I'm a private person. When life gets more "intense," one of the ways I cope is becoming even more private about some things.

That is what happened a little less than two weeks ago. I was juggling several things, and I just didn't feel it was right to share my faith when I was being so private about it. I was going out of my way to keep my religious matters out of sight.

I'm not usually "broom closet," but I am not exactly out there dressed in black in a six inch silver pentagram on my chest either. I look "mostly harmless" when I am out of the house. If someone asks specifically about my religion, I'll tell them, but otherwise I deal in generalities rather than specifics.

I guess I was so busy leaning on my faith I didn't really feel like defending it at the same time. I have had to fight that battle on occasion, and it is never pleasant. So I kept things pretty quiet.

I was going to write about the things on my altar, but since the 31st I moved my altar off my mantlepiece and back onto it's normal table. The things I was using before the High Holiday are back on the shelves, except for one thing.

It is an old iron skeleton key. It was my first magical tool. It belonged to my grandfather and I found it after his death. Usually I alternate the pendents I wear based on the moon phase. But I was told to use this one for a while. It was on my altar because it is one of the cherished things I have from my grandfather. It's a bit uncomfortable to wear, it pokes and scratches, and it is one of the few pendants I have that is still on leather instead of satin cord.

Sometimes I swear I can feel it humming.