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In folklore, the witching hour is that time of night when the supernatural and the ordinary meet, when the impossible can become not only possible, but real.
Like any term, it has its origins, and as with any term, those origins are murky. Initially, the witching hour incorporated the dark supernatural forces – witches, demons, phantasms – but today it colloquially embraces much more – destiny, charm, magic.
Gracefully she stands, the only movements the rippling of the water, the almost imperceptible trembling of the branches behind her as the breeze ever so gently sighs. She looks, deeply and fixedly, into the world beyond what we can see.
Seeking. Searching. Waiting, Hoping.
This is the Witching Hour, when we are not limited to the material world, bound by what we think is real, trapped in the sordid, greedy, ugly sphere of power hungry little humans who seek to own not only all that we possess materially, but our very souls and minds.
In this time, in this witching hour, we call out from the depths of our souls for something so much, much more than what the people who worship the sordid, the greedy, and the ugly offer as reality. There is a presence here, deep and powerful, enigmatic and extraordinary, unfathomable and inscrutable and . . . Good, and we wait for it, reach for it.
In the witching hour.
May 18th, 2022
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