The other day I was called "crazy" by someone. They were totally serious. I completely disregarded the statement because I do not question my sanity. I have known some pretty crazy people in my life.
At the height of my ex-husband's drug abuse, he was crazy. He would walk to McDonald's and hallucinate that our children and I were walking on the other side of the street from him. He would hallucinate that I was prostituting myself and trying to sell the baby to the highest bidder. We purchased a home in upper middle class suburbia: good schools with a great big park in the middle. Two very large baptist churches are to the west and east of us. The local scout master lives five doors down. Very unlikely that I would be doing any human trafficking or prostituting on this side of town but the drugs made him crazy. My ex husband and I chose this neighborhood because we knew we could settle roots here. Kids need to know where their home is and moving constantly does not promote stability. After enduring a childhood of poverty, we wanted to use our education to provide for a better life for our kids.
My blood sister can be considered crazy. She lives in a home of developmentally disabled people. She became "crazy" because when she was born, they didn't give her enough oxygen so a good part of her brain doesn't function correctly. She goes through bouts of "temper tantrums", which have been controlled by medication. She has been working as a janitor for the same organization for about 20 years now. With the little money she has leftover from her paychecks, she likes to go on a special trips to the dollar store and purchase my daughter little gifts, like hand purses, or coloring books. On her dates with her boyfriend, they walk to the grocery store, purchase two single can of soda and walk the long way home while enjoying each others' company.
A good friend of mine, Big Bob, was considered crazy. He was a muscle bound adrenaline junkie with a penchant for fast motorcycles, fast women, jumping out of airplanes and extreme sports. He was the closest thing to a real life action hero that I have ever known. The man had a high threshold for pain, no mechanism for fear and tattoos and scars riddled his entire body. He used to do the annual trek on his Harley to collect stuffed animals for the local foster children organization. There is something very amusing, delightful and touching about 300 pounds of solid muscle on a Harley with a netted bag of about 20 stuffed animals on the back. His rough and tough exterior was tempered by his heart of gold.
As occultists, we are all considered crazy. We dress in funny costumes, oftentimes in the dark, wait for specific times of the moon or the stars and call forth the gods. Occultists have gemstones in our bosoms, herbs in our pockets and ancient symbols in our minds. Just one occult book is not enough and we can frequently be found in the aisles of a used book section. We believe in the Power of the human brain so we take great pains/time to acquire knowledge, to learn skills so we can make our own tools and accouterments, instead of buying it from the store. We believe in life in all things, become one with water, hear spirits in the wind and see ghosts in the smoke. Occultists have issues like every human being but we use our magick to invoke positive change. "Normal" people do not do these things so therefore occultists live on the fringe of society.
Since we are not "normal" because we do not accept the limitations of life and allow these things to restrict us, does this mean we are "crazy". No, I consider it extraordinary.