Athame ponderings

Life isn’t all doom and gloom right now.  I am–probably far too often–thinking of things outside my paper troubles.  One of those things is my athame.

A while back, I got my first real athame.  And I like my athame, I really do.  It’s sweet and friendly and it gets the job done.  Lately, though, I’ve been considering getting a new one.  Practically, I’m finding that it’s a little hard for me to grip the thin metal handle.  This should be idiotic–I’m only 26 after all–but I’m finding that the joints of my fingers are getting stiffer, and gripping thin, cold metal for much longer than a few minutes makes me clumsy.  Magically,  I’ve sort of felt like I’m wielding a cosmic dental pick instead of a blade.  So I’ve got some logical reasons for thinking about getting a new athame.

But, weirdly enough, this is opening a lot of emotions.  I feel like I’m cheating on a partner.  Really.  I feel like the desire I have to get a new tool is like I want to carry out an affair.  And I don’t know how to respond to this.  On the one hand, I’ve got some pretty hardcore ethics about fidelity.  I’ve always strongly felt that vows of any sort, whether they be to others or to yourself, should be fully honored, but ever since my parents’ fallout, I’m practically tyrannical about fidelity.  On the other hand…we’re talking about knives here.  The athame might be an extension of my magical self, but it’s still just a tool, and if a tool no longer meets its need, then it is replaced.

I don’t really know what to do.  I know it sounds silly, but I’m almost thinking of having a conversation with my athame!

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