This is a picture of my cat Wednesday. He’s been missing for one week now. I haven’t given up hope, but neither am I counting on ever seeing him again. It’s a difficult act of emotional juggling.
I’ve divined about him, I’ve done magic to get him back, sigil shoals and deals with spirits. A friend even had a direct perception of him (the term direct perception is from the Greek Magical Papyri) but either my friend’s vision was faulty or when I got there Wednesday had moved on. I check the animal shelter’s website several times a day, I’ve described him to every neighbor who’s walked by as I sit outside, and I sit outside my apartment sometimes late at night, just in case. —Nothing. Wednesday is probably just gone. I can’t bring myself to divine again whether or not he’s still alive.
Now I’m going to go all antinomian on you and confess a nigh unforgivable sin. —I’m depressed. There, I said it.
Life’s handed me a lot of lemons over the last couple of months and I managed to deal with them one and all — and quite well even if I do say so myself. But Wednesday’s disappearance and the cases of me getting my hopes up when somebody tells me they’ve seen him but it turns out not to be him after all — my brain couldn’t deal. It’s a mild depression and it won’t last very long — I know my own history in such matters all too well.
The stigma attached to depression in our society isn’t as bad as it used to be — in most circles. But in the small world of the online occult community most still speak of their problems guardedly, or not at all. As if a magician or witch or sorceress were supposed to be able to ward themselves from every ill whatsoever. I’m exaggerating, of course. But when it comes to a mental illness, I may not be exaggerating at all.
Well, fuck that. I’m depressed!
So what am I going to do about it? I’m going to do magic, that’s what. Magic is the ultimate antidepressant. It won’t magically cure the depression, but it sure is a lot of fun. And a lot of fun is about the best thing for depression. —I’m rather pious, and for a lot of the more pious pagans out there their Gods are what make their world go around. Not me. For me it’s magic. Magic rocks my world. Magic is my panacea. (It’s a good thing, btw, that my Patroness is a Goddess of magic.) —Well, magic isn’t literally a panacea. But it feels like one.
If you’ve read much of my blog I hope you know that I value openness and honesty. I value them over saving face. I felt I owed it to my readers — the few, the loyal — to explain why I’ve let the blog languish … yet again. Well, now you know.
Now, if you’ll excuse me I have some magic I need to go do.