A Writing Spell: Honoring Your Many Selves

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

Trauma, pain, or the tides of life can blur time. When we have a hard time reconciling our past and present, it can feel like we are perpetually moving between memories, like we are chasing the ghost of who we used to be — or like we are perpetually looking ahead and never finding presence.

At times it feels like we can spot a way, a path out, a sense of the future — but we are often tethered to the past, living as who we used to be, unable to move forward. I have struggled to let go of or integrate the younger me into who I am now. There are parts that I need to say goodbye to and parts that I should carry with me — but it takes time and self-compassion and energy to work through this.

And sometimes, when we are so focused on past pain or shame — or so focused on tomorrow, we forget to honor what today is all about. What right now feels like.

In this writing-based, accessible ritual you will work with your many selves, to take a moment to be in tune with the past and the present, and the future. To give each self some space, a pause, a breath, and a moment of prayer and hope. To see your many layers. And to find some perspective.

A ritual of selves is a candle magic writing practice that requires three candles, a few pieces of paper, (as small as your hand), and some string (cut into inch-long strings).

A note

What you release, honor, and call forth is up to you. You can release, for example, shame. You can honor resilience, and you can call forth creativity. What you meditate on can be material or emotional.

Be thoughtful. Work within a realm of possibility. Acknowledge that intention must be nurtured by action and intention. If you’re interested, I write a lot about working with realistic and intersectional manifestations in my book, The Magical Writing Grimoire.

Your candles may be any color that speaks to you. I often correspond color to energy or idea (like yellow for creativity, purple for spiritual power, pink for love and healing, and green for opportunity).

Settle your thoughts & think about your past, present, and future.

Before everything, sit quietly in your space and think on something from your past that you’d like to say goodbye to, something in your present you’d like to acknowledge and honor, and something you’d like to call forth for your future.

Working with the past

Light the first candle with intention as you think of what you release.

Speak: "with this light of the past,

I release ___"

Write onto your paper what you release in whatever words you'd like. Scroll the paper, and tie the scroll around the bottom of the candle. Let it burn.

Working with the present

Light the 2nd candle with intention as you think of what you honor about your current life.

Speak: "with this light of the present,

I honor ___"

Write onto your paper what you honor in whatever words you'd like. Scroll the paper, and tie the scroll around the bottom of the candle. Let it burn.

Working with the future

Light the 3rd candle with intention as you think of what you are calling forth

Speak: "with this light of the future,

I manifest ___"

Write onto your paper what you want. Write this in the present tense as if you have it already. Scroll the paper, and tie the scroll around the bottom of the candle. Let it burn.

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Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness.

She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY, which is excerpted in Best American Experimental Writing 2020. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, We Are Grimoire, Witch Craft Magazine, Refinery 29, Self, Healthline, Entropy, On Loan From The Cosmos, Chakrubs, Catapult, Bust, Bustle, and more. 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.

An 11-Line Poetry Spell For Healing

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

This is a writing ritual that includes an 11-line spell-poem recipe (which you will write) and a meditation. The goal? Tending to the wound.

In this healing spell poem (which functions as both a method of shadow working and as a spell, as it is your will and emotion which powers it) you will acknowledge the wound — whatever that wound might be; it could be today’s anxiety or yesterday’s lingering fear. It could be physical or immaterial. Self-honesty is key

You will also write the medicine.

I believe we all hold some form of medicine, or the key, within ourselves. Perhaps the medicine is external — systemic change, a new world? It’s okay to write to that, too. It’s okay to want big, beautiful, powerful global change just as much as it’s okay to write toward the practical or the mundane, or the small ways we forge ahead in our own healing.

I invite you to tend to the wound with me. I’ve done this a few times and each time it carries the potential to be transformative. It is simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

As with all of my prompts (many of which are over at my Instagram account @Ritual_Poetica), I recommend that you make sure you’re in a safe, supportive environment while working through this. Maybe that means grounding in a space that feels safe and light and having someone to talk to if you need support.

If you’d like more ideas about that, my book, The Magical Writing Grimoire, goes into detail on how to create a sacred and safe writing environment.

The Pre-Writing Meditation

Become soft. Let your heart bloom. Sigh wholly, loose and beautiful. Shut the door to fear, or listen to what the fear has to say. Walk into the room of Self, that great gilded palace. Feel the waters of truth cleanse your feet, your hands, your softness. Stand before the mirror and stare into your wound. Meet it with grace and compassion. The scars soften. The tissue expands to be held and to hold you. This is the kingdom of the heart.

What does it feel like to acknowledge the wound?

This is the time to write.

The writing practice: A healing spell poem for tending to the wound — in 11 lines

• First, describe the wound in five lines. What are its colors, shapes, moods? Is it blue, & is it frightening? Is it bone-tired? Is it the beast of poverty, of loneliness, of blood?

• Next, describe the medicine in five lines. Is it sunlight on the lake? Is it a burial? A refusal? An acceptance? A new home? A medication? Your voice? This is up to you. You know intuitively what heals you.

• Finally, write your last line; this is when you cast your spell. It's what you tell the ocean about your pain. It's your greatest hope. It's your belief in self, in relief, in healing. give this everything you have.

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Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness.

She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY, which is excerpted in Best American Experimental Writing 2020. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, We Are Grimoire, Witch Craft Magazine, Refinery 29, Self, Healthline, Entropy, On Loan From The Cosmos, Chakrubs, Catapult, Bust, Bustle, and more. 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.

How To Write Powerful Poetry Spells

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

Poetry is magic. And poems are spells. The spirituality of poetry is clear — but it’s not always obvious; like many paths and practices (especially witchcraft, folk magic, or other spiritual paths), poetry is a way toward self-reclamation, finding autonomy, understanding yourself and the world, and getting in touch with the divine, mysterious force within us — creativity.

And like a spell, a poem is born of intent and uses specific ingredients. Poetry is shadow work, a way of mining the depths. And through that act, it is a torch of illumination.

If we are the soil, the poetry is the rose that blooms. And the magic — that’s what brings it to the surface.

But why poetry? Poetry moves and slides and breaks rules; in fact, we make the rules as we write it. It defies structure, as it is a living art form, ever-changing. Its power lies in what it contains, what it doesn’t, what it gives, and what it hides in its white spaces — and it thrives in liminal spaces. It’s witchcraft.

It says, “I won’t tell you the truth, but I’ll tell you a part of it.” Poetry gives you clues. It asks you to think. It reveals according to its own rules. That’s why we always ask, “But what is it about?”

And that mystery makes it so beautiful — both to read and to write. It helps us stretch our imaginations, get out of our comfort zones, and offers a glimpse of something that one might never see or realize or pay attention to.As a poet and teacher of poetry, I think that is magical. In fact, I wrote a whole book about it: The Magical Writing Grimoire.

Like one’s magical craft, poetry asks us to return to the process. It asks us to spend time with it, nurture it, and go deeper. You are never done with learning as a practitioner of any sort. There are always more questions and always more epiphanies — and there are always more poems to download, to meditate over, and to write.

Poets are the alchemists of the page.

As witches, we carry — and work with — the great energy within us. We are always aware of, directing, or manipulating energy and emotion. This is such an incredible thing — it allows us to make the choices that enable us to be free, find relief, find purpose, find power, find clarity. To divine. To grow. Poets do this too, even if unconsciously; we bring energy and emotion to the page. We manipulate that energy and emotion — deeply aware of its powers and its meaning. How we are changing with every line we write.

We create our altars on the page, pulling together our tools and objects — words and sounds and space — to cast our spells. And just like witches, poets love our rituals: wine, a cigarette, a cleansed space to work, a quieting.

Each word is meticulously selected as an ingredient or power object. Each stanza is a breath of purpose, a standing in the crossroads. Each turn of phrase, a candle lit by the wick of another. And when read aloud, all at once, a spell cast.

How to write poetry spells & practice wordcraft

Image by Lisa Marie Basile

There are many ways to write poetry spells. The poem itself can work as a spell through its language (calling on what you want or releasing something), or through its structure and pacing (emphasizing breath work and musicality can create a prayer-like experience).

You can also create poetry spells by focusing each line or section on a specific intention, color, archetype, or goal.

By the way, don’t feel constrained or pressured by ideas of “good poetry,” or popular poetry. These are poems for you; they’re magic. They’re your essence. They’re not meant to be published or shared with the world. Write the poetry that speaks to you. In your voice. In whatever language you want to write in.

Here are some of my favorite techniques.

Writing consciously

Whether we realize it or not, when we write poetry, we are programming our creation with our intention. Like drawing a sigil, a poem is the shape and sound of our intent. Is it a poem of personal power? Is it a poem of memory? Is it a poem that recalls love? Is it a poem of reclamation? Being conscious of what you’re feeling — and programming your poem to achieve a certain goal when it’s read aloud or finished — you imbue your poem with power. It is a spell cast.

And like an incantation or a mantra, we can read a poem anytime to evoke the energy we programmed to it. It will always be there, encapsulated at the moment we created it. It can transport us, infuse us, remind us. 

Write a poetry spell with a certain number of lines or stanzas

You’ll dedicate each line or stanza to a specific idea or feeling you’d like to conjure, let go of, or release. Each line, in effect, will give you the opportunity to focus your intention and energy. This is where poetry spells really get powerful since you can focus stanzas or lines on archetypes, gods, goddesses, guides, ancestral symbols, power colors, sacred sounds, or goals and conjurings.

Want to try one? This 11-line poetry spell for healing is accessible and potent.

Write automatically

On the other end of writing with conscious intention, automatic writing is a way of writing — freely, without censorship or goal — in a sort of trance state. Think of yourself as a vessel, downloading the information and translating it to the page. Writing a poem this way means writing anything that comes to mind — and then deciphering that when you’re in a more conscious state.

Write the liminal

Write a poem that speaks of the in-between, the crossroads, the liminal. What does it look at dusk? What does it feel like to be almost touched, almost loved, almost lost? How you capture what feels to straddle the liminal — in a poem?

Word Worship

A book of poetic spells, The Lost Words, aimed to reclaim and celebrate natural words that were taken out of the Oxford Junior Dictionary. These words, acorn, adder, bluebell, dandelion, fern, heron, otter, and willow were replaced with words like blog, broadband, bullet-point, cut-and-paste, and voice-mail.  

What words mean something to you? What words speak to your memories and personal power? Are there words that speak to your identity, your resistance, your body, your journey? Choose five of these words and write a 5-stanza poem using each of them, or write five poems (as a set to be read aloud together) utilizing each. When you speak them aloud, you can call on these qualities.

Dream poetry

When we wake up, our minds are loose and fluid, capable of magic — still tethered to other conscious states. Once away, tap into that dream space and write a poem about your dream. Let its contradictions and messiness and weirdness soak into your poetry.

What is the dream’s message? Write that message into your poem. In this way, you are divining from the subconscious mind, mining the dreamscape, and channeling it from the ether into a physical thing to be explored and tapped into. Dedicate a whole section of your grimoire to dream poetry and you’ll watch the themes and messages unravel — allowing you to swim in a literary sea of the self.

Herbal poetics

Are you a fan of cannabis or mugwort? Both are used for spiritual purposes, opening a sort of mental portal. In a high state, write what comes to mind. Don’t bother making sense or trying to define meaning right away; just let the feelings guide you. Ride the wave of the self, and let your words slip onto paper, unregulated. Light your joint with the flame from a candle lit in your sacred space.

These poems capture the experience of liminality, highness, and the dream state. As you write, you are channeling, translating, and creating a space of sacred connection. A spell is an active, dynamic thing — one that is created as it is cast. Every time you read the poem aloud afterward, it can call on that same energy.

You can read more about weed witchcraft right here — Weed Witchcraft: A Ritual With The High Priestess of Smoke by Moxie McMurder, who writes, “Smoking the holy herb is a spiritual act, one that puts you in touch with the four elements and when practiced correctly can lift the veil reveal and nature's secrets.” Just remember to stay safe, be legal, and talk to a doctor before using any psychoactive substance. 

Parts of this article were excerpted from The Magical Writing Grimoire.

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Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness.

She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY, which is excerpted in Best American Experimental Writing 2020. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, We Are Grimoire, Witch Craft Magazine, Refinery 29, Self, Healthline, Entropy, On Loan From The Cosmos, Chakrubs, Catapult, Bust, Bustle, and more. 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.

Here Is Your Scorpio Homework This Season

 BY LISA MARIE BASILE

It’s your Scorpio-in-chief here to take you on a subterranean journey, cradled in the arms of the sign of death, rebirth, and transformation.

Once Scorpio season hits, we tend to gather ‘round to talk intensity and sexuality and darkness and the occult. We may ask ourselves, What is this darkness? What is this silent creeping feeling blooming out of my belly like a black tulip? What is this intense desire? What are these fears? Why do I want to fuck or meditate or go inward so hard? Why do I want to dance until morning? What shall I do to survive this intensity? Do I run or lean in-in-in, into that dark mansion of Scorpio? Must I make space for that intensity and regeneration? Can I rent a bunker?

I want to tell you this: Be not afraid. Yes, this is a heavy season, but it is also a season that permits you to feel it. It wants to comfort you through it, even if it at first it may feel painful. You may be thinking about your place in the world, how to move through grief, what you want to let go of, and how to heal your childhood self. Scorpio, in its shadowy mystery, is beckoning you to go deep. To stop looking away from the abyss.

To that end, below is your Scorpio full moon homework. Go with one or two of the ideas below, and know that any momentary discomfort will yield rewards. Just be sure to ground yourself and seek comfort or support from a therapist or a friend if things get too heavy.

Drop the bullshit, seek rebirth, and stare into the abyss

Scorpio doesn’t have time for bullshit, for the superficial, or for the useless things that serve no purpose and only hold you down. Stare your problems in the eye. Begin making plans to walk away from something that hurts you. It may not be immediate, but you can use this full moon to begin taking stock of ways to make a move and give blood to your desires. Start recognizing bad patterns. Take stock of friends who constantly let you down, of the job that hurts your soul, of the project that isn’t inspiring you—and make an out plan. Taurus asks to perhaps save money or put something aside for yourself, when possible.

Delete those toxic texts, ideas, and people — and be rid of it. In endings, scorpio finds rebirth; you’ll grow wings where a wound was once.

Decide what makes your life better and richer and move toward it. It’s not easy, but when you decide what doesn’t serve you...an opportunity happens. 

If it feels scary, that means you are exercising a demon or confronting the shadow self. Lean into it.

That said, not all situations are currently changeable—that’s okay. Take this opportunity to reframe your needs; you may not have full control over everything, but where can you find autonomy? Where can you plant seeds of change? Is the change you’re seeking internal? Perhaps that inner growth will transform your physical reality? If you need to lean on others (Scorpio asks us to be vulnerable) to make all of this happen, do so. This may mean seeking community resources, medical care, or the love of a friend. You are safe in your need and your vulnerability. Any actualized Scorpio will tell you this, despite their proclivities toward the secretive or seemingly stoic. In short, rebirth is a process, and it doesn’t always happen in a vacuum.

Scorpio is the sign of death and rebirth, so lean into its dark ways and part with whatever is dragging you down. Any depths you go into, you want to go into willingly—not because someone or something is pulling you into the abyss.

Embrace the sensual in all of its forms

Find a way to tap into your sexuality—that could be through sex magic (setting intentions and focusing on them during the act of masturbating or having sex), dancing or lying around in your finest lingerie, or honoring your sensuality by reading some beautiful poetry — Neruda, Sappho. Pick flowers. Eat honey and cinnamon. Listen to sexy music (I recommend Sevdaliza, FKA Twigs, and Banks, or this Scorpio playlist). Dance in your underwear. Light a candle and apply oils to the skin. 

Set a goal and use the full moon to power up

Don’t just set any old goal (I mean, you totally can), but this is the time to go deep. Is there something you’re deeply pining for on an existential level — something that you need to birth, to pull from the watery depths of the self? Is there something you’re trying to conjure on a big level, something life-altering? Do it. Say it. Meditate on it. Write a list of ways you can make it happen. Envision shimmering light surrounding your body and infusing it with drive. Envision swimming in a vast black ocean where you and the dark are alone together; what do you feel? What do you see? When you swim to shore, what do you see? Make it yours.

Write a letter to your dead

Grief is a beautiful, complicated, overwhelming, and natural thing; it lets us peer into the truth of life and it mirrors back to us the deepest, most sincere parts of our ourselves. If you spend your time actively avoiding grief, you may have to spend some time letting it in eventually, right?

This is the time. Write a letter to your dead (perhaps, in this case, your grief is metaphorical). Visit a loved ones’ grave. Eat lunch in a graveyard. Thank the dead for welcoming you. Light a candle in honor of someone who passed or set up a small altar in their name. Go there. Feel it. Scorpio will cradle you in her arms and fill you with rejuvenation and comfort when you’re in pain. You just have to be willing to move through that murky threshold. Make like Hecate; go forth into the crossroads. 

Yes, Scorpio is cthonic and intense—but she is fiercely loyal and wants the best for those who embark into the liminal. Trust me.

*This is an updated piece from 2018.

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Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness. She regularly creates dialogue and writes about intentionality and ritual, accessibility, creativity, poetry, foster care, mental health, family trauma, healing, and chronic illness. She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY. 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.

3 Transformative Life Lessons Scorpio Teaches Us

BY LISA MARIE BASILE (A SCORPIO)

People often reduce Scorpio to a sex-hungry, death-obsessed, sting machine — and they’re not entirely wrong to do so. Scorpio can be nasty (or are they just too real for the rest of us?). They feed off of the transformative power of sex, the earth-shattering power of transformation, death, and rebirth, and offer up a sometimes-tiring intensity. All of this is true.

But in this obsessive prowling for authenticity and power and pleasure you’ll also find loyalty, passion, relentless curiosity, hard work, and an ability to think outside of the box. They are hungry for everything. Here’s what they teach us:

Embracing authenticity & the hard stuff makes your life more beautiful.

To be human is to bleed and cry and change, so why present yourself as static and safe? Scorpio balks at bullshit, and that’s no exaggeration. If Scorpio walks into a party and finds themselves cornered by the person whose inauthenticity simply wafts from their person, Scorpio is not likely to politely excuse themselves. They will likely utter a too-harsh retort or simply walk away. Harsh? Perhaps. Rude? Depends on how you look it.

If you aren’t here to present your deepest, most authentic, vulnerable self (but don’t be straight-up insecure, since the line between weakness and vulnerability is drawn deep in the sand for Scorpio), Scorpio becomes the physical embodiment of a yawn. Seriously, give us the entire ocean or go bother someone else — maybe, who knows, a stoic, grounded Earth sign who can’t be bothered with the messy beauty of humanity?

The lesson: Find the power in revealing yourself, being vulnerable, and going deep. Step out onto the plank and reveal your shining wholeness to the wide and wild seas. Get consumed in arresting, honest conversation. Don’t shy from real people who want to connect. There are places and times for reservation and balance, but life is too short to hide from the depths. Welcome it in yourself and others. You will find intimacy, love, and beauty in realness. Take a risk and show your real self.

Power can be used for good or for bad. Use it for good.

The Greek myth of Scorpius and Orion is pretty dark. One myth says that Orion bragged about his desire — and ability — to kill every creature on earth. In response, Artemis and Leto sent a scorpion to murder Orion. Zeus then hung Scorpio into the celestial fabric after it battled the evil Orion. It makes sense now that Scorpio is ruled by Pluto (the underworld) and Mars (war).

But it’s not just about murderous battle, is it? It’s about using your power wisely, and embracing the long game, the battle against evil — and sometimes that means cozying up with darkness in order to understand and dismantle it.

If this myth teaches us anything, it’s that the Scorpio reputation walks that often blurry line of loyal protector and dangerous destroyer. When Scorpio uses their power for good, they embrace their ambitious intensity and obsessive strategy to make way for good and for change (which they live and die by).

The lesson: When angry, use that energy. When afraid, seek wisdom in that fear and redirect it. Instead of hurting earth’s creatures, protect them (that’s a metaphor). Help them. Help those who can’t help themselves. Take all that intensity of emotion you feel after reading the news, and when you can, help someone on the street or fight for change on a larger scale. When tested, find your inner strength. Pick your battles. May they be ones that transform yourself and the world around you.

And when your own spiteful, mean urges arise, follow them to their point of origin and sooth the crying beast that aches to be understood. When dark thoughts occur, ask them what they can teach you.

Don’t be afraid of your own power. Harness and manage it. Scorpio tells us that this is better than being diplomatic or neutral to the point of static or unhelpful. Better than being afraid. Better than being grounded. Sometimes you need a torch and bolt and a matchstick. Sometimes you need to sting for the right reasons. 

Let your freak flag fly & embrace differences.

If Scorpio is anything, it’s misunderstood — and if you ask any of us, we’ll tell you that we’re proud of that. So what, we think? We don’t want to conform or come off as digestible or obvious. Our freak flags are at full-mast, and though we often try to be a secretive bunch (no one gets us anyway, #angst), we’re okay with that. We clamor to investigate everything and everyone and we want you to do the work, too. Look at everyone for who they really, truly are deep down — past the mask. Past nonsense social constructions.

The lesson: The Scorpio is proud to be different, but they’re not cocky about it (well, sometimes they’re cocky about it), and they want you to be proud too. When we embrace radical pride in our own uniqueness, we show the world that differences can be our collective strength. We un-other ourselves. In this act, we demand that the world respect every race, gender, sex, and identity.

Scorpio Affirmations

Don’t punish yourself for your differences.

Speak up for others who are being oppressed and erased.

Have a tough conversation with someone.

Ask tough questions and give real answers.

Don’t make others feel bad for being vulnerable or open.

Find the weirdest person at the party and trade secrets.

Realize that everyone has many layers, and seek to understand them.

Seek wisdom in darkness.

Raise your freak flag.

Use your power to change the world for the better.

Realize that everything changes — and learn from that change.

Question tradition, order, and authority.

Be proud of the things that make you different; afford others the same right.

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. Her work focuses heavily on trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. 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.

Restorative Grief: Letters To The Dead

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

I’ve been thinking about how we, as a species, are collectively and individually grieving for our fellow humans — perhaps they are strangers or maybe they are our family members or friends — during this COVID-19 crisis. In the midst of the terror, it’s hard to slow down and say goodbye, especially on the global, collective level. It is a prolonged state of waiting to grieve because the turmoil rolls on and on. For me, that’s very difficult. I feel an urge to mourn for those lost, even if I didn’t know them.

For many families, a proper goodbye wasn’t or won’t be possible. And for others, the heaviness of worldwide grief (and the chronic anticipatory loss) accumulates within our cells, changing us from the inside, as a species.

A friend of mine said she’d lost her beloved grandmother to COVID-19. It was sudden and horrifying. She hadn’t been able to process it and feels she didn’t have a way to say goodbye. I felt utterly helpless and told her so, but offered her my shoulder and my phone line for whenever she needed a friend.

Prior to COVID-19, I’d been dealing with the aftershocks of a year of death (2017) that forever changed me. It pushed me to explore and meditate on grief and loss, and I’ve deeply integrated that into my writing. I still have fewer answers and more questions. I still hurt. In my poetry and in my nonfiction books, including Light Magic for Dark Times and The Magical Writing Grimoire, I offer grief rituals.

There is no way to skip over or lessen the impact of grief. Truly. The only way out is through, I believe now. More so, both ritual and journaling aren’t solutions or cures or magic elixirs for the sludge of grief. The sting of loss is part of the condition of being alive, and you may mourn hard for a lifetime. But there are small things we can do that can help us navigate our pain, find clarity, and work toward a semblance of closure or a space of finality — and science tells us that writing about grief works for many people (although it’s not a replacement for therapy).

For this reason, I’ve included a ritual — Restorative Grief: Letters to the Dead — from my book, The Magical Writing Grimoire below. Maybe you’ll use it for someone you’ve lost in the past, or perhaps you’ll write a letter to the collective dead, to the many who have lost their lives in your city or community. Whatever you use it for, I hope it helps you find some stability and insight.

Below, I’ve included the original text for the ritual, along with the final pages from my book. Feel free to share and copy/download them.

Restorative Grief: Letters to the Dead

InThe Art of Death: Writing the Final Story, Edwidge Danticat writes with profound openness about her mother’s death. The book explores writings about death in some effort to explain how to write it, diving right into the heart of the matter. Danticat mentions Mary Gordon’s memoir, Circling My Mother, in which Gordon states that writing was the only way she could mourn her mother. Gordon described her writing about her month as an active grief.

And this rings true. Some grief is inert. Some grief is an engine. Sometimes actively participating in grief is one small way that we can learn to escape its riptide. In a way, when we mourn and when we write, we are weaving an indelible memory. We do something with the grief. We actively move through it. 

Three years ago, I lost two family members who were very close to me. The grief was tidal, and I was at sea. Nights were underscored by anxiety around what I could have or should have done, obsession on mortality and meaning, and nostalgia like a drunken swirl. My days were hazy, weary, long. At work, I was distracted. At home, I was restless. I was caught between trying to live and trying to let go.

Grief is a sickness that grows without a cure. It affects more than the body, more than the mind. It affects the essence of us, our starstuff, our souls, our hearts, our energy. It metastasizes over a lifetime, and with each new death, it takes a new organ. 

So I started writing letters to the dead. You may want to write them and keep them or write them and then burn or bury them, be pulling the wound out of your body, and putting it onto paper.

I like to look to Seshat, an Egyptian funerary goddess (also, of course, a goddess of writing and books). Seshat, described in texts as being pregnant with the deceased, was responsible for keeping the memory of the dead alive by writing down accounts of their life. We can tap into the ancient, beautiful archetype of Seshat, letting her dedication to the dead inspire the eulogies we write.

The very act of embracing your feelings around death, summoning the memories of your dead, and inviting them into your space through the page is powerful; it is a conjuring on many levels. And it is an essential way of embracing the death positive philosophy, which encourages people to speak openly about death, dying, and corpses. While no philosophy can remove the eternal sting of grief, this philosophy helps to lessen the shame, fear, confusion, and stigma attached to death and grief.

Choose who to write to, and what you want to say. Do you have a photograph of them? If so, place it before you. Create an altar dedicated to them, if that feels right to you. It might include things they owned, or anything that represents them. Light a black candle (black is a powerful healer) and look into the flame. Think of this flame as illuminating a way for the dead to come home, to you, to your room, to your side.

Sit with them for a while. 

What was it about them that stands out to you? What was it you never said? What do you wish you knew about them? What was it you wish you did with them? What are their quirks? What fabric did they love? What perfume? How did they look when they entered the room? What did they sing to themselves? What’s your loveliest memory of them? If they did anything to inspire you, what was it? What did they love? What mark did they leave when they left this earth? 

Some grief is even more complex. Perhaps the person who passed away was someone who hurt you but whom you still mourn. If so, acknowledge this. What did they do to hurt you? What have they done that has never been resolved? How has it hurt you? Can you forgive them? Can you work on forgiveness? There is no shame in not reaching forgiveness; this is a personal act. 

Open the letter, “Dear [NAME],” and then continue naturally. You can remain in the positive, or tell them everything you miss about them. You may want to tell them the hard truth; you may want to let the rage out of its tiny, silenced box. Or maybe you want to tell them it’s okay to go. Perhaps they felt they had to stay? Perhaps they suffered? Maybe you simply want to know what it’s like to be dead. The letter can be structured or wild. This is up to you.

The important thing is that you’re honest and that you say everything you want to say. Maybe you make it a point to write to them with each new moon, or on their birthday.

On staying afloat in the ocean of grief: If you are afraid of the darkness and grief involved here, keep your environment comfortable and comforting. Have objects of happiness and safety around you. Make sure you have a support system on speed dial. Take care of yourself afterward. Because part of diving into the abyss is knowing your way out.

A prompt

Write a spell that calls for closure. Perhaps your spell invokes the elements or archetypes, or perhaps it’s a spell-poem that is simply a goodbye. When we write our own spells for healing, we begin an important process—that which gives us control over the situation and the narrative, and that which enables us to embody who we want to become after trauma. What would your closure spell look like? Will it explore forgiveness? Binding? Saying goodbye? Will it honor your pain?

Feel free to download the keep the following pages:

Witches, Here Are The New Books You Need

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

I am fortunate to receive tons of wonderful books on a wide range of topics, but some of my favorites include those by talented witches and magical beings whose books approach magic in accessible, inclusive, radical, and fresh ways.

I am always on the lookout for books which a) present an updated look at magic and witchcraft to a modern audience, b) frame witchcraft in a way that is inclusive and holistic — meaning it addresses systemic issues in society, and c) blend and blur genres — books of narrative non-fiction alongside research, poetry entwined with spellcraft, or divination techniques alongside storytelling.

Personally, I love books that can be read through an open-ended and intuitive lense, and approaches that permit those of us from even an eclectic or secular background to take part. I think all of the below books make space for the witch, the feminist, the curious, and anyone in between. So, for witches and non-witches alike, these are the books I’ve been reading as of late:

THE GLAM WITCH

I LOVE this book. Michael Herkes’ voice is a dream. His passion is palpable, lifting out of the pages and into your hands and heart. It looks at how the goddess/archetype Lilith has for so long been worshipped and feared, and walks readers through how they can create a relationship with Lilith, as well. In fact, it’s called The GLAM Witch because Herkes explores the Great Lilithian Arcane Mysteries (GLAM). Through luminous text, you’ll find astrology, ritual, and a magic that is steeped in power.

INITIATED: Memoir of a witch

Amanda Yates Garcia — known as the Oracle of LA — writes a potent story of becoming and reclamation in Initiated, which shows how she became a High Priestess, and how she tapped into her inner power. With her shedding light on feminism, culture, earth, sex work and poverty, the underlying message here is one that matters most in today’s world.

Also read: 7 magical & inclusive new books witches must read

TAROT FOR TROUBLED TIMES: CONFRONT YOUR SHADOW, HEAL YOURSELF, TRANSFORM THE WORLD

In Theresa Reed and Shaheen Miro’s Tarot for Troubled Times, we see a radical and transformational text that uses shadow work (a throughline of the book), archetypes, reflections, and prompts to reframe the power of tarot. I can’t get enough of this one. And I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Theresa (The Tarot Lady) for quite some time. Her generosity, support, wisdom, and love for magic is a continual inspiration to me.

HONORING YOUR ANCESTORS: A Guide to Ancestral Veneration

As someone who has always been interested in ancestor veneration in a specific sense — more in my writing practices than anything else — I have not read a book on the topic that has so deeply and beautifully spoken to my needs. Mallorie Vaudoise’s book does not go into the topic lightly, addressing plenty of the big issues — like not knowing who your ancestors are, for one. The book explores everything from making ancestral altars and spell-work to mediumship. It’s splendid and healing.

Read also: 4 witchy podcasts you need in your life

REVOLUTIONARY WITCHCRAFT: A GUIDE TO MAGICAL ACTIVISM

In Sara Lyon’s work, we find a potent and necessary look at how we can make magic in a world that is too often broken by hatred, fear. It is a world that needs transformation, and witches have that very power. I have always thought that the witch was a political figure, whether or not one intends or feels that way. Witches have long stood for the marginalized, the forgotten, the invisible. And power, as Lyons says, is political. With topics ranging from history, magic (ancestral magic, sigil creation, and spells), ally-ship and the natural world, this book is a must-have for today’s practicing witch. I also love its inclusion of the Trans Right of Ancestor Elevation, which is a ritual for trans and GNC witches to honor their ancestors of spirit killed by murder.

CAT CALL: RECLAIMING THE FERAL FEMININE

I have long been a fan of Kristen Sollée’s work (and her person) and I am indebted to her for the knowledge and support she has given me, and the magic she has brought to my life (and all of ours!) through her words. As an intersectional feminist and a witch, her books (do yourself a favor and also read Witches, Sluts Feminists) speak power into my world. In Cat Call, she brings the histories, superstitions, stories, and mythos of the feline to life, and weaves all of that into how we understand (and can better understand) sex and femininity and taboo. Fuck yes.

TAROT FOR SELF CARE: HOW TO USE TAROT TO MANIFEST YOUR BEST SELF

I love Minerva Siegel’s book for its simplicity and care. It walks readers through the tarot with care and ease, feels inclusive and avoids culturally appropriative terms, and addresses some of the big obstacles to our self-care practices. It frames the book so that it covers mental, physical and spiritual self-care, while walking you through each card and its magic.

OTHER BOOKS I’VE BEEN READING OR LOOKING FORWARD TO READING:

Pam Grossman’s Waking The Witch, Theresa Reed’s Astrology for Real Life, Astrea Taylor’s Intuitive Witchcraft, Apocalyptic Witchcraft by Peter Grey, Gabriela Herstik’s Bewitching The Elements, Juliet Diaz’ Witchery, Working Conjure by Hoodoo Sen Moise, The Door to Witchcraft by Tonya A Brown, The Astrology of Sex & Love by Anabel Gat, Weaving The Liminal by Laura Tempest Zakroff,

IAlso recommended: Catland Book’s Monthly Reader’s Coven (which I subscribe to, and which delivers gorgeous books to my door, monthly).

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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine--a popular magazine focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of "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 can be found writing about trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. She's written for The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Healthline, Bust, Hello Giggles, Grimoire Magazine, and more. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University.

3 Dream Magic Rituals And Practices

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

"In sleep, I become a garden of roses blooming in the dark."

Sleep is a kind of medicine. It rejuvenates the body, but it also expands our minds, lets us play in other realms, and invites us to listen in on our subconscious. In dreaming, we receive messages and insights — which we can question and reflect on. We are our own oracles, in a sense.

The ancient Greeks believed that pre-sleeping rituals — bathing or refraining from eating fish or meat — would lead to specific kinds of dreams. Hypnos, the Greek god of sleep (the actual personification of sleep) was the son of darkness (Erebus) and night (Nyx). Hypnos lived in the underworld, full of poppies and plants capable of lulling you into a soft, dark slumber. 

Through the underworld ran the river Lethe (which means 'forgetfulness,’ ‘oblivion,’ ‘concealment’, ‘unmindfulness’), an interesting intersection invoking that liminal state between awake and asleep, where we store our intuitions and risk forever forgetting what we’d just dreamt or learned. But more so, it’s easy to forget that which is and is not real, that which sinks into the depths of otherworldy waters, swept into a current that leads away from our waking state. And I find that so beautiful.

Keeping A Dream Diary

So, when we journal our dreams, we call on that place, that river, those memories. And we train our minds to live not only here — in the waking state — but down under, where messages and ancestors and our Selves live. Doing this can also help us begin to lucid dream, although that is a story another time!

Upon waking, immediately write down or record your dreams or dream fragments, noticing:

• colors

• weather, foliage, atmospheres & cosmos

• themes (rushing, being lost, exploring, abandonment, dancing)

• moods and senses

• rooms or places, unknown spaces

• emotions within the dream

• people, archetypes or obscure or out-of-picture figures

• dreams within dreams or memories, or the collapsing of reality and dream-space

• powers or lack thereof

• how you feel upon waking up

• magical influences and abilities

• desires, vices, hunger, needs

• recurrent dreams (are they the same, or slightly different?)

• words (spoken or read or even felt) that recur or that stand out

• time in which the dream occurred (night, day, during a moon phase or when the moon is a certain sign or during an astrological season)

Creating A Pre-Slumber Ritual

When we take part in ritual, we are celebrating, honoring, and calling on the richness of being alive. In ritual, we make choices, cast intentions, connect with our bodies, archetypes, and power objects, and we recognize our one-ness with the great unknown. We build a sacredness into our lives.

Whether we are taking a secular approach, or calling on ancestors, angels, or gods, we are tapping into big magic. How beautiful, how autonomous, how sacred — to visualize and conjure and cast, to create a space and fill it with energy and light and shadow?

And in a sense, sleep rituals allow us to bookend our days with magic. But they also can help us get some control over our sleep problems, like sleep paralysis (which I have, and which is often triggered by poor sleeping patterns and extreme stress), nightmares and terrors, or insomnia. If these are bad enough, we may begin to dread sleep or the sleeping environment. I know because I’ve been there!

To create a sleep ritual, one of poetry and beauty, of intentional and safety, follow these steps:

• First, create a space that feels soft, comfortable and safe for yourself. Use color magic to invoke sleep: Blue has been shown to reduce heart rates and blood pressure, while purples and silvers call on a liminal, otherworldly place. This should be your bedroom, but perhaps it’s a space you go before sleep – a nook, a little loft space, a room with a fireplace or a window looking toward the moon.

• Create an air spritz to use before bed — perhaps it's moon-water (water charged by the moon) with rose petals or lavender. Perhaps you charged water with an amethyst? The purpose is to set a tone, to prepare the space for sleep. You want to associate this spritz with positivity, safety, and softness. Create a sigil (a magical symbol made up of words and letters) that you can tape or draw onto the bottle that represents joyous and nourishing sleep.

• You might choose to bathe, stretch, dance for a few moments to get your body loose and soft, or simply listen to music while you quiet your mind. No bright lights or electronics. Dab a bit of valerian root oil onto the back of your neck or the bottom of your feet.

• Light a single candle and stare into its flame, asking to be lulled into a gentle sleep. Decide that you will remember and learn from your dreams. Simply opening your mind to this desire opens the gates.

• Write a pre-sleep poem that invokes Hypnos or any other images or ideas or messages that you are seeking. Maybe it invokes a night of sleep without nightmares or distractions? Training yourself to call on these guides or images will help your mind remember that you intentionally entering the sleep state. That you have the control.

Shadow Work & Nightmares

Healing your shadow self requires as much a commitment to self-care (sleep, nutrition, movement, kind self-thoughts) as it does mining the abyss (asking the hard questions, doing the hard work of paying attention to your real desires and fears, and excavating childhood trauma). The dark well within us is a keeper of our pain, but it is also the space where we bloom.

When we take proper care of ourselves (which can be hard when we feel undeserving or exhausted), we can peer into our guilt and shame or fear and trauma — without losing ourselves to it. We can learn from it and learn to better manage it.  Paying attention to our nightmares is a huge part of shadow work — but we must be willing to take notice of what we’re feeling, seeing, and remembering.

Use the prompts above to examine the facets of your nightmare after your wake — but use your intuition to question your dreams' core meaning. Journaling, stream-of-conscious, without questioning, editing, or censorship, usually helps us get down all of the details, even the weird ones. Don’t worry if it makes sense. Your slumber language, a sort of nightmare dialect, will begin forming in time.

What about the nightmare made you feel empty, scared, jarred, and just plain off. It’s probably best to keep a separate journal just for nightmares, as these dark dreams are ripe with very specific information and ideas about ourselves and the uncomfortable, toxic, or dark influences in our lives.

When you dream of running through a dark alleyway, who and what are you running from?

When you dream of forever missing the train, why are you missing it? 

What is the dream about on the surface? But what is it really about?

Are your dreams telling you something you’re not willing to hear?

When we settle in and get ready for truth — however harsh, cold, or intense it may be — we give ourselves a chance to get the truth out, to stop hiding from it, to start learning to manage it.

But it’s important to journal through these feelings while maintaining proper self-care. It is all a heavy process — imperfect, challenging and often lonely — that yields healing over time and with patience and self-compassion. And it doesn’t have to be done overnight.

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Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine--a popular magazine focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of "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 can be found writing about trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. She's written for The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Healthline, Bust, Hello Giggles, Grimoire Magazine, and more. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University.

How To Use Tarot Cards for Self-Care

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

I've always been intrigued by tarot cards, especially as they relate to tarot for self-care and introspection. In fact, some of my favorite books are approaching tarot as a healing tool — like the new Tarot for Self Care by Minerva Siegel and Tarot for Troubled Times by Theresa Reed and Shaheen Miro. And if you’re looking for an inclusive, healing deck, here are some excellent resources for the tarot enthusiast or the curious. Also, please make sure you check out The Hoodwitch. Also be sure to read all of our tarot content, including Joanna C. Valente’s tarot horoscopes.

For the longest time, I've turned to tarot cards — usually read by someone else for me — to seek wisdom. I was recently invited to The Witches Almanac Witches Masquerade Ball in Massachusetts (alongside Laura Tempest Zakroff, Christopher Penczak, and Harold Roth), where I received two tarot readings that essentially amounted to one lesson I’d been putting off learning: Stop only identifying with and relying so heavily on the dark; you forget to let the light in. And it’s true.

I don't personally believe that the tarot cards are in communication with some divine force, deity, ancestor or Spirit (although many people do, and that's awesome), but I do believe that pulling a card randomly generates a message or lesson on which I can reflect. In either case, it's divinatory in some sense.

In fact, writer, Strega, tarot reader (and my Astrolushes podcast co-host!) Andi Talarico put it beautifully:

Do I use tarot as divination or reflection? The short answer is both, for sure, though I'm less concerned with fortune-telling than I am with assessing the circumstances that brought us to this moment in time — hence the reflection. I do not believe that our fates are entirely pre-scripted or set in stone or that we are solely at the mercy of the heaven's transits but I DO think there are ways in which we can use tarot to arm ourselves for future issues that present themselves. When tarot is practiced on a regular and continuing basis, you start to see recurring themes and patterns and messages and thus you start to notice obstacles as well as strengths, and therein lie our answers, I believe.

If I'm alone, I'll pull a single tarot card with a specific focus on themes like, say, expansion, transformation, or healing (#Scorpio here). The tarot card meanings that come with each individual deck are certainly something I'll take into account (I personally work with The Wild Unknown, as the animal and natural spirit of the deck speaks to me more than human figures do), too.

I usually pull a card for myself before bed or right when I wake up, depending on my need for clarity. I’ll read the deck’s guidebooks, but I also use my intuition and knowledge of symbols when interpreting the cards. How do the images make me feel? What is the lesson that I find myself falling into after pulling a tarot card or cards? What do the colors say to me? Are there recurring themes?

What is the history of tarot?

People have turned to tarot for hundreds of years, which comforts me; I love that something can remain so sacred throughout time. The cards were said to have originated around the early to mid-1400s in Northern Italy. They have their roots in something called Il Trionfos, or Triumph cards. There is also some research that suggests the playing cards belonged to the Islamic soldiers who made their way into Italy.

But were they always divinatory in nature? I’m not entirely sure, but according to a Mary K Greer, a tarot scholar, “While there are rare indications early on that both playing cards and tarot were used for divination and character delineations (in poems called Tarocchi Appropriati), true “reading” practices were not widely known until the late 18th century.”

Cartomancy, which refers to the use of playing cards in divination, has a pretty fascinating history. It suggests that cards are more than just fun and games. I certainly don’t see it that way.

Tarot cards present ways for us to connect to our deep truths, feelings, fears, and desires.

As Shaheen Miro and Theresa Reed write in Tarot for Troubled Times, "Tarot holds a mirror up to our selves, and when we engage with the insights we find there, we can take a significant step in healing ourselves and healing the world."

But more importantly, tarot asks us to trust our gut…and look inward.

And that's integral to proper self-care. As Cassandra Eason writes in the book Little Bit of Tarot, "Tarot reading is a matter of trusting yourself and what you feel as opposed to what you think or try to deduce from the cards."

Even if this self-reflection is uncomfortable, it's necessary. It makes self-care possible. Moreover, the major and minor cards that help with this contain a specific image with symbology. And many of the cards contain archetypes.

The Lover, the High Priestess, and the Tower are just a few of the archetypes the cards depict, depending on the deck.

Depending on the deck (again, there are hundreds of iterations), each card offers us a glimpse at ourselves. Do you associate with a specific archetype? Or maybe the better question is, How can you find yourself in each and every archetype within the Tarot? When you can look into the mirror through the lens of each card, you meet yourself.

So, how are you supposed to use tarot cards for self-care?

Studying the tarot can help you find what works best. In general, though, there's no right or wrong way to use a deck. So go with your gut! According to Biddy Tarot, "Tarot is simply a tool, and as with all kinds of tools, how you use it is completely up to you."

I personally tend to follow two ‘rules’: When using a tarot deck, remember that your intuition is key. Always be willing to listen to the voice within. If something jumps out to you, pay attention. Oh, and be prepared to get deep. If something in your tarot practice is uncomfortable, ask yourself why. If a card brings up a specific feeling, don't run from it. Jump into the abyss and learn from it.

So, I asked lots of witchy, magical folks about their use of tarot cards for self-care (you can see the whole thread here), so I'll be including their tips (and my own) below. Remember that you can amend or adjust these ideas as necessary!

Pull a card each morning. Then reflect on its message throughout the day.

Pull a card and let it sit with you as you drink your coffee and get ready for work. Feel free to check out its meaning in your guidebook and then combine that with your own interpretations. If you pull a card, it's great to keep its lesson in your mind throughout the day. Often, it gets clearer as the day goes on.

Pull a series of cards every morning and reflect on them while journaling.

Gaby Herstik, the author of Inner Witch, pulls four cards every single morning and then journals about their message. A good idea is to get a journal specifically for tarot reflection. Journaling can help us drill down into our true feelings — and give them a name.

As I discuss in my book, The Magical Writing Grimoire (which you preorder now!), writing can help us find truth and autonomy in our feelings. That's because our words have inherent power and magic.

When we write, we create something out of nothing. The physical act of writing also forces us to be intentional with how we express ourselves (although you're more than welcome to use a computer or voice recorder when journaling, too).

Here are some tarot journaling prompts:

What do these cards mean to me?
What do these cards remind me of?
How do these cards inspire me?
Where in my body am I feeling these cards and their message?
What emotions are they bringing up?
What can I learn from these cards?
How I can make a change to my behavior or thought patterns today?
Why am I resistant to the lessons in these cards?
Am I forcing myself to pull new cards because I don't like their message? 

Use the tarot to disrupt your stagnant and negative thoughts.

We all fall into patterns of thinking that may be limiting or self-deprecating. Maybe we think we're not good enough.

We may fill our minds with thoughts that we'll always be too frightened to take the next step. Or maybe we're too negative toward others. The tarot can ask us to disrupt those ways of thinking.

When you pull a card, pay attention to how it challenges you.

How does a card resonate with you? Does it force you to think outside the box? If so, lean into that. Don't worry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just be sure to reward or soothe yourself for the time you took to peer inward. Draw a bath, dance, or listen to something beautiful.

Pull a card and then practice automatic writing.

Automatic writing, simply put, is a method of writing that asks us to enter a different mental state in order to generate words or channel ideas. 

Simply pull a card and write with censorship. Let the messages stream through you. The point here is to meditate yourself into a trance-like space where you feel receptive. Simply begin writing after pulling a card. Whatever words, phrases or ideas pour out is what you should write. Afterward, meditate on the results. How do they make you feel? What can you learn from them?

Use the tarot when you’re experiencing anxiety.

Obviously, tarot is NO replacement for medical care, so just remember that. But one of the replies on my Twitter thread said, “I use it for grounding when I‘m triggered! I carry my deck in my backpack and when I’m having a meltdown/crying in a coffee shop bathroom I can pull a card to find the medicine in that moment."

Simply pull a card when you feel overwhelmed and let it ground you. Pay attention to its feeling in your hand. Its colors. Its message. Its mood and tone. Perhaps you will want to pick a card you associate with positive feelings.

Use the tarot to connect with friends on a deeper level.

Self-care isn't always just about the self. It's about receiving and giving love. It's about creating a life that feels authentic, sustainable, safe, and beautiful. And it's about cultivating inspired and deep friendships. To start, pull a card with a friend and discuss it together with an open mind. How do you both react to the card? What feelings does it bring up? How can you both relate and learn from one another, based on the card?

Create an altar with a tarot card each week.

This altar can simply be made up a few flowers or crystals — anything that feels right — along with a tarot card of your choice. It should be a card (or an archetype) that speaks to you.

Prop the tarot card upon your altar. Surround it with things you love, things that bring it power, and pull its magic into your everyday life. Consider it as you pass the altar each day. What is its message? What does it stand for?

Pull a card during the new moon.

The new moon is a time for fresh beginnings, rerouting ideas, starting new ventures, and putting energy to good use. Pull a card on each new moon and let it guide you. Think about this for the next few weeks.

Make this ritual with each new moon. This way, you'll always have something to think about and reflect on. This allows us to check in with nature (always good!) and find healthy ways to reframe our thinking.

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Journal prompt & tarot magic: . I’m no tarot expert, but I do find a deeply replenishing and clarifying therapy and magic in tarot. I don’t read tarot for others, but I have slowly been learning it and connecting to it in a deep and personal way. It has become less about the guide book and more about my intuition. The archetypes have become friends who wander in and out of my life asking to be seen. What do they want to tell me?

A post shared by ritual poetica (@ritual_poetica) on Nov 5, 2019 at 9:23am PST

Pull three cards to find clarity under duress.

Sometimes when we're totally overwhelmed, we get lost in obsessive thoughts. Sometimes we just need to slow down and ask ourselves the big questions. It can help us parse through what is real and what isn't. According to Tarot mentor Sarah M. Chappell, she asks three questions, "What do I think is going on? What is actually going on? What, if anything, should I do about it?" Think about it — these are pretty useful.

Tarot readings in ASMR videos are soothing, too.

If you haven't checked out ASMR, you should. ASMR stands for autonomous sensory meridian response. It's a fancy way of saying, "sounds and movements give you a tingly, pleasurable feeling." There are plenty of oracl and tarot reading ASMR videos out there. And in those videos, people tend to do a little whispering. The intention? To get listeners to relax. Not only will the whispering tone lull you into a slumber, but you'll also learn more about the tarot.

Just make sure you find a deck that speaks to you. 

Find a deck that speaks to you and soothes you so that you can turn to it anytime. I love The Wild Unknown and The Amenti Oracle (which isn't exactly a Tarot deck, though) for this purpose.

In the end, tarot is about taking the time to check-in with yourself.

According to Jodie Layne at Bust, "Whether you take the tarot super seriously or just enjoy the time you get to spend with yourself, checking in with the cards is really about checking in with you."

If you check in with yourself, even for a few minutes each day, that's beneficial. When we disconnect from the phone, computer, and constant deluge of information — we give ourselves a chance to be quiet, contemplative, and honest. Tarot provides that respite.

Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine--a popular magazine focused on literature, magical living, and identity. She is the author of "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 can be found writing about trauma recovery, writing as a healing tool, chronic illness, everyday magic, and poetry. She's written for The New York Times, Refinery 29, Self, Chakrubs, Marie Claire, Narratively, Catapult, Sabat Magazine, Healthline, Bust, Hello Giggles, Grimoire Magazine, and more. Lisa Marie has taught writing and ritual workshops at HausWitch in Salem, MA, Manhattanville College, and Pace University. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University.

Nimue, The Deity, Came To Me In A Dream

BY BERE PARRA

It might be surprising given the fact that I am a witch but let me begin with a confession: I am not a spiritual person. Not in the traditional way, at least. My brain is a perpetual motion machine. The closest thing I can do to meditating is journaling. Elaborate ceremonial rituals? I get so caught up in the details that it’s impossible for me to settle down and focus on the intentions. My conversations with Satan take the shape of inner dialogs and monologs, and I address him as a close relative or friend, and only rarely with the solemnity described in countless volumes of dark ceremonial literature. Standing still is a nearly impossible feat. And so on.

For me to be able to engage into a relationship or dialog with a deity or a spirit, I must enter a long creative process. My hands must be able to get a feel of it, whether it’s through the typing of the keys, or crocheting or knitting a piece of thread as I visualize a specific goal, or planting flower seeds in a pot. Magick and witchcraft are thus made tangible to me in a way that is more immediate and, in my personal experience, more powerful.

Imagine the shock when a deity entered my life unsummoned and without any effort on my part. I had not been reading about her or thinking about petitioning her at all. I didn’t even know her. Not consciously, at least.

She came to me in a dream. I didn’t know who she was at first, this huge, beautiful being, her body similar to that of a snail or a slug but devoid of many of the traits that make these creatures repulsive in the eyes of so many. Her skin was translucent, its shade a musty yellow. She had no visible extremities, but she had this gorgeous, benevolent face. Her green, almond-shaped eyes reminded me of those of a friend I haven’t seen in over a decade. Her mere hint of a smile put me at ease. She didn’t speak to me, she communicated only through energy. Once I woke up I couldn’t remember what she had ‘said’ to me. Only vague sketches of what I had witnessed, and the feeling of absolute bliss and comfort, remained in mind, along with one single word: Nimue. I kept whispering it like a mantra, again and again, afraid that if I didn’t preserve it through spoken language it would vanish, as most of the dream had by then. The name felt familiar, like I had heard it or said it before, only many years ago.

As it often happens with old deities, Nimue has had several names and representations throughout the centuries: the Lady of the Lake, Vivien(ne), Niman(ne), etc. She’s even been linked to the Welsh mythical figure of Rhiannon. Her most culturally impactful appearance is in the Matter of Britain (that corpus of legends of which the most outstanding and popular one is the Arthurian cycle). As I was reading all this, I remembered when I had first heard the name: “Merlin”, the 1998 NBC miniseries. However, none of the stories featuring these names, myths, and legends coincided with the gentle, immense being that had appeared in my dream. In all the manufactured literature and imagery of Nimue, she is either a sorceress, or some type of water fairy. Her temper seems rather changeable, or she’s downright evil.

She also seemed to have a relevance only depending on her role in the Arthurian legends: in many cases she is said to have been the keeper of Excalibur, the powerful sword that decided so many fates of heroes and villains alike; whereas in other versions of the stories she is either an apprentice-turned-enemy of Merlin, or Merlin’s lover/life companion. I couldn’t find any rituals, prayers, or ceremonies in honor of Nimue, either. The lack of conclusiveness of my research endeavors frustrated me and I decided to let the topic rest for a couple of days. Maybe something would come up.

For a few years now, in a most random and not at all frequent manner, I have dreamed of unnatural bodies of water: think of huge fountains with pillars and statues, shallow enough for you to be able to see the tiles at the bottom; located in the center of a thick forest, all clouded in green. The water looked a bit yellow here and there. Sometimes they look almost haunted and yet I have never felt fear when I have dreamed these places. On another occasion I dreamt about a huge bathroom-house located beneath a huge tree.

It looked like a combination of the bath house in Hayao Miyazaki’s “Spirited Away” and the prefects’ bathroom in Harry Potter, with the aura of “The wind in the willows”. Several small rooms, some of them with beautiful glasswork windows, through which I could see the light cascade in. The water smelled of candy and roses, herbs and fruits, all fresh and clean and alive. When Nimue visited my dreams, it happened in one of these wilderness fountains. There seemed to be a group of them, one after another, all connected by what looked like tunnels.

The morning right after I dreamed of Nimue I tweeted about it, explaining some of my initial impressions about Nimue: her appearance, her energy, and so on. I shared the results of my first online research, feeling excited at my discoveries and trying to understand why she had chosen to appear. What was her message? Why didn’t I remember it? Did she even have any message at all? Maybe she was just trying to introduce herself and my later research on her had been the message. And then, I remembered my complicated story with water.

When I was five we went on vacation to Cancún. Even though my mother kept a watchful eye on me, I managed to sneak out of the kids’ pool and jumped into another one not far off, where there were several people, mostly adults, swimming. It was one of those rectangular pools that gets deeper as you approach one of the sides and I didn’t realize this until was too late. The little lifesaver I was wearing wasn’t enough. I started panicking and flapping up and down and I had this certainty that I was going to die. At one point I sank to the bottom of the pool…I still remember how it felt to be swallowed by the depth of the water. Then, bam: somebody grabbed my arms and pulled me up. I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, I think it was some man who fished me out and he said something to me.

Even though sunlight was blinding my sight, I can still experience the huge relief it was to be out of the water. Maybe I cried a little, I don’t know. I think I walked back to where my mother was and told her about what had happened, but all those memories have almost faded by now. The only clear memory of that experience is that feeling of drowning, sinking, and then being pulled up. My relationship with the water element has been complex ever since; even though my sun and rising signs are both water and I love to look at the sea, and to take long relaxing baths whenever there’s a bathtub in sight, I’ve never felt at ease in water: there’s an intense attraction but also an impending and haunting sense of danger. I took swimming lessons as a child, a few years after that incident, but I was too afraid and dropped out after a couple of weeks.

The day after I had the dream I grabbed my magick journal and wrote a few lines about my dream encounter with Nimue. I also did a little drawing of her which came out better than I expected. As I was coloring it I kept asking her: “What is it that you want or need me to do? Are you inviting me to get re-acquainted with water?” Oddly enough, and despite my fear, the only physical activity that has ever appealed to me is swimming – mainly because sweat isn’t a factor when you’re immersed in water. But my trauma has always pulled me back, kept me away from trying again. “Maybe you’re just telling me I need to drink more water,” I told her.

To this moment, I keep wondering.

My mother has told me the story of my birth hundreds of times and I always enjoy it the same way: it always feels thrilling and new. Part of the reason why it’s so exciting is that I was one of those babies who moved a lot when I was in the womb, which caused my umbilical cord to get tangled around my neck. From my mother’s recollection of events, the interns who were assisting during my delivery hadn’t noticed this issue until it was almost too late.

There was quite a great deal of obstetric violence involved, of which I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I am rather fortunate to be alive and typing this. The reason I bring this up is because when we’re in the womb we’re essentially enveloped by water. It’s our crib, our safe space, our first home. A few years ago, during my time managing a holistic center, a couple of practitioners offered something called ‘rebirth therapy’. I didn’t trust those practitioners enough to undergo such a delicate process, but I did read the literature and, indeed, it sounded a lot like something I should consider: the facilitators create a safe, sacred, and intimate space within or near a body of water, which can be natural or artificial, and then they lead the participant(s) through a

recreation of the moment of their birth. Rebirth therapy borrows from Jodorowsky’s psychomagic theory, and it also incorporates shamanic approaches and Jungian undertones. You can understand now why I didn’t feel comfortable doing this with people I hardly knew.

Before reading about rebirth therapy I’d never considered myself a trauma survivor but, coming to think of it, birth is trauma.

As we grow up, that experience gets buried under hundreds of layers, aided by memory, experience, societal conventions, and many other distractions. Those fortunate enough to have been born naturally and without complications might not need therapy or any other form of healing as they grow up, but for many of us the trauma will always sit there, unacknowledged and untreated, in the depths of our consciousness. We may even find its echoes in later experiences we go through.

Who hasn’t had the feeling that there is ‘something’ not quite in place, not quite alright, in the back of our minds? I have the privilege and fortune of having a close relationship with my mother, with whom I get to have conversations every day. We talk about these things: words are tools to fish for trauma in the depths of our subconscious: talk to your parents and grandparents if you’re able to. If they’re not around, become the detective of your past and research your own life as much as possible. The depths of the past can be scary, but I promise you that you will find the answers to many questions, and you will then be able to know what hurts and how to heal it.

After several years sitting with this knowledge in my mind, it has dawned on me that any type of reinvention or renaissance we consciously go through in adult life, which are in fact different types of rebirth, is often triggered or preceded by some form of crisis or trauma. When Nimue appeared to me in my dream, surrounded by bodies of water, her skin glistening with moisture, her face radiating kindness and peace, it made me engage in a cycle of self-analysis. I started asking myself questions I didn’t even know I had before dreaming of the Lady of the Lake:

What is missing from my life now?

What hurts?

Is there something in my past I wished I could ‘go back and fix’?

How can I reprise and heal my relationship with water?

Water: that was the key for me. Tears I’ve shed throughout the last decade or so, product of disappointments, betrayals, and bad experiences. A pain that dwells in the empty places in my heart. Acceptance and gratitude for the past, even if it brought me pain. Most of all: I concluded I need to make peace with my element (I am a Pisces sun with Scorpio rising, no less). Even biology backs me up on this:

our bodies are mostly made of water. At my age, my head hurts when I start to get dehydrated. About a year before Nimue came to me in dreams, I began to long for a vacation at sea level, which is odd because I’ve always felt more at ease in cold, urban settings. All signs pointed to a reconciliation: I need water in my life. I need to be more like water: relentless, shapeshifting, powerful, flow with ease, cleanse everything in my way, allow myself to adapt and to constantly transform. This was Nimue’s message to me: “Befriend me, come back, return to the water from which you came, realize it has always been your safe space…”.

I moved to Guanajuato City a little over a year ago. It has been one of the best decisions I’ve made. There is a state-of-the-art public pool nearby, it would take me a 10-minute bus ride to get there, and the admission fee is extremely accessible. I can’t wait to see it for myself, and who knows? Maybe I will enroll for swimming lessons or aqua-aerobics. I don’t care if I only waddle in it or if I stay behind when they do laps, I don’t even mind if I don’t learn to do laps at all. I just want to say hello to an old friend, to make amends for taking so long to get back in touch. I want to feel myself float, and to recognize Nimue’s skin in water’s surface.

No doubt her skin will look bluer than in my dream, but I know she will be there. She is already waiting for me.

---

Bere Parra is a Mexican theistic satanic witch residing in Guanajuato, Mexico. She majored in Hispanic Literature and has had many occupations: teacher, executive assistant, holistic center manager, translator, and social media pro. She has innate strong connection and interest in the occult practices, which led to her 'coming out of the broom closet' in 2018. She mainly works with Satan, whom she considers her father figure and main guiding light, but she often works with the ad and blessing of Lilith and the lady Moon. Her life mission is to shine a light on the 'uncomfortable' truths most people like to ignore. The shadows are her second home and greatest teachers. Website. Twitter. Instagram.

Astrological Shadow Work: Healing Writing Prompts

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

Astrology helps us look at the many luminous (and perhaps limiting) narratives that impact and define humanity. Hanging above us in the stars in an illustrated fabric of what it means to be human: To want, to hurt, to self-destruct, to transform, to find justice, to intuit, to survive. You don’t need to ‘believe’ in astrology, though (although of course, if you’re here, you probably do turn to it from time to time).

Like tarot, these narratives offer a system by which to reflect. And let’s be honest — it’s fascinating.

And because each and every sign offers lessons and ideas on our potential (and perhaps our limitations), you can use these prompts in several ways: You can work with them for your sun, moon, or rising signs, or you can use every single one, as the moon enters each sign almost every two and a half days. 

An example: If you don’t have any Scorpio in your chart, for example, you can still use its prompt; just wait for the moon to enter Scorpio. Use the Scorpio energy to reflect on its prompt. Each sign offers valuable lessons and insights.

Below, prompts around the deeper, heavier, murkier aspects of the sun signs. Want more like this? The Magical Writing Grimoire (it’s out in 2020 and the cover/title isn’t finalized, but any of you witchy writers you can add it to your list!) includes magical and ritual writing prompts, practices and guided meditations.

Aries

What, in your triumphant, hard blaze, are you hiding from? Is there a softness you can grant yourself? What would it look like if you could undress in the light of flexibility? Does it pay to hold tight and remain stoic, or are you limiting yourself? 

Taurus

What happens when ugliness seeps in? What will you do to honor it without losing yourself? Can you handle the lack? What happens when there’s nothing around to beautify the void? What can you bring out of yourself, organically?

Gemini

When you silence or suppress one part of yourself, how does it feel? How can you worship at the feet of your multitudes? How can you become a chameleon without losing yourself? What does your foundation look like?

Cancer

When you are unsafe, can you find an anchor? If the sea keeps rocking, how can you find your strength without capsizing? How can you learn to let nostalgia bloom without its vines suffocating you? What does safety feel like inside your body?

Leo

Sometimes, you are so busy roaring you don’t hear the small sounds of morning and night. Meditate on this. What’s in front of you? What happens when the radiance machine stops working? Can there be power in the darkness? How can you be proud of yourself even when your crown falls off?

Virgo

In the chaos, there is a song. What does it sound like? Outside of the lines, you find yourself. When you are shapeless, what are you free to become? Can you find worth in the wildness, or hold space for the imperfect self? What happens when you dismantle the cliché?

Libra

What can you learn about yourself when you feel imbalanced? Is there authenticity to be found when you’re not busy balancing and performing seeking and connecting? What is found beneath the robe — and then beneath even that? Who are you when everyone goes home?

Scorpio

You feel the hum of power in the dark, but are you the architect of your own misery? Do you stay guarded in the shadows because it’s safer than letting the light in? Part the curtains. What can grow when you learn to differentiate the well from the water? What happens when you stop being jealous of the sky? 

Sagittarius

How can you learn what it feels like stay — with others, with yourself — when you always want to keep moving? Are you running?  What happens when the ideas and the wanderlust leave you empty? What happens when you stop wearing the mask? Who are you when you take the wings off and stand still?

Capricorn

Imagine the wild, wide desert. You are lost. You are thirsty. You are rescued. What happens when you learn to drink from someone else’s palm? Can you find peace in needing someone or something other than yourself? Can you lean into the softness, the slowness? Who are you when you aren’t in control?

Aquarius

Can you operate deep underground? Can you burrow into the murky waters of fear and love and want? What happens when you get naked and sit in the garden of your dark? When you don’t have a bird’s-eye view, when you comeinrealcloselikethis can you feel the granules? What do they feel like?

Pisces

What does it look like when you step out of the dream world? Can you remain here, and now, when fantasy and reality fail to merge? Can you intuit yourself? Are you able to hold space for your hopes — without crumbling under their impossible beauty? When you look your self-destruction in the face, what do you say to it? 

---

Lisa Marie Basile is the founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine--a digital diary of literature, magical living and idea. She is the author of "Light Magic for Dark Times," a modern collection of inspired rituals and daily practices and the forthcoming "The Magical Writing Grimoire: Use The Word As Your Wand for Ritual, Magic, and Manifesation." She's also the author of a few poetry collections, including 2018's "Nympholepsy." Her work encounters the intersection of ritual, wellness, chronic illness, overcoming trauma, and creativity, and she has written for The New York Times, Chakrubs, Narratively, Catapult, 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.

The Witches of Bushwick: On Cult Party, Connection, and Magic

BY CALLIE HITCHCOCK        

Every time I walk into Cult Party, an all women-run intersectional feminist witch shop in Bushwick which opened in 2017, there are new magical objects bursting from each fold and corner. Every item is held in a delicate, seemingly impossible, possibly magical, balance. They have dangle earrings depicting Venus of Willendorf — the plump, breasty figure who dots the pages of every anthropology and art history textbook ever printed, and is a symbol of fertility said to date back to 25,000 BCE; a gold plastic trophy plated with “Raging Pansexual” at the bottom; dragon’s blood artisan incense; spell candles; a vest with a print of the tarot card queen of cups; energy crystals; and honey laced with CBD, a chemical found in marijuana that is legal to sell.

These are a few of the things I notice when I attend Cult Party’s reading for Kristen Sollée’s Witches, Sluts, Feminists : Conjuring The Sex Positive, where other writers read from their work as well. The air in this small corridor space is heavily perfumed and the murmur of women conversing feels hypnotic, warm, ancient.

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I have no extensive experience with witchcraft, but I do have a previous interest in astrology and tarot cards. My nature has always been inclined toward narrativization, introspection, analyzation, pinning things down. As a neurotic, organizing my experiences, fears, and hopes with astrology and tarot was always a relaxing and practical illusion. 

Kristen Sollée stands at the front as she hugs Jacqueline Frances, a woman in a black latex catsuit who I recognize as the admin for a popular Instagram account called Jaq the Stripper which chronicles their life as a stripper and works to create solidarity for sex-workers. Kristen is wearing a long hot pink jacket and matching lipstick with pink glitter. Something feels odd about her but I can’t tell what– until I realize she has no eyebrows.

Kristen begins to speak. The crowd quiets down, without her having to ask. Kristen knows her stuff — her articles on witches are published widely and she is co-founder of the Occult Humanities Conference, a lecturer at The New School, and founding editor of Slutist, a sex positive feminist website. She commands the room, with the breadth of knowledge and immersion into witch culture, while maintaining an open, approachable mien. From her book she reads about the mythos of women as witches throughout history and what the female witch represents:

“The witch is a shapeshifter. She transforms from vixen to hag, healer to hellion, adversary to advocate based on who seeks her,” she says. It reminds me of Kali Ma, the Hindu goddess of birth and destruction and of the enormous power that human society has long seemed to both worship and fear in women. The burning of witches is a manifestation of this contradiction and it is the same contradiction that informs why women are shamed and policed for their sexuality today. That women have reclaimed the image of the witch as a symbol of autonomy, comes as no surprise. 

When the last reader of the night says, “The power and the energy in the room with everyone reading was tangible to me,” I agree with her. I feel lighter, on a higher plane of solace and joy with all the women in the room and the readers who shared their stories. I walk to the back to buy some CBD oil and I meet Cult Party’s owner Debbie Allen. As Debbie rings up my receipt, I chat with her about the space and she tells me that she is so happy that she has been able to create a store dedicated to “holding space for women.” I’m happy too.

~~

Cult Party demonstrates an increased cultural interest in the occult over the past few years. Today, witchcraft maintains an emphasis on ritual, community, spirituality, and healing, while focusing on feminist undertones and eschewing dogmatic religious ties. 

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In her book, Sollée writes that she was drawn to the character of Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty because “she was the witch I wanted to be: a woman in control… like many millennial women, I see a reclamation of female power in the witch, slut, and feminist identities.”

Witch practice is experiencing new vogue among millennials. Laurie Penny, a journalist and self-described “former spooky girl” muses that “a general sense of powerlessness in a chaotic and competitive society, along with a revived interest in forms of feminism that don’t care who they frighten, may explain the growing appeal of hedge magic as a cultural aesthetic as much as a practice.” Witchcraft transverses many axes — female empowerment, community, belonging, and a system of beliefs and values. 

The competition and chaos Penny describes also correlates with the increasing reliance on the growing gig economy of contract or freelance work. Many millennials are left without health insurance, a salary, or retirement benefits.

The workplace has become decentralized, and a large chunk of interpersonal interactions have been siloed into social media. An isolation forged from aimlessness, and lack of structure have taken the place of older forms of social belonging. Millennials are all looking for a way to scrape up some softness and humanity where they can.

~~

Back at Cult Party, the source of the magic, I see the owner Debbie Allen carrying a glass from home with iced coffee in it. It is a sunny afternoon and she’s holding the leash of a hearty squish of a dog that she is looking after for a friend. His name is Lear. “I call him a chicken nugget. If he was left in the wild he would be a snack,” says Debbie as we huddle together in the back by the register and the wall with a rainbow painted on it.

Debbie is in her thirties, has long brown hair and bangs that softly curve around her face. Her kind smile and unhurried gait match the warm spring day and she seems so relaxed and happy that my imagination will keep reconfiguring this memory of her as also barefoot on the pavement. Lear whines constantly, possibly from being away from his true momma, and giving him attention doesn’t salve his unsoothable pout for long. I feel an uncomfortable kinship with Lear in this but choose to focus on the task at hand. 

Cult Party, Debbie tells me, started as a seven person collective in July of 2017 and the remaining members are Debbie and Al Benkin, a short-haired blonde artist, also in her thirties, who joins Debbie and I. Now the store runs as a co-op where vendors rent space to sell their wares and take turns manning the shop. Debbie and Al met while vending around town. Debbie was selling her brand of clothes, pins, stickers and patches called Hissy Fit, and Al was selling her art. The conversation moves towards the occult and Debbie tells me about her first inklings of her witch identity.

“I was always the kid playing with ouija boards, trances, seances, always getting in trouble at Christian camp,” she says, recalling that as she got older she would take her friends to the roof of her house to write down intentions and burn them. I ask Al if she identifies as a witch and she says, “I'm not against witchy things, I do believe we have more energy in the matter. I think different stones carry different energy but I'm not super woo-y about it. I'm a lot more science based than anything.”

We chew on the merits of a witchcraft practice for a few moments before Al suggests why feminism and witchcraft have historically gone hand in hand. “People manifest their own reality in their beliefs and people want to feel like they have some power in their decisions.” Witchcraft fosters a sense of power of self-determination, and feminism aims to create self-determination against perennial sexism and misogyny.

“I think it really helps people set the course for their quality of life in some way. It gives them a moral code and standards to abide by that makes them feel like they're being a good person and I don't think theres anything wrong with that,” continues Al. Moral code, ritual, symbolism — the touchstones of any meaningful religious practice. 

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Debbie adds: “When I dropped Christianity I went through a phase where I wasn't into anything.” She’s not alone.

According to a 2017 study by Pew Research center, 27 percent of millennials ages 18-29 attend religious services weekly compared to 38 percent of baby boomers and 51 percent of the parents of baby boomers. With a lack of trust in old belief systems, and a lack of trust in political leaders (Donald Trump only got 37% of the millennial vote), where do the non-religious go to find guidance?

Without social trust of politicians or structured belief systems, it can be hard to know where to look for a system of values or a narrative to turn to for meaning. Debbie explains that she started practicing witchcraft more heavily when she had been in her T-shirt company job for ten years and credits witchcraft with helping her set a new course for her life. She started to do more witch ceremonies with her friends to set intentions like she did on her roof as a teenager. 

“I don't know how much of the magic part of it I believe, but I do see when I put things out there, they come back. So in a real world way if you put out there what you want, you'll start to see opportunities present themselves,” says Debbie.  

“You have to tell the universe what you want,” Al concurs.   

For Debbie, rituals served as a kind of therapy — a way to check in with herself and set personal goals. A witch ceremony is a way to really immerse herself in paying attention to what her inner self wants to say. “When you're living your authentic life, instead of hiding or lying to yourself, things start appearing. Since I started, things just start happening weirdly. Synchronicity. Things start fitting into place.” 

Al’s face has been slowly illuminating. 

“You know what, I'll try that. I'm not anti, I will try it.” 

Debbie’s calm yet vital aura is infectious. When she talks about witchcraft as a place of healing and ceremony, something in the core of my humanity lights up– a need basking in its articulation.

I decide to attend my first full moon ceremony at the shop.

~~

Callie Hitchcock

On a dark March evening I bike to the little Bushwick store, unaware of the impending rainstorm. Debbie, the house witch Staci Ivori, two other ladies, Lear the dog, and I huddle into the cold little shop.

A few of us shuffle our feet and awkwardly try to find a space to sit or stand that is out of the way of Staci readying the altar. I start talking to Alayna, who has come in from Long Island. She wears a pink dress with a moon scene on it and sparkly square toed boots. Within minutes we are already discussing bad boyfriends. An old boyfriend of hers didn’t like her witch dealings or aesthetic, and wanted her to cut her hair.

We laugh and exchange more stories of personal feminist heroics and rebellions. The inimitable female intimacy of the encounter warms up my bones; I revel in the ease with which I can connect with most women so quickly and deeply. No shame, no one-upmanship, no hiding. 

Debbie had told me about the purpose of full moon circles: “It's really important to have a safe place where you can speak and not feel judged or shut down.” A full moon circle is meant to be a space where women get a reprieve from quotidian interruptions, disrespect, or feeling like their ideas and interiority are ignored because of their gender. 

To begin the full moon ceremony we sit down in a circle around a square bandana with a blue and red geometric pattern. This is our altar — the bandana is decorated with crystals, geodes, sage, candles, a beaded necklace, and seashells. We are instructed by Staci to put on the altar an object that we want to be charged. Some women have brought their own crystals, some put in their jewelry, and I put in my pen for lack of an object, but feel chuffed realizing that it has symbolic significance for my nascent writing career. My pen needs all the energy it can get. 

After making salutations to the north, west, east, south, sky and ground, we go around the circle and each woman gets a chance to do an emotional check-in on our head and our heart. We each go around and say what’s on our minds in life right now and how we are feeling emotionally. I share about writing projects I’m worried about and how I’m feeling about a new guy I’m dating.

As the night wears on, I slowly steep in the warm sharing energy of the group. Everyone is open, honest, and taking great care to foster a kind of sacred space opening up between all the women in the circle. Later on we do a self breast massage which might have initially seemed silly, but by that point in the evening I am in a relaxed meditative state and it all makes sense. We have to release negative energy and demonstrate physical care toward ourselves among other women.

At the end Staci asks us to write down some introspective questions. What are some areas in life that have meaning to me? What makes me feel nurtured? We share our answers and make promises to ourselves in the form of a mantra. Mine is, “remember my power.” Afterward, I feel closer to these women and everyone seems relaxed, happy, and caring. Everyone is very concerned about me riding home in the rain but I roll away into the night, the glow of the little shop fading behind me. 

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The next time I’m at Cult Party, they are hosting a clothing drive for a women’s shelter. As I walk into the store I hear someone say “I wish I could live here,” as they study some of the colorful bits and bobs of the shop. I see Debbie, and we talk with her friend about the full moon ceremony Debbie and I attended. Lear is puttering around the shop, still without his mom but remarkably less whiny and more relaxed with his surroundings this time around.

I am eventually drawn to the tarot card reader in the corner. Her name is Claire. She looks like a young Professor Trelawney– long blonde hair, big stone earrings, matching necklace, and large wire rim glasses. I put ten dollars in her donation jar and we begin. She starts by holding my hand while I hold the tarot card deck in the other. I moved to New York a few months ago and haven’t had much physical human contact, so her hand holding mine is a little startling but really nice. As I tell her about my question for the cards and we begin to pull them, I get this spine tingling feeling in my lower back.

This happens every time I get my cards read or when I’m being “seen” somehow by the divine– coffee ground readers in Istanbul, palm readers at a fair. It’s not the same as the excited, but mostly depthless feeling of astrology– where it is fun to find characteristic matches like, say, a crossword puzzle, but it never calls up my core. The tingly feeling is a manifestation of a few things — having someone dedicate such directed care and energy toward me, plus a sense that with our interpretation of the cards we are channeling something higher, sacred, divine. For a brief moment we are calling up something written in this shared moment of curiosity and discovery– the humanity in a desire to learn the truth. 

And in the end it is an act of care. Getting my tarot cards read feels like when someone unexpectedly gives me a shoulder massage. I hold very still, in an effort to not spook them, and so that it might continue forever. But the feeling of wanting it to last as long as possible clouds the pure goodness of the feeling. It nags me out of the moment– always keeping one eye on the inevitable end while wishing it away instead of enjoying and appreciating the moment of care. 

A 2017 study in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine showed that for people aged 19-32, hours of internet and social media usage heavily correlates with feelings of isolation and loneliness. That this is the same age group of women taking up witchcraft, does not feel like a mistake.

Alex Mar, author of Witches of America, wrote after her long investigation of witch groups across America that “We don’t need a consensus on what does or does not have meaning.” We merely need “strategies for staying alive.” She concluded, “When you have that feeling, of an encounter with something greater than yourself– however subtle, whatever form it takes, trust it. It is evidence enough.”

Rolling away from Cult Party on my bike again I think she’s right. Something like religion is really just a way to feel a solace of the human spirit with others. Reaching out for a cosmology, a social space, and a sense of power over our own destinies– this can take any form. 

The last two cards I pulled with Claire were Temperance, signifying a balance and two forces coming together to change each other; and Six of Pentacles, signifying an exchange between two people for a give and take. The cards have spoken. 

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Callie Hitchcock is a journalism Master's student at NYU in the Cultural Reporting and Criticism program. Callie has written on gender, sexuality, and culture for Slate, LA Review of Books, Slutever, Bust Magazine, and The Believer.

7 Magical & Inclusive New Books Witches Must Read

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

I’m swimming in magic right now — thanks to a few beautiful books I’m either reading or anxiously waiting to read. It is safe to say that the Witch is having a moment — but she’s always been here. She may look different culture to culture, and perhaps the language we use when we discuss her is different (magic is personal, after all), but her mainstream popularity doesn’t erase the fact that the witch, as archetype and practitioner, has always been a force for autonomy, growth, wisdom and wildness.

I’m so glad we get to live in a time when more and more of us are connecting with the otherness, wildness, and power of the witch. Luna Luna has been exploring the witch since we were born in 2013, and it’s a beautiful thing to see conversations, books, podcasts, movies, and general culture remain captivated by witchery.

And while there is a lot to be done to promote a deeper understanding of witchcraft and magical practices in general (you know, like speaking out against the co-opting capitalist agendas that reduce magic to a tee-shirt or a thoughtless starter witch kit) — there are SO many books adding to the conversation by bringing inclusivity and context and accessibility to the craft. Here are a few I’m reading or looking the fuck forward to:

Pam Grossman’s Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power

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Exciting news! Pam’s book WAKING THE WITCH is coming out from @gallerybooks on June 4, 2019. It’s available for pre-order now at all the usual places. Link in our Stories. ⚡️📚🌙🔺

A post shared by The Witch Wave (@witchwavepod) on Oct 15, 2018 at 8:01am PDT

If you’ve been following me or Luna Luna for anytime, you know I’m a huge fan of Pam Grossman and her incredible work toward unpacking and exploring the witch. Whether it’s through her own writing or via her not-to-be-missed podcast, The Witch Wave, Pam (and her guests) explores the story of the rich fabric of magic both ancient and modern. I’m looking forward to reading her book’s examination of the witch as an enduring figure in culture, while learning more about how Pam came to the practice. Yes, please. Preorder here.

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Shewolfe and Beatrix Gravesguard The Astrological Grimoire: Timeless Horoscopes, Modern Rituals, and Creative Altars for Self-Discovery

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our book, THE ASTROLOGICAL GRIMOIRE, is officially entering the world next Tuesday, April 9 🔮📖✨ to celebrate, we will be doing a special pub day broadcast on @bffdotfm, and we are giving away pairs of copies for you and your witchy bestie 👯‍♀️✨👯‍♂️ TO ENTER: comment with a question about the #astrogrimoire you’d like answered on air next week, and tag a witchy pal who would love a grimoire too 🌬✨

A post shared by Astral Projection Radio Hour (@witchradio) on Apr 4, 2019 at 11:52am PDT

I got my hands on this gorgeous book a few weeks ago and I’m totally in love with it. Instead of tackling astrology by describing only the sun signs, this book (by the creators of Witch Radio!) explores the intersection of one’s whole chart, along with providing altar decoration ideas, moon phase meditations, and affirmations for each sign. I’ve been using the book as a way to connect with my Big 3 (sun, moon, and rising signs) during particular moon phases, in addition to deepening my relationship with my Scorpio sun. It’s accessible, beautifully designed, and refreshing. Order it here.

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Colin Bedell’s Queer Cosmos: The Astrology of Queer Identities & Relationships

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I’m thrilled to share my book “Queer Cosmos: The Astrology of Queer Identities & Relationships” by Cleis Press debuts this November 12th!✨ Marianne Williamson is writing the foreword on Pluto in Scorpio. Reflecting on spirituality’s role in the AIDS Crisis to situate the reader in a legacy of spiritual seeking in queer activist spaces. ⚡️ Responding to loneliness as a public health crisis, I wrote “Queer Cosmos” to operationalize Astrology as an antidote for shame and tool for authenticity in queer lives. Since our level of self-acceptance qualifies our relationship health. For compatibility, I summarized key findings on learnable skill-based romantic proficiency and outlined all 144 sign combinations as 144 invitations for relational success. ✨ I’m no soloist so I’ve interviewed Astrologers and enthusiasts across the identity spectrum who will share how Astrology informs their intersectional self-inquiry and relationships for both visibility and representation. ⚡️ So the book begins with history from my (she)ro. I wrote why the queer zodiac is loved inspired by the people I fell in love with. And it concludes with the courage of those I admire deeply. “Queer Cosmos” is my life’s work and with love on every page, it’s my hope that it could be more than a resource but medicine for loneliness as it explores the giving and receiving of love. You can preorder in my bio link! 🏳️‍🌈

A post shared by ♅ QUEER ASTROLOGY ♅ (@queercosmos) on Apr 3, 2019 at 5:36am PDT

I’m no expert on astrology by any stretch. Rather, I am a dedicated enthusiast who places a lot of importance on the important lessons the archetypes of the zodiac can teach us about ourselves. For this reason, I’ve been a big fan of Colin Bedell.

His Instagram account, @queercosmos, is a true treasure, as he shares beautiful, empowering, and inclusive insights around the cosmos and astrology. (He’s also hilarious). I found his book, A Little Bit of Astrology, a necessarily updated look at the zodiac. Instead of leaning into tropes and reductions around the zodiac, he reframes astrology in ways that make you think about your worth and self and truth. I can’t wait for Queer Cosmos: The Astrology of Queer Identities & Relationships, not only because we need more texts that approach the queer identity as it relates to magic and the cosmos, but because Bedell brings Midas’ touch to everything. Preorder here.

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Theresa Reed and Shaheen Miro’s Tarot for Troubled Times: Confront Your Shadow, Heal Your Self & Transform the World

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Super pumped about my upcoming book with coauthor @shaheenthedream !!! #Repost @shaheenthedream with @get_repost ・・・ New Book Alert! . @thetarotlady and I have a new book coming out called: Tarot for Troubled Times. We’re excited to share this amazing guide to Confront Your Shadow, Heal Yourself and Transform the World with Tarot!! . You can check out a preview of the book by following the link in my bio. And, preorder the book at your favorite bookseller.

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I literally can’t say just how excited I am about this book. I’ve been a long-time fan of Theresa Reed and use her Tarot Coloring Book a lot as a way to reflect and enter a meditative state. This book, which you can preorder, approaches the tarot in a new light: It approaches tarot as a tool for meditation on illness, depression, addiction and oppression — real issues that we must confront. I believe that anything that gets us to safely confront our shadow selves is a useful tool in our wellness arsenals, allowing us to have more autonomy over our healing — especially in a world where that autonomy is stripped from us on the regular. Preorder here.

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Amanda Yates Garcia’s Initiated: Memoir of a Witch

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INITIATED IS NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-SALE. . INITIATED is a love letter, a magical incantation dedicated to the wild people of the world. . I wrote it for the witches, the weirdos and wanderers. . I wrote it for those who are lost in the underworld and those who’ve returned still licking their wounds. . I wrote this book for anyone who wants to rise up in collective action to re-enchant the world. . To each of you, I offer this book in love. . Pre-order sales make a huge difference to first time authors. Sometimes it means the difference between being able to publish another book or not. . If you like my work and want to support it, pre-ordering is the way to go. Grab your own copy via the lynk en byo. Xo ❤️❤️❤️ . #firsttimeauthor #bookstagram #memoir #witchcraft #magic

A post shared by Amanda Yates Garcia (@oracleofla) on Mar 28, 2019 at 9:39am PDT

I haven’t finished this book yet, but I am so enjoying it as I read it. This feels like a crucially important work, as the book reflects on not only the deep and personal experience of initiation, but also on sex work, ancestry, poverty, and the body reclaimed. Its message is clear: “Initiated is both memoir and manifesto calling the magical people of the world to take up their wands: stand up, be brave, describe the world they want, then create it like a witch.” I’m loving the language in this book, the message it conveys, and the fact that a book like this is being shared with the world at this time. Preorder here.

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Mya Spalter’s Enchantments: A Modern Witch's Guide to Self-Possession 

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@grrrrlafraid asked me some truly excellent questions in this EXCLUSIVE interview. Check us out! Link in bio 🔗 #nerddreamscometrue #magic #witchesofinstagram ・・・ This spooky season has us counting down to Halloween 🎃. The first book on our #HalloweenCountdown reading list is Mya Spalter’s ENCHANTMENTS. . “Written with wisdom, humor, and compassion, Spalter’s book is the perfect companion for those seeking ‘meaning, peace, and self-possession.’” ✨🔮 . Check out the link in our bio for an exclusive interview with Mya! • • • • • #bookstagram #booklover #bookworm #bookrec #instabook #amreading #lovereading #halloween #spookyseason #enchantments #spells #nonfiction #witchy #octoberreads

A post shared by Mya Spalter (@mya.spalter) on Oct 24, 2018 at 4:55pm PDT

I think what I loved the most about this gem of a book is that Mya’s voice is so welcoming, colorful, and lively. Of course, I’m a bit biased here. As a New Yorker, I’ve shopped at Enchantments, where Mya has worked for years selling occult goods. This book is a modern overview of magic, but it makes space for the reader to get involved. Not every book makes room for one’s personal magical style, but this book does. This book is full of magic, introductory and advanced knowledge, personality, poetry, and empowerment. Order here.

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Kristen Sollée’s Cat Call: Reclaiming the Feral Feminine (An Untamed History of the Cat Archetype in Myth and Magic)

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Hey sluts, I’m back on my book-promoting bullshit! And by that I mean: MEET MY NEW BB! She delves into all the eldritch corners of history, from feline goddesses and early modern familiars to cats, kink & #kittenplay, posthuman ethics, Catwoman, queer cat ladies, sex workers and cats in art, wildcat prints in fashion, cat iconography in political action, ailuromancy...and all the ways the feline and the feminine intersect in myth, magic, and pop culture...Amazon pre-orders make a *huge* difference in the life of a book so consider clicking that link in my bio if you dug #witchesslutsfeminists or anything I ever wrote or maybe just feel like being a sweetheart to this April Fool. (This is not a joke tho, in case you’re wondering.) #catcallbook is officially out SEPTEMBER 1st on @weiserbooks!!! 📖✨ #bookslut #catsofinstagram #catbook #sexpositive #witchesofinstagram #meowmotherfucker🐱💋

A post shared by kristenkorvette (@kristenkorvette) on Apr 1, 2019 at 6:16am PDT

If you read Sollée’s Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring The Sex Positive, chances are you’re gearing up for her newest, Cat Call: Reclaiming the Feral Feminine (An Untamed History of the Cat Archetype in Myth and Magic). I sure am. Now, there’s a long-standing connection between the cat and the witch — don’t we all have a familiar of our own? — and it’s about time someone dedicates a closer look to the enduring power of the cat. I’m such a fan of everything Kristen does — and I know you will be too, if you haven’t read her important, inclusive, and thoughtful work. Preorder here.

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Lisa Marie Basile is the author of Light Magic for Dark Times, Wordcraft Witchery (forthcoming, 2020) and a recent poetry collection, Nympholepsy. Her work encounters self-care, trauma recovery, ritualized living and the arts. More of her writing can be found in The New York Times, Refinery 29, The Fix, Catapult, Narratively, Good Housekeeping, Bustle, Sabat Magazine and more. She is the editor-in-chief of Luna Luna Magazine. Find her @lisamariebasile.