I’ve come at it sideways from more angles than I can count, and have probably even said it outright once or twice before, but: I have been struggling. Since I closed down the Sunrise Temple and moved back to Kansas City and began backing my way out of the rigorous but ultimately toxic-to-me ceremonial pracctice I had there, I have been wounded and flailing and desperate to refind my path. Without the rejuvination of ecstacy, the majority of my magical work was dedicated toward material prosperity, and it was exhausting.
Moreover, culminating in March, I enchanted myself out of a job.
And, it’s worth noting, into a new one — one which pays only half as much, but has left me with the time and energy to puruse my writing more seriously than I have done since the first months back from Indiana. And the time to promote my photography, if not the money to pursue it.
But the ice-bath of sudden and unexpected unemployement left me shocked and twitching Combined with some structural issues with my house, and some mental health issues …. well, I’ve been limping from one crisis to the next, barely keeping up.
Last Thursday, though, as one of my many duties with the Sacred Experience Committee, I hosted and participated in a chant workshop and Full Moon Ritual led by Shauna Aura Knight here in Kansas City. An hour and a half of light trance followed by an hour long group ritual of singing ecstacy, with someone else doing the heavy lifting so that I could have my own experience. The ritual’s central conceits were seeking healing in the Sacred Well beneath the World Tree, and then descending further into the underworld to find and recclaim our power. Despite the public forum, I was able to go deeper and clearer than I have in months.
I was brought to cliff where my astral temple used to stand — shattered and burned more than a year ago now (have I ever told that story?). I called the Well up to the center of where my temple used to be, and the Well moved the landscape to suit its purposes, drawing the cliff face down into the earth so that what had once been a mighty bastion of stone overlooking the astral sea now stood only as a low wall against a high tide. The borders of the realm collapsed, or perhaps moved outward beyond my sight.
I submurged myself in the waters of the Sacred Well, let them fill me and wash over me and run through me.
The next two days were a hard crash. Friday I was hung over like I’d been on a whiskey bender, not participating in a ritual. I was sick to my stomach, weak and light headed. Saturday I was hit hard by depression and anxiety. I felt useless and alone.
Yesterday, though, despite getting up early to help with some heavy lifting, I felt increasingly myself throughout the day. Private, custom jewelry commisions started falling into place: I expect at least two down payments within the week. I meditated last night without having a panic attack. As I examine my aura, now, I find I am more stable, more full, than I have been in months. There’s a …. spot on my back that may need help from a more practiced healer than I, but it may also sort itself out if I can re-establish a daily practice.
For the first time since coming back to Kansas City, in general, and since losing my old job in March, in particular, I feel genuinely ready to face the world. There are enough irons in my fire that it is time to stoke the forge, and to begin striking as the irons grow hot.
The lesson, here, is threefold:
- Yes, sometimes you fuck yourself up doing magic. Particularly when you are getting results.
- More magic can be the solution.
- Even knowledgable, practiced witches, sorcerers, and magicians benefit from letting others take the helm. Speaking for myself: I believe that I need a great deal more of that right now.