• Home
  • indulge
  • new poetry
    • About Luna Luna
    • resources
    • search
  • editor
  • dark hour
  • submit
Menu

luna luna magazine

  • Home
  • indulge
  • new poetry
  • About
    • About Luna Luna
    • resources
    • search
  • editor
  • dark hour
  • submit
delicious new poetry
'the doors of the night open' — poetry by Juan Armando Rojas (translated by Paula J. Lambert)
Nov 29, 2025
'the doors of the night open' — poetry by Juan Armando Rojas (translated by Paula J. Lambert)
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025
'we can be forlorn women' — poetry by Stevie Belchak
Nov 29, 2025
'we can be forlorn women' — poetry by Stevie Belchak
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025
'I do whatever the light tells me to' — poetry by Catherine Bai
Nov 29, 2025
'I do whatever the light tells me to' — poetry by Catherine Bai
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025
‘to kill bodice and give sacrament’ — poetry By Kale Hensley
Nov 29, 2025
‘to kill bodice and give sacrament’ — poetry By Kale Hensley
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025
'Venetian draped in goatskin' — poetry by Natalie Mariko
Nov 29, 2025
'Venetian draped in goatskin' — poetry by Natalie Mariko
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025
'the long sorrow of the color red' — centos by Patrice Boyer Claeys
Nov 28, 2025
'the long sorrow of the color red' — centos by Patrice Boyer Claeys
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'Flowers are the offspring of longing' — poetry by Ellen Kombiyil
Nov 28, 2025
'Flowers are the offspring of longing' — poetry by Ellen Kombiyil
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'punish or repent' — poetry by Chris McCreary
Nov 28, 2025
'punish or repent' — poetry by Chris McCreary
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'long, dangerous grasses' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
Nov 28, 2025
'long, dangerous grasses' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'gifting nighttime honey' — poetry by Nathan Hassall
Nov 28, 2025
'gifting nighttime honey' — poetry by Nathan Hassall
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'A theory of pauses' — poetry by Jeanne Morel and Anthony Warnke
Nov 28, 2025
'A theory of pauses' — poetry by Jeanne Morel and Anthony Warnke
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'into the voluminous abyss' — poetry by D.J. Huppatz
Nov 28, 2025
'into the voluminous abyss' — poetry by D.J. Huppatz
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
'an animal within an animal' — a poem by Carolee Bennett
Nov 28, 2025
'an animal within an animal' — a poem by Carolee Bennett
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025
‘in the glitter-open black' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
Oct 31, 2025
‘in the glitter-open black' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'poet as tarantula,  poem as waste' — poetry by  Ewen Glass
Oct 31, 2025
'poet as tarantula, poem as waste' — poetry by Ewen Glass
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'my god wearing a body' — poetry by Tom Nutting
Oct 31, 2025
'my god wearing a body' — poetry by Tom Nutting
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'Hours rot away in regalia' — poetry by Stephanie Chang
Oct 31, 2025
'Hours rot away in regalia' — poetry by Stephanie Chang
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'down down down the hall of mirrors' — poetry by Ronnie K. Stephens
Oct 31, 2025
'down down down the hall of mirrors' — poetry by Ronnie K. Stephens
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'Grew appendages, clawed towards light' — poetry by Lucie Brooks
Oct 31, 2025
'Grew appendages, clawed towards light' — poetry by Lucie Brooks
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'do not be afraid' — poetry by Maia Decker
Oct 31, 2025
'do not be afraid' — poetry by Maia Decker
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'The darkened bedroom' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
Oct 31, 2025
'The darkened bedroom' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
'I am the body that I am under' — poetry by Jennifer MacBain-Stephens
Oct 31, 2025
'I am the body that I am under' — poetry by Jennifer MacBain-Stephens
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025
goddess energy.jpg
Oct 26, 2025
'Hotter than gluttony' — poetry by Anne-Adele Wight
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'As though from Babel' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
Oct 26, 2025
'As though from Babel' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'See my wants' — poetry by Aaliyah Anderson
Oct 26, 2025
'See my wants' — poetry by Aaliyah Anderson
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'black viper dangling a golden fruit' — poetry by Nova Glyn
Oct 26, 2025
'black viper dangling a golden fruit' — poetry by Nova Glyn
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'It would be unfair to touch you' — poetry by grace (ge) gilbert
Oct 26, 2025
'It would be unfair to touch you' — poetry by grace (ge) gilbert
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'Praying in retrograde' — poetry by Courtney Leigh
Oct 26, 2025
'Praying in retrograde' — poetry by Courtney Leigh
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'To not want is death' — poetry by Letitia Trent
Oct 26, 2025
'To not want is death' — poetry by Letitia Trent
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
'Our wildness the eternal now' — poetry by Hannah Levy
Oct 26, 2025
'Our wildness the eternal now' — poetry by Hannah Levy
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025
Ritual Photo.Tedesco.png

Ritual for Occupying a New Space

March 22, 2019

BY KAILEY TEDESCO

When I was a kid, my family moved often — across state, out of state, back into the first state, and then out again. I became used to the routine of packing my belongings, spending a few seconds with each individual item in my hand before moving onto the next, letting the memories and nostalgia of each thing hit me separately. I also got used to the ritual of starting over — carving my space within each home, deciding and rehearsing how I would introduce myself to neighbors and teachers and classmates.

In fourth grade, I was new in school and so shy. I didn’t know how to begin to make friends, and I came home crying most days. My dad went out to the grocery store and bought every piece of candy he could find. Then he stuffed all of the candy into a brown paper bag with a pb&j sandwich on the bottom. When I got to school, I opened my brown bag lunch and candy spilled over the small cafeteria benches like a pinata. Everyone around me swelled with joy, asking if I would share.

Of course I did share, and I made so many friends that day. Not just because of the candy, but because I was given an opening, a space to introduce myself and fit myself into this new space in a way that felt safe and joyous and, most of all, comfortable for me.

This was a ritual and a spell. Thanks, Dad.

Recently, I moved into a new home with my husband. Our first home. Its emptiness and strong scent of fresh paint keeps us both awake at night. We’re adjusting to the new thermostat, trying to figure out how to achieve a certain level of coziness without spending too much on electric. We’ve been having strange dreams, and our cats spend most of their waking moments prowling, sniffing the perimeter.

We’re all trying to find our space in this larger space, but it’s a gradual process.

On the third night in our home, I was inspired by my my dad’s brown bag of candy, and I decided to attempt a spell of my own to ask our home to welcome us. If you’re in a similar situation — moving into a new home or apartment, starting a new job with a new office or desk, or simply feeling disconnected from your current living space, this ritual is intended to help you feel welcomed, connected, and safe in whatever space you find yourself.

Here’s what you’ll need:

-      A photograph (preferably printed) of yourself in a space that you love or a space that makes you feel safe

-      Your favorite scented candle or incense

-      Three small, treasured objects. I like to think of these as the objects you’d never want to lose.

-      A song that reminds you of “home”

-      A place to sit or rest for a while. This can be in a comfy chair, under a soft blanket, in the bathtub, etc.

The ritual:

1.       Get cozy in your chosen space. Let yourself feel warm and safe in your chair, or allow the bathwater to fill to where you like it.

 

2.  Once you’re feeling calm and warm, turn on your chosen music and light your chosen candle or incense.

3. Place the photo of yourself in front of you. I used one of me on my wedding day, because I felt the most at home ever when surrounded by all of the people I love. Begin to meditate on the word “home” and what it means to you. If you’re able to do so, talk aloud to your home or space. I like to say the following, but you can modify it to your preferences:

            Dear, 123 South St. (or however you wish to name your home). Thank you for giving me                  security and warmth. I’m hoping to exist in this space, to create and to love and experience both joy and pain with your walls wrapped around me. Please grant me the safety to be vulnerable here. Please let me become a part of you, and you a part of me.

4. Let your music continue to play, and enjoy the warmth of your chosen spot for a few more moments. When the song is finished, allow yourself to sit in the quiet of your space. Envision what you hope to create or experience while occupying your new home. Set your intentions by whispering what you hope to create/experience here.

5. When you feel at peace, slowly take hold of each of your chosen objects at once. I chose Rumple, a bear I’ve had since before I was born, a necklace that used to belong to my Grizzy, and an early edition of The Bell Jar that my husband gifted me early in our relationship.

Hold each object for a few moments, and let yourself reminisce on any memories these objects might be associated with. When you’ve held all three, purposefully decide where in the home you would like to place each one.

When you’re ready, go ahead and place each object where you feel it belongs best in the moment. For full effect, allow yourself up to an hour to sit and reflect in your new home. Maybe even write a poem or create some kind of art. Let yourself exist fully and presently in your new space.

If you live with loved ones or roommates, feel free to include them and their objects in the ritual as well to create a space that feels welcoming to all who inhabit it.


 Kailey Tedesco is the author of She Used to be on a Milk Carton (April Gloaming Publishing), These Ghosts of Mine, Siamese (Dancing Girl Press), and Lizzie, Speak (White Stag Publishing). She currently teaches courses on the witch in literature, among other subjects, in Bethlehem, PA. She is also a senior editor for Luna Luna Magazine and a co-curator for Philly's A Witch's Craft reading series. You can find her work featured or forthcoming in Electric Literature, Fairy Tale Review, Bone Bouquet Journal, Witch Craft Mag, Grimoire, and more. For other information, please follow @kaileytedesco. 



 

← Poetry Weekly: Jill Mceldowney, Christina Olivares, Vi Khi NaoThis Sun Playlist Is Everything You Need →
Featured
‘in the glitter-open black' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
‘in the glitter-open black' — poetry by Fox Henry Frazier
'poet as tarantula,  poem as waste' — poetry by  Ewen Glass
'poet as tarantula, poem as waste' — poetry by Ewen Glass
'Hours rot away in regalia' — poetry by Stephanie Chang
'Hours rot away in regalia' — poetry by Stephanie Chang
'down down down the hall of mirrors' — poetry by Ronnie K. Stephens
'down down down the hall of mirrors' — poetry by Ronnie K. Stephens
'Grew appendages, clawed towards light' — poetry by Lucie Brooks
'Grew appendages, clawed towards light' — poetry by Lucie Brooks
'do not be afraid' — poetry by Maia Decker
'do not be afraid' — poetry by Maia Decker
'The darkened bedroom' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
'The darkened bedroom' — poetry by Jessica Purdy
'I am the body that I am under' — poetry by Jennifer MacBain-Stephens
'I am the body that I am under' — poetry by Jennifer MacBain-Stephens
instagram

COPYRIGHT LUNA LUNA MAGAZINE 2025