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A Simple Path: Journey of a Hedgewitch


*The Hedgewitch lives in the space between the Village and the Forest. Between the mundane and the magical. S/He lives with a foot in both worlds.
This column is dedicated to the Hedgewitches of the planet earth.

What Dreams May Come
A Brand New Hedge…July 2010

Greetings all! I have been away from the friendly confines of Pagan Pages for the past couple of months due to some major developments in my life.
While things did not play out the way I expected, at all, (that’ll teach me to have specific expectations!) they have found a way to bring me unimaginable joy and a sense of completion.
Some of you may remember the big white house I found a year ago in the tiny town I lived in, in California.
It was a house I had dreamt about since I was a teen, and was so astounded to find it, there, on my same street, standing empty and alone.
It pained me to see her without the luxury of laughter and the smell of cooking food, and smoke from her chimney. Houses are meant to be lived in, and loved in, and she had been empty for some time.
Well, because I had dreamed of her, and identified so immediately with her plight, I assumed, too, I was the one to live in her.
It is human nature, I suppose, to want to “own” things.
And I fell head over heels into the trap of yearning to own her.
Well, as the months went by, I meditated hard on having lights fill her windows and activity to go on behind her curtains. And, one day, this is exactly what occurred.
A couple bought her, shortly after the new year, and began an immediate renovation.
After they moved in, I would walk past, at night, so I could see the lights on, and hear the sound of people coming from inside.
Despite the fact it wasn’t me, which of course, gave me some moments of sadness, I was very happy someone had come to give this house a Life.
Shortly after that, all Hell broke loose in my own life.
It began with my husband losing his job.
At the time, it seemed a horrible thing, but I always knew these things come and go. My husband did not take it so well, but he is learning to make friends with his misfortunes.
In time, the economic base of our life was depleted, and we could no longer afford to remain in our home in California.
We debated for many weeks over how to resolve this inevitability, but to no avail. My husband even got a great job, in Oklahoma, but it was not part of our life plan to move there to live. He resigned after 2 days, and came home to the west coast.
For all the years we were away from our original base of operations, the Oregon coast, I had been adamantly opposed to returning. It just didn’t feel like it was time yet.
We had discussed it, but not in a serious manner, as I couldn’t imagine myself being back there again. Or, more accurately, could not imagine myself not living in my quaint, lush, tiny town in California.
Still, one night, completely out of the blue, I was struck with the full force of one single uber-focused thought. “It is time to go back”.
It was as though someone had flipped a switch inside my spirit, and suddenly, I couldn’t get back fast enough.
I told my husband what had happened, in my head, and he just stared at me blankly. “I thought that was the last place you wanted to be!”, he replied.
I know. It was.
But now, not so much.
The very instant I came to this awareness, the wheels of change began turning at full speed.
Everything we needed came into place, and we made the move back to the beach on a shoestring.
Within 2 days, we had a house. An old employer of my husband’s, and lifelong friend had a house he wasn’t renting (had not, in fact, rented out for over 4 years). He offered it to us at exactly half what our rent had been in California.
The house is a cottage, located on the edge of an unspoiled forest. When I say the edge, I mean, you walk out the back door and you are in the forest. You walk out the front door, and you are in the clearing.
It is on the edge. A threshold, if you will.
It is also just outside of town, but just round a corner, perhaps one mile away. It has the appearance of complete seclusion, though, we can see the highway from here.
It is just past the fog bank cut-off, as well, so when it is dreary at the beach, it is often warmer and sunnier here.
There is an orchard which butts up against the forest, filled with ancient apple trees in a sad state of neglect.
Wisteria vines lie on the ground between the house and garage for lack of someone to arbor them.
Underneath every leaf is another surprise someone else planted and is now blooming for my eyes only.
The lower garden is almost an acre, and has provided a glorious spot for the family garden.
I have installed a fire pit under the upper apple trees, and have built sacred fires and thanked the gods from leading me here.
The property is owned by a man who believes only in buying land, never selling it. His son (and presumably heir) is one of my husband’s best friends, and is also of this same ilk. I feel more secure on this land than I have ever felt, anywhere.
Instead of an intense desire to own this land, I feel very much owned by her. As though she has been waiting for me to arrive and begin to make right the wrongs of many years of neglect.
I feel, too, as though I was not the first person to make strong magic in this house, and when I painted the living room, I saw some candlewax which had dripped onto the wall in a few tiny places, and painted over them, allowing those layers of magic to remain.
The sacred plants I keep finding in random places, and the sense that those who lived here before me had been preparing it for me all along.
I have released my expectations, and embraced the unfolding of what was meant.
I have watched my desires make manifest before my very eyes, even before I could fully grasp what was happening.
When I was able to let go of what I perceived to be the “right” outcome, the truly divinely inspired outcome appeared.
Since I arrived 6 weeks ago, I have remodeled the cottage, planted a huge garden, had a chicken coop built, and have procured 6 Australorp chicks, who are now nearly big enough to go and live out in it.
We have reconnected with family and friends, and have settled into our new hedge, right here, a mile from “home”.
I am overwhelmed by my sense of gratitude on a daily basis, and rather than making magic to change energy and circumstances, find myself making most prayers for Thanksgiving, these days.
For years, I dreamed of a house that wasn’t mine, but needed to help. But for all those same years, what I wished for was not a grand home, but a cottage on the edge of the wood. A few hens for laying eggs, a home that is tidy and warm, but off the beaten track.
A garden that will feed us, and herbs which will heal us.
The Universe has seen fit to accommodate me in these wishes, and I am mindfully aware of how grateful I am.
I shall have many, many updates on the Farm Life, over the summer, but know I have taken up enough of your time, already, today!
I pray that your own deepest desires, the true desires of your heart, are making manifest in your lives as well.
Brightest Blessings for an Abundant Summer!