When I was a little witch, somehow, I got it into my head that we should be able to do magic without tools. Without anything but our mind, our will and our focus. I somehow got it into my head that, that meant that I should use no tools. But I do like my things.
When we moved this weekend, my altar was all packed up by me … and then the movers put the box into the truck. And I lost track of it. In the chaos of the move, the box got put “somewhere” and we couldn’t find it on the first day. Or the second. Yesterday, I began to have issues about it.
It wasn’t the fact that I didn’t know where my altar was that was giving me the issues … or at least not entirely. I felt silly and stupid for wanting it up so badly. For “needing” it for my peace of mind and to make my new place feel like home. It’s just things. I shouldn’t need it.
But I did. I needed to setup that space that says: “Here is my place of center. Here is my place of peace.” That space where I stand before ever morning and center myself for the day.
For now, I recognize both my need for these things, and my reaction to that need.