, your approach becomes less projective and more receptive in nature. It’s easier to stay present. And amazingly enough, it’s easier to see what’s important in life.

Then we live our truth.

I never told my family I was a witch. They might have figured it out given the crystals, candles, incense, organic gardening, herbal medicines, past life regression, lucid dreaming, channeling..or maybe just by noticing the wand I wore on a chain around my neck for most of their lives. But for a woman in a house full of guys, and given that many can’t find their asses without a map, it may make a certain sort of male sense.

And then, I came out.

My husband wasn’t freaked out or anything, but in fact a little irritated that I never told him before. I introduced the idea slowly, first explaining about being an empath. He’s realized that he’s an empath as well, so having that conversation changed the way we relate to each other. He knows he can’t hide from me. No one can. And now he understands the dynamic of that process. He understands when he’s experiencing it himself and what it means.

At some point, I finally told him that I was a witch. I told him witches run through my family, sharing what I’d found on the ancestry website I’d been using. I haven’t found any who were burned in this country, but there were some during the North Berwick witch burnings in Scotland. Apparently all of my great-grandparents are royalty. From the Plantagenet line all the way back to Adam, I have Druid ancestry, Egyptian..and I’m even related to various Knights Templar and the King who ordered their execution, on October 13th no less. My birthday. Thanks, Grandpa for the legacy of that. Eleanor Plantagenet was also born on my birthday, and apparently one of my relations was the Wizard of Goblin Hall. Jaquetta of Luxembourg traces her line back to the Goddess Melusine, so I guess that accounts for my dragon obsession.

Finding out that I’m of Grail lineage was humbling. Seeing the relation to Mary come up gave me such pause, although I’ve never been Christian. We don’t really see the grandeur that is our heritage until we see it drawn out this way. It’s our Akashic record, full of influence and grace.

We honor our ancestors when we live our truth.

I began my path as a witch when I was eight years old. I lived it in silence, expressing myself without definition, without a name. But then I remembered myself. I let all of that resonance fill me with all of the love and devotion alignment with Source brings. I have always been who I am, whether you call me a mystic, a shaman, a teacher, or yes, a witch. I embrace all of those names with all of the passion and love that I have in all other expressions of existence.

I am here to create.

It’s what I have to give.
It’s the love I have to share.
It’s the oneness that I emmanate.

I am, so Blessed Be

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Thank you... Jan Erickson


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Someday I'll figure out how to put this in a word cloud... Author ~ Empath ~ Solitary Witch ~ BA Psychology ~ Married 43 years ~ Survivor ~ Mom ~ 2 sons ~ Grandmother ~ former Kenpo Black Belt/Instructor ~ Homeschooling ~ Retired Motorcycle Shop co-owner ~ Medical Cannabis Patient/Activist ~ Liberal. That I can still form coherent thought is truly amazing!