I was inspired to contribute this article after Theresa posted her ‘coming out’ as a Wytch this week.
I am always surprised when I begin or continue another story, how the flow increases the more I apply myself. I didn’t imagine when I set out on this journey that it would be as extraordinary as it has been. Dreams have become vivid, and my peripheral vision flickers of the ‘other realms’, magnified.
Many friends and readers of my books have shared that they are experiencing strange and fascinating things, as the perceived veils between this world and other realms, thin to the point of almost non-existence.
So are these the changes we can expect? Have the prophecies of the Mayan, the Navaho, the Celt Nostradamus or Ramtha been, not about apocalyptic endings of the planetary forces, but an increasing pressure on our senses to force us to wake up and realise that we are not alone? That we are not as important as we have perhaps led ourselves to believe; there again, if everything is now, then everything is affected by us, and what we think, say, feel and, as a result, do.
My work is about that very thing, those experiences that so many have as yet ignored, through embarrassment of what others may say, through fear that Magick is real, hidden away, waiting to be released from within each of us.
Why do we fear our own powers? When did we first think that they were something bad, to be buried like treasures hoarded for Eons?
When did we believe the tales of our “fall from Grace?” When did the gentle teachings of so many evolved beings become twisted into a mockery of what they, in actuality, said?
When did the Wytch become the scapegoat for all the fear that men had of the women who knew the keys to healing, the plants to cure, and the words to mend? What indeed, happened to the Cunning Men and the Druid healers of old, the Ovate, male and female alike, who were the teachers of their time in herbal lore and psychic phenomena, the walkers between the worlds?
When did we forget the Pantheon of Spirit who helped us to create ourselves, and when did we forget that we carry the same spark that created them? Our only fall was into matter, “Mata,” the Mother, and it is in Her embrace we have always lived, together with the animator’s flame of the wild forest, the Spirit of Place; indeed wasn’t that our choice too?
If they exist then in truth we can awaken, we can remember all that we are, not in an egocentric or hierarchical manner, but in sheer awe and delight at our own magnificence as creatures born of darkness and light, matter and spirit and of joy not fear.
Wake up humankin, wake up, celebrate the truth of yourself, and know that you always were and will be loved, not in the human confined, controlling understanding of love, but in the truly liberating kind …unconditionally.
…blessings on your journey home …Penny
copyright Penny Reilly 2013 – This is an extract from one of Penny Reilly’s books