Last night was one of those nights where I had planned to do some sort of small thing in remembrance of the day. The space was set up and I struggled trying to decide what it was I should do. I glanced through some old things I had on hand, none of them feeling quite right and then went online to see if I could find something inspiring.
As I paged through different sites, I somehow found myself back on a familiar site, one of someone I knew when I first started out, cracking my first books on Wicca, thinking I’d found the answers to everything. As I read through the site, old posts from before, it all came rushing back and I was reminded why I had put those books away and continued my journey as I do now, still unsure of where it is I belong. It talked about many things this site, many of those things labeling what I feel and think as wrong. Yes I refuse to follow one strict path. I don’t call what I feel a religion and I will not be told how to feel, what to feel and what I must do to be worthy of those feelings. Does that make me undisciplined, maybe. Does it make me too lazy to devote myself to a faith, perhaps. I knew as I continued to read, that this was not directed specifically at me, but it upset me just the same. How each of us finds our peace in this world and how we embrace the feelings within, is a very individual thing.
After a bit, I closed the site and walked away, sorry I had found myself there. I knew with a certainly I’d made the right turn as this particular path had never been a good fit. I continued on with my quest to get some small celebration off the ground even though I found myself exhausted from the previous events of the evening. Things were ready and I waited for my son who had wanted to join me. While in the bath, my dog somehow managed to reach the small plate of food I was to use and ate most of it. My son who was equally tired, sat down as I lit the candles, using my snuffer to make clanging noises on the hurricane covers that enclose my large candles.
At this point, I looked around the room, wondering why I was there, knowing nothing good could come from the energy I felt. The candles were extinguished and the only journey was to my bedroom. I sat it my bed, confusion washing over me, feeling lost on my journey. I ate the apple, the one thing the dog didn’t get and watched Poltergeist. Perhaps, I thought, I would get up in the night and try again, but it was not to be.
This morning I came downstairs to check the email and found two of my pillar candles still going though I had snuffed the flames last night. As I looked at those candles still almost as I had left them hours before, I realised everything I needed had been with me last night despite another celebration gone wrong.
It has been a week of visits, my mothers presence strongly noted, powerful connections with the one who holds my heart, and last night a strong sense of my father filling the room. The flames of those candles burned last night, fueled I think, by those who walk with me, lighting the way for a journey that has just begun.