Interior of the lodge.
I have just entered, bringing with me the sacred items and the fire, the garment and the staff, and the incense of the Mother.
Outside, I set the Guardian on watch, and bade him march and protect.
Inside, a woman.
Dark. Singing. Laughing.
The interior of this lodge is now the shadow opposite of days earlier [i.e. GM’s lodge]. Here it is dark and cold; H.E. is in his bed, but exactly the bed here, in this shadow lodge.
He watches on from a distance.
The W sits around the center-fire, humming… stirring… giggling.
She sees me but does not look over. She knows I am curious and that I want to speak with her, but knows that I know not how.
She loves this – and she uses this.
I approach her, and speak:
I: Who are you? Why are you here?
For a moment her form is betrayed, and I spot a young 5-6 year old girl. She is wearing a bright spring/summer yellow dress, and her hair is in two braids. She looks at me and sees me staring at her, and knowing her. And, as spotted and caught, she took on an innocent posture and widened her eyes, pouted her lip, pointed her chin down to her chest, sulked and fumbled with her hands, and all with such a nice, sweet posture – as if rehearsed.
She sees that I don’t buy it at all.
She begins to get angry. She flashes her teeth, and runs towards the fire where the Woman-Witch is standing and the girl folds into the W’s cloak, hidding from view.
I spot the girl’s small black saddleback shoes sticking out from the hem of the W’s cloak/dress.
I speak to the W again.
“Is that your daughter?” I ask.
The woman-witch stares at me, saying nothing. The little feet under her cloak shift; slightly, and anxiously.
I ask her again:
I: Is that your daughter?
She snaps at me.
W: What kind of question is that?
I: One you responded to.
W: Ah! A clever little nimimwit – let’s see what we can make of you.
I: Make of ME?
I: I’m afraid you may be mistaken – you see, I am not some ingredient for your use.
W: Oh but you are – and have been (at times – though not as often as I would have liked)
I: You don’t need to worry about exhausting any of your resources to find me, trap me, etc etc. Actually, I’d like to come visit you more often. Perhaps if you understood my magic more (and I yours), we might find ways to use these and brew up whatever it is you’re after – and whatever I’m after as well.
W: And what is it you are after?
I: My Father’s Will. I have been charged with providing a place for you.
W: I have one.
I: I’m afraid the place where you’ve taken up residence seems to have had the life choked out of it because of your presence.
I am reminded of a particular dream (“ Mother”), and so I re-enter it.
I: Why are you choking me?
I: Because if I died then….
M: I would be free
I: And if I were free, then…
M: Fuck You
(I sense her sadness)
I: Your eyes… you’ve been corrupted.
From the interior of the lodge, Holding Eagle begins to sing and a drum can be heard. He prepares a bowl of sage mixed with cedar and sweetgrass ~ i believe he intends to bathe and purge this woman.
W: Give her a new purpose, then.
I: What? I can do that?
W: Of course you can. Are you serious? What do you think “magic” is? You’re the architect – build her different.
After a while, she continued:
W: If I were a good magician, I’d take away your power to want things, envision things, and will for them. That way, no action could ever be taken. Why spend time and energy trying to change your actions or react to ones already taken? When you act, a thousand possibilities are created, and a thousand others cease. When do you not act, the same effect; for inaction IS an action.
I: What kind of magician are you, then?
W: One who fears you greatly and finds you curious.
I: Why are you afraid of me?
W: Because you’ll punish me, banish me, kick me out, or imprison me – those are the only options.
I: No I won’t – because those ARENT the only options – not anymore.
W: What do you have in mind?
I: There is a cabin, in the woods, where –
W: I know it well.
I: Meet me there, under the cover of darkness – and we shall speak on these matters further. But what I can say to you is that I offer lodging, an endless supply of resources to accomplish your work so long as you agree for your work to be used by – and for – the benefit of the ORDO of the land you rest and dwell in.
W: Sounds like you’re selling something. Out with it. What do you want?
I: A place for us to use and make our magic and grow. Mastery.
She smiles and grins.
She turns into the shape and form of every woman I have ever loved, or fantasized over, or found desirous.
I: This is not “magic”. It’s a trick.
W: Is there a difference? How to stop a person from will, wish, and desire? Trick them. And voila: “magic”.
I: What is this? [symbol] I see it constantly.
She is worked up, almost aroused even.
W: Who gave you that?
W. Oh. My. God.
The admiration and sexual chemistry suddenly sweltered – the appearance of the W became like a desperate mom in heat.
She repulses at this description of her and feels exposed by it.
W: Gimmie you baby. What chu wanna brew in our cauldron?
W: Mmmmm…. myy…..God…..
I: Isilda. That’s your name?
She begins humming, and brushing her hair, wearing a nightgown and preparing for bed.
I: I’ll leave you now, and return on the fortnight.
W: You’re not gonna fuck me before you go?
I: How do I know that’s safe?
W: You don’t.
She stepped closer, put a finger in her mouth, wetted it, and slipped it down between her thighs, exhaling in a soft, subtle moan.
I: Anything else you’ll be needing? I’ll be going now.
The W, annoyed, rolls her eyes and walks to the front door (where I find myself suddenly now standing, on the porch side) and slams it shut.
And in my head, as the leaves blow, she whispers “See you tomorrow…”