Quickening Moon Mania And Witch’s Exhaustion: A Fireside Chat With Mother Durga.
Swelling within your womb, Witch, is the throbbing ache of the purest Prana Shakti, creativity condensed and electrified into every one of your diamond-light cells.
You feel it now, under this full Quickening Moon, and surrendering to this all-consuming, all-magickal, all-divine force seems to be your only option.
Choiceless you believe you are, as you vigilantly rest by the bonfire you built in a frenzy of fierce and manic creativity.
These weeks of fire-building have been so imbalanced, so oppressive, and so severe. Your own Witch’s Quickening under February’s Quickening Moon.
There were nights spent entrenched in frenzied creativity, whirling and raging as you built and built and built.
There were nights when you could barely move, paralyzed by the pain of powerlessness, fearful of enemies that were far worse in your mind than they could ever be in reality.
Yes, you let Shakti surge through you, uncontained and unfocused, and now you lie breathless by a wildfire you may be helpless to control, powerless to protect.
Yes, your fire may well take you tonight, Witch, and willingly you would go. This waxing Quickening Moon has shone its light not only on the Witch’s mania but also on her, on your deepest fears.
These last weeks, a hyper-awareness of psychic vampires and those who, in their own deluded jealousy, want you to fail, has weighed on you like a 1000-ton shadow.
You cannot take any more of the exhausting vigilance which has permeated your days. Since this new moon’s birth, you have protected your bonfire baby with all that you are. Now, you can do no more.
Let them have it. Let them have me, if they want me that badly, you say. I can fight no more. Forget my sacred work and soul’s purpose. Let Aphrodite have her romance, chocolate, and wine. Give me rice, water, and solitude in a shack. I will draw lines in the wet sand with a twig, let the tide take my beauty, and do it all again as the sun rises. To create is all there is. This Witch-Firekeeper is done-for.
The blaze burns your anguished face now. Your breath no longer fogs in the Winter night, and you must move back toward the cool solace of trees.
This thing, your creative bonfire built in a hysteric mania of unbridled, maternal inspiration, seems far too unwieldy to be your own.
You almost want them to come for it, these dark ones who lurk in the shadows and poke at your paranoia, lusting for your sacral energy and craving that which they cannot spawn themselves.
So tired you are now, Witch, you would hand your fire to them willingly.
What have I done? you whisper aloud, face aglow with the heat of an artist’s passion and defeat. I have birthed this bonfire, so perfect and so powerful, from my very belly, and now I can barely look at the flames. Oh! The Quickening has come and swallowed me whole. I no longer remember who I was before I built this thing, and now it is too late.
You move to bury your face in your sweaty palms, but a flicker of movement from the shadows distracts and emboldens you.
The rising anxiety of a mother so fiercely protecting her young builds within your guts, and you straighten, your spine turning to stone. Every line of your face hardens. Deep in your blood, the rattle of possession buzzes and bubbles.
Mine. Mine, you affirm. This fire is mine. Die to protect it, I would. Let these energy-suckers come. I call you out, those who would douse these flames of mine. These giftless, hungry ghosts who, in their darkness, can only leech away that which they admire. This fire is me, and I am it. I made it so. If you try to take it from me, you will surely burn like so much thin paper.
But, manic Witch, it is not vampires who lurk just out of the heat’s reach. No, your enemy is not here, not now. Relax your lifted shoulders and breathe deep, for the solution to your Priestess’ plight has come.
Under this full Quickening Moon, and quite near your unplanned five-alarm blaze, stands She who holds the remedy to your ailment.
On tiger-back rides Mother Durga in a steady feline creep toward you, and your instinct is to fall prostrate in the purest devotion to your protectress. Ten-handed and three-eyed, She has come to teach you of the Witch’s boundaries.
Though She does not speak, not yet, Her warrior’s stature and drawn sword alert you to the sanctity of this meeting.
Mother Durga has not come to chit-chat about your complaints, and She cares nothing for the small self or uninitiated ego.
No, tired Witch, this sari-wrapped Goddess has come to teach you of self-shielding and fierce soul-protection. Durga’s sword will not sink deep into any minor insult.
They may say you are ugly, unworthy, or crazy, but you know such denigration is born of the weak mind. Let them say these things. No, Durga will not protect you from that which you know in your witch’s bones is an illusion.
The Great Mother dismounts Her tiger now, and the fanged kitten curls into a striped, purring ball of blissfully twitching fur. Durga’s feminine fortitude makes your nerves quiver, but you cannot look away.
Her long sword, carried so effortlessly, would have made you cower yesterday, but, under this Quickening Moon, a bolder Witch you are.
My child! Durga’s voice booms with all the electricity of a thunder-clap: Such a beautiful fire you have created! You see your creation now as a burden, but your dreams are so blinding and brilliant in their raw form. Tomorrow’s dawn, as the Quickening Moon wanes, will come with the light of a million-starred heaven. You will, my dear child, need to contain this thing. You will need to draw thick lines around this thing. You will need to set your boundaries firm.
Mother Durga looks skyward and sucks her teeth: Tonight, the moonbeams fall on the fury of your raw inspiration. You let this Shakti-blaze consume you for these last weeks, and rightfully so. You have colored outside of the lines they have drawn for you. You have kept your eyes wide and your heart open. Now, my young one, you must gather your stones. Leave your fire unwatched as the Quickening Moon wanes. Go into the night now and collect your boundary-makers. Roll the boulders and drag the megaliths. Cast your boundaries so strong and steadfast that your fire may rage safely within these walls. The remedy to your Witch’s mania, my dear one, is fierce self-care and fearless encircling of your so-inspired dreams.
Durga’s muscled beast stands, sensing the Mother’s imminent departure.
Call upon me, my Witch-Daughter, but only when it is your soul’s integrity and authentic work in this world that needs protection. Look beneath your ego to your soul, and ask yourself: What does my deep-self truly want? The answer to that question, my love, is what demands protection. The answer to that question will sit, in all of its delicious splendor, within this blaze’s smoking ashes. Give it time. For now, build your boundaries and protect your passion in its rawest, hottest form.
Mother Durga leaves you now, a Witch so purposed, to gather your stones. Contain this blaze now, but never condemn it, for your mania was the womb of conception.
You have birthed this thing, now mother it with your soul and your will. Build your boundaries, then rest by the safely housed blaze. Let the contained rage forge what now seems so mysterious to be real.
Rest, Witch. Build the boundary and rest until the flames die, gifting you with clarity in the dark of the moon.
When this fire crackles and spits in a death-rattle so hissing and smoky, when the thick ashes are carried away on a Spring wind, you will know the worth of your work.
Danielle Dulsky is a multi-passionate entrepreneur, energy-healer, Yoga teacher, multi-media artist, and magickal mentor. She holds the highest designation from Yoga Alliance as an E-RYT500, and is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless creators of their sacred work. She is the founder and creatrix of the Living Mandala Yoga teacher training programs, a Reiki Master in the Usui-Tibetan tradition, and long-time believer in Earth-based traditions. Her work is based on sensing and transforming energetic vibrations, empowering individuals to discover their potential for authentic abundance, using artistic practice intuitively, and holding space for women to unearth their inner goddess through the magick of sisterhood. Danielle leads women circles, witchcraft workshops, a teaching coven, and psychic development intensives in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania where she lives with her partner Ryan, sons Bodhi and Sage, and pet-familiars Jeepster and Raven. She believes that all women alive today are meant to be instrumental in supporting the return of the Divine Feminine. You could contact her via email.