For years I have wanted to be that old crone, living off the beaten path, pretty much in solitude, and happily so... tending her flocks and gardens, picking herbs and concocting potions, spinning up fiber and thoughts of AllMother... and pretty much leaving the world to its own devices.
That seems like a selfish thing, although I cannot put words to why. In my imagining, said witch might, if someone found their way to her clearing, be willing to "try for them" as those of my tradition say... I say "might" because of course it is not only her choice but influenced by her perceptions of their commitment and motives, the input from the Gods and -- this is a witch, after all -- the phase of the moon. And of course, if they caught her in a good mood. LOL Even good witches have bad days, you know.
Now that I have my 4 acres and a garden, flocks of chickens, ducks and turkeys, spinning wheels and looms, more wool that "Baa Baa Black Sheep" and no requirement to hit the town regularly for a paycheck, it seemed that I had almost become that witch in many ways. Oh, my acres are far more open and visible to the naked eye of the passer by than in my imaginings, but the wards, and the electric fence, keep most wanderers at bay.
I have been working this past year towards a goal of no more than once a week trips to "town" (Bangor) and hoping to bring that down to an even lower number, including trips to our little town center, if it could be called that, with the post office and grocer and such.
There are things that I DO want to share with those who would hear and appreciate ... things about my spiritual path, about the homestead and such... and I appreciate having the Internet for such a purpose. But, at the same time, I feel I have gotten drawn too far into too many other people's lives. And having been so drawn, I guess it feels selfish to back away from friends -- both those I know in person and those I only know, though I fell I know them no less, though the miracle of electronics.
But I need to. I, more than anyone I know, gather strength and energy from my solitude; from hours of silence broken only by the calls of the birds (wild and domestic), the whirr and buzz of passing wings, the rush of the wind through the grass and the trees. Solitude allows my thoughts to first unwind and then coil up around a stalk of grass or the tendril of a breeze and realign with the earth and the Gods.
In the busy-mess (I had intended to write busy-ness but my typo seems more accurate) of the world, Hearthfire Hill and the Fussing Duck Farm stand apart. While we are becoming a part of a widely dispersed community, sharing blessings as eggs and produce from time to time, it seems that I need to continue to move further into solitude for my physical and spiritual health. I am no longer the young woman, the mother, who could just keep drawing energy and keep going seemingly endlessly. I have limits and they don't just make themselves known gently. Like me, (since they ARE mine, after all!) they kick butt.
This is not to say that I do not need, want, and appreciate my larger community. I do... and in many ways I need it more than I want to admit. I could really use a couple of friends with trucks and a bunch more with shovels for a "shit slinging party" that would not involve politics but instead actual manure -- and most likely beer and burgers on the grill. Or, maybe an easier to come by group with hammers and pry bars for a less messy "nail pulling party" to help prep the recycled wood for our barn. The beer (or wine... this is me, after all!) or sweet tea and burgers or bbq pork are a given. If you are local and interested in helping a sometimes crotchety old crone, shoot me an email. Meanwhile, I'll be here.