Deborah Lipp

People disappear. It’s one of life’s mysteries, one I often wonder about.

Sitting next to my keyboard is the contact information for a young man very interested in learning traditional Wicca (the kind I teach). He came with referrals. We had a good conversation. He was enthusiastic. I told him I was sending an application (everyone enters my group with an application). I sent the application. (Actually, the first time it bounced, then I got the right email and re-sent.) Nothing. Never heard again.

The thing is, this happens all the time. In my years of teaching Wicca, I’ve sent thirty applications for every one I got back.

But this isn’t a Wicca thing. I mean, when I think about the dating…! Because this is commonplace, isn’t it? You meet someone, or you’re about to meet someone, and all of a sudden, they’re gone. Poof. Puff of invisible smoke. And following up is mostly useless.

Sometimes it’s even people who have been in your life a while. They stop returning phone calls. You didn’t fight or even disagree. They just stopped being there. And sometimes that’s very sad.

But mostly it’s mysterious. Mostly it just speaks to the vast space between you and me. We think we know each other but we don’t. We reach out to each other, but sometimes we don’t connect. The thoughts in your head are unknown to me, and mine are unknown to you, and the times we really know each other are wonderful in part because they are rare.

Some people hate the Internet (clearly not the people reading this). They think more tech is less touch. But I think anything that keeps us connected is for the good. When I think about why I blog, is it worth it, am I killing time typing “little” things instead of writing the next book, I come back to this. That I am connecting. I have not disappeared.