Well, I don’t know if it’s just Seasonal Affective Disorder, anxiety speaking, lockdown, or me, but today, I’m sad. Not only do I feel slightly under the weather (got the shakes, and feel tired, which, to me, says I’ve lowered my spoon reserves. #spoonie), but I’m aware that the Sage Priestess School has its doors open for enrollment.
I did the Sage Priestess training several years ago, and failed to complete 3 out of the 4 components. Whatever it was that others got from the training, I failed to, or did not let myself, get. I felt no different coming out than I did going in. Not that I gave it a really good go. I kept forgetting the group calls. I didn’t explore the subjects offered. I regarded the whole thing as a time-mistake.
It’s now three years later and many of the women who did the training with me are now teachers in the course. Others are taking the training for the fourth time, and I have seen massive shifts in their lives, their outlooks, their energies. I’m so envious of them.
I long to be as embodied and as expressive as Misha, as caught up in art as Shara, loving life as much as Cindy, writing witchly books like another lady who’s name I’ve forgotten right now.
Do I want to do the training again? A holy yes! My fear – that it will be like last time, that family life, writing life, and whatever else I’m committed to will override it. My fear – that I’m just not that spiritual, that the cynic in me is strong. My doubt – that I’m not cut out for this holy life, and will continue stumbling my way through like I’ve always done, crashing about clumsily, with none of the grace Vanessa, Stacy, Misha, Denise, et al have. I’m the hippo to their herons. I’m also on the other side of the world, and the calls at are challenging times, often.
I’ve just started doing some reading for thewitchschool.com, and Correllian witchcraft, and there’s a commitment there to not just sign up, then drop out, but to explore what it has to offer me.
I’m in the midst of memoir writing, and I can feel short story and poetry knocking too. All want to be tended, like baby lambs, and to frolic like baby lambs.
I want my dance body back, but even this week, adding in one extra 30 minute belly dance practice left me flat as a tack.
I can’t do it all, even though I want to.
I can feel tears right at the back of my throat, and along my jawline, but they won’t come forth. I simply don’t how, and what, to choose.