A Solitary Broom-Closet

I think I’m meant to be a solitary. Friends with others, with whom I can discuss and share and socialize, yes. But for my magickal workings, for creating things, and for directing energy, I really think it would be for the best if I were on my own.

I think this for a couple of reasons. First of all, with all of the neo-pagan “witchy” labelling out there, the more I learn the more I realize I don’t feel comfortable trying to stuff myself into any particular category. The last thing I need is to try to match up with someone else’s category.

Then there’s the other little matter, of needing to fully open up and let someone else in. I tried that, recently, and I got hurt very deeply indeed. I was just trying to express concern and, for all intents and purposes, I was “dumped” as a result. To be truthful, it was a lesson I needed to learn, and I knew that this person had a tendency to grow tired of people quickly. Probably for the best – I can’t deal with someone whose world holds no shades of grey, and who flips back and forth between black and white without rhyme, reason, or warning. I’m still hurting, but I needed to learn. And the lesson I learned was to remain guarded, to protect myself, and that if I only rely on myself in magickal workings, if I practice as a solitary, then the only one who can really let me down is me.

On a somewhat related note, on a deep level, I feel that, in order to be true to who and what I am, it should be kept a secret. It feels safer, and, at the same time, more true to the historical roots. Maybe a part of me is remembering the Burning Times? Who knows. But broadcasting who and what I am just feels wrong somehow. Maybe the lesson of my fairweather friend was that I ought to be more cautious, or, at least keep more to myself.

I understand how the ugly duckling felt to discover his own kind, the joy of discovering he really was a swan. I can understand why some people get very excited and shout their witchy proclamations at the tops of their lungs. But to me, it seems as if quite a number of people are just going for the shock value or “special status” of it all. Not everyone, but some.

You won’t find a pentacle-shaped herb garden in my front yard, not just because I’m protecting myself and my family, but because I don’t see the need. Now that the euphoria of finally understanding myself has levelled off, it just doesn’t seem right, or true to myself, or to those who have gone before, to walk around with a huge “I’m a witch” banner hanging over my head. It’s not shame. It just feels better to me this way. Aynne says I’m just being responsible, and that makes me feel better. My family really wouldn’t understand, and I’m trying to protect them from being hurt and frightened by their own misunderstanding.

This cozy little broom-closet makes me feel safe and secure. Remaining a solitary, with friends with whom I can talk, but practicing alone, also makes me feel safer. I don’t have to fit in with anyone else, and I don’t have to go out of my way to “put on” the trappings and “spookiness” of something which has always been inside me and has never felt spooky, dark, or scary.

It’s just who I am - who I’ve always been.