The kingdom of heaven — whatever that place is to you — does not care about how many books you have published nor how many emails you have answered.
Just imagine dying without truly understanding just how many shades of blue the sky contains?
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BY LISA MARIE BASILE
Tune in with me.
I think about the people who will populate our future, and I ask the sky what they will see, what they will be told — through our actions and words and hunger. Will we become their ancient gods, whose lessons are bleak and hellish? Will they see how hard many of us tried and how we hoped?
Will our mythos be of hyper-consumerism, racism, lovers who are not allowed to love, bodies put into categories, plastic, the poisoned fruit, the unbearable dullness of constant performance, the addiction to the avatar, the plutocracy, the oceans crying into themselves, the sound of the air cracking against the ozone? Will all of our wounds still be present?
When I think of the people of the ancient worlds — and their gods and their cultures and their arts — I wonder what they would have wanted us to know?
Did they hope to impart a message of beauty, art, and nature? Of storytelling and culture?
Did they think we would destroy one another and the earth they danced upon in worship?
What happens to everything when we sit in the sea? Do we become a primal beautiful thing?
There is a presence that is being asked of us. Do we hear its sound? Are we the people who tolerate abuse? Are we the zombies of decadence, the digital void that consumes and hungers through screens? What if we were embodied for a day? Would we hear the great chambers of our heart, and the hearts of strangers, and the vines and sea beings we came from?
There is a constant scrolling and feeding. And it’s because we are hurting. We are disconnected. We are oppressed. We are poor. We are sick. We are not seen by society. We feel lonely, a loneliness perpetuated by hyper-connection.
How else do we live without turning to the void, which provides us beautiful and loud things to buy and be and shape ourselves into?
How do we live without abusing our neighbor, without stomping on their chest?
What if we could remember ourselves? How miraculous we are? Would we remember to be generous, to heal, to say hello? What would it look like if we all stopped pushing for a moment? What if we let the wind move us?
Positano
I feel sometimes I am a ghost. Liminal, floating through the world, eating the world around me — media and fashion and ideas that are not my own, not aligned with my values or my traumas or my soul.
I am out of time with my own soul. I am in 2020, but my heart is in the ocean eternal. I want wind and shorelines. I want fairness and justice. I want to experience beauty without the billboards looming. I want to read a book in the sunlight, and see my neighbor have the same opportunity.
But my neighbors — and your neighbors — are dying, are being murdered, and our ecosystems are gasping in our wake.
La Masseria Farm Experience
There are days that are so beautiful, so soft and real, that I have hope. These are holy days.
In Campania Italy, I have a holy day. I sit in a small stone pool. I think of the drive through the mountains from Napoli, where Pompeii stands, its breath held, looming over its land. How it preserved the stories of its people. I think always of what is preserved, what is lost.
But in the little pool, I am alone. The bed and breakfast is quiet. Tourists are out at Capri or Amalfi, the staff are napping during siesta, making pesto, somewhere else paying bills, talking on phones. I hear the hum of a generator, street dogs barking, the starlings that fly over me back and forth, definitely flirting.
I whistle and they zip over my head. We are in conversation, I know it. The earth wants me to know it sees me, wants me to see it. I am here and nowhere else. I am completely alive. I am made for this moment; we all are.
And after the late dinners of fried fish, I walk back to my room, alone. I am greeted again by the tiny birds who flutter in and out of the domed entrance, cherubs painted across the ceiling. I think of time and nature, and its concurrent obliviousness and suffering. I think of my privilege, and what I can do to preserve these stunning things.
I think of my body withstanding 100-degree heat. How I talk to the creatures in some liminal language of love. I think of how we could all be good to one another, so good that we could all have holy days.
I think of my flesh as the wine of this land. I feel the Mediterranean and the Tyrrhenian Seas in the palms of my hands. I am so alive and grateful and awake at the altar of these moments I cry for the nostalgia that hasn’t come yet, that I know I will feel. That I do feel. I am both past and present. But mostly, I am now.
I walk up the road to a farm and am greeted by a family whose hands have nurtured and translated the earth for centuries. They climb the trees, show us the olives falling. We see the farm cats idle in their sunlight, their fur dotted in soil. They are languid in pleasure and warmth.
I lose myself in the lemon trees, smell their peels; I am blessed. I step into the cool room where they keep the jugs of Montepulciano and cured meats. A cry in ecstasy is somewhere within me.
After a long day of pasta made by hand and more wine and strangers inviting me to their table and then limoncello, I walk home to my room. I am drunk on the connection. I film the walk, then stop. I do not want to capture everything; some things just exist between me and the earth. I won’t share.
La Masseria Farm Experience
My room is called Parthenope. It is etched into the wooden door. When I open the door, that is the threshold, the portal. Parthenope is a siren who lives on the coast of Naples. I imagine her body clinging to the continental shelf, her hair entwined in shell. They say she threw herself into the sea when she couldn’t please Odysseus with her siren song. Or maybe a centaur fell in love with Parthenope, only to enrage Jupiter, who turned her into Naples. The centaur became Vesuvius, and now they are forever linked — by both love and rage. Is that not humanity?
She became Naples. She became forever. Her essence is water, is earth, is the mythology of what happens when people are cruel and jealous and oppressive. Is this the message the sirens are singing? To be tolerant? To normalize cruelty? To fill the void with empty media, with images without stories?
Lubra Casa
There is always something that could destroy us, could rid us of this existence. A virus, a volcano, our own hands.
We are temporary, so quick and light and flimsy. We are but a stitch of fabric. A dream within a dream of that fabric. And yet. Here we are, becoming the ancients, carving out a way toward the future. We visit volcanos. We mythologize the earth. We drink wine and capture beauty. But then we turn our backs — on the proverbial garden, on one another, on our own bodies.
What if the earth is asking us to be better? To be still? What pose would we hold? What shape could let all the light in?
LISA MARIE BASILE is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine, a popular magazine & digital community focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of several books of poetry, as well as Light Magic for Dark Times, a modern collection of inspired rituals and daily practices, as well as The Magical Writing Grimoire: Use the Word as Your Wand for Magic, Manifestation & Ritual. She's written for or been featured in The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Bust, HelloGiggles, Best American Experimental Writing, Best American Poetry, Grimoire Magazine, and more. She's an editor at the poetry site Little Infinite as well as the co-host of Astrolushes, a podcast that conversationally explores astrology, ritual, pop culture, and literature. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She is also a chronic illness advocate, keeping columns at several chronic illness patient websites. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at @lisamariebasile and @Ritual_Poetica.
The Magical Writing Grimoire is a book of inclusive and accessible rituals and writing prompts for anyone who feels called to using words as a source of healing, empowerment, joy, generativity, and self-exploration. It is designed to integrate ritualistic living and to incorporate sacredness into our lives in meaningful and easy ways.
It’s for witches and non-witches (including people with secular beliefs, like myself), although of course it’s heavily based off the archetype of the witch: The witch, to me, is strong, rebellious, empowered, empathic, and bold as fuck. The witch is also conscious — of the self and others and the earth. So, it works heavily with archetypes and symbols, but it invites people who have specific beliefs to incorporate their beliefs into the work.
Really, the book is about tapping into and using your own power, your own voice, your own ideas.
It’s for writers and non-writers — anyone who is interested in the sacred, beautiful power of poetry or journaling or letter-writing, or timing writing practices to nature’s ebb and flow.
It also focuses heavily on shadow work — or unearthing the silenced, dark, shadowy parts of the self.
Lots of rituals, lots of writing prompts, meditations, quotes from the most inspirational and wonderful people and writers, poems I wrote myself, glimpses into my personal life, and so much more. Plus, it’s really beautifully illustrated.
The book was gestating in my mind for several years, but I didn’t know what its shape until the past year or so; I knew I wanted to write a writing guide — one that balanced the ritualistic with the pragmatic and every day, one that used writing as a form of magic. More than using the occult in order to generate writing, it’s about using writing to make your life more magical.
It starts with the word and ends with the word.
It’s deeply rooted in recovering from pain and trauma. When I was younger, the number one thing that got me through times of extreme trauma (family separation, foster care, CPTSD, financial instability, chronic illness) was writing. Writing gave me my voice back. It was a tool for reclamation. But more so, it was a tool for joy, creativity, and empowerment.
The ability to write is a privilege for many of us, but it’s also a free tool that can help save us. I’ve seen writing help women in domestic shelters, college students move through self-esteem issues, and incarcerated individuals tell their story. It is something sacred in itself because with our words we are taking nothing and making it into something.
So I wanted to design a gentle but effective book that people — especially any marginalized community — could use to tap into their truth and self, in a way that felt right for them. It’s guided, but it allows space for reinterpretation and individuality so that anyone can tap in.
It is, and it’s not. Like Light Magic for Dark Times, it is grounded in accessibility and inclusivity. It also offers different (but looser) chapter focuses, like manifestation, mindfulness, healing, conjuring your voice, creating a grimoire, and more.
Unlike Light Magic for Dark Times, it provides a much deeper dive in terms of the rituals and the writing prompts, and it’s filled with poetry and quotes to meditate on. It’s also much more about the process of long-term self-exploration (and excavation!) than about quick, one-off rituals for different purposes. I think the two actually pair super well together!
I’m secular (for lack of a better, more nuanced word), so I don’t work with or believe in gods, goddesses, angles or other deities. However, I work closely with the natural world (especially the power and energy of water), shadow work, energy, archetypes, and symbols. For example, I see the elements as powerful tools, offering lessons and glimpses of the purity of aliveness — and I see the astrological signs as symbols of the human condition.
It’s born on April 21, so it’s a Taurus! But let’s be honest — it was finalized and sent to the printer during Scorpio season. It’s very much a Scorpio book — it’s dark, intense, powerful, and transformative. But, like a Taurus, it wants to find beauty, comfort, and artistry. And because it comes out in the Spring, it’s a great way to kick off the new year with energy, creation, and rebirth.
People are already saying some really kind things about it, and it’s included in a few Most Anticipated lists, like in Cunning Folk and over at Patheos by Mat Auryn.
ASTROLUSHES is a podcast at the intersection of astrology and literature, ritual, wellness, pop culture, creativity — and, of course, wine. Hosted by Luna Luna editor-in-chief Lisa Marie Basile and contributor Andi Talarico (both water signs!), you can expect guests, giveaways, book reviews, and more. You’ll have fun, but you’ll also go deep.
Episode 1 is an introductory episode during which the hosts chat about astrology’s impact in their own lives, plus they tackle the ideas of reductive astrology memes, pop culture (Rihanna lyrics!), folk magic, family lineage and trauma. They also a Rapid Fire Round of Guess That Sign (which sign is Poe?).
For now, you can listen to ASTROLUSHES on Anchor.Fm (there’s an app and also a website), but the podcast will soon be available on iTunes, Spotify, and everywhere else podcasts can be found. If you like what you hear, leave them a clap or star the show on Anchor. You can also listen below!
You can tweet them at @astrolushes.
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
Welcome to a sneak peak of my grimoire of self-development and ritualized living!
Though the archetype of the witch is part of what inspired LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, it’s also a book of what inspired me about people I love and care for, like my mother, who has had to grow and regrow several times over; like the people I know who have used their voice for personal and community change in the face of systemic oppression. It’s a book of love and care, of rebellion, of reclamation, and growth. That energy is magic.
I wrote LMDT after an editor actually spied a ritual of mine here at Luna Luna and asked me to expand on it— and so it is, in many ways, the unofficial Luna Luna grimoire.
Here are all the places you can pick up the book. And here’s a look at what’s inside:
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Light Magic for Dark Times is all about ritualizing your life and finding your inner magic — by embracing the light and the shadow together.
It was written as a guide through the self.
The chapters cover everything from journaling and sigil creation to finding your own personal magic and integrating daily ritual.
The foreword was written by the inimitable Kristen J. Sollée. You should read her book, Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring The Sex Positive.
Because I’m a poet, you’ll see a lot of literary references woven throughout the book.
Light Magic for Dark Times is for the rebels, dreamers, shadow-dwellers, thinkers, darklings, & light-seekers amongst us.
You can find more inside peeks below
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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and the most recently the author of "Light Magic for Dark Times” and "Nympholepsy." Her work encounters the intersection of ritual, wellness, chronic illness, overcoming trauma, and creativity, and she has written for The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, Healthline, The Establishment, Refinery 29, Bust, Hello Giggles, and more. Her work can be seen in Best Small Fictions, Best American Experimental Writing, and several other anthologies. Lisa Marie earned a Masters degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University.
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
Hello, Luna Luna readers—it's your long, lost editor-in-chief. This post is looooong overdue, but alas, summer languidness and a lack of time. So, I've got an announcement: I wrote a book, and it's called Light Magic for Dark Times! It is available for preorder now, and it's out in September.
In a way, this book is the official Luna Luna collection of rituals and practices for grief, resiliency, shadow work, sex magic, writing magic, body and identity appreciation, regeneration, love, trauma, creativity, and glamour. I'm so out of my mind excited!
In the fall of last year, I was approached by a publishing house, Quarto Books (the leading global publisher of illustrated nonfiction!)—whose editor had been reading Luna Luna (and one of my posts about grief rituals). They asked me if I'd be interested in writing a longer book of what they'd seen—so we went back and forth on some ideas. As a poet and essayist, this felt like a beautiful challenge, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't difficult. I had been practicing magic for so long—and in a really intimate, quiet, chaotic, eclectic and solitary way (more on that here), so I wanted to make sure that my work was accessible and inclusive to be understood and used by anyone, including people who also had their own set ways of practicing. Magic is something we all have within us, and I believe removing barriers to that personal power is so important—especially in times when we feel we've lost our autonomy or sense of joy.
As a former foster care youth, a trauma survivor, and someone with a chronic illness, feelings of out-of-control-ness have been no stranger to me. Those feelings can impact your self-esteem and your creativity, your resiliency, your hope, your desire, and the way you engage with the world around you. I wanted to share some of my personal practices and rituals that helped me through all of that. And I brought my experiences as a poet, empath, community builder, and writer to the book, too (so, yes it's even got a poetry section).
It was important to me that the book be a collection of practices that could both honor and manage our shadow selves and our light. They're one in the same, I think; they just move along on a spectrum, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes separately.
Oh, and the foreword is written by Kristen J. Sollee, the amazing, inimitable, wonderful author of Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring The Sex Positive.
Would you like to preorder the book?! You can do just that anywhere you can get books (Amazon, your local indie book store, B&N, and more). It can be preordered in the US, UK, Australia, New Zealand and Canada here. It can even be preordered at Target and Walmart (wild, right?).
Oh, and here are some photos from the writing & editing process:
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