"like trying to save an ice cube from the cold"

 I need a little more witchery in my life.

Which means I need more attention to drive my intent. (intention?)  

And where does attention come from?  (I know the answer, meditation)

 

(sometimes I want divine inspiration to strike, I want a vision or a message or something.)

 

I know I need more rituals to calm myself.  Which means I need more energy and more focus.   Neither of which exist in abundance in my life right now.  So I probably should focus on finding ways to have more focus?  

 

If I was a witch, I feel like I'd have a domain.  I'd be a kitchen witch, or someone who gardens, or have a different relationship to my books or my words .  Or something would be effortless and since nothing is, I must not be a witch.

 

If I was a witch, I'd have found a path by now.

 

But there is no goddess of jigsaw puzzles, and no altar to being good at helping people move, no rituals for brute-forcing data organization probably easier done by automating the task.  Maybe I'm meant to be worshipping smaller things, SSRIs, years of sobriety, cat hair.  High proof sunscreen, too sweet tea and cross stitch patterns.  

 

Or maybe if I keep chipping away at this body with tattoos and glitter, I'll find something inside it.  Something that stands up straight, something that can look in the mirror long enough to put eyeshadow on.

 

I want to be dangerous, I want to upset the nature order of something or someone.  I want to be craved.  I want to be essential.  

 

And I still wonder at other people's religious practices, examined or not.  I'm at a point where most of the people I love fall somewhere on the agnostic/atheist spectrum, but I occasionally startled when people identify with a tradition.  Sure, I was an Episcopalian altar girl, lay reader, choir girl and Sunday school teacher, but after I left for college, I only set foot in churches for the occasional wedding and funeral and once or twice, mother-in-law guilt trips.  And besides, the high school fervor was only about trying to find a place to belong or a thing to believe, neither of which it provided me.

 

I've been going through old notebooks, and finding strange notes I've left myself that must have been full of meaning at the time and are now just baffling and occasionally a little sad.  On the other hand, I've also be going through our collection of stuffed animals and it's oddly delightful to have been with Light long enough that we've forgotten why we kept things and can let them go with abandon.  

 

I should go swiffer the kitchen floor now that Light's taken the ridiculous amount of things to recycle out to the curb, but it's late and maybe I'll have time to do it before his game tomorrow anyway.   And I did enough today, I packed boxes and boxes of books (without seeming to make any headway in terms of clearing shelves) and dropped our ewaste off at the DPW, and bought more boxes and groceries and started going through all the clothing that I need to sort into thredup, donate as clothes or donate to fabric recycling.    So instead of the shoulds, I think I'll go to bed.