My necklace broke today. The event made me sad. It would be a bit difficult not to feel sorrow after something that has belonged to four generations of women snaps in half, while in my possession. I didn’t feel any better when I remembered that the precious symbol was given to me by one of the persons I have loved the most. She is no longer with us; at least not in the flesh. But I’m sure she is around in spirit, just waiting to see what I’ll do about the broken necklace that used to be hers.
I was tempted to let myself be consumed by a full episode of gloom. Then I remembered how tedious feeling gloomy can be, and I don’t know about you, but I’m so not into that.
I’ve decided to do something that will probable make two of the former owners of the necklace roll their eyes until their traditional witchy brains turn to mush. I am going to bury the broken pieces of the chain and perform a nice ritual (I have yet to create) and I’ll place the pentacle in a safe place. Then I’ll search until I find the perfect new pentacle and necklace to wear around my neck, and maybe pass on to someone I love.
I’m sure some traditional people would shake their heads at my decision, but I have actually thought this through; trust me.
Today, I realized that although I knew the stories of the women who owned my necklace before me, I never actually thought about the details of their lives. If I had, I would have probably broken the necklace myself, a long time ago. The first of the four was given the necklace the day she was told she had to forget about the young man she loved, and marry an old guy who could have been her grandfather. The second necklace owner was forced into a convenience marriage at age 12 (that was a long time ago). The third got to choose her husband, and married him totally in love. However, her story was not a happy one. Her husband was a shameless womanizer who built houses for two of his mistresses and their children on his wife’s backyard; this is no exaggeration.
I called my cousin and we went over the terrible list. I told him about my plans and he agreed that I should get rid of the chain and be grateful that it broke. He suggested I “keep the pentacle in my offering dish,” and I’m doing that. I talked to someone else who is not very happy with my plans. She told me that I was “disrespecting four generations of women who entrusted their legacy to me.” That my “eclectic ways bring shame to our kind.” Yes, she has always been a bit of a melodramatic Witch; I think I get my occasional drama-queen outbursts from her.
I’m looking at the broken chain and at the old pentacle as I type this post. I’m also listening to my Piano Man who is at the keyboard with his headphones on—should I tell him that he is singing aloud? I won’t. I’ll just enjoy his voice; and the way he his body moves when he plays; and how absolutely sexy he looks when he makes music with no shirt on. I love his ways... I also love Fate’s natural way of saying, “Witch, that necklace carries some nasty memories. Why don’t you get rid of it? Oh you won’t? Fine! I’ll snap it in half. Now you have a reason to create some new and wonderful memories.”
I like the way Fate works; a bit by the seat of her pants, but she is usually effective. I’ll bury the broken chain tomorrow, and I’ll place the pentacle on my offering dish. Then I’ll wait for the freshness of the Dark Moon to start searching for a symbol that will celebrate the magic of a happier circle.