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The Old Druidess - a Tribute from Clara Hsu

Sometimes we live in magick and we don’t even know it.  It is because we are mundane and unable to perceive the fantastical elements.  Unlike falling in love where there is a heightened sense of pleasure, most magick is subtle, coming and going without creating too much of a stir, except when it is gone.

Jehanah Wedgwood had long silver-gray hair.  She sat at the head of the table at  Sacred Grounds Cafe with a sign-up sheet in front of her.  She sat there like this every Wednesday night for nearly twenty years.  Once in a while I gave Jehanah a ride home after the reading.  She lived not far from the venue but I could never find it on my own.  I blamed myself for not paying attention.  Sometimes I would pick her up during the day for other outings and find the street and the houses looking all together different from the night.

After Jehanah died, we had a druid ceremony at the Monarch Bear Grove in Golden Gate Park.  While we memorialized Jehanah, Rodney the celebrant pointed out that he had trouble driving Jehanah home.  Many hands shot up at once, as we all had the same experience. “It was because she lived in both worlds.”  The magick was explained but the realm had already passed on.

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