Left is Right (A Primer on Witch Craft)

 A question for the Left: Are you Right?

I*slanders
Fallen in love
The*rapist
Tech*no*logic
Crush

Play your cards’ rite, Right?
(Read ‘em & weep)
(A cry for help?)
Don’t get Left behind.
Which way is Wrong?
Full circle.
(Diametrically opposed.)

Although I identify as a modern day “witch,” I do not subscribe to the idea that witches can do no wrong. I think a lot of ‘identity politics’ would benefit from this perspective and the nuance it introduces. Yes, witch-hunting has caused tremendous pain and was frequently based on misdirection. But nobody owns this word, nor good, nor evil; and in fact it is based on the principles of Earth magic in the same way chemistry is – the “elements.” Integrity (and corruption) of language is a huge aspect of witchcraft, and we teach that every action is accompanied by reaction…likewise: Action is preceded by other previous actions, often made in anticipation of future results.

It is not a license to hurt people, nor even to heal them; not without consent. To violate consent is to face consequences. "Karma." But likewise to hesitate or refuse to take action is a dangerous (in)action in its own rite. At times, choices must be made, in the midst of time slipping away. "Difficult" choices. "Dangerous" choices. "Necessary" choices. Choices that defy the odds, and yet we may feel as tho we had little to no choice in the matter at all. Fate? Well... Self-defense is a good example. Paradoxical and risky no matter which way we try to frame it. And we may be "framed" in return. In order to Live...we Act. To some we are the victim, to others the executioner. By one measure we did Good, by another Evil (which is, in point of fact, "Live" spelled backwards). 

Bias and perceptions may project a different image, depending upon the orientations of the person who envisions it.

We are each unique.

Drawn to each other.

Attracted, so to speak.

Magnetic attraction ::: Karma. Action (Reaction).

Magnets? Polarity is also likewise a main focus… +/- Understanding light/dark, masculine/feminine, negative/positive, new/old, past/present/future, ancestry/You/descendants…in “order” to better fathom the full spectrum in between. In grayscale, you might call it black/grey/white. Triads? Tribes? Tri-bal-ism? The same way nature does, you dig? Like a garden. Seeds are planted in Darkness, with secrets scientists don’t fully understand. They grow into the Light, with secrets scientists don’t fully understand.

Don't try too hard to grasp these  mysteries,  which will forever be abstract and infinitely evolving. You might squash them and their meaning dead, and no longer living, like a beautyful butterfly... If you wish to see it, you'd do better to let it flutter about freely, am I right? Delicate things are...best left alone, to do as they will, to do as they please according to their own precious needs; but in good company they may thrive with delight–such as your self, am I wrong? Nay, you see my point, as if it were an orb far off, coming nigh. Nearer all the while, to You, in time. An observer. Words want to be free, but that doesn't make them meaningless. Quite contrarily. They have roots, like seedlings, growing into the elements we call our aethers. 

Making music, melodies and rhythms, and our muses hear them. Our ears too.

Water, Fire, Earth, and Air. Not to mention, Spirit. Soul? Sole. Sol. Solitary. Alone. But in solidarity. We study the stars, in the same way astronomists do, but different too. Every thing is different, and yet every thing is a combination of Earth elements. Oppositions, conjunctions, angles, time and place…all field data, either way. (And which Way is that?) Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division.


Schisms. Polarization. Dividends.

In fact, in the root words for Witch and Wiccan we find... "separation and choosing." In other words: Discernment. To make sacred. Wholly Holy, and healthy, when in integrity ("wholeness"), ideally, but... By what Measure? Addiction/Moderation. We are losing our way, but it only means someday we’ll find it again.

We are losing our language, but only so that someday we shall recognize it again. Deeper, truer than ever before. Atlantis, the tower of Babel, the crucifix… X marks the spot. Trans*parent and apparent. It’s not a riddle, it’s simply the first thing you’ve ever been asked to truly read. Reed it aloud, if you wish, like a blade of grass whistling in the breeze. A clarinette clarifying the cacophony of it's breathwork. (Not a typo or error) Inhale/exhale. On/off go our electronics. Like ones and zeros.

And I could slap the sh!t out of you, with my open fist if I wish. Call it a punch, if it’s closed. Or I could raise it in solidarity.  Hit the nail on the head with my hammer. And face the consequences. The bitch gave birth to a puppy, so cute and innocent… Who would have thought in a dogfight the predatorial urge is forced to shine? Abuse leaves victims, who become abusers. You could take Offense, if that’s your pretense. And then I’d be forced to Defend myself.

Left  is  Right, if you go a different way around the circumpolar globe.

Inhale, exhale, that’s how you calm the fuck down.


Put down your guns, when you feel triggered. Point the finger, even though your pointer finger fires bullets into once-living now corpses. You say All Cops Are Bastards. And I wish they had a father figure too. You say you’d do better in their shoes, but I wonder why you don’t…? When you’re already You. I’d buy you a better pair of shoes, but what if somebody takes them? Will the emperor suddenly lose his clothes, unbeknownst to him...? That clothes don’t make the man. I could give a fuck about a badge, and believe me they’ll make sure I do. If we’re already in prison, I worry about those who profit off zoos. Take a hint, like Clue: Whodunnit? We’re all motherfuckers here, if it matters. In a manner of speaking, cause that’s how babies are made (being that we're all babes, procreated by f#cking, which creates mothers – oops, is that a "curse"?). As for sausages, nobody knows how those are made, because nobody asked. Just like my opinion: Who do I think I am?

Me, I guess.

Doing my best. Are you?


Cold-hearted? Actually it’s warm, but you probably wouldn’t know it, unless I give you my permission to touch it–my heart? Silently &///or Aloud? Cold/Hot. Do I, or Don’t I? Questions have answers... Answers lead to more questions. Do you prefer Donuts or Donut Holes? Did you ever dig yourself into a hole, just so you could build something…or plant something? Did you ever watch the Day turn into Night, only to see the Sun rise again? Did you know the Moon reflects the light from the Sun, but they’re not the same size…only in proximity to the distance of Us? Did you know in the southern hemisphere the seasons are reversed? And somewhere on Earth it’s not night but day. Lunacy? Luna sees You. “No!” you exclaim, it’s not day but night!

Do you ever take a moment, just to be astonished?

We say All Cats Are Beautiful, but... Even to the Mice? Maybe, I don't mean to anthropomorphize. Maybe to die, and be reborn, is the best moment of their life. But... Maybe we pick and choose sides, listening to what truths we prefer and labeling the rest as Lies.

7 Blind Mice, all different colors, but which of them is right? All the colors, or none? All the primes at once? A primer: for self-reflection. All for one, one for all. White lies, that's when we deny the experiences of the other individual colors. Tell ourselves it's for their own good, as much as ours. Cherry-picked half truths distort the bigger picture. When shades of pink and beige and tan  could  have simply told the truth about Our role in this, and what We bear witness to: Things we know, and things we don't. Dilated pupils decorating the whites of our eyes, shrinking as we step into the light, as we widen them in emergence, bloodshot, our nerves strain to understand this inverse relationship: Cause, and effect.

If the number 7 offends you, will 8 more make it right? Surely between 15 the odds will even out, True? Or False? Odd…even I no longer know. Long or short? What’s going on? (Do you read between the lines? What will you see, if so?)

If I exit through the entrance, am I en route to leaving or arriving at my destination? Do you feel this? Have you gone numb? Too many numbers? Is your alchemy influenced by substances, and what words are on the tip of your tongue? What a turn off, and hear you thought it was a pleasure to meet me…but now you’re experiencing pain.

Was the pleasure all mine?

On the other hand, without your consent–not to mention collaboration and co-creation–it wouldn’t be my place to turn you on. Not quite. But now, which "hand" are we talking about? I’m not a sadist, nor a masochist, so what’s Left…if that’s what you’re into? Hear here. Or is it there, for you? "I am Me," but weird…because you could say the same. Use my name, in conversation, as if it were your own. What do I own, if some of this is yours? Where do I draw the line, if our boundaries are a place of War? Am I crossing it, just to draw it? Oh dear.

Overlapping like tides…

Tug-o-War like...

Dear me, and a deer ate my garden only to be hit by your car. Your car was totaled, but the deer lost its life. The car behind you hit your bumper, and they say you should have avoided it. *If* you were paying attention. Like dominoes. Dominion. Got to pay the piper, I guess, but let’s hope you’ve got a good insurance plan. AITA? Or is the jury still out? And if they’ve got someplace they need to be, and are under duress to make a quick decision being oh-so-busy, doesn’t that bring our entire legal system into question? Dear, dear, deer what problems we cause each other. Or is it correlation? Maybe a side-effect.

Is it still medicine, if you go beyond the recommended dosage and drop dead? What if what I recommend is too much for you, but it’s within my definition of good measurement? And if the DSM agrees with me, I can’t possibly be wrong…until taxonomies change perhaps, like tax laws? I’m certifiable. A doctor who doctors things. Could have been a botanist, or a farmer, but pharma wrote a bigger check. Checks &/or balances, is what I always say. ALL ways. A weight off my shoulders, like a piano dropped on your head. God bless the dead. Better luck next time, I guess. The jury’s still out, but DAMN I’ve got THINGS to DO. Could you hurry it up a bit?

Is it black or white? Is it a pot or a kettle? I don’t even know the difference, which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Which is which? Witch is witch?

If neither Black nor White is quite a  (skin)  color... 

Which is Yin and which is Yang?

☯

Am I of no help?

Great, another grey day.

Rain, and it was supposed to be a Parade.

Sarcasm, now who’ll even know what I mean?

When pride collides... who is Right?

The witch’s switch got flipped, and now it’s a trigger.

Spells cast, but who’s the winner?

Witch is witch?

 

With Love,

 

-Ms.  Representation