by ArtNerdEm
{For the sake of argument, let’s assume I’m not crazy and everything here is true.}
On the eve of Independence Day I’m watching a movie called The Witches of OZ, and it has me thinking. (Thinking is bad, it makes you ponder and pondering gives you ideas and ideas leads to creativity. Don’t be creative Kids. Thinking is a gateway drug.)
So, I was thinking about Pride month and celebrities declaring their gay status to the world and how this relates to my life. See, I’ve got something to declare. Come in close, I’ll whisper it to you. A little closer. ….too close…..There ya go. …….“I’m a witch.”
Its true. I come from a long line of them, apparently (Nurses, Musicians, Mistresses, Doctors, Artists, Computer Programmers, etc.). I tend to think of myself more as a “healer” or just more in-tune with my natural abilities than most people. How can I prove this? I’ve been asked that a lot, or rather I’ve had people demand proof. Well, being a witch isn’t that easy and its not like it is in most movies. I don’t have a wand, or a pointy hat. I’m not Pagan, or Vegan, or Preachy. I’m just someone who happens to be equipped with a little more knowledge, practice, imagination (for visualizing), and…oomph than the average human walking around.
For example – About 8 years ago a friend arrived at my doorstep in a panic and dragged me out of my house into my parking lot where another friend waited for me in the front seat of a car. His leg was sticking out. It was in a cast and bent the wrong way. He was in tears, digging his fingers into the metal of the door frame, and pleading for me to help him. He wanted the leg to hold together until he got to the hospital. I got down on my knees, put my hands on the kneecap and closed my eyes.
What happened next is hard to describe. I could…see his pain. The kneecap had already been broken and before it completely healed, my friend had re-broken it. I could “see” everything inside his knee, the bones, the muscles, the good/bad energy, etc. It was all color-coded, so I knew exactly what to do. Using my energy through my hands I manipulated the good energy through my hands into his kneecap, spreading it around like liquid through the spaces in-between everything. The good energy pushed the bad energy out of his kneecap down his leg and into the ground.
After about 3 minutes the friend that had gotten me from my house, shook my shoulder. I blinked my eyes open and the friend in the car was smiling and calm. He said he felt much better. They got back in the car, thanked me quickly and rushed to the hospital. They told me later that if it hadn’t been for me, he would have lost the leg to amputation. Apparently the doctors couldn’t understand WHY the leg was still together considering how the accident had happened. The next day there was a scorch mark in my parking lot where my friend’s broken leg had touched the ground. -we never spoke of it again. -and thats just one thing that has happened.
But it somehow got through my grapevine of friends that I had “powers”. My life got complicated.
Abraca-Pocus!
So whenever people ask me to “prove it”, I say no. I also try not to bring it up in conversation. Society says there are no more witch trials, but a wise witch once told me “Hope for the best, Plan for the worst.” I hope that my son will live in a world where his inherited powers will not go questioned and he won’t have to prove himself to anyone but himself. I hope he never becomes a lab experiment because of his powers. I plan for the day that being a witch is illegal again. I don’t want to be demonized for my beliefs. I never want to be tied to a post and burned for making an essential oil blend for a friend to help her breasts stop hurting during her last few weeks of pregnancy. I don’t want to be turned into an outlaw for being a good person (do unto others as you would have them do unto you, be polite, help others, be selfless, be generous, etc). I’m proud of the person I am. I’m proud that I come from a lineage of people that did not conform and go with the grain. I’m proud that the blood that runs through my veins is the same blood of powerful healers, mages and yes, witches. I’m a witch and I’m proud of it.
So this Independence Day, I’ll be thinking about just how Independent we really are, even in our own society.
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Out of the Broom Closet: A Witch’s Independence Tale
by ArtNerdEm
{For the sake of argument, let’s assume I’m not crazy and everything here is true.}
On the eve of Independence Day I’m watching a movie called The Witches of OZ, and it has me thinking. (Thinking is bad, it makes you ponder and pondering gives you ideas and ideas leads to creativity. Don’t be creative Kids. Thinking is a gateway drug.)
So, I was thinking about Pride month and celebrities declaring their gay status to the world and how this relates to my life. See, I’ve got something to declare. Come in close, I’ll whisper it to you. A little closer. ….too close…..There ya go. …….“I’m a witch.”
Its true. I come from a long line of them, apparently (Nurses, Musicians, Mistresses, Doctors, Artists, Computer Programmers, etc.). I tend to think of myself more as a “healer” or just more in-tune with my natural abilities than most people. How can I prove this? I’ve been asked that a lot, or rather I’ve had people demand proof. Well, being a witch isn’t that easy and its not like it is in most movies. I don’t have a wand, or a pointy hat. I’m not Pagan, or Vegan, or Preachy. I’m just someone who happens to be equipped with a little more knowledge, practice, imagination (for visualizing), and…oomph than the average human walking around.
For example – About 8 years ago a friend arrived at my doorstep in a panic and dragged me out of my house into my parking lot where another friend waited for me in the front seat of a car. His leg was sticking out. It was in a cast and bent the wrong way. He was in tears, digging his fingers into the metal of the door frame, and pleading for me to help him. He wanted the leg to hold together until he got to the hospital. I got down on my knees, put my hands on the kneecap and closed my eyes.
Good Vs. Bad energy
What happened next is hard to describe. I could…see his pain. The kneecap had already been broken and before it completely healed, my friend had re-broken it. I could “see” everything inside his knee, the bones, the muscles, the good/bad energy, etc. It was all color-coded, so I knew exactly what to do. Using my energy through my hands I manipulated the good energy through my hands into his kneecap, spreading it around like liquid through the spaces in-between everything. The good energy pushed the bad energy out of his kneecap down his leg and into the ground.
After about 3 minutes the friend that had gotten me from my house, shook my shoulder. I blinked my eyes open and the friend in the car was smiling and calm. He said he felt much better. They got back in the car, thanked me quickly and rushed to the hospital. They told me later that if it hadn’t been for me, he would have lost the leg to amputation. Apparently the doctors couldn’t understand WHY the leg was still together considering how the accident had happened. The next day there was a scorch mark in my parking lot where my friend’s broken leg had touched the ground. -we never spoke of it again. -and thats just one thing that has happened.
But it somehow got through my grapevine of friends that I had “powers”. My life got complicated.
Abraca-Pocus!
So whenever people ask me to “prove it”, I say no. I also try not to bring it up in conversation. Society says there are no more witch trials, but a wise witch once told me “Hope for the best, Plan for the worst.” I hope that my son will live in a world where his inherited powers will not go questioned and he won’t have to prove himself to anyone but himself. I hope he never becomes a lab experiment because of his powers. I plan for the day that being a witch is illegal again. I don’t want to be demonized for my beliefs. I never want to be tied to a post and burned for making an essential oil blend for a friend to help her breasts stop hurting during her last few weeks of pregnancy. I don’t want to be turned into an outlaw for being a good person (do unto others as you would have them do unto you, be polite, help others, be selfless, be generous, etc). I’m proud of the person I am. I’m proud that I come from a lineage of people that did not conform and go with the grain. I’m proud that the blood that runs through my veins is the same blood of powerful healers, mages and yes, witches. I’m a witch and I’m proud of it.
So this Independence Day, I’ll be thinking about just how Independent we really are, even in our own society.
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