The Soul and Center

Last weekend I wrote this blog about my work.

http://ahousewithaview-esbatmoon.blogspot.com/2013/12/home-away-from-home.html

This weekend I'm reading a book called A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett and I found this passage that resonated with me.  I had to smile...

“She cares about ‘em.  Even the stupid, mean, droolin' ones, the mothers with the runny babies and no sense, the feckless and the silly and the fools who treat her like some kind of a servant.  Now that’s what I call magic – seein’ all that, dealin’ with all that, and still goin’ on.  It’s sittin’ up all night with some poor old man who’s leavin’ the world, taking away such pain as you can, confortin’ their terror, seein’ them safely on their way . . . and then cleanin’ ‘em up, layin’ ‘em out, making ‘em neat for the funeral, and helpin’ the weeping widow strip the bed and wash the sheets – which is, let me tell you, no errand for the fainthearted – and stayin’ up the next night to watch over the coffin before the funeral, and then going home and sitting down for five minutes before some shouting angry man comes bangin’ on your door ‘cuz his wife’s havin’ difficulty givin’ birth to their first child and the midwife’s at her wits’ end and then getting up and fetching your bag and going out again . . . .We all do that, in our own way,  and she does it better’n me, if I was to put my hand on my heart.  That is the root and heart and soul and center of witchcraft, that is.  The soul and center!” Mistress Weatherwax smacked her fist into her hand, hammering out her words.  The . . . . soul . . . . and . . . . center!”

Echoes came back from the trees in the sudden silence.  Even the grasshoppers by the side of the track had stopped sizzling. 

“And Mrs. Earwig, said Miss Weatherwax, her voice sinking to a growl, “Mrs. Earwig tells her girls it’s about cosmic balances and stars and circles and colors and wands and . . . . toys, nothing but toys!  She sniffed.  “Oh I daresay they’re all very well as decoration, somethin’ nice to look at while you’re workin’, somethin’ for show, but the start and finish, the start and finish, is helpin’ people when life is on the edge.  Even people you don’t like.  Stars is easy, people is hard.” 

She stopped talking.  It was several seconds before birds began to sing again. 
. . . .

“That’s why we do all the tramping around and docterin’ and stuff,” said Mistress Weatherwax.  “Well, and because it makes people a bit better, of course.  But doing it moves you into your center, so’s you don’t wobble.  It anchors you.  Keeps you human, stops you cackling.  Just like your granny with her sheep, which are to my mind as stupid and wayward and ungrateful as humans.”