Those blue shudders on the window panes of the tiny white house tucked away in a side alley in my very vivid memory of the past. That place holds the most dangerous sickness that plagues my worst nightmares – at once, tainted with the rose-colored glasses of my own self-reflection and my own deeply slashing weaknesses as well as fears.
Is it the insanity or the haunting of being given time which was in turn given to pain, for so long, the most in life? I once thought a certain level of pain was acceptable to keep on living.
A part of me is afraid to let that old self fade away. Yet with the freshness of every day still yet living and survived, there is something to be said for the forgiveness that comes with time. Perhaps not of the others who tried so desperately to force you to live the life they chose for you, but of yourself for being so weak and feeling so helpless.
“Are you happy now?” They ask. Even as they once destroyed you piece by piece. Was the decision ever yours? It was never mine, yet it was. There is some responsibility. Even if we’re the players in their game, even if we don’t intend to lose. You love them even as you hate them, for calling out your weaknesses, for preying on them, – even as they invoke our strengths, when we’re not ready to give up.
How it claws and tears through it, when you try to let the pain go. It’s okay to be human anyway. You always were and will be. Don’t let go. But just because yoiu predicted it, doesn’t make it any easier to live with. But I promise and know from experience, love and life are worth it. They are worth fighting for and so are you.
written by @coffeepinkish
There’s a point where worry crosses the line into fear.
It’s holding too tightly to what you’re afraid will happen.
When you find yourself stuck, you find yourself breaking free, instead.
You’re letting go of the shelf you’ve tried to cling so desperately to, for fear of falling,
when really, you were afraid of what you’d leave behind if you try to let yourself fly.
Poem by Ciera H.
- Who are you?
- What makes you, you?
- How do you define yourself to someone else or even to yourself?
What is a “Book of Shadows?”
In many ways, a book of shadows is whatever a witch wants it to be. A little bit of anything that has meaning to you, can go into a book of shadows. Be it about particular traditions or beliefs, about you as a witch, or everything in between. It can be public or private and doesn’t even have to be a book in the traditional sense. A “BOS’ [Book of shadows = BOS] that exists only on a hard drive, or in a 3 ring binder, is still a “bos”.
If someone says “That’s my book of shadows.” then it is one!
It’s the most personal and varied of the witch tools. It can be organized or chaotic. It’s’ contents can decades old or fresh off the internet.
- “There is no right or wrong with a book of shadows,
- there’s only what’s right for you. “
- The Witch’s Book of Shadows
- Author: Jason Mankey
More than any other tool with my altar, my book of shadows represents me. It contains my rituals, my words, the poems I write, or of others that I treasure, and even my blood and tears.
Your book of shadows doesn’t have to look like mine or anyone else’s and doesn’t even have to be a book. It can be written in any language or not contain any language at all. [ a book of pictures works fine too].
I can’t stress enough that is should be personal. I’m sharing things that have worked for me, or are part of my book of shadows. But, they may not work for everybody. Use what you want, and discard the rest. – within reason.
Make your book of shadows about you.