Saturday, 18 February 2012

Facets of a Woman

Merry meet!

How many people really know you?  I mean really really know you?  A few?  A couple?  Nobody?

I have been happily married for several years now, and my husband knows me well.  He knows how to make me smile, and when to leave me alone, depending on which mood I'm in, and he also knows when I need comfort and reassurance against the big bad world, and when to leave me to take on the monsters safe in the knowledge he has my back.  We have a deep, loving bond that has faced challenges that would rock weaker relationships, to the point that we have developed something of a psychic link.  Yet he has never really seen my Hag.

The fury of the Hag
Every woman has a Hag.  She goes by many names.  In witchcraft she is the Crone or the Hag, the final aspect of the triple goddess represented by the waning of the moon as our bodies wane from the voluptuous fertile Mother to the post-menopausal old biddy.  To others she is our inner Bitch.  She may be close to the surface or buried deep within, but she is there and sometimes she screams to be set free.  When I was a teenage girl going through the chaos that is puberty, she made herself known regularly if inexpertly.  As I got older, I learnt to bury her so far inside my soul she couldn't help me when I really needed her, and I was left unprotected and vulnerable to the pain others inflicted upon me emotionally.  She threatened to take me over sometimes, but I always knew that that wasn't who I wanted to be, so I healed myself slowly but surely, until my heart and soul were whole enough to be risked again in a new love affair, and this one is much better and is standing the test of time.

Yet sometimes I can feel her, my Hag, looking out through my eyes, whispering words into my ears, Her fingernails scratching at my heart, and I want to spit venom and fury at the world around me.  Sometimes she makes me want to attack those closest to me, just because they are there. Thankfully, I am married to a wonderful man who, while he doesn't fully understand my Hag, recognises her and has even found ways to conquer her, particularly at Moontime when the hormones flow as freely as my blood. Sometimes he is the icy cool that takes away the sting of her poison, and sometimes he understands that there are many types of fire and that sometimes he has to burn me with the heat of his love and his passion to show the Hag that she is not as in control as she thinks she is.  And sometimes he just stands back, trusting me to take control again when I am ready, knowing that when the anger has faded and only the scratch marks remain on my soul, I will come looking for the safety of his arms, the comfort of his kisses, and the shared knowledge that I have subdued her once again.

This is the complexity of womanhood, and learning to live with this is part of my path as a witch.

Blessed be )0(