“We’re all mad here.”
– The Cheshire Cat, Alice in Wonderland
It’s something I said in humor to a friend once. I’m surrounded by wonderful madness most of the time, in my Kit, our boys, and our cats. Our friends are a whole other brand of delightful crazy, similar enough to our own that we have a hell of a good time when we all get together. Mad as hatters we can be, and have the photographs to prove it.
There’s another kind of madness that plays on my mind sometimes, though. It’s a question I’ve asked for a number of years now, and one that I’m very aware is not unique. Does hearing gods make me mad, or am I mad because I hear gods?
I have always had an active imagination, and this plays a big part in the doubts that trigger this question. As a child, I had a list of imaginary friends (mostly from literature and television) that filled pages. I started writing fan-fiction at the age of 10, read and drew voraciously, and have always felt watched. So a part of me always wonders: what, or Who, am I really hearing?
Several people whom I trust have assured me that I am not mad – at least, not in that particular context (I am, after all, medicated for your safety). They have also verified with Whom I am speaking, or with Whose voice. I also have done things I would not normally do for the sake or by request of my Deities. For example, my own internal voice, coupled with my own love of comfort and the status quo, would not prompt me to go have an ordeal, especially one involving something I actively avoid (unless I get a permanent piece of art out of it).
In light of these things, and the rewards I have gained from my interactions so far, I am inclined to believe that I am not mad. I might sound it from time to time, especially to myself, and I have my doubts more often than not.
And yet… and yet and yet…
I suppose we’re all hatters here.