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When I was a young girl, dreaming myself into being, I was always the star, the heroine or the unjustly accused.
I was Glenda the good witch (only occasionally Dorothy), Gretta (but a thinner version preserved from the oven), Thumbalina, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Repunzel and later Artemis, Persephone...and now?
As I lay in bed last night, I found myself struck with wonder by a strange realization... I feel a sort of kinship to the Witch in the West, the gingerbread crone, Medussa, the seal maiden, Eve.. those held captive by their 'unholy' desires. Perhaps this reflects a natural progression from the shallows to the depths, from the idealistic to the shadows.
I don't know.
Let me assure the reader that I have no interest in stealing ruby slippers, eating small children, turning men to stone (mostly) or eating an orchard of forbidden fruit (well actually I'd probably do that in a heartbeat). The truth is that I seem to be interested in the juiciness of these archetypes, in their un-likability, in their foibles. I believe we are in a constant dance with the sun and shadow of our makeup. The notion of the wicked chasing the pure and the pure outwitting the wicked, seems, to me, an over simplification.

Perhaps the more complex view of the crone starving for innocence, or the witch desperate for absolution, or the daughter of God seeking forgiveness are myths that we can connect with and possibly find nourishment in.
I don't know, but I will tell you this... I have a witches hat to celebrate All Hallows this year and I may even be spotted nibbling apples with snakes in my hair.

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