Sunday, August 06, 2006

The Good Mother

Mother visited me today, concealing it well, but brimming with the usual concerns for my well-being. Poor woman. She has never been good at hiding her numerous neuroses.

She always beat around the bush, but still manages to put forth her objections to my lifestyle, my chosen path in life. My blood relatives are basically christians, and they use every opportunity in their zeal to «save» me from eternal damnation. Some witches find similarities between themselves and christians. I can’t for the life of me understand why.

So mother is worried, and she tells me, in a thousand words or less to «leave my destructive life behind and return to the love of the family».

This wasn’t much of a problem when I traveled a lot and didn’t have a fixed address, but they have all taken advantage of the fact that I’m staying fairly put these days. Now, they often stop by unannounced and do their utmost to save me.

The sad fact is that she isn’t really caring about me at all, but about her own vanity. The rumors of me being a witch gets around, and returns to her, and worse to the nagging hags she call friends. My father loathes my choices in life, too, but at least he’s kind of honest about it with his open antagonism and hostility.

I tell them all, in return that they should liberate themselves from their own chains, that they should stop living in a prison of their own making, and stop worshipping anything, especially a mirage, and they get very upset and even angry with me, even more so when I patiently and not, make a last-ditch attempt to explain to them and confront them with the obvious contradictions of their «reasoning».

I’ve given them up, really. There is very little hope left in me that they will ever to be able to see the world even remotely like it is, but keep living their very dangerous and horrible fantasy. I have found myself a true family, among other witches, other practitioners of witchcraft, among political radicals and anarchists, people able and willing to take me as I am, and don’t want to form me in their own cracked image. We live and grow together, but we don’t live each other’s life and don’t try to.


«The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of the same family grow up under the same roof».

Richard Bach

3 comments:

  1. On the flip side:
    I guess I'm lucky that my mom is Wiccan. My aunt is a fundamentalist christian, and I remember when my grandma (non-religious) went to talk with her about doing her kids a disservice with the fear and guilt-based beliefs.

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  2. I can understand this all too well. I know that feeling. My mother tells me "You know better". My sister tells me "So, you still think you are a witch?"

    I have been a practicing Celtic Priestess and Witch for 19 years. You would think that in 19 years, which is more than half my life) they would have come to terms but who knows if they ever will. Vanity, thy name art mother.

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    Replies
    1. One should, but many, even relatives and friends don't want to know the true you, no matter what.

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