Thoughts in the Dark

In October, just before the fullness of Samhain, I left my job. I realized that I was appreciated not for my abilities but as a whipping boy and that was not ok. It was hard, but it pulled me into lean times, into a space where I was better able to meditate on the passing of the year. That wasn't my initial intent, but it worked out nonetheless.

That meditating took me back to times in the past where I'd sat at the hem of the Goddess and listened to the stir of the Cauldron. If you've never meditated that, I encourage you to do so now - we're in the Crone's time right now and she has lots to tell us. People are always excited to run out to the Maiden in the Spring, to sample her delights and listen to the sounds of life returning. People always listen to the Mother, she's Mother after all. Who listens to the Crone? Us witches, that's who. And so I sat at her hem again, and listened for what she had to tell me.

She reminded me of who I am - an artist, a creative, a listener and a learner. She reminded me that I'm wasting myself when I'm not being expressive, when I'm not being myself. She reminded me that it's ok to leave abusive situations even if it means being without a paycheck for a while.

She was chatty. She wasn't done talking.

A few days later I had a new job, something creative and physically demanding. I didn't have time to think or dwell there - I had a job and I had to do it. It was absolutely wonderful and exactly what I needed. It was lucrative too, even though it was seasonal. It was still perfect.
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Now the stillness of our first major snowstorm of the season is upon us, and people everywhere were frantic yesterday trying to get prepared. I was out getting things done, but not frantically. I mean, the snow didn't start falling till this morning for pete sake. Yesterday was a clear, crisp winter day. It was beautiful. This morning is a deep grey sky with bright white puffy flakes of snow falling steadily down. It is also beautiful.

No life happens without something dying. This is a truth we all know, sometimes too well. This snow, this is the sort of snow that brings life in the spring - a good, thickly insulating snow after a proper cold snap. This is the sort of snow that keeps the ground nice and cold, insulating it against the sun that will return as the clouds part. Insects will die, bulbs will flourish, and life will renew in snows like this. People are sad about the freezing temps. I'm not. I'm thrilled - it means we're having winter the way winter was supposed to happen, killing off what we don't need anymore and making way for the new life to come.

So remember, as you sit by the Cauldron in the dark of the winter storm, listen to what the Crone has to tell you. She's wiser than you know and isn't done talking yet.