August 2010 Archives

The other day, I was listening to the radio while driving, and "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith came on.  I absolutely love that song and want to include it here.  So thanks to YouTube, enjoy a nice rendition with lyrics, no less:



I actually have an emotional history associated with this song.  The song was quite popular on the radio back in 1998, thanks to Armageddon.  At the time, I was also involved with a young man name Zech.  It was actually my first relationship, providing you don't count the friend I experimented with in high school.  The song meant a lot to me back then.  Every time I heard it, I thought of Zech.

The other day when I heard the same song, it made me think of another guy.  I'll call this guy D (until he tells me he's ready for me to talk about him by name.  D and I have been talking, hanging out, and otherwise enjoying each other's company.  We're not actually dating, though I hope that changes some day in the not-too-distant future.

What I find interesting is that while similar, the reaction the song evokes in me regarding D now and the reaction I had back when I was involved with Zech.  In both cases, the theme of the song -- the desire to be with that special someone as much as possible -- resonated deeply with me.  However, the emotional undercurrents are worlds apart.

As I mentioned, Zech was my first boyfriend (though come to think of it, we never officially dated).  We were both young and immature, and I was only recently out (I had only finally accepted my sexuality two years earlier).  This meant that I was going through a lot of emotional turmoil, and tended to cling to Zech in a sense of desperation.  And that desperation came through back then as I'd listen to the song.  I didn't want to miss a thing, because I was terrified that things would end.  Part of me wanted to squeeze as much out of the relationship before the horrible ending came, and part of me foolishly believed that simply by being ever-present, ever-vigilant, and ever-suffocating, I could actually prevent the horrible ending from coming.

I've grown up a great deal in the intervening twelve years, and I now listen to that song again with a new guy in mind.  And once again, I find myself nodding along with the song.  But rather than a nagging sense of desperation, my heart is filled with a sense of peace and contentment.

The funny thing is, there area  few parallels.  There's no guarantee that things will work out between D and I.  (Is there ever really any such guarantee?)  I don't know how long I have with him or even if we'll ever become a couple like I'm hoping for.  I think it's likely though.

But in the end, it doesn't matter.  I have this time now, and I want to make the most of it.  Not out of fear or desperation, but out of hope and joy.

People often talk about how music can evoke powerful emotions and we can associate specific memories and feelings with a song.  However, I sometimes think that people forget that new connections and associations can be made with old songs that replace or overpower the old ones.  I know from personal experience that this is true, because I enjoy "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" far more today than I did back in 1998.

In fact, I think I'm going to go listen to it again.

A little over a year ago, I joined efforts with a small group of people to form a new coven.  We came to name our coven The Wick, inspired by the song we play in the background while we prepare ourselves for ritual.  (I hope the songwriter doesn't mind.)  Tonight, we led our first public ritual at Psychic's Thyme as a way to connect with and give back to our greater community.  It was a wonderful experience, and had several people participate with us.

While highly enjoyable and well worth it, planning and leading public rituals takes a bit of work.  Our coven spent the past few business meetings working out details and revising our normal ritual structure to account for working with a larger group and people unfamiliar with the way we do things.  (We use a very different method for casting a circle, for example.)

Tonight, I was given an incredible reminder why that effort is so worthwhile in the long run.  My friend, Cari, attended tonight's ritual an brought her two stepsons, ages nine and eleven.  In a conversation on Facebook, Cari had the following to say (quoted here with permission) about the experience:

On no the whole group was amazing and VERY informative, and patient with my boys. They will never forget tonight and you all I have to thank. Please pass it on to your other members. Colin is now making his own Alter now.

I can think of no greater praise or reward than to know that the work that my coven-mates and I put into tonight's ritual helped excite two young boys and even inspire one of them to start working on his own altar.  I don't know where they're spiritual journeys will lead these boys in the long run, but knowing that our efforts have helped move them along that path in any way is a great joy.  It's the sort of thing that makes me want to do more such rituals in the futures.

May the gods be praised.  And may the gods be served.  And may those around us prosper as a result.

The picture in this blog show's the coven's basic altar set-up.  The song "We Are the Wick" can be found on Castalia's second CD, Hidden.