Human partnership is strange.  Unless one of you is willing to lay down and die, there has to be a mutual respect for differences.

Twenty-five years ago I recited this fatal marriage vow with fleeting panic whilst standing in front of a priest.  No one likes to be reminded of potential tragedy, particularly on what is supposed to be one of the happiest days in your life.

Hindsight and experience has now granted me a sense of appreciation for taking the vow of  “until death do us part.”  Recalling that I have the option to hit Durwood over the head with a shovel and bury him in our backyard has carried me through many of the rough patches in our marriage.

Suspicious disappearance may be less complicated than divorce.

Pending a murderous rampage, honoring the promises we make to each other is a choice.  For individuals who are confident in their operational procedure regarding life, it can be challenging to blend your ways with another human being.  Sparks only fly when one party consistently concedes to the blending process more than the other.  This is usually the same party that recognizes the need to resolve the unbalance before someone gets a crack over the head with a frying pan.

Martyrdom is unattractive.  The tendency to over-correct can often lead to heinous bitchiness, and brow beating is probably the least productive for the continued mental health of all vested parties.  Once the middle ground on potential behavior is located, effective communication can commence.

A good witch allows herself the time she needs to practice swimming comfortably in the assertive section of the pool.  Those who remain in the deep end of sainthood, or the shallow end with the bitch queens, are too soaked in misery or rage to be of any definitive support for a practical witch who chooses to keep her spouse among the living.

Take notes.  Choose words from your heart, and sort through the advice and actions that are suggested by others.  Relationship professionals (girlfriends included) may often strike a common chord on certain topics, but in the end there is not one other human being on this entire planet that knows you better than you.

Take a deep breath, Evie.  I will return all of your frying pans and shovels whenever you are ready:)

Sometimes a human just needs to be alone.

I sure do.

Until recently, I never really understood how to do this.  Although being alone seemed intriguing, it also sounded rather boring.  Now that I have spent fifty-one years on the planet, being content with my own thoughts is finally getting easier.  This is an improvement from the past when it used to seem impossible to hear my own voice.

I could not sit quietly with myself for longer than two seconds before a thought, or idea, entered my mental arena.  Most of these thoughts were usually directly or indirectly influenced by another human being.

My mom likes to say that “no thought is original.”  Meanwhile, I longed for my thoughts to be.

“Where in the hell are my original thoughts?!”

I would close my eyes to peer within, and immediately start to feel like a crazy person.  I could not identify one single thought that did not originate with something I once heard, read, or observed.  Not one goddamn thought could be traced back to me.  Even the technique I was using to ‘quiet my mind and listen to my inner voice’ could be attributed to a suggestion made by someone else.

Mom was right.

Apparently, there is not one single thought on earth that has not been entertained, imagined, or activated by one or more of the six billion people who live here, or any of the billions of people who have.

So what.  We live on the planet of over-stimulation.  Isn’t that the whole idea?

Perhaps the source of our thoughts and ideas are not without influence, but our innovative and individual versions of thought are generated through our access to each other.  We have the ability to look over a limitless menu of preconceived notions.  We pick and choose our personal preferences in order to formulate our own ideas.  In turn, we offer these personalized versions to the Universe for further expansion.  Our thoughts are creating and co-creating our human experience at every moment.

A sense of sovereignty is no longer some vague notion that can only be acquired through social isolation.  Now I understand that I do not have to spend seven years in Tibet to be at peace with my own thoughts.  It is only when I allow myself to become an active participant among the expanding thoughts of human existence that I am fully aware of my true originality.

How do you know when your thoughts are completely your own?  Well, god forbid that someone else has already thought of this, but… “You will just know.” You just know!  You know it so profoundly, so absolutely, that you cannot even explain it.  Or write about it.  Obviously.

Hey look, Mom!  I found my original thought!!

Little surprises in life are nice.  Little ones.

Any witch would be delighted to discover an extra mint on her pillow.

When it comes to big surprises in life, this witch has recently grasped an alternate perspective.  It only took me about fifty thousand years.

I am surprised that I did not comprehend this aspect of earth life sooner, but if I have truly achieved any amount of creative control over my life experience, it follows that any “big surprise” in my life should really be no surprise at all.

Do you suppose that Donald Trump is genuinely surprised to wake up one morning and discover that his net worth has increased?

He expects it.

I am just as certain that Michael Phelps and Shaun White are not shocked every time that they come in first place.

They count on it.

Ryan Reynolds was not stunned when People magazine voted him “Sexiest Man Alive.”  He is a humble guy, so he may have acted surprised.  After all, acting is a job that he does so well.

When I observe the behavior of successful humans closely, I cannot help but notice that they are always more appreciative than they are surprised.  There are undertones to success.  Expectation, confidence, decisiveness and intuition precede physical elements.  Although practice, study, and natural ability cannot to be discounted, these aspects are mere secondary enhancements to an underlying source of personal power.  Luck has nothing to do with it.

Intellectualism be damned.

Big, fat brains have no place among our creative potential to produce the heart’s desire.  Recalling past experience with disappointment can only perpetuate the same.  Until a witch turns her attention upon the real power source within, and can feel her way toward pleasant outcomes, will she continue to be “surprised.”

When she succeeds, a humble witch need only to act as if stunned.

I miss my dad.

There has not been one day since he died that I don’t remember him.

The sadness of his loss is slowly being replaced with the simple joy I feel to have known him.  I’ve been experiencing some recent moments of gentle guidance from none other than the legend himself.  He still has me smiling.

My dad loved babies as much as they loved him.  His soothing voice and easy manner drew children to him like a magnet.  Any social gathering assured that there would be a young child on his lap, or a baby in his arms.

Fussy babies became miraculously calm when Dad held them.  At one time or another, all of his infant grandchildren (and many of his great grandchildren) have enjoyed peaceful slumber on their Poppy’s warm chest.  It was customary for babies to respond to Dad’s relaxed energy with an audible confirmation of the flatulent nature.

“Now that’s gas,” Dad would report with a noteworthy smile.

Of course, Dad wasn’t always the stress-free patriarch we have enjoyed over these last few decades.  Durwood is apparently quite perplexed whenever I mention that there were moments during my childhood when Dad was actually pretty “scary.”  Supporting a large family through sole proprietary means can weigh heavily on a man’s sense of responsibility.  Durwood now understands how a father might sometimes be perceived as rather frightening under these conditions.

As Dad’s obligations lightened over the years, so, too, did his demeanor.  Eventually his true nature became a welcome influence over those of us who had the pleasure of his company.

A master gardener by trade, Dad had a knack for nurturing.  It seemed that all forms of young organic matter (human included) flourished under his care.  His relaxed stature sustained our growth as individuals, with trademark ease reflected in all of his famous quips.  No one within Dad’s contact circle was exempt from his observations on life.

Many young parents (myself included) have been reassured by one or more of Dad’s classic commentaries.  Untimely displays of curdled spit-up, and even those particularly embarrassing occasions of a major blow-out (also known as Oh-My-God-There’s-Poop-Everywhere) were given a brief synopsis from Dad.

“It’s always good to know when everything is in healthy working order,” Dad would offer.

Concise and memorable remarks of this nature never failed to restore normalcy to most potentially worrisome scenarios.  Mildly uncomfortable and extremely disturbing circumstances were never a challenge for Dad.  I often find myself wondering how he would describe some of my current human conditions, and that’s when I smile.

“There’s more to life than money,” Dad would remind me.

Easy to say when you have it.

“A little dirt never hurt anybody,” I can hear him say.  “You come from good stock.  Everything falls into place after that.”

Relax.  Enjoy the day.  Keep the faith.

Take care of yourself.  Love and nurture your family.

Easy.

When I remember to follow Dad’s simple plan, I start to notice that all the other things, dirt included, really do fall into their proper place.

“See how that works?”

I hear you, Daddy.  Loud and clear.

We are limited by what we believe.  It is inevitable.  Our acquired philosophy will eventually be reflected in the life we lead.  That which we believe to be true becomes our human experience.  Depending on the structural integrity of one’s belief system, self-fulfilling-prophecy can be a blessing or a curse.

So how is it that we come to believe the things that we do?

Some of our truths are woven throughout our ancestral threads.  Many of our fundamental beliefs are absorbed during our childhood.  As adults, we interpret repeated experiences with reasoning.  This accumulated wisdom then continues to define and confirm the truths we live by.

Often our beliefs are nothing more than something we heard once.  Maybe we read it somewhere.  It sounded true to us at the time, and a seed of reasoning was planted.

Perhaps this information simply addressed one of our “why?” questions so fittingly that we automatically filed it among our collection.  Our brain is like a huge reference library.  The ‘philosophy section’ accounts for a large portion of our acquired information.  We rely on its resources daily to explain the stuff we do, and the stuff that does (or doesn’t) happen to us.  If our judgment mode is active, we like to apply our acquired wisdom to the stuff that happens to other humans, too.

Nothing guarantees the longevity of a philosophical tidbit more effectively than proof.  Once evidence is produced to uphold whatever it is you have stored in your reference library, the foundation for your operating system is established.  Confirmation in the form of a personal experience, or one that is merely witnessed, will assure that this particular belief becomes one of the truths you live by.  Belief-activation complete!

Jeez.  The process of establishing functioning elements in our internal operating system is so damn meticulous and fail-safe.  Is it any wonder why it can feel so difficult should we ever want to alter it?

Some of our personal belief structures serve us well.  No altering is required.  Satisfaction does not prompt change.

I really only began writing this essay since pondering a peculiar (yet satisfactory) element within my own system.  While I was running along our street the other day, one of our neighbors slowed down her vehicle on approach.  She rolled down her window to ask me how many miles I run a day.  This isn’t the first time that someone has asked, nor was it the first time I responded with feigned certainty.

I have no idea how many miles I run.  I could.  James bought me a pedometer for Christmas, but the device has not been calibrated properly due to human error (mine).

The truth is that I act upon a dopey notion that has nothing to do with distance.

“During any form of exercise, a consistent level of physical activity must reach at least sixty minutes before you will begin to burn fat.”

I read that somewhere.  I don’t even remember where I read it.  My brain just sucked in the information a long time ago, and I have  been stuck with it ever since.

Now when people ask me how many miles I run, I answer with a number that will generally satisfy inquiring minds.

“About six miles,”  I say.

This is not accurate.  I don’t care.

All I know is that it takes me about an hour to run about five miles.  I think.   It just seems simpler to respond with this number than to explain that “I have no idea and I don’t really care.  I’m only doing it as long as it takes to burn some fat off my butt.”

I like bacon.  I like cheesecake, too.  I also feel as if my life would not be complete without unlimited grazing privileges in the field of chocolate peppermint patties.  Running for at least sixty minutes levels the playground of indulgence where I can eat whatever I want.

Had I read that it is possible to burn fat with mind control, I might be attempting to operate within an alternative belief structure.  Too late.  Not interested.  Running is fun and cheese cake is good.  Satisfaction does not prompt a desire for change, so the sixty-minute philosophy will remain my truth.

“If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it.”

Unless you have a workaholic mind, there is no reason to ever explore the intricate dynamics of your belief system.  I only think about this stuff when I have sixty minutes to kill.

Recurring facets of your life that are pleasing do not necessarily pose questions about your programming.  What about the ones that do?

I had one pesky operating manual that was super-glued to a shelf in the philosophy section of my brain for years.  It was titled, “Two Steps Forward and One Step Back.”

Have you heard of it?  Wildly popular among the low self-esteem crowd, it has been topping the best-seller list for centuries in the book store at the School of Hard Knocks.

I tried to pry it off my shelf with a crowbar once, but the thing weighs a ton.  Cunning and deceitful, it postures itself as a sensible and user-friendly book until you question it’s purpose.  Once it suspects that you are attempting removal, it will reciprocate with a cleverly-placed testament within your own life experience.  It has withstood the test of time and will not be trifled with.

Do not ignore it.  I tried that, too.

This book has a rock-solid structure behind its theory and it will continue to prove it.  It feeds on frustration.  Often unseen, it boasts endless woven fibers of repeated verification throughout its lengthy pages.  It has history.

Want to release it from primary control?

Treat it as the legend that it is.  Accept its worth.  Host a retirement party that the rest of the books in your system will talk about for years to come.  Give appreciation for the purpose it has so gallantly served throughout your historical journey.  Honor its worth for the comfort it has provided during times of struggle.  Show respect for the view it had offered during those times when you did not believe that progress toward a goal was even possible.

Everything responds to love and acceptance.  Even big, fat, over-bloated theories on life will rescind their duties when given the proper appreciation for the purpose they have served.

Glorious retirement from active duty allows the addition of fresh material.  Without any resistance, new energy is welcomed with ease.  Testing stages for more appealing theories have a chance for inclusion among life’s recurring experiences.

I started with a simple and concise version titled, “Two Steps Forward Equals Two Steps Forward.”  This one fits on the shelf nicely.

There have since been many more additions to my philosophy section, including the latest edition of “Effortless Steps.”  Riveting.  I can’t seem to put it down.

For what is a belief, really, if not an attractive explanation that you roll over in your mind, think of often, and repeat to yourself over and over again until it becomes your truth.

At least, that’s what I read somewhere:)

Okay, we get it.  Most of us are well aware of the positive and powerful energy of appreciation.

Through many avenues of study, we have rediscovered the intrinsic value of being thankful for the blessings that are present within our current life experience.  We know that focusing on what we have, and offering the vibrational equivalent of appreciation for these things, is what expands our creative potential.  That which we appreciate attracts more of these blessings into our experience.

The quickest and most reliable way to manifest improved circumstances is to express genuine satisfaction for what you have now.

Really?

Any witch who is up to her elbows in baby poop, crying herself to sleep after a particularly stressful misunderstanding at work, or looking at a pile of overdue bills stacked on her desk may have some difficulty turning her attention toward her blessings.

Even though she knows that there are an abundance of things that she does have to be thankful for, she is an intelligent and emotional being. 

She cannot readily activate the “pause and ignore” command.

Dismissing a dominant mode of unpleasant reality long enough to list her blessings will only end up to be an exercise in sarcasm.

Oh, sure.  We know that there are human beings who can do it.  We refer to these people as saints.  And nuns.

You can’t fake appreciation.  I’ve tried.

It is not that I am ungrateful for all the wonderful things I have.  I just don’t feel like singing about it when my desire for improvement is heightened.

A good witch understands the fluidity of current circumstances and gladly acknowledges that perception is where one’s true magic begins.  Far be it for me to resort to realism, but on this planet, being realistic has proven to be a good place for a practical witch to start.

Rather than forcing oneself to conjure some disingenuous form of appreciation, I have found that the pure energy of acceptance is far more productive.  Nothing softens the directional flow of my attention more rapidly than a grounded concept I can believe in.  There is no trickery or self-deception in a definitive statement of acceptance.  True magic will achieve the kindling stage as soon as I can take a deep breath, observe the entirety of my current reality, and proclaim that “it is what it is.”

It is what it is.  I can believe that.  I can accept that.

When I take another breath and state my acceptance again, I allow a shift in my perspective to begin.  The reality of all there is in my experience widens.

Everything I have, whether it has been wanted or unwanted, comprises the massive scope of my unique life experience.

It’s all here.

Everything I have done, and everything I am doing right now is present and accounted for.

I did the best that I could with what I knew, and I am doing the best that I can with all that I know today.

Good, bad, and indifferent experiences have shaped the individual being that I am.  I accept that all of my experiences have, and will, occur for a reason.  It’s all me.

Right now I am what I was.  Today I accept that I am what I am.  And in this moment, I can also accept that I am what I will be.

Everything that exists as potential elements of my future is right here with me.  Everything that I have yet to experience lies infinitely before me.  The sea of potential elements flows effortlessly above, below, and all around me.

If I am what I was, and I am what I am, then I am also what I will be.  Everything is included.  I can accept the big picture.  I have allowed myself to grasp the sheer breadth my being.

Guiding my thoughts toward acceptance of all that I am has led me to feel a genuine sense of appreciation just to be alive.

There’s some damn irony.  Five minutes ago I had nothing that I even wanted to be appreciative of.  And now I’m just so thrilled to be breathing.

For if I believe that I have not made any intentional errors, suffered any lapses in judgment, or traveled along a path that did not serve my Highest Good, then I can accept the depth and process of my own life experience for all that it is.

There are no mistakes.  I enthusiastically offer the whole of all that I have experienced, and all that I am because of it, into the expanded and soon-to-be released version of me.

Welcome to earth, my friend.  You are a magnificent, multi-dimensional, and ever-evolving being.  You are most assuredly an active participant involved in a scheme of your own grand and clever design.  You are currently becoming you.

Divine order?  Yes, indeed.  I believe that it is what it is:)

Every morning I wake up with fragments of a song looping through my head.  I may have heard it at some point the day before.  Maybe not.  Sometimes the song is so obscure that its origins are a mystery.

My first cup of coffee in hand, I sit quietly on the front porch.  Within minutes, I am vaguely aware of the repeating tune in my head.  It appears that my brain has found a means to pass the time while the rest of my body awakens.

Curious, I decide that one morning I will pay attention to the words occupying my semi-conscious mind.  Like piecing together a network of wandering thoughts, I begin to recognize a correlation between recent intentions I had entertained the previous day and certain song lyrics that exemplified these thoughts.

Odd, but it seems that morning coffee tastes surprisingly better when laced with “aha” moments.  Once I made the connection between the direction of my thought patterns and the poetry of another artist’s words, I recognized the consistency of the law of attraction at work.  The Universe is catching up with me.

We are creating our reality at every moment, whether we are consciously aware of it or not.  Making a correlation between the thoughts you offer on a daily basis and what you are “getting” in return is always the first step in remembering your creative potential.  The simplicity of recognition offers any earth-bound soul a reason to assume control over her thoughts.

Brain chatter pulses throughout the vibrational network of our multidimensional realms.  It’s like a radio signal.  Any effort to pay attention to our thoughts should be an enjoyable exercise.  Why should a witch have to work so hard?!

What better art form than music to serve as a pleasant conduit for offering a vibrational signal?  Since the art of musical expression has a way of permeating our psyche in unsuspecting fashion, a practical witch could seize the opportunity to guide the direction of her thoughts with the essence of a tune.

The next time you hear a song that you like, practice aligning your personal intentions with the lyrics.  With the power to evoke human emotion, music offers limitless potential to create our heart’s desire.

Besides, my dear friend, above all else we have worked and toiled so diligently to achieve, we have now come to understand that there is not a more potent formula for success than the unwavering connection between our human self and our divine source.  Manifesting any life experience that we desire will always include a strong, cooperative, and loving connection between our physical being and God.

Whether you are initiating, maintaining, or strengthening this connection, your effort will produce instant results.  It is only the vibrational relationship between you and you that matters.

So sing yourself a love song.

Musicians so often use a song to express their love for another human being.  The message contained in many lyrics could just as easily be conceived to suit your personal relationship with your higher self.  The potential is limitless.

Choose a song today.  Choose several.

And have fun:)

What could be more life-altering in our mortal existence than to reunite with our divine origin?

Unless, of course, we simply choose to wait until we die.  For it is physical expiration, my friend, that will always remain a “life-altering” option.

Some of us prefer the promise of reuniting with our All-Knowing Self while we are here on earth.  We like the idea. We are intrigued with the growing consciousness of mankind that whispers the truth of who we really are.

The understanding that we may not have to wait for physical death in order to reconnect with our divine source piques our interest.  The desire to claim control of our human experience will often lead us along avenues of conscious awakening we once had no inkling were even at our disposal.

If we believe that all things are possible through God, we remember that we are connected to this powerful wellspring of creative potential.  Like perfecting the ultimate recipe for success, we search, test, and gather the specific ingredients needed to fulfill our birthright to achieve a degree of Godliness.

After all, we are reminded throughout our lives that we were created in “His Image and Likeness,” right?!

Our recipe can be simple, one-minded, and focused.  It can be complicated, fraught with moral lessons, and marked with transitional phases.  In any case, we can spend the majority of our adulthood pursuing a personal understanding of our connection with the divine.

We may attend church, or initiate fellowship with other like-minded individuals.  We may routinely draw inspiration through the wisdom of other mortals like Dr. Wayne Dyer, Neale Donald Walsch, and even Oprah.  Or we search the internet to read the latest interpretations of conscious awakening, and other weird stuff posted on blogs:)

Whatever we do, we just know that we are opening our minds, freeing our hearts, and eventually going to perfect the formula that will allow our physical being to operate in complete harmony with our divine source.

Are we there yet?

Have you reached a degree of Godliness in everything you do, every minute, of every day?

Are you still putting all of your burning desire into perfecting that ultimate recipe?  Still searching for the last “secret” ingredient that will permit your ego to relax, accept your birthright to connect with the creative energy of divine source, and operate successfully as an infinite child of God?

Well, here’s an idea, my friend:

Stop trying so hard to become more like God.

God is becoming YOU.

If you just read that, closed your eyes for a moment, and felt the essence of remembrance flood through your heart, then your search is over, my friend.

You remember who you are.  You remember why you came here.

Recipe complete:)

I don’t like to drink water.  It’s so… blah.

Durwood routinely stands at our kitchen sink to draw a large glass of filtered water for himself.  He ceremoniously ingests the contents of his glass with such pomp and circumstance, you would think he were partaking in the nectar of the gods.  I just don’t see the appeal.

Apparently, we are supposed to drink LOTS of water for optimum health.  Everyone says so.

I used those flavor-enhancing packets for awhile.  I bought into the marketing campaign that offers a convenient and tasty way to satisfy my proper daily water requirements.  Those little packets are really cute, and there is an entire aisle-full of flavors to choose from.

In the end, it’s still just water.  I would really rather have a diet Mountain Dew.  I can suck on the ice cubes from the glass.  I also consume several servings of coffee throughout the day, and there’s some water in that, right?

When I woke up this morning, it was immediately clear to me that this would be our last day of the 2010 calendar year to visit.  We made it through this interesting and strange-as-shit year, my friend!

Smoking in the house be damned.  After the last few weeks of what any self-respecting, thin-blooded Floridian would consider “wicked freezing”…it is thankfully warm enough to throw open the outside doors, grab my smokes and a beverage, and sit down to chat with you.

(Don’t snicker, my fine frozen comrades of the North.  I was “one” of you long enough to appreciate your seasonal experience.   Weather conditions are subject to one’s relative perception.  I’m just grateful to be relieved of the annual windshield-scraping chore.  I can say that I barely minded the last 23 sweltering summers I endured to reach this pleasant state of mind.  Want to complain about the cold up north?  I will relay similar horror stories about the heat.  As in hell.)

We need water.

This past year, we have relied on the element of fire to dispose of our unwanted baggage. We used everything from our ashtrays to our backyard bale fires to relegate our undesirable experiences to the past.  From ashes to ashes, we transformed our old energy levels to reflect more of who we are, and who we want to be.  We have used fire to successfully carve a wide-open avenue for us to expand our creative potential.

For 2011, I am switching to water.  Now that we have successfully navigated through some of the most wretched funk periods of 2010, it is time to relax in the current of the massive tide of abundant blessings that each of us have created for ourselves.

(I know how much you hate hearing this overused adage, Elle, but water will allow us to finally “go with the flow.”)

The moon is in its final days of waning.  It is the last day of the year.  A bee just flew through the door and landed on my computer screen.  The bee provides additional confirmation that the time to move in the direction of our dreams is here.

How much water can I drink?  If that is my only concern, then I know life is good.  There’s always the ice in my glass of Mountain Dew.

I will work on my water intake.  While I am honing my drinking skills, I will mark all subsequent new moon phases with deliberate focus on other practical external cleansing methods.  The availability of water is abundant.

Our septic field may be currently overtaxed,  but this recent development has not infringed upon my bathing habits.  I love to shower.  I get some of my best ideas while I’m in there.  When the moon is waning, I will take the opportunity to consciously send all my residual funk right down the drain.

Lest we forget how much we love a cool body of water, as well!  From the swimming pool to the ocean, one can get an amazingly clear perspective while immersed in, floating on, or traveling through any-sized body of water.

We have the next few days of this holiday weekend to finalize our current disposal list of 2010.  Whatever it is you feel remains, now is the time to slough it off for good.  If you miss anything this weekend, the next new moon is only 28 days away.

Drink the water.  Shower in it, play in it, and rinse any remaining aspects-of-old down the drain as often as you choose throughout this new year.

Separately, alone, and together, we have created an infinite realm of potential experiences in our near future.  Like a symphony of endless choice, our desired journeys lie before us on this magnificent day.  I appreciate the chance to continue my visits with you, my dear friend, and I look forward to another fruitful year of true magic.

Be true to yourself, always:)  Love, Jillian

I’m old.  And I love it.

If age is relative to the individual, then I might need to find an alternative for the word “old.”

I could describe the luminary qualities of aging in the form of some mystical interpretation.  It would be quite easy for me to indulge in my theory behind the conscious awakening of an individual.  The process of uninterrupted vibrational alignment between the physical plane and our spiritual being includes an unlimited supply of benchmarks associated with maturity.

And yet a simple witch prefers to pare these musings down to a less complex version.  When you know that you no longer belong to any one designated human category, your reason for being comes into sharp focus.  Some people like to refer to this as being “old.”

Of course, being considered as “old” is a category in itself…but most of us who have been placed within it don’t give a shit that we’re there.  No matter what age you are in years, being “old” includes a surprisingly calm attitude toward whether or not you fit into any defined human grouping.

I still think too much.  I accept that.  The study of psychology offered me many opportunities to ponder my inclusion among the many categories of human behavior.  As with any subject studied with intensity for great lengths of time, there is the potential to self-diagnose.  By the time I was in graduate school, most of us “had” every disorder we studied.  Then we moved on to diagnose everyone else, including our friends and family.

In retrospect,  it had been my training in averages that impeded my path toward sovereignty the longest.  Bell curves are a bitch.

So here’s the thing, my old friend.  It can get pretty crowded inside a bell curve.  It is refreshing to remember that there is an infinite line that stretches on either side of that statistical curve.  Deliberate choice provides us with the power to place ourselves among any point along the endless line of human potential.

Some of us hover within the area of the bell curve when we would rather not feel alone.  So what?  As part of the human race, we often have the need to feel included.  There will always be certain moments throughout our lives when it is pleasing to seek comfort in common experiences and form lasting emotional bonds with our fellow beings.

When it starts to feel a little crowded within the law of averages, I offer you a gentle reminder to turn your attention outward.  There is a category somewhere along the infinite line of possibilities that lies waiting to be discovered by you.

There might be a few more humans in the category of “those who finish a five-mile run with a cigarette and a diet Mountain Dew,” but thanks to the creative power of human potential, there will always be more opportunities for me to narrow the crowd:)