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![]() THE CRAFT by Shan Morgain, priestess of the Craft. page 2
Life is a Web, being connected, a connectedness.When we feel connected we flourish. When we feel cut off we wither. We may choose to be alone, to be private, but we are never totally alone. We feel the Web in moments of peace or exhilaration. Being one, not in a mysterious way or a difficult way. Not a strange enlightenment that only great mystics can have. Just simply feeling connected, a flowing feeling of rightness, quietness - or else a blazing sureness. The Web can be peaceful and quiet, or it can roar passionately in the power of a storm. It can hold us comfortingly or it can explode us raw and wild. We can feel it when we gaze at the stars, or when we walk in a quiet place. It can fill us near the sea or by the waters. It touches us in the wind, the rain, the lightning, or in the heat of a crowd we trust. It speaks in music. It shows itself in all beauty. We can feel the Web in closeness to one we love; human, animal, green thing, or place. We can feel it in washing up as the water slides over our skin, or the touch of a baby’s body as we serve its needs. It’s there in ordinary things as well as special ones. It comes when we try to create something. It’s the inspiration that moves us to work. When the pieces fit, when we forget the time, the Web is holding us close. It comes in sex - if we go into sex thoroughly and with full willingness. At birth, and at death, the connectedness of the Web is always there. The Web of Life embraces everything, dark, light, above, below, large and small. Nothing is rejected, nothing excluded. To each of us certain things are hateful. This is necessary so each of us can be moral. But to the Web all is Life, and every thing has its purpose. The Web of Life was never created. There is no central creator who started the story. There is just the Web, shimmering, shaking, dancing, in us and around us. It swells and contracts, dying and renewing itself. Just as our own corner of it, Nature does: as the Year does, and as the Moon does, dying and renewing.
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