Spirited Observance

It is snowing in the valleys now, and it seems like everything in the world has been covered with blankets of monochromatic greys.  Outside my window I can see her eyes, the piercing blue looking in on me, intent to break the monotony of blank colors. Every time the wind blows I can almost feel her breath whispering along my skin, it’s been seven years now, and still she waits outside my window.1

I remember her all too well, the way her lips were always full and red, and her skin looked so fresh and perfect. I remember she always smelled of lavender. I asked her one day why she preferred lavender to other scents, and she replied with a smile, “Maybe some day I’ll tell you all about the magic inside of herbs.”2

That’s the way she was, always so full of mystery and beauty. Mother was Wiccan; she believed that every part of the Earth held a story, a soul, a magic kept deep within it. She told me that if you listened close enough, you could hear the trees breathing, whispering- but if you stood really still for hours, you might be able to hear what they have to say.3

Long ago, the Native Americans used to go on great solitary adventures in order to see their “visions”. They would stay alone in the wilderness for days on end without food or water, and in their starved delirium, they would see things that would give them direction in life. It was said that this “vision” gave young boys to manhood, and it was an important part of their culture. 4

Mother used to say that Wicca took Native American beliefs and adapted them to modern day times. She meditated and worshiped the Earth in much the same fashion that the old people had so long before she. 5

When I was ten, and still had the boyish charm about me that is lost in puberty, my mother would take me into the woods with her, and together we’d plant a tree, or a flower. She said it was important to never take more from the Earth than we give back. She believed that every life was equally important, whether it be a plant or an animal. She never ate meat, and she said that the only way to relieve the negative karma of eating plants was to plant new ones.6

Her alter was in the back yard. It was a gorgeous pedestal with everything she needed to practice her rite. The candles and incense aided in her meditation and prayers, and the dagger and chalice represented the God and Goddess. 7

My mother’s beliefs weren’t that any supernatural beings actually existed, she believed that every aspect of the universe could be broken into four elements: Earth, Air, Water, and Fire. Each of the four elements was either masculine or feminine. Everything is either masculine or feminine. The moon is feminine, while the sun is masculine. Since everything in nature is basically put into these two categories, it’s easier to represent them through the God and Goddess.8

She shimmers with the cold winter breeze, and her long brown hair is caught in the wind. It carries each strand up and over in a merry-go-round of nostalgia. Her piercing blue eyes look over me intently, waiting for me to return their gaze. My eyes dart to the window, and there she is, lovely as ever in her blanket of snow and melancholy. There’s a look of innocence and longing in her eyes, it was not her time to die.9

He came one day, he rode in on his shiny, black, motorized steed, and he swept her off her feet. I didn’t like him, his colors were dark and faded, and I wondered why Mother couldn’t see this. He made her pancakes, and showed her that the world is larger than our backyard.10

They left early one morning, for the beach.11

My tears fell in solitude as they lowered her into the ground four days later. I planted lavender on her grave that night. Beneath the full moon I cried. She was gone, and with her also left my faith in all goodness.12

I broke. As a crumpled, heaving boy, I said my last goodbyes. I traced the outline of her beautiful name with my fingertips, and patted the soil around the lavender. My aunt was staying at the house, and she would have wondered where I’d gone. Picking up what little was left of humanity; I walked the path to my house.13

In the morning I found lavender under my pillow.14

She looked so lovely in her monochromatic world, with the wind rustling through the snow-topped trees, bringing down sheets of white in perfect silence. She watched over me, and held me- she made me safe.15