Once upon a time,
there were two Witches. One was a Feminist Witch and the other
was a Traditionalist Witch. And, although both of them were
deeply religious, they had rather different ideas about what
their religion meant. The Feminist Witch tended to believe that
Witchcraft was a religion especially suited to women because the
image of the Goddess was empowering and a strong weapon against
patriarchal tyranny. And there was distrust in the heart of the
Feminist Witch for the Traditionalist Witch because, from the
Feminist perspective, the Traditionalist Witch seemed subversive
and a threat to "the Cause".
The Traditionalist Witch tended to believe that Witchcraft was a
religion for both men and women because anything less would be
divisive. And although the
Goddess was worshipped, care was taken to give equal stress to
the God-force in nature, the Horned One. And there was distrust
in the heart of the Traditionalist Witch for the Feminist Witch
because, from the Traditionalist viewpoint, the Feminist Witch
seemed like a late-comer and a threat to "Tradition".
These two Witches lived in the same community but each belonged
to a different Coven, so they did not often run into one
another. Strange to say, the few times they did meet, they felt
an odd sort of mutual attraction, at least on the physical
level. But both recognized
the folly of this attraction, for their ideologies were worlds
apart, and nothing, it seemed, could ever bridge them.
Then one year the community decided to hold a Grand Coven, and
all the Covens in the area were invited to attend. After the
rituals, the singing, the magicks, the feasting, the poetry, and
dancing were concluded, all retired to their tents and sleeping
bags. All but these two. For they were troubled by their
differences and couldn't sleep. They alone remained sitting by
the campfire while all others around them dreamed. And before
long, they began to talk about their differing views of the
Goddess. And, since they were both relatively inexperienced
Witches, they soon began to argue about what was the
"true" image of the Goddess.
"Describe your image of the Goddess to me," challenged
the Feminist Witch. The Traditionalist Witch smiled, sighed, and
said in a rapt voice, "She is the embodiment of all
loveliness. The quintessence of feminine beauty. I picture her
with silver-blond hair like moonlight, rich and thick, falling
down around her soft shoulders. She has the voluptuous young
body of a maiden in her prime, and her clothes are the most
seductive, gossamer thin and clinging to her willowy frame. I
see her dancing like a young elfin nymph in a moonlit glade, the
dance of a temple priestess. And she calls to her lover, the
Horned One, in a voice that is gentle and soft and sweet, and as
musical as a silver bell frosted with ice. She is Aphrodite,
goddess of sensual love. And her lover comes in answer to her
call, for she is destined to become the Great Mother. That is
how I see the Goddess."
The Feminist Witch hooted with laughter and said, "Your
Goddess is a Cosmic Barbie Doll! The Jungian archetype of a
cheer-leader! She is all glitter and no substance. Where is her
strength? Her power? I see the Goddess very differently. To me,
she is the embodiment of strength and courage and wisdom. A
living symbol of the collective power of women everywhere. I
picture her with hair as black as a moonless night, cropped
short for ease of care on the field of battle. She has the
muscular body of a woman at the peak of health and fitness. And
her clothes are the most practical and sensible, not slinky
cocktail dresses. She does not paint her face or perfume her
hair or shave her legs to please men's vanities. Nor does she do
pornographic dances to attract a man to her. For when she calls
to a male, in a voice that is strong and defiant, it will be to
do battle with the repressive masculine ego. She is Artemis the
huntress, and it is fatal for any man to cast a leering glance
in her direction. For, although she may be the many-breasted
Mother, she is also the dark Crone of wisdom, who destroys the
old order. That is how I see the Goddess."
Now the Traditionalist Witch
hooted with laughter and said, "Your Goddess is the
antithesis of all that is feminine! She is Yahweh hiding behind
a feminine mask! Don't forget that it was his followers who
burned Witches at the stake for the "sin" of having
"painted faces". After all, Witches with their
knowledge of herbs were the ones who developed the art of
cosmetics. So what of beauty? What of love and desire?"
And so the argument raged, until the sound of their voices
awakened a Coven Elder who was sleeping nearby. The Elder looked
from the Feminist Witch to the Traditionalist Witch and back
again, saying nothing for a long moment. Then the Elder
suggested that both Witches go into the woods apart from one
another and there, by magick and meditation, that each seek a
"true" vision of the Goddess. This they both agreed to
do.
After a time of invocations, there was a moment of perfect
stillness. Then a glimmer of light could be seen in the forest,
a light shaded deepest green by the dense foliage. Both Witches
ran toward the source of the radiance. To their wonder and
amazement, they discovered the Goddess had appeared in a
clearing directly between them, so that neither Witch could see
the other. And the Traditionalist Witch yelled "What did I
tell you!" at the same instant the Feminist Witch yelled
"You see, I was right!" and so neither Witch heard the
other.
To the Feminist Witch, the Goddess seemed to be a shining matrix
of power and strength, with courage and energy flowing outward.
The Goddess seemed to be holding out her arms to embrace the
Feminist Witch, as a comrade in arms. To the Traditionalist
Witch, the Goddess seemed to be the zenith of feminine beauty,
lightly playing a harp and singing a siren song of seduction.
Energy seemed to flow towards her. And she seemed to hold out
her arms to the Traditionalist Witch, invitingly.
From opposite sides of the clearing, the Witches ran toward the
figure of the Goddess they both loved so well, desiring to be
held in the ecstasy of that divine embrace. But just before they
reached her, the apparition vanished. And the two Witches were
startled to find themselves embracing each other.
And then they both heard the voice of the Goddess. And, oddly
enough, it sounded exactly the same to both of them. It sounded
like laughter.
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