A Witch of Few Words

Some days, I feel like the most un-magickal witch on the planet.

It occurred to me when looking back through my sabbat pages that I rarely write a full sabbat ritual or spell.  I'm kind of . . . silent when I work.

I hate all the wordiness.

You know - the cheesey "Oh! Come hither O Mighty Ones! Light the candles to show me the glorious way through the rose-scented valley of this glorious night! I call upon every gnome, squirrel and platypus known to the universe to aid me this night in my stupendous undertaking of Strengthening Myself to Clean Out My Closets by Belatne!"

Okay, so - no one's ever written quite a thing such as that. (Dear Goddess, I hope not.)

But calling out long, wordy pleas are just . . . no. I can't. I won't. I never have. I can't even write them.

The real irony here is that I do write a lot of things - just not the witchcraft variety.

Maybe the problem is I've been solitary for over two decades - I'm used to a quiet ritual; one in which I can focus, direct and feel things. And, for the record, I have fabulous results from my non-wordy spells. Maybe I'm so busy directing energy without talking? Who knows. I just know I don't need to detail my purpose verbally. Or shriek out the four quarters. Or trill love sonnets to the deities. I kind of figure they'll hear my thoughts louder than my words.

I know. I know. Most witches love to *create imagery* with their words. They love to expound on the beautiful things out there.

Great. I'm happy for them.
Me? I'm a Witch of Few Words. (except when writing blog posts, apparently)
Heh. I think I like that.

Clearly, I'm an aberration in the wordy-witch-world.