THE WITCH’S MATRIX
It happened again. The hubby and I were curled up watching a movie on t.v. that was continuously interrupted by the most inane, graphically-disabled commercials I had ever seen. Over and over–and they lasted an unbearable length of time. He stares at them, helpless to turn away and trained by a different generation that rarely moved two feet from the bright lights of techno junk. Until he noticed me doing what I have always done: head turned, humming to myself, in another world.
H: What the hell are you doing?
Me: Shh, I’m losing focus.
You see, it occurred to me long ago that I can CHOOSE to be somewhere else, think other things, when the crappola of this world encroaches into my sanctuary. Anything is better: enjoying the buttered apricot paint I chose for our bedroom walls, breathing deeply the “sugared maple” lotion on my hands, pondering the sound of rain on our tin roof . . . anything other than allowing precious moments to be stolen by nagging electric demi-gods of nonsense. All it took was considering one day that, if national averages are even close to correct, a child sees over 20,000 commercials per year. At around 30 seconds per commercial, that’s an staggering amount of life thrown in the toilet. Then, weigh against those numbers the fact that beta waves–not alpha–are engaged while watching the boob tube, that’s a ridiculous wast of sacral energy. And energy is magic. Therefore, all time watching commercials–that wander lust empty time in which you *wonder* if indeed you need to buy that pill to get skinnier, or hock your car to obtain that new fancy gizmo from Office Max that you didn’t know you wanted, or consider the ramifications (again) of how an ORANGE FEELS when a juice is just as tasty–could have been better spent even if all you did was pet your cat.
And I’ve had a lot of experience with disallowing this “gray noise” in the last year. These days, ignoring the neon flash of another disability attorney asking me if I’ve been hurt was a piece of cake, considering all the practice I garnered in 2013. Standing up to bullies is a tough job–standing against corruption and unfathomable BS is harder. At some point in 2013, I had to make an active choice to tune out the crap and focus on healthier, more honest things in my life than the hysteria of the lunatic fringe.
Now, I’m certainly not suggesting that we ignore dangerous, mentally-unstable folk. Doing so can lead you down some unswanky swamplands, believe me. I am, however, suggesting that–after anchoring yor’ ship, sturdying that sail and warning all passengers on board that drunken Brits have been spotted on the waters–there still may be time to take in a sunset. Mayhap. Surviving these battles is worth nothing if the wonders of life have been muted by the sound of war.
And this lesson is harder than you might think.
I look back on some of the most difficult moments of my life–all long gone now–and lament only that I forgot to laugh. As a younger Southern Belle, those times were marred by my insistent worry, obsessing, struggling against the smell of someone else’s resentment and shenanigans. My ass was focused on the commercials in my life: divorce, custody hearings, betrayal and all that putrid dung that gets hurled at an otherwise happy human being when they draw a line in the sand. And I was missing the show, y’all. Tweren’t the asshat’s fault: naw, that one is all mine. I lay claim to that time, biting my fingers until they were bloody instead of dancing in the rain. We don’t get wise without getting our ass handed to us upon occasion. But, in my late forties?
I finally get it. I have a choice. And I’ll be damned if I’m watching those commercials, if only because the Law of Attraction has crystallized in my learning curve. Let’s go off script, shall we? (Y’all know how much I love to take my path around the proverbial mulberry bush.) Universal Law can screw you or save you. Be careful what you focus upon; be even more mindful of what the mundane world is trying to sell to you. Think of it like this:
Ever notice how some folks think that their faith somehow trumps yours, magically speaking? Marinate on rabid Christianity for a spell. There ya go. Like that. The idea that even though you are not of their faith, you will pay according to it?? Logical fallacy much? (This one just slays me, when witches/Pagans replicate Christian dogma.) Nah, I reckon it’s much simpler than that, more like: my magic will protect ME from your ridiculous asshattery. Not punish YOU. At least, not according to my faith’s standards. But mayhap yorn. See, if Witch A is obsessed beyond all reason with hurting Witch B and fully believes that 1. She is correct that Witch B deserves it and 2. That the Universe will deal with the situation justly . . . but then, Witch B doesn’t get hurt . . . does that mean that Witch B didn’t earn that revenge? Was Witch A wrong or just having a bad magic night? Hmmmmm. Let’s just hypothesize that the result boomeranged on Witch A. Now. Does that mean that the result was 1. a product of Witch B’s skill or 2. the synergetically correct result, according to Witch A’s own faith system?
Yupper. Witches Matrix. Looks like:
Golden Dawn Witch x Voodoo Witch = fubar unless GDW’s faith is the one true faith, OR vice versa. OR, try this one: GDW x VDW= VDW loses IF VDW’s “value system” accepted her guilt as just. OR: GDW x VDW = GDW loses IF she cast unjustly and is guilty according to her own “value system.” OR: it depends. Who’s the most skilled/talented witch?? 
Mind. Blown. I mean, otherwise, y’all, all faiths are just pretty outfits we wear. Think on this one.
Or . . . what if Witch A’s magic never worked on Witch B, the former’s ego couldn’t accept it and stomped into the mundane world for mortal revenge? Would Witch B then win by default, according to magical laws? I mean, magically speaking: that would be an “illegal maneuver and usurping of code.” Perhaps, what we would have then would not be the outcome anyone with ancient witch ethics would desire; the equation would be hinged upon a “tampering with the Universal penal system,” methinks. Then what? 
I wouldn’t want to be that guy, that’s what. My reverence for Witch Code is too embedded in my bones to screw with Divine Verdict. And so, in honoring the laws of order of the Craft, I will not watch the commercials or engage in the bullshit hyperbole of the mortal realm. Rather, I will keep my sacred thump and engage my being with the Law of Attraction. Some of us don’t test the gods, y’all. I’ve had my own uppity bumm handed to me in my twenties over similar tomfoolery and have the scars to prove it. Naw, I will continue to turn away from the yammer of ambulance chasers and false prophets and focus on sunsets, the sweet taste of butter on my tongue, the love of my partner and the sacral steadfastness of my kin. 2014 has promise. We are looking at a budding business, replacement income, new and SANE allegiances in our community, babies (squee!) and the sharp edge of a life well-forged.
What a blessing, to have burned off the fringes off mindless chatter and drama and be left with such a clean, smooth skin. And, even if the commercials increase (some folks just have too much money too waste): I have learned something epic.
How to hit the”off” button on my remote. You’ll find me, as usual, dancing under the trees on the land that birthed me. Turns out? Gray noise is forbidden there, no matter how hard it tries to be heard.
Blessed Be you all in the coming year and may we all stay focused on real magic, real love and real lives.
1. I am using these “kinds” of witches as examples and could just have easily used any other vein of the Craft.
2. In particular, I have seen this kind of “diversion” several times in the last year. Once with a dear friend of mine up North, but even more often in the news.