My pipe is going out. It will require gentle obsessive nursing to keep it going. Or I can let it cool and die, only to refill and light it anew on another day.
That’s pretty much where I am at in my life. The “old ways” and habits I’ve used this year are dwindling in effectiveness. Yet I cling to them because they are familiar. It would take much dedication and perseverance from me to make them work. Wasted breath on impotent cinders. Time spent trying to preserve the past, that should instead be used to shape the future.
The past weeks I’ve had to examine everything about me and around me. From the magick to the mundane, I took a critical eye, measured and weighed it. So much in my life is dying embers.
Just because they are family doesn’t mean they are healthy to be with. Those embers I have long abandoned but they cling to tenacious life. I keep length from those I can and try to flow around those I can’t. No amount of self-abuse will change their behavior to the better. They delight to hear of my troubles and heap scorn at every achievement. I have chosen not to suffer for them anymore.
I can not change others but I can change myself. I’m just as malicious and cruel as the rest of my bloodline. When cornered I will extract arterial blood with my words. That is good for my family’s slings and arrows. Shit for personal development. I don’t live in Sparta, why do I speak as one? Tuck that vicious ember into the back of the fire. Save it for when I need it, not for everyday use.
I hate being alone. But I am not afraid of growing old and dying alone. So far, I have accepted it as my fate, actually. Well then, little wonder I have surrounded myself with folks that tend to isolate me? Let me kick those embers into the ground. I will not wall myself any further.
“That’s wishful thinking.”, you may say. “You’ll go back to your old ways as soon as the dawn comes.” Indeed, there is that call of familiarity. It is easy to let my friends and acquaintances take charge of me. Let me stay the delicate flower, while my guardians make sure I have just enough contact to bloom for them.
I have lost one such friend tonight. Sitting in my favorite haunt, I had to tell him three times that I did not want his company this night. And even then, he tried to pry with directed questions. I don’t fault him, much. I did let him rule our interactions in the past. I have changed abruptly, he hasn’t quite caught on to that. I had to choose between growing for myself, or growing for him. I did not tell him “goodnight”, I told him “goodbye”.
Growing hurts at times.
I’ve had exposure to a multitude of magic systems over the past eight months. From mere elemental workings, to tarot based workings, to complicated grimoires, and stuff so advanced I’ll make better time learning Mandarin Chinese from a Sumerian textbook.
I’ve grasped just enough of each that the person exposing me to said system would like naught more than for me to continue and excel in it.
Jack of all trades, Master of none.
Sorry my brethren. I can’t. I may have mastered the motions, the intonations, and the intuitions, but there is a personal element missing from it all. I’m practicing Someone Else’s Magic. And leaving my own paths unwalked.
It was never my intention to be dragged along the Norse way. My original grandiose plans called for a trip to Egypt to annoy Set for a while. Not to be grabbed by the head by some red-haired, green-eyed, flower-scented, Faggot! But here I am, and what-do-you-know, I’ve grown a little because of it. Between Loki’s challenges and learning the runes, I’m not as much of a whiny little bitch as I was this time last year.
I would like to accomplish something this life. I’ll be your door/well/oracle when you really need it. But I’m not going to abandon my path no matter how clear it is to you that your path would be such a good fit for me.
As such, I will start the new year in the company of my Elemental Lords, renewing the promises we have made to each other. As the day progresses, a feast of one will be held for Loki “Flower” Firespit, that bastard. That night, I’ll give my thanks and obeisance to the Planetary Powers. Sometime, during the day (or night), I’ll make a visit to the svart-alf and bug him for the new year. But all in my own way.
The one rotten coal that has tainted all these fires, is fear. Fear of Something New. As shitty as my life is now, I am comfortable. I know its rhythms. There are no surprises. Comfortably numb. Dying in stasis.
When did I stop being adventurous? When did I become afraid to take chances? Why did I stop looking around the next corner? Why did I allow Shame to burn this pit within me?
I’m addicted to this false comfort. I’m growing old and hardened. If I don’t do something now, I’ll drown in a sea of regret made by my nightly tears.
No, I’m not buying a convertible car. (The insurance rates!) I’m not taking on a human lover (yet). Not running away like I have often done.
I’m starting here. Where I sit. I’m using what has been given to me not for the benefits of others but for my own selfish ass. I’m standing up for myself, admitting my faults to myself, and moving forward.
My pipe is long cold. The tobacco within has burnt itself to ash. I’m still learning the nuances of smoking it. I have received much advice, in person and on the Internet on how to properly smoke a pipe. But I find I enjoy it best when I listen to the pipe itself. Letting it tell me when to puff and when to let it be. I am finding my personal style of smoking.
My two pipes are obviously the property of a neophyte. The rims are scorched, the stems gurgle often, and I still have trouble smoking a bowl down to the bottom. An advanced smoker would look down on my peasant taste for my local tobacconist’s store blend. My technique may annoy those more experienced than I, but I am enjoying myself as I master my own way. I was scared to smoke the meerschaum at first, daunted by the large list of rules for handling it. Chucking the list of rules was the first step to enjoying it. I stopped being afraid of what could happen, and found out for myself.
Sounds like a good way to start the new year.