I think I have spent a great deal of my life in a state of fear, or allayed panic, or dread, or being overwhelmed. And I’ve spent a good deal of it avoiding those states, and situations that might induce them. “Normality”, as I think someone might have once observed, is a near record-breaking act of acrobatic, high wire balance, when you see what is going on underneath.
I’ve been going through a fair amount just recently, one way and another, and I found myself with that frozen out, panicked, unable to cope with what I know, but unable to escape, or really even explain kinda feeling, which is somehow very familiar to me.
I did magic and I asked for help, the way I know how, and help I did get.
Suddenly, obliquely, while watching TV, I remembered the first time I had felt like this (though buried in biographical detail), when I was 10 years old. It was the day I remember my childhood as ending, and it occurred around this time of year, during the Summer holidays in 1969, before my birthday.
Looking back, I realized that of course this was the time in subsequent years, during my teens and twenties, when I would most commonly get this feeling developing. I even came to recognize that fact, that it was around mid-Summer, when the Sun was in the sign of Cancer. But I never made the connection with that first event.
And suddenly, something was released. Not quite like magic (though it was indeed magic), all totally at once, but in principle, like a tap, or a dam, had been opened down stream.
That has kept going over these last few days, and I understand, something is over, but it is like an entire history of emergency, emotional and mental reactions has got unplugged, deactivated, neutralized. As the water level sinks, my flooded life comes into view, and breathes again, almost as if 46 years hadn’t quite happened like that. It can all always have been different now, inwardly, and my islands join up, to make my landscape.
It is funny that this kind of healing should come at the time that I become a Satanist, but not so surprising. About 18 months ago I wrote:
I could see as well, that you need to come down here to do it, to the wasteland, to find the spring, the unsullied brook. That’s why demons are important, because they guard our innocence when the world has taken it away.
Of course that was not quite the sense of demons that I mean now, but it did say something, and intuit something. Healing that is deep and personal enough might not be done by the gentle hand entirely. The part of us that keeps both the wound and the cure is just not like that. The strong hand may be better. That’s why sometimes the soldier understands parts of the heart that the nurse cannot, and why sometimes the beast will love us best. Sometimes our healer must be fierce, otherwise it is no use at all. Sometimes we need to visit the wasteland and see who has been keeping our innocence for us, and how untouched our brilliant, original hearts are.
So many Summers, never lost again.
Tackleway looking south-west – geograph.org.uk by Terry Head [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons