There is a quiet certainty in the air. As though something has ended. As though something has begun. How do you describe a feeling that we don’t have true words for in English? Perhaps not in any language.

It is not expectancy. It is not finality. It is not anxiety or fulfillment. It is not completion. It is change. Do you understand? Can you understand? Can someone who is not a witch truly understand what I say when I say ‘There has been a change.’? Imagine that the world is a great body of water. Deeper than the oceans, but as clear as the most pure stream of snowmelt. Utterly clear, but so deep you can not see the bottom. This body of water is never quite still, but you very rarely see the ripples and changes that go across it. You see their affects. You see that the water seemed green, and now seems blue. You see the reflection of the clouds that aren’t actually floating in the sky. You see them move across the water, but you can’t see how the water itself is moving.

Then you see a clear distinct ripple across the surface of the water. The water is so vast that you can’t possibly determine the source from your vantage, but the ripple is clear and perfect, and where the ripple has passed the water is changed forever. This is the change I am talking about. And you do not see it. You feel it. A witch feels when there is a shift. When a stone is dropped into the depths of that water, or when water is removed. This is what I mean when I say “There has been a change.”

I feel quiet and patient. I feel the change, and I am affected by it. Of course, we know that one is always changed by perception. By perceiving the thing you are imediately changed by your very perception of the thing. Still, this affects me deeply. I do not know to what extent, just that it is there. I do not fear this change, in truth it feels as though I have been waiting for it. As though the proverbial other shoe has dropped, and clattered to the floor. A soft soled shoe onto an area rug that has muffled it’s impact.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately trying to determine who I am now that I do not have so many roles to play. For three years I have filled a variety of roles for the Brotherhood of the Phoenix. I have been a student, a teacher, a leader, a follower, a visionary. Who am I without those roles. For now at least I am none of these things, at least not officially. Who is the person who has filled those roles? What do I do now that I do not have these structures hovering about me, defining my place in the world?

There is a part of me that craves them. That is searching for new structures to take their place. Consciously though, I am rejecting that. I can not define myself merely by the roles that I fill. It is clear that I must find a structure, but I can not find a structure that is of any creation but my own. If I am to define the role of theo, I must define it myself, with care and precision. I must reevaluate the things that are important to me. I should look at my chart of six this week and reevaluate it in the light of my unsettling lack of roles.

There is much work to do there, much to discover, but there are some things that I’ve found I know without putting too much work into it. I am meant to share myself with the world. With my words, with my body, with my spirit. I am the crucible, the vessel of transformation. There is an innate ability to contain, to impose limitations upon the world around me, that is too often shown in my life to be without purpose. But I know that I can not be that vessel until I have been that vessel for myself. This is why it is so essentially important that I create a structure in which to live. That structure must be strong, and it absolutely must be of my own creation, for I will never be able to contain a truly bright fire if I can not contain my own.

It is late at night, on March 24th. I’m sitting in bed with Vivianne here next to me, purring her little heart out, as she does. I’m feeling very lonely right now.

There is a lot going on in my life. Much of it is things that I can’t talk about openly. Perhaps I should describe a little about that. Maybe it will help it all make sense to me, just to speak about the reason we sometimes can’t say all we’d like to say.

I don’t really consider myself a private person. I kind of like to think of myself as an open book. I do recognize though, that you have to ask me the right questions if you want to really get to know me. I am not ashamed of myself, or the life I lead. In truth, I am very proud of the things I’ve done in my life, and of how I live. But there are things that I can’t share here. There are things that I can’t share anywhere. Not because I’m ashamed of them, but because they aren’t fit for public consumption.

Secrecy is a legacy in paganism. It has been vital to our communities for centuries, and I suspect important even before practicing witchcraft could get you killed. There are a lot of reasons for secrecy in our lives. Most people are afraid of what could happen if the world finds out that they’re a witch. Will the judge me? Will I be able to keep my job? Will I be run out of town? These are all valid fears. It is sad, but even today I could easily find cases where each of these things has happened recently in so-called ‘civilized’ countries. I feel sad for these people, for their fears, but I feel more sad because their fears keep them from understanding the deeper meanings of silence.

Pagans talk a lot about silence. The fourth elemental maxim is “To be Silent.” If I had a dollar for every witch who told me “Don’t talk about your magic to anyone or it will break the spell” I’d be a very rich witch. I would be a poor witch indeed if I didn’t recognize that there are times this is true, but the maxim has been watered down, as so much of our lore. Silence is not about protecting yourself from persecution. Nor is it about keeping it a secret so the magic works. Silence is a deeper concept.

We all know, whether we think about it or not, that the world is only what we perceive it to be. The world changes because your perceptions of it change. One discussion of Silence is centered around this truth. To be Silent means to be still, quiet, and patient. To be silent means to wait until your perception has changed, and to allow your perception to change. It is hard to perceive differences in yourself and the world around you if you are busy mucking around with things.

Another, equally vital concept behind Silence is the recognition that knowledge is power. In magic this is even more true. The knowledge you have translates to a type of power. That knowledge can be dangerous to yourself and others. One reason for silence is to protect people from knowledge they aren’t ready for. An even more important aspect of this same thought is that giving a person knowledge without the experience to understand it may very well ruin their ability to genuinely have the experience when they are ready for it.

These are my reasons for silence on the things that trouble me. Certainly, there are oath bound aspects to consider as well, but the truth is that if I shared all my experiences with you, I believe you would be irreparably damaged. Would you be able to have good ecstatic experiences, if I warned you about some of my not so good ones? Would you understand the mysteries that Persephone can reveal to you, if I simply tell them to you like so many parables?

So here I am feeling very lonely. There aren’t many people that I can share all my experiences with. And of those that I can, there are even fewer who I trust, who I can hold close enough to speak freely about shadows that plague me. Vivianne understands. She doesn’t need me to talk to her about it, she listens on her own, and lets me know that she loves me and that I’m not alone. But I feel alone anyway.