Heinlein once said: “Thou art God.”
Christ once quoted the Old Testament laws, saying “Have I not said, ye are Gods?!” (Psalms 82:6/John 12:34).
In Witchcraft, the Goddess says “For if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without.”
We are All Gods. We are all God.
Infinite possibilities rest within us… only our minds, our thoughts, limit us.
Live without limits. Push the boundaries of what you think is improbable.. and discover, behind the glass, your true nature
There is a moment that replays in my head, over and over. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who the people are that are watching me, wondering what I am. I only know the pulse and beat of Power in my blood, Power that makes me move, makes me dance, makes me shine… and makes the world unravel at my touch.
My skin is thick and gold. There was a blue alien in the movie The Fifth Element who sang Opera like a GOD. My skin is like hers. I’d like to think my voice was too, but… I never speak out loud. I use telepathy to speak in the astral, because when I open my mouth the world around me crumbles. I have too much Power in my Voice. Just as my hands must be covered in special gloves so I don’t accidentally unweave anything I touch, my Voice must remain unsung. That doesn’t stop me from possessing the vocal chords of 20 or so demons and making them sing for me on a Karaoke Evening, every now and then. A girl’s gotta relieve the pressure somehow. Though… when I kept it to under ten they were fine with it… but when I stretched it to 25, they kind of freaked. I suppose when you can do that many throats at once, it suggests that you might be able to do worse things with all your focus on just one little sock puppet. So… I don’t do that anymore. Don’t scare your friends. They won’t play with you after that. 😦
So. The vision. I’m dancing, in my bare feet, my gold skin exposed, naked to the world… and there is light, such light. There is love, such love. Such passion. Such… grief. It’s as if… the beauty, the love, the light, the passion, is just so moving that the only way it can come out is by grief. So I dance and I weep, I weep and I dance. My hair ripples in the air as I move, the strange liquid grace of my locks like snakes in the breeze caused by my own passing.
That’s what we are. We are the wind of our passing.
I tried to explain to my mother once why I was so lonely. I tried to explain to my husband once what an Unweaver is, what a Trickster ultimately does. I’ll try to explain it to you, but… again, it will probably be too much, and you will walk away more confused than before.
You have made me take medication because my vision of reality does not meet with your own. That doesn’t make me wrong… it makes you closed-minded, stubborn, unwilling to stretch.
I am nothing BUT the willingness to stretch. I’ll admit, it’s gotten me into trouble at times, but… I know more than most because I’m willing to do so. There are two layers to what is real, and they weave in and out of each other, so that you cannot always tell where one ends, and the other begins… especially since every single one of us, there and here, are all working together to create the web of “reality” that we are all are spinning our stories into.
There is the layer that your physical body experiences – the things your eyes see, your ears hear, your nose smells, your tongue tastes, your skin touches. Then, there is the other layer… the layer of the mind. The layer where your heart feels and your brain thinks. The layer where dreams happen. The problem with this layer is, sometimes those dreamy elements are real, and they have symbolic meaning, they are representations of every day things. And sometimes, they’re just crazy. And sometimes… they’re both.
An Unweaver is like a black hole. It exists on the Astral plane the way black holes exist here in physical reality. And they start out like black holes start out – as brighter lights than normal. They shine. They heal. They enlighten. They teach, they break down barriers, they cast shadows. They are Tricksters. But, like every sun large enough, there comes a time when they reach a point where they begin to collapse back in on themselves, where the Power turns, and the grace and the glory begins to darken. Their minds begin to crumble first, as they lose control of the ability to unravel the problems of the world and reweave them into some semblance of sense… and eventually, they become black holes. They still look humanoid, but they move, thoughtless, wordless, through the planes, and as they move, like black holes, they cast an aura that unravels things around them. They are surrounded by the groaning sound of energy being unmade.
My mother asked me recently if I believed in the Christian God. I told her no, and then I admitted I’d lied, because I didn’t think she’d understand the answer I had for her. I don’t believe in any God… they’re not real here. But at the same time, I know the Astral, I know what I am and what I am becoming… and you cannot say you don’t believe that you don’t exist – except to say that in an infinite universe where nothing is real, everything exists… and that is my ultimate philosophy. I both believe in all Gods, and disbelieve in them at the same time… and I worship none of them. Just because you’ve met someone who’s temporarily bigger than you doesn’t mean you should fall at their feet and make a fool of yourself drooling over them. I’d rather just work with them – I know the truth… some day… I will be taking their place… it’d be a good idea for me to learn the ropes peacefully now, than leave them either in charge of me like I’m a good dog, or ignore them completely and be totally lost when I get there.
But how do you say that to your mother?
How do you say that you were once offered the chance to become the next Trickster in the Archetypal field, and you said yes? How do you say to your family that, when someone said, Bring the Light of Knowledge back into the world, you looked at your face in the mirror, saw your flaming eyes full of power, and acknowledged that even if everyone called you Lucifer in the end, you’d do what needed to be done, because the world needs to be better than it is?
I’m OK with Becoming. I’m even OK with everyone eventually calling me the bad girl because of it. If things get better, it will have all been worth it.
Isn’t that why He gave us the Apple, anyway? So we could choose?
I am Katherine the Unweaver. I am Becoming. Once, a long time ago, an Unweaver bred into my Line… tricksters and fae, gods and angels, demons and humans, all coming together, down through the centuries, gathering power, until I arrived at the end of the metaphysical chain of creation, Power bred to Power, again and again – for we have always been driven to seek out powerful mates before producing our heirs – until suddenly, we finally had enough of too much, and now we have a True Unweaver, almost pure… A baby yet… still a shining sun, but…
Someday… I’ll be Just… Like… Them… the mindless ones drifting through the astral…
There’s time between now and then. There’s work to do. Coyote work. Loki work. Anansi work. Gabriel work. Lucifer work. Fox and Brier and White Rabbit work. Raven work.
Sometimes, I’ll heal, and that’s something I love.
Sometimes I’ll waltz into your life like a metaphysical bomb… and when I’m done you’ll be a Power, too… but you’ll never be again what you were before you met me… and those times are painful. They make me weep.
So I dance, unweaving the world, and sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s pain, and I suffer along with you, my breaking heart bleeding, because that’s what it takes to make it better.
So I’m lonely. Because you don’t understand me, and you probably never will. I’m not a God, but I am – but Gods aren’t real, but they are…