The Witching Hour –
The wee hours of the morning while the darkness of night still rules the skies.
A time when magic roams and flows fiercely and freely while the mundane world sleeps.
The Witching Hour has times and connotations, and even literature and film named for it.
The one constant seems to be when a mark is made, a change is ignited. There certainly is specific potency and presence at certain times. Those times can also be personal, random to any daily cycle of hours.
Several months ago, I had such an hour. Actually an hour plus a bit.
Life, as it sometimes does, had become a slow moving murky brand of chaos. I diligently did what it usually takes to calm things and set them right again, but somehow that necessary equilibrium kept slipping out of reach. So much had happened in life – personally, nationally, globally – that it was reasonable to have lost footing, but it felt like I was trying to anchor on a mudslide instead of solid ground.
I needed a new perspective, an unbiased opinion, the wise voice of expertise, and from someone I trusted. There comes a time when even those who counsel, require counsel themselves.
I sat there during that hour, knowing I was leaving gaping voids in explanation, significance, and details of experiences and knowledge, and even basic chronology. I knew it, yet I couldn’t fill in those gaps, could not even articulate that I was giving convoluted, spotty response. I could not express that this truly was NOT how my brain worked. I knew more than I could articulate. Life had been an insane rollercoaster but I was not reckless nor deranged. It felt like I was in the driver’s seat, responsible for the trip but someone else had the controls.
One of the main long range effects I have from my bout with Covid is brain fog. My memory comes and goes. My ability to articulate does not always match the fully formed, and at times even rather clever, content in my mind. It is not constant, and thankfully is less frequent and less intense than it had been.
I have always relied on my brain. My constant quest for my knowledge, my ability to learn, comprehend, retain, and apply, have been the winning combination, my steadfast key to survival, to thriving, to creating, and certainly in my magic. The feeling that I could not rely on myself to know, to formulate, to implement, on any level, had me more lost than I had realized.
That hour with that wise soul – Was it the questions asked, the information shared, the insights expressed…was it one of those or all of those, or just somehow being in the right space in the right time, that set the gears in motion? I cannot be sure of the precise aspect, but I am certain of the results. Some shift started to occur like sand trickling down a mountain side as the big boulder above slowly but surely got loose and ready to tumble.
What my next steps were, are irrelevant here as they are personal to me, and truly for me in that specific time.
That was my witching hour. When what is in you and around you, together with what you reach out for (be it book, or consultation), alchemize into a new flow, a new feeling, that give you that even tiny shove towards your proper next step.
I encourage each and every person reading this to do that thing… go to that place, read that book, ask that person… even if it feels like a lost cause, or odd, or uncomfortable, or uncertain… the only way out of a rut is to start stepping out. You WILL have to keep working and learning and doing… on all planes, BUT there are moments – hours even – of sheer epiphany, that are gifts of magic, that will forever change you.
I am forever grateful for that hour, to that person, to whatever pushed me to take that step…for all that is still to come.