Tell the Truth and Be Damned!

I guess it was fated that a lot of my life would focus on issues about truth considering my name is Cassandra.  It’s a name from Greek Mythology and is about a Trojan princess who was a daughter of King Priam of Trojan War fame.  According to the account from The Iliad, Cassandra was a Priestess of Apollo who was visited by the god who offered the gift of prophesy to her in return for her ‘favours’.  Cassandra accepted the gift but when it came time for Apollo to receive his due payment, she reneged on the agreement and refused him, fearing that she would be consumed by fire and perish.  Greatly angered by this Apollo knew that he couldn’t take his gift back but demanded at least a kiss, and as their lips met the god spat in her mouth.  This caused the gift to change into a curse which was: that although Cassandra would always prophesy the truth, no-one would believe her!  She went on to prophesy against Paris returning home, and famously against bringing within Troy the Trojan Horse shouting warnings of ‘beware Greeks bearing gifts’ to no avail.  Some sources said she went mad, others that she was taken by King Agamemnon back to his home where she was hacked to death with an axe by his wife,  Clytemnestra – either way Cassandra came to an unhappy end and she was known as The Prophetess of Doom.  No pressure living with that name then!

Very early on in my life I lived with the utter frustration of not being believed when I was telling the truth, basically because it was expedient for certain others to keep things that way – this is how a lot of abusive people operate.  Even better if as a result of that inner torment that one has to work through the shadowy hinterworld of psychological and emotional breakdown/breakthrough, then if there are queries surrounding your integrity then your mental suffering makes you a prime target for unscrupulous and manipulative types.  However, in spite of these difficulties during my younger years I still stood by my word irrespective of whether I was believed or not.

Some situations did puzzle me though.  Often when an injustice was evident to others as well as myself and they appeared to support me until it came time for standing up for the truth.   So many times I have turned around to appeal to others for that support only to find that they had evaporated like a summer’s morning mist.  I’ve always been one of life’s Whistle Blowers and I guess I always will be, but I have to say that it can also be a lonely and isolated place to be a lot of the time and can land me in deep trouble – and then you can feel very exposed out there on your own,  a prime target for snipers!   At least I comfort myself with the thought that I have a clear conscience and can live with myself, which I would find next to impossible to do if I compromised my convictions by saying nothing and letting injustice flourish.

Many years ago I made the decision, which I have never regretted, of having honest friends in my life.  That sounds pretty normal until you realise that so many folks prefer to have so-called friends in their life who don’t tell them the truth but instead tell them what they want to hear instead.  If you have truly honest friends then you will learn a lot about yourself, if you don’t then you learn nothing new and often will end up living in some kind of a fantasy world.  If one of my friends asks what I think of what they’re wearing/or their new hairstyle or whatever, I will tell them exactly what I think – not what I think they want to hear.  This approach doesn’t mean that you have to smack people round the face with the truth – diplomacy of delivery is very important.  There have been many times in my life when I have had to deliver the truth to someone, knowing that it will be received badly.  I give an inward sigh, take a deep breath and tell them politely but firmly what needs to be said.  It’s what I call Tough Love or Plain Speaking – I have no wish to be unkind but some things just have to be told to set the record straight.

Unfortunately there are a lot of people out there who have an overblown impression of themselves which is fuelled by other ‘friends’ or followers telling them what they want to hear about how wonderful they are – these friends do this because of  either fear, sycophantic behaviour,  misplaced loyalty or infatuation.  You can usually recognise this type of person, who basically has a very fragile ego and finds it next to impossible to take or receive criticism in any form, thereby once again learning nothing new and remaining in some sort of illusion or fantasy world and lack the robustness that is required to live in the real world of hard knocks and character building experiences.

When I first wrote my book, ‘Village Witch’ I was in a dilemma as to whether to include certain details of my past which I knew would probably have repercussions in one way or the other; but in the end thought that it was best to include it,  so that people could see how my difficult journey through life directly informed the practice of my Craft as a wisewoman/witch.  So in a way I was prepared for a backlash and I wasn’t wrong…but more of that later – I have written enough for one night.  Time for a cup of Horlicks before bedtime!

Why is Common Sense So Rare?

Common sense was a term used a lot when I was growing up, you were encouraged to work things out for yourself and to use the brain you were born with.  Often you were left to your own devices all day as a child and could wander at will in the countryside,  safe in the knowledge that you were always kept an eye on by your community who knew who and where you were.  They were not above giving you a good telling off if you were up to mischief or a clip round the ear if deserved.   You found out by trial and error what was a good thing to do or not.  We learnt to climb trees and explore the woods, we learnt what was good to eat from the wild food of the hedgerows and what was not when we ended up with a lot of belly aches.  I was forever coming home grubby, with grazed knees with twigs in my hair and grass stains on my shorts – a right scruffy little urchin!  But I knew my natural environment – the trees, flowers, berries and the many forms of wildlife – those times of simple enchantment taught me a lot about life.

Sadly nowadays a lot of all this has gone.  From age 5 years old I used to walk a mile to school and back on my own.  This would be unheard of now and I feel very sorry for kids that they don’t have the freedom to explore and educate themselves about their natural environment – hell, a lot of them don’t even know who their immediate neighbours are let alone where the best tree for conkers in the autumn is!  It’s getting that kids won’t even be able to tie their own shoelaces anymore with the age of Velcro making this redundant – so they’ll miss the magic of knots and ‘cat’s cradles’ and the like.

Also I know that some of our teachers at school could be pretty sadistic and/or sarcastic and were very strict, but they did impose discipline which is sadly lacking nowadays in schools.  I hear some horrifying tales of the way standards have plummeted because of this complete lack of respect for teachers and the like.   The lack of respect shows in other areas as well especially on the home front.  Fate decreed that I didn’t succeed in having any children this time around, but I have to say that on the whole, after observing others, I am relieved at that.  I find the total disregard that some parents are held in by their offspring simply appalling, and sadly as a direct consequence a large proportion of the youth of nowadays have no ingenuity, motivation or what we used to call ‘gumption’.  They seem to expect everything to just magically fall into their laps without any effort from them.

I left school at 15 years and immediately went into my first job in order to earn my living, half of my wages was given to my mother and I left home permanently at age 18 to start my nursing training.  Today getting a job seems to be the last thing on a lot of youngsters’ minds, or if they do it’s just to fund their excessive drinking binges at weekends.  I know of many people, especially males, who are still living with their parents until well into their thirties.  And before I get lots of parents saying that their children aren’t like that, I’m talking about a general trend that I have noticed that I find worrying.

So many people seem to live in fear nowadays.  A high percentage of my clients when I was working were suffering from one form of fear or another and counselling them was a frequent part of my consultations.  I realise now, and especially following the counselling training I underwent, that a lot of the advice that I used to give came under the category of ‘common sense’, CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) or maybe ‘headology’ as Granny Weatherwax out of the Pratchett books would say.  Often there are very pragmatic ways to resolve many of life’s situations but some need an addition of a little bit of witchcraft to help them on their way.

I think that’s enough grumbling for tonight as something’s just happened that makes me despair.  Why is it that some people seem to derive so much pleasure from finding fault in others and causing so much pain in the process?  Isn’t it so much easier to just get on with people and be kind?  Sigh!

Just a little addition to this subject lifted from Facebook:

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who had been with us for many years.

No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

23rd September 2012

Well Met at Equinox

Yesterday evening  me and my other half Laetitia, went down to the local woods and met up with an old and dear friend of mine, Jo.  It was very evocative sitting in the woods by his old wooden caravan warming ourselves by the crackling fire and supping mead wine.  After a little while myself and Jo took ourselves off to visit his small stone circle in order to catch up on what’s been happening in our Craft lives which was very enlightening!

I’ve always admired Jo’s pragmatic, down-to-earth approach to life and his simple worship of the Great Goddess and the Horned God.  He stays well out of petty disputes, doesn’t claim unsubstantiated unbroken Craft lineages or name-drop, and regards those that do with kindly amusement.  Although Jo is a bit of a technophobe and doesn’t subscribe to the Internet in any way, he has always been a great networker and has corresponded with thousands of fascinating Craft people over the years by writing good old-fashioned letters.  He is a mine of useful information, particularly regarding Egyptian archaeology which he generously and willingly shares to all who are interested.

Jo and me go back a long way (we were initiated in the same year) and although we come from different traditions, Jo being a devout Gardenarian, we worked within the same magical group for nearly 10 years until we amicably went our separate ways.  We occasionally met briefly at various local functions such as the Friends of the Museum of Witchcraft weekends and the PF Devon & Cornwall conferences.  Talking with Jo felt like the years had rolled back and we reminisced about the old times and laughed about some of life’s absurdities.  It was my pleasure to gift a copy of my book to him as he had requested he would be very interested in acquiring a copy.

We returned to the fire, me and Laetitia had one last drink and then left for our Equinox  ritual at our own hearth and definitely felt well earthed by the timeless quality of the evening well spent with our brethren in the Craft.