Salt Water

I was twenty-one, and that was the first time I had ever seen the ocean. I slept that night as close to the window as I could, straining my ears for the sound of waves. The ocean was a poetic trope, the longing of Tolkien’s elves, a setting for adventure and tragedy. I loved the idea of it, and I wanted to be lulled into sleep like the heroes of my favorite books, but that was all I knew of the water. 

Two of Cups

There are a dozen more like this, fractured moments when I realized that other people thought about themselves in a way I didn’t. They noticed things that happened to their bodies and, more terribly, could explain why their emotions were reacting in certain ways or how they had changed over time. I was young when I realized that there was an entire set of internal data that, by circumstance or nature, I struggled to notice and could not fathom how to read. 

Coyote

The archetype I was most interested in was the trickster. Coyote was certainly one of those – and I loved the few stories that I knew about him. Anyone who gave fire to humans was a friend of mine. It took me a while to realize this was not exactly true. 

Knowing Jack

There are reasons that stories travel from culture to culture, but Jack has always been something of an anomaly in how widespread and yet contiguous his stories are. He may be from Cornwall, Germany, or  North Carolina in a given story, but his character is recognizable and the story is more than likely the same.

Oak, Ash, and Thorn

When the answer came, it seemed obvious. I’d do what any good Witch would do. I’d call on the holy trees, trees that meant the world to me.