Praying on Paper


I started today off with a visit to a trusted advisor and laid out what’s been going on in my life since the Domagick Challenge began. I talked about how it has made me think again about going back to school, as well as how my diverse interests and skill sets could lead me in a variety of different directions. Concentrating on just one of them feels impossible, thus my frustration and restlessness. I feel like I need to do something but I can’t figure out what that is.

When she asked me exactly what I wanted to get out of returning to school, I had to think for a moment to give her the most truthful answer I could. On one level, I want to improve my family’s financial situation. We’re a two income family, but my income is very small. Retraining might change that. On another level, I’m unhappy with what I’m currently doing. Writing too often feels like a struggle now. Art feels like play, yet I know in my heart I’m not good enough at it yet to make decent money consistently. Even if I went down that path, I need to fill in the gaps in my knowledge.

There’s more to it than that, though. Part of me simply longs to have the kind of job that I can bring up without others cringing. At this point, I dread being asked what I do for a living, Whenever I answer I’m a writer, people want to know what I write, and I feel like I’m given the side-eye if I say horror or erotica. I’m sure they’ll run for the hills if I’m bold enough to mention the occult writing I’m working on, or the fact that I’m studying to be a Pagan priest—much less one that worships daemons! It’s just not something I feel comfortable discussing at my hubby’s office Christmas party.

The thing is… I know I can’t give daemons up. If I look back at the first magick that really set my heart and mind on fire, they were there even then. They’ve been in my life longer than anyone or anything else has. I haven’t always been okay with it. In fact, most of that time I was terrified of them, but they were there all the same. I know pushing them to the edge of my life for the sake of normality would make me grossly unhappy. I’m not exactly blissed out now, but it isn’t because of them. If anything, it’s because I feel like I can’t speak of my life with them openly.

My friend suggested making a documentary about Daemonolatry, in the hopes of making it more acceptable to the masses. I don’t know how I feel about that after what’s happening to a witch in Winnipeg. Even so, my friend has a point. Her reaction to my answer wasn’t to encourage me to find a different path but to embrace the journey I’m already taking. She said I’d be unhappy going back to university because I wouldn’t find what I am truly looking for there, and she’s probably right.

What I’m looking for is the courage to live authentically. I don’t need permission. I moved out of my parents’ house almost thirty years ago. I figured out way back then that I can have cake for breakfast if I want. I have to be prepared to pay the consequence, that’s all. The problem is that I’m remarkably thin-skinned when it comes to perceived criticism. Bad reviews have never bothered me, but the thought that I may make someone squirm by merely mentioning my writing or faith makes me feel awful.

Maybe people have been uncomfortable when I brought up what I do, but how can I be certain? Only one has only said so directly, and she was generally unpleasant to everyone. In every other case, all I’m going on is my gut reaction. Normally that’s spot on—but I undeniably oversensitive concerning this. My entire childhood consisted of being told the world would hate me if I ever shared the truths that made my heart sing, so it’s just as likely I’m seeing my mother’s expression of disgust and not theirs.

Don’t be gay.
Don’t be Pagan.
Don’t be a writer.
Don’t be yourself.

What a bunch of craparoo. People can’t be anything else. Yes, they can change, but only into new versions of themselves. The Tarot card I pulled today emphasized this. When I asked about how I would best make use of a course I was considering taking, I turned over the Hierophant. I laughed out loud. This means I’ll use the class to explore the spiritual side of things, to find inner meaning and purpose.

It’s an art course.

No matter what I do, it all comes back to my faith.

With that advice under my belt, I “prayed on paper” to the daemon Sitri, asking that I become passionate about my daily activities again. I moved right into my daily Five Warrior Syllables practice from there, and thenclosed things down for the day.


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