And they say/ Ani what’s with all this love shit/ and I say/ don’t you ever/ just/ get distracted? – Ani Difranco
I have written 621 blog posts, which is over 300,000 words. A book is 50,000 words.
Charmers. That’s a lot of fucking words. It can’t all be about technique. It can’t all be about tips ‘n tricks. It can’t even be about all the things you liked best.
The blogosphere has changed a lot, ducklings. Most of you don’t even read my blog at a computer, you read it on your phone. Reading it on your phone means you’re commenting less. Commenting less means it’s less of a conversation, especially since many people aren’t even really blogging anymore.
At first, I hated this because I hate change and I like lots of ways to measure how many people are actually reading what I’m saying and now that’s just about impossible. I missed the conversation (and I still do). I miss hearing other people’s voices (are you still there? I’m still listening).
However, it’s been exhilarating too because it’s forced me to really focus on what I want to write about because there is very little easily generated posts based off of blogosphere chatter now a days. In terms of technique, I can safely say there’s well over a book’s worth of it in here already.
And . . .I’ve changed. The way I interact with magic and the occult now is very different than it was five years ago. I don’t feel like I have anything to prove anymore. I write because if I don’t write I’ll die. I will always be a writer first, a witch second.
If you can’t see the magical opportunities in finding the beauty and darkness within yourself, if you can’t understand how being a glamorous motherfucker can only help you in ever aspect of your life, if you can’t see the magic in forging a relationship with your Muse. . .then maybe you’re just not that into me. I am not for everyone. This homespun silk thread that I call magic, that I call the divine, that I call home is all that I have to offer. If it’s not for you, then you need to find your others. Or better still, become a beacon yourself by sharing your inner sanctum with the world. It’s scary and it’s painful and it’s hard, but we need more beacons. More than we need more clergy. By a lot. Together, we can be a forest of tealight hearths.
Light your candle and shine as brightly as you dare and then just a little brighter.