There’s something interesting that happens sometimes, when you stop and suddenly you just know something. Between a blink and a breath, you become filled, chest full and rising away from your spine, and in the back of your skull your brain pushes forth a signal. It speaks in words you translate to certainties, or pictures, or plans – and you know.
At least, that’s something that happens for me.
Annoyingly, my knowings are usually vague threads that take a while to toy loose or bloom fully into concrete ideas. Just a niggle here or there that sends me on my path or toys with my emotions or forces my hand in decisions or indecisions.
Just like, in the quiet part beneath the vacuum of lung and chest, I know that I am meant to be an oracle, a quiet voice, and a confidant to persons and spirits and things of unflesh – rather than a priestess with a wide circle and arms that hang heavy with jewels of rank or private heirarchy.
And in the space between my back brain and the line that marks my lips to chin, I see that I am the witch and the creator, not the personality sold on social media and public stage.
I know who I am, even if I could not tell you what or how I am in parameters that can be voiced by word.
I had been planning, since later last year, to attend a tour run by friends of mine in Ireland, with grand adventures and nights to myself.
Only recently, amid fits of emotion and allergy-illness I sad that I was not going. I had been having trouble getting my things in line to pay, and I couldn’t operate even the most basic of things in relation to the trip. I spent long hours and several days considering, but I knew already in the gaps between my vertebrae that I would not be going.
Not because I can’t afford it – I am good at saving and budgeting, by necessity – and not because I don’t want to – because truly, I think their trip will be a dream… but more importantly because I am not supposed to. It’s right for me not to go. It feels right in the way that I knew it was right when I first thought it. And I have no pangs about the choice, in hindsight.
I am not generally one who makes sudden leaps or takes huge acts of impulse and whim, but sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed. I feel a great influx in the air, and I’m on the look out for opportunities to go and do and be… maybe an impulsive adventure is more on the line for 2017 than a carefully planned one.
Though if you know me at all, you’ll know I prefer the carefulness of planning.
Risk and adventure might be just the thing…