Witching healings

Once there were nights whose deep blue was sparkling and was vibrating on that frequency of a wonderful melody. Those sparkles were a warm and cozy orange, and the melody was one to lift you up without ever losing hold. Those nights tasted like ice cream and wine and had sugar sprinkles on them.

„So, does it make me resilient that I keep talking to people that died as if they sat next to me on the couch?“, I ask my witch, as we think about what healing is supposed to feel like, after I manically bought new flavors of tea and another plant for my supposed-to-be-witching kitchen.

For the past two years, I have been searching for another way to spend my life. A way which does not require this feeling, this energy, this inspiration from the memory I had just been describing. And, of course, there are many ways, but after a while each one of them felt wrong to me.
Cold.
Rough.
Too far from my heart.
So, I am back screaming at the horizon for things long gone?

„Well, you don‘t have to be screaming“, my witch reminds me a bit upset.

No, she was right. I didn‘t have to scream. But to keep talking to people long gone when I was alone in my room. I have done that a lot of times.
You could call that being resilient. After all, a person (or a system, or whatever) can be seen as resilient if it keeps its basic functions active and achieves the same outcome during and after a crisis as before.

I have been battling the concept of resilience in my head for quite a while. I also had to research aspects of it for a job I‘ve had last year, which really kept the struggle going.
It seemed like a cruel demand to me to ask the same level of functioning and the same outcome from a person or a group of people or who or what ever that has just been hit by Dystopia. It might not even be possible anymore.
How are you suppose to create the same kind of outcome if your workplace cannot be accessed or a certain ressource is not available anymore?
We were investigating this question from an educational point of view, so the question was very often „How can I teach my children the exact same things without actually interacting with them?“, and while trying to answer this one, my heart was bleeding.
A modification to the concept of resilience could be to accept a change in the kind of functioning and outcome, and to judge whether activity is still there and was only adjusted to the situation. But how to you compare these new outcomes to what you had gotten before?

„You know“, my witch interrupts my thoughts once more. „It can simply feel good to do the same things as before again, although things have changed.“
„Is that your magic? For real now?“

And I have to admit that I more and more catch myself doing things that make no sense accept of reminding me of the time before. It‘s much more than just talking to people which are not around anymore. It‘s listening to a certain song all over again. It‘s knitting a scarf that will never be worn. It‘s singing, although alone this time and not with others, but it‘s still singing.

Does it make me resilient that I built up moments bit by bit that are supposed to feel like old ones? Or is it persisting to do things that are some what hollow?

A year ago, I wanted to write about how our use of the concept of resilience was an insult to … I think I called it „anything human left inside of me“, or even „the core of my very heart“ – seriously, when I was running crazy with heartbreak I was so good at coming up with words!

To be honest, I don‘t know what do think about this yet.
How is healing supposed to feel?
Does it mean for a wound to disappear as if it had never been there?
Does it grant the scar the right to ache sometimes?
Does it mean to stop missing things, or to find replacements?

„So, if I want to do it right, I will have to add the blood of a white dove, the flesh of a murderer and my wand is not supposed to be longer than 18 cm and has to be made of oak“, I cite the book my witch has once brought with her. „And that will do it? That will make everything feel fine again although the wholes still ache at every corner?“
My witch smiles sadly. „When you‘re just singing and knitting and lighting your candles, you do a really good job without all of these things“, she admits and I am glad I still have my witch with me, because the journey I am on is still a long one.