TWO WITCHES
A Modern Craft Fairy-Taleby Mike Nichols
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Once upon a� time, there were two� Witches.� One was�a Feminist Witch�and the other was a Traditionalist Witch.� And, although both�of them were deeply religious, they had rather different ideas about what their religion meant.�
The Feminist Witch tended to believe that Witchcraft was a religion�especially suited to�women because the image of the Goddess was empowering�and a strong weapon against patriarchal tyranny.� And there was distrust in�the heart of the Feminist
Witch for�the Traditionalist Witch because, from�the Feminist perspective, the Traditionalist Witch seemed subversive and a threat to "the Cause".�
The�Traditionalist Witch�tended�to believe�that�Witchcraft was�a�religion for�both men and women� because anything less would be divisive.�And although the�Goddess was�worshipped, care�was taken�to give�equal�stress to the God-force in nature, the�Horned One.� And there was distrust�in�the heart of the� Traditionalist Witch for�the Feminist Witch because,�from�the�
Traditionalist�viewpoint, the�Feminist�Witch�seemed�like a late-comer and a threat to "Tradition".�
These two Witches lived in the�same community�but each belonged�to a�different Coven, so�they did�not often run into�
one another.� Strange to say, the few times they did meet,�they felt an odd sort of mutual attraction, at least on the physical level.�But both recognized the folly of this attraction, for their ideologies were�worlds apart, and nothing, it seemed, could ever bridge them.�
Then one year the community decided to hold a Grand Coven, and all the�Covens in the area were invited to attend.� After the rituals, the singing,�the�magicks, the feasting, the�poetry, and�dancing were�concluded, all�retired to�their tents and� sleeping bags.� All� but these two.�For they�were troubled by their differences and couldn't sleep.� They alone remained�sitting by the�campfire while all others around them� dreamed.� And before�long, they began to talk about their differing�views of the Goddess.� And,�since they were both�
relatively inexperienced Witches, they soon� began to�argue about what was the "true" image of the Goddess.�
"Describe your image of the Goddess to me," challenged the�Feminist Witch. The Traditionalist Witch smiled, sighed, and said in a rapt�voice, "She�is the�embodiment�of all�loveliness.��The quintessence�of�feminine beauty.�I picture her with silver-blond hair like moonlight, rich�and thick, falling down around her�soft shoulders.� She has the voluptuous�young body�of�a�maiden in�her�prime,�and�her clothes�
are�the�most�seductive, gossamer thin and clinging to her willowy frame.� I see her�dancing like a�young elfin nymph in a moonlit glade, the dance of a temple�priestess.� And she�calls to her lover, the Horned One, in a voice that is�gentle and soft�
and sweet, and�as musical as a�silver bell frosted�with�ice.�� She is Aphrodite, goddess�of sensual love.� And�her lover comes in�answer to�her call, for she is destined to�become the Great Mother.� That�is how I see the Goddess."�
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The Feminist Witch hooted�with laughter and said, "Your Goddess�is a�Cosmic Barbie�Doll!� The Jungian archetype of a� cheer-leader!� She is all�glitter and no substance.� Where is her strength?��Her power?� I see the�Goddess very�differently.�
To�me, she is�the embodiment of�strength and�courage�and wisdom.��A�living symbol�of the�collective power�of women���� everywhere.� I picture her with hair as black as a moonless night, cropped�short for ease�of care on the field of battle.�� She has the muscular body�of a woman at the peak of health and fitness.� And her clothes are the most�practical and
sensible, not slinky�cocktail dresses.��She does not paint�her face or perfume�her hair or shave her�legs to please men's� vanities.�Nor does she do�pornographic dances to attract a man to her.� For when she�calls to a�male, in a voice that�is strong and defiant, it will�be to do�battle with the repressive masculine ego.� She is Artemis the huntress, and�it is fatal for�
any man to cast a�leering glance in her direction.��For,�although she may be the many-breasted Mother, she is also the dark Crone of�wisdom, who destroys the old order.� That is how I see the Goddess."�
Now�the Traditionalist�Witch hooted�with�laughter and� said, "Your�Goddess�is the antithesis of�all that is feminine!�� She is Yahweh hiding�behind a feminine mask!�Don't forget�that it was his followers who burned�Witches�at the stake for the "sin" of�having "painted faces".� After all,�Witches�with their knowledge of herbs were�the ones who developed the concept�of cosmetics.�So what of beauty?� What of love and desire?"�
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And so the argument raged, until the sound of their� voices awakened a Coven Elder�who was sleeping nearby.�� The Elder looked�from the Feminist Witch to the Traditionalist Witch and back again, saying nothing for a long�moment.� Then the
Elder suggested that both Witches go into the woods apart��� from one another and there, by magick and meditation, that each seek a�"true" vision of the Goddess.� This they both agreed to do.�
After� a time of invocations, there was a moment of perfect stillness.�Then a glimmer of light could be seen in the forest, a light shaded deepest�green�by the�dense foliage.�� Both Witches�ran toward the�source of the�radiance.� To their�wonder and amazement, they discovered the�Goddess had�appeared�in a
clearing directly between� hem, so that neither Witch could�see the other.�
And the Traditionalist Witch yelled "What did I tell�you!"�
at the�same instant the Feminist Witch yelled� "You see, I was right!" and�so neither Witch heard the other.�
To the�Feminist Witch, the Goddess�seemed to be a�shining
matrix of�power and�strength,with courage and energy�flowing outward.� The�Goddess�seemed�to be�holding out her arms to embrace�the Feminist Witch,�as a�comrade in arms.�
To the Traditionalist Witch, the Goddess seemed to be the�zenith of feminine beauty, lightly playing a harp and singing a siren song�of seduction.��Energy seemed to flow towards her.� And she seemed to hold�out her arms to the
Traditionalist Witch, invitingly.�
From opposite sides of the clearing, the Witches ran toward the figure�of�the Goddess they both loved so well, desiring to be held in the ecstasy�of that divine embrace.�
But just before they reached her,�the apparition�vanished.�
And the two Witches were startled to find themselves�� embracing each other.�And then they both heard the voice of the Goddess.� And, oddly enough,�it sounded exactly the same to both of them.� It sounded like laughter.�
