BY LISA MARIE BASILE
As we move through #ScorpioSeason—and with it, celebrations like Halloween, All Saints Day, and Dia de los Muertos, we enter into the time of year between the autumn equinox & the winter solstice (here in the Northern part of the globe).
It’s a point of death and decay, change and discovery, when the gauzy veil parts and the obscure takes over. It’s when we visit our dead & our dead visit us (literally or not), & when we connect with whatever is beyond, establishing a link to both the darkness and the sacred unknown.
Image by Magda Knight of MookyChick
I have always felt a connection with darkness, the space between here and now. Between the perceived safety and the “dangerous” shadow. For so long I have felt not only a home in the dark—but too comfortable, almost naturally made of it. A safe space. I do not think this is a bad thing. I understand its liminality & language—and maybe you do too, either naturally or when you encounter a hardship or loss or trauma.
These darknesses carve out a space in our hearts, our wirings, and even our physiological responses. These things open up a gate, in us and elsewhere. It’s hard to ignore it—whatever your dark is—once it’s been opened. But that darkness isn’t simply an enemy; it can be a catalyst for healing.
Shadow work is about healing and encountering and reframing what hurt. For me, it’s largely about reframing my relationship with the dark, and making the liminality work for me. I believe it is an opportunity to transform, or cycle through transformations as needed, as I learned early from a mentor. It might take a while, or feel bumpy, but it can happen. Transformation isn’t linear, isn’t perfect, and it’s not always pleasant.
During Halloween, and during the entirety of scorpio season, that change comes more naturally. The gates are open; the winds of change whirl around us. Scorpio is the sign of transformation and regeneration, and so we may naturally feel inclined to shrug off what we don’t need and welcome what we desire. It is also the time to work through negative self-talk or journal about feelings of pain, shame, or fear.
You don’t have to believe any of this literally, either—it’s symbolic, if anything. The seasons shift, and there’s a wide, dark, open space ready for harvest.
During this time, I think back on when I was much younger in my teens, when I was in foster care. I always held the blaring sense that I was different, invisible, not enough. I heard the others gossiping about me and I longed to vanish, to be validated in my heartache. I pined for the traditional family unit with all the trappings that come with it. For many years I lived with shame and silence and anger, not realizing in those very differences was my entire world.
I eventually turned to shadow work to look those demons in the eye and find a way to live with them or eradicate them. To honor my light, despite the dark—and to honor my dark. To face and strike down the shame. Shadow work is the work we do to look into those feelings and internalized ideas to disassemble or rearrange them to bloom better things for ourselves.
My shadow work was always through writing and self-listening and even though I’m not perfect, I have been able to make peace with my past and turn that shame into pride.
Some of the things I did included:
Writing letters to my younger self, to heal her.
Writing out what hurts, or painful memories on a few slips of paper and then burying them in a box underground.
Using candle magic to illuminate feelings I was keeping buried; I’d sit on the ground and light a single candle for each feeling, letting myself sit with it and feel it.
Decide what I wanted my life to look like and take active steps to make it happen. I’d design a mood-board, light candles for manifestation at night, and journal about my goals.
I picked an archetype that inspired me and learned from her. Hecate is mine; goddess of necromancy and witchcraft, she leads the way through the dark and encourages me to face my shadows and find my inner power.
In my book, Light Magic for Dark Times, I share all of this, and more. I hope that those of you reading the book or those of you that are looking to pick up the book find some healing and opportunity in it. When reading it, you are the guide and you are in charge of the results.
Here are are a few of the things you’ll find in the book:
This spell was created with writer and editor Leza Cantoral.
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 grimoire of inspired rituals and daily practices. She's also the author of a few poetry collections, including the forthcoming "Nympholepsy." Her work encounters the intersection of ritual and wellness, chronic illness, magic, overcoming trauma, and creativity, and she has written for The New York Times, Narratively, Grimoire Magazine, Sabat Magazine, The Establishment, Refinery 29, Bust, Hello Giggles, and more. Lisa Marie earned a Masters degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University.