And crafting scent, as perfumer Claire Baxter proclaims on her website, is an aromatic art. Claire is the founder behind the Texas-based fragrance shop, Sixteen92. Taking its name from the year of Salem Witch Trials, Sixteen92 crafts small batch fine fragrances inspired by literature, lore, and history.
Read MoreReview of 'The Mixology of Astrology': Cosmic Cocktail Recipes for Every Sign
So, whether you are just looking to explore astrology more, new to mixology, or a veteran star-gazer who knows your way around a shaker and has muddler or two among your spirited potions, this hardback book is a beautiful (the cover art is STUNNING!) addition to your library or would make a marvelous gift for a cosmically-inclined friend.
Read MoreGlamour Magic, Identity, & Self Love with Author Deborah Castellano
“I think that the most feminist thing you can do in life is to not let other people (unsolicited) tell you how to present yourself to the world. “
Read More4 Witchy Podcasts You Need In Your Life
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
The podcast is a strange animal. Music is usually the go-to while traveling or doing work, while books pass the time and fill our lives with beauty. But where do podcasts fit in? Do they require less or more work? Maybe both? They're educational, entertaining, and reminiscent of a time when broadcast radio floated like music throughout the home. You can simply play one and let all fall away.
Luckily, podcasts exist for every single nook and cranny of the Internet and all the different weirdos surfing it. For us witches, we've got a bevy of wonderful options. Not only do these podcasts serve as a reminder that we're not alone, they truly teach us. They bring us together. They enlighten us on practices, beliefs, and cultures. They create a little bright world where we can grow as practitioners and people. And they're fun.
Here are my favorites:
The Fat Feminist Witch is one of my favorite podcasts, maybe ever. I adore Paige, the host, who is not only well-versed in witchcraft and magical practices, but regularly approaches issues relating to mental health, the body, race and culture, and wellness. Her personal touch is moving and complimentary, and contextualizes the podcast's focus on modern witchcraft. This is what a real witch thinks about and feels and considers, one might think while listening. On top of that, her guests are interesting, her book reviews are stellar, and her off-the-cuff conversations are enlightening, intersectional, and emotionally open. And funny!
A recent favorite episode: Glamour Magick with Deborah Castellano
The Witch Wave is an excellent podcast for those witches and learners who want a deep dive. Pam Grossman, its host, carefully curates her podcast--ensuring diversity both in its guests and its topics. While she always makes an effort to clarify ideas, beliefs, or words, the questions asked aren't all easy or foundational. She digs deep with her guests and gets to the roots and nuances of the conversation, exhuming ideas that may not be widely spoken about and pressing for more. What you come away with is a comprehensive look at a given topic and a sense of true humanity and context. Pam Grossman is thoughtful, generous, and open-minded in a magical way, and her guests are always the same.
A recent favorite episode: Jessyka Winston of Haus of Hoodoo
The Serpent Cast is an explosion of awesome in every.single.episode. This podcast blends sex-positive talk and the spiritual (which is a perfect and necessary combo). Hosted by Annabel Gat and Sophie Saint Thomas, they'll cover everything from witchcraft and herbs to gender and sex toys. It's funny, fun, smart, enlightening and sexy. Oh, and I once won a sex toy from them via an Instagram contest. They made my damn day.
A recent favorite episode: Sonia Ortiz, Medium, Tarot Reader, and Artist
Hippie Witch: Magick for a New Age with Joanna DeVoe is one of my favorite podcasts--not only because it's ripe with excellent information on every aspect of the occult, but because its host (Joanna) is kind, thoughtful, balanced, honest, and truly interested in giving space and voice to all sorts of ideas and beliefs. She's funny (like, very), quirky (expect a live and let live style to this podcast), highly intuitive, and deeply empathic. You'll learn about everything from faeries to moon magic to creativity to spirit guides. She interviews dozens of folks, including authors and witches, and she's even interviewed me about my forthcoming book, Light Magic for Dark Times.
A recent favorite episode: Cultural & Personal Shadows Revealed Online
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." 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.
In Conversation with Writer & Witch Andi Talarico: Stregheria, Tarot & Astrology
INTERVIEW BY LISA MARIE BASILE
LMB: You’re a poet, a writer, a witch, a reading series host, and (as of this summer!) a magical workshop instructor! Can you tell me a little bit about your background in both writing and magic, and how they intersect for you?
AT: I think I've sort of always been both a witch and a writer, since before I understood the terms and knew how to put the work and effort into each practice. I've been storytelling since early childhood and writing/performing poetry since age 10. As for witchcraft, I'd felt alignment with the identity for as long as I can remember. The first Halloween costume I chose for myself was the Wicked Witch of the West. I thought she was remarkably powerful and I wanted to feel that, to mimic and evoke it.
As I got older, the practice of writing down ideas for spells, tarot spreads, important moments, dreams, etc - that ends up becoming one's Book of Shadows, but I don't separate mine from my everyday notebook. To me, the practice of writing down the beginning of a poem, and in the next moment, writing my errands for the day, and in the next moment, recording my ideas for a new moon ritual - it's all from the same place. It all comes back to memory, practice, and ritual.
You’re identify with the Strega. Can you tell me a little bit about how Italian folk magic and your Mediterranean/Italian heritage finds its way into your practice?
When I first started "studying" witchcraft, ie, trying out first spells and rituals that were found in actual sources other than my imagination, I studied Wicca because that was the information available to me at that time. It didn't all resonate with me, to be honest. When I started talking to the women in my family about Stregheria, and started hunting down the scarce resources about Italian folk magic, it all made sense to me, how you can incorporate spellwork into everyday kitchen work, or how you can read your dreams for meaning, or how you don't have to set up a sacred, untouchable alter to work your magic.
My great-grandmother was a Sicilian Strega whose "specialty" (many of the local Streghe had their "thing" that they did best, as it's been explained to me) was taking the malocchio, or the Evil Eye, off of people with a folk magic ritual. When I started studying that, and really digging deeper into these practices, it started to make more sense to me than the Wicca I had explored previously.
I identify with Strega magic because there's a lot of room for everyday intuition, and that works for me. It's about much more than just my Italian-American upbringing, though, because I'm a total mix. My mother's family is mostly English, so some of the Wiccan beliefs really align with that part of my heritage.
On my father's side, we're Italian and Lebanese and there were students of Alchemy in the Lebanese side so in a way, I feel born into many magical traditions. But I chose the one that spoke to me the clearest and the loudest, which is what I think every curious person should do.
Also: did you read and fucking LOVE Strega Nona as a child? I know I read that book a hundred times and it’s basically why I am who I am these days.
You know, I didn't read that book until I was an adult! I feel like I really missed out, haha.
You’re teaching a series of classes in nyc at Word Bookstore in Brooklyn this summer on tarot, astrology, and ritual! I’m so excited! Can you tell me more about the classes & about the way YOU approach magic?
Thank you! When I was approached by WORD, they asked me to teach some Witchy 101 classes which really made me examine my practice and my belief system, for sure. I had to break down the elements of what goes into my magic life and think about the connections and stories and education behind them. My studied understanding of the esoteric realm started in seventh grade, when I stole a gigantic book, Zolar's Astrology, and gobbled down like 1,000 pages of info and started telling everyone about themselves astrologically. At the time, it was a way for me to understand and categorize the world a little easier. It was insight into the human condition, which is the focus of much of my work - helping others through astrology, tarot, ritual, and self-care.
The astrology workshop will show people how to make and interpret the basics of their natal charts, since our zodiac signs are so much more than just our sun signs. Toward the end of the class, I'll discuss astrology across the magic spectrum, like for instance how it can change the way you read tarot cards. That will lead us into the second workshop of Tarot, where I'll discuss ideas for making the cards work for the individual reader. While there are some hard and fast rules in Tarot, I think there's a lot more room for intuition and the art of natural storytelling than some may think. I've always approached my readings as a writer and an author, like here are these ancient plot points being laid out for you - what's the story, what's the lesson, what's the theme, what's the message?
At the end of this workshop, we'll discuss other ways to use Tarot, like for instance in ritual, which leads us to the final workshop. In the Ritual discussion, I really want to give people permission to practice in a way that works for them, and not worry about setting up some expensive altar based on something they read in a book.
There are SO many fun, creative ways to create your space and figure out what works for you, and I love talking to people about their ideas here. For example, growing up, I assumed that to really perform a moon ritual, you had to be outdoors with your coven, skyclad (witchspeak for "naked") and dancing around a fire, and that simply doesn't work for most modern witches, especially us city-folk witches. So I'm looking so forward to bringing in elements of my altar and sharing them, and having a real conversation about practice, ritual, and sacred spaces that can create for ourselves.
What are your thoughts on the burgeoning popularity of witchcraft? I think we both agree more magic and positivity and autonomy is a GOOD thing—so I’m interested in your perspective as a long time practitioner.
You know, I think I aligned with witches at a young age, because their other-ness and power both spoke to me. I was always a bit of a weirdo and an outcast, so witchcraft made sense to me. Seeing the popular kids take it over and makee it cool and mainstream was a little off-putting at first, I'll be honest, but that was just a knee-jerk ego-speak reaction on my part.
The fact that more people are aligning themselves with witchcraft and ritual and interdependence and intersectionality - we need more of that in the world. So I don't care if you just bought your first Rose Quartz because it made a pretty Instagram post - go get it, friend. Make it meaningful if you want to and if you can, and if not, that doesn't take away from my practice one bit. Witches who want to quiz you on how serious you are, what coven you belong to, who initiated you, what order you belong to: that reeks of hierarchal bullshit and elitism to me. Even being a natural Slytherin, I just can't hang with that attitude, haha.
I couldn't agree more. We shouldn't judge, gate-keep, or assume everyone is going to approach magic in the same way!
So, what books are you reading right now?
I read a lot for place and mood and I'm a total Summer Baby so I've been on a roll with reading books about the ocean. I just finished Ocean Sea, a gorgeous magical realist tale, by the Italian author Alessandro Barrico. I'm currently finishing up the abso-bloody-lutely brilliant novel The Pisces by Melissa Broder (which is so deliciously dirty - it's been fun to spy people reading it on the Subway because I'm like oooooh, what part are you reading right now?)
Lastly, I'm digging deep into Practical Magic: A Beginner's Guide to Crystals, Horoscopes, Psychics, and Spells by Nikki Van De Car because we'll be discussing that in the WORD Workshops. It was so hard to choose JUST ONE book, but I think this guide is a beautifully un-intimidating place to start.
So, what is your birth chart like? How do you think the zodiac actually has a hand in our lives?
Whew boy, this is a big question and a big answer. I feel like there are sort of two types of people here, the ones who say, "Astrology could never be real," and the other camp who are like, "You're SUCH a Sag rising," haha. The thing is, Astrology is really hard to defend, right? How could the alignment of the stars affect our personalities and paths in life? The tough answer is that I'm not totally sure, to be honest, but I also don't need a scientific basis for every single aspect of my life.
What I know is that after years of exploring astrology charts with people, I've seen way way way too much interesting coincidence and important metaphor and meaningful symbolism to every be able to completely deny it. I think Astrology is a fascinating way to gain insight into who we all are and what we're all working with. It helps us understand our strengths and weaknesses, our attractions, our patterns of behavior, our shadow selves.
For me, I'm a Cancer/Leo cusp, and that water/fire split goes down most of my chart and really makes sense to me. I'm a Rising Sagittarius (fire) and Pisces Moon (water.) It basically makes me a textbook ambivert. I have no stage fright but don't do well at a get-together with a few people if I'm not close with all of them, haha. My water side makes me deeply empathetic, intuitive, and moody af. The fire side keeps me performing, laughing, taking risks and chances, and kicks me in the ass when I get too far in my own head.
What a GREAT combo you've got going on there (says the skulking, moody Scorpio with a Cancer moon). I love that you've got that water/fire duality!
So, you’re a tarot reader (and a wonderful one!). How do you approach tarot? How do you think creatives can use the tarot?
Thank you, Lisa, you're too kind. Tarot for me is a way in which we deal with universal messages. The cards themselves speak to many ideas of universality, from Jungian Collective Unconscious to the beats in a novel's plot, from common dream symbols to astrological alignment.
When I read for people, I tend to focus less on the fortune-telling aspect of it and more on the actions that have brought the querent to this moment in time. What patterns are at work, what forces are blocking us, how can we best approach this issue or problem with the tools we have in front of us? With that mindset, you can use the tarot to help you write your way out of a block, or perhaps understand what your dreams have been trying to communicate to you, or of course why perhaps you're crushing on someone who isn't reciprocating. When you loosen up the strict Tarot rules, you find uses in them for everything from spellwork to finding your next poem.
How does magic intersect with our social and political climate right now? I’m interested in your ideas on hexing Trump and self care rituals?
Being a witch has always aligned deeply, for me, with feminism, intersectionality, and putting power in the hands of the marginalized. Witches, historically, were often women healers that provided care outside of institutional patriarchy and that history resonates with me in a hugely meaningful way. The people historically accused of witchcraft were mostly women of questionable status: the unmarried, the lower-income, the other-ed in terms of color, gender, sexuality, etc. I think in particular, that young folks who are today's marginalized people - LGBTQ, POC, women - end up being attracted to witchcraft as a way of harnessing a power that's been denied to us.
That being said, do I want to hex Trump? Uh, of course I do. But I wouldn't and I won't. Hexing feels extraordinarily dangerous and irresponsible to me. I use my magic to help others and myself. I don't call myself a "white witch" because I definitely embrace the darkness within and believe in expression of that darkness, but hexing is something more than that, and it's not a place I choose to go. I don't know that it's possible to poison someone spiritually without taking it some of it yourself, too. That's the only way I know how to explain that, which may not make much sense, I'm sorry.
As for self-care rituals, I wish that every person out there could find what restores them physically, emotionally, and spiritually and put it into practice.
Time for the hard-hitting question: Which Hogwarts house are you, most importantly?
I'm such a goddamn Slytherin. It took me a while to be comfortable with that but now I'm proud. I definitely don't have the elitist attitude shared by many Slytherin, but that dark energy has my name written all over it, haha.
SLYTHERIN 4 LIFE.
How can people sign up for your courses this summer?
Folks can sign up through WORD's site right here.
Reviving the Magical Life and Times of the Three Kings
BY COOPER WILHELM
A little before my time, the story goes, the church at the end of the street commissioned a local artist to paint the stations of the cross, and when he did he surprised everyone by including the church elders in the paintings as apostles, townspeople, Roman soldiers, and the like. The story also goes that, although they still kept the paintings, being included in them made the church elders upset. Back when I still went to church, the culture of the church at the end of the street maintained a separation between church stories and church gossip. The Bible was long ago, your life was your life, and it would be frankly rude and a little creepy to discuss any relationship between the two in any detail.
So, when the pastor allegedly rode off on his motorcycle with the choir master’s daughter, leaving behind questions about a significant amount of money missing from the church coffers (so the scuttlebutt goes, I can’t confirm any of it), it is likely no one drew comparisons between that and, say, the Exodus or something in Revelations. And it similarly stands to reason that when a congregation of Georgian immigrants joined the church, and three of them subsequently performed as The Three Kings during the yearly nativity play, many didn’t think much of the significance of this beyond the fact that “We Three Kings” sounds significantly better in Russian.
But the significance of these Kings, and significance of coming to embody them or any other figure in this direct way is clearer now after having read an excellent new book by Alexander Cummins: A Book of the Magi: Lore, Prayers, & Spellcraft of the Three Holy Kings, volume 3 in Revelore Press’s Folk Necromancy in Transmission series. A broadly researched and well-crafted exploration, Cummins’s book demonstrates the ongoing relevance of the Three Kings over the last millennium and a half, and offers a surprisingly practical guide for including them in your own spellcraft.
Cummins begins with a racing review of 1500 years of Three Kings lore, showing how as the first to bow before Christ and thus the first to demonstrate proper Christian devotion, their position in Christian discourse was frequently ancestral. Although they were not saints per se, and not really Christian either, the Kings still became venerated as holy models for Christian piety, and became the subjects of shrines and pilgrimages.
In time, the Kings came to exist in a space that might blur the present-day lines between worship and witchcraft. Early Christian pilgrims would make or use eulogiae of the Kings, which came in different forms including essentially talismanic clay amulets featuring images of the kings and made from the soil of sites holy to them. Often these clay tablets would be crushed and swallowed in the hopes of benefiting from their miraculous properties. Cummins also lays out how the Kings’ following a star was used during the Renaissance as a model of a kind of Christian astrology to validate astrology as an acceptable and holy art.
This ancestral role the Kings played also went beyond the spiritual and into the political. Spanish colonists in the New World made use of the idea that the Kings, having come from the four corners of the earth to adore the Christ child, could be viewed as universal ancestral figures representing all peoples of the world to claim that colonized peoples had ancient connections to Christianity that they had merely forgotten. In so doing, Cummins argues, missionaries gave themselves the horrifying added rhetorical power of retroactively colonizing the dead in addition to colonizing the living.
But, Cummins argues, these “efforts to convert native populaces gave [colonized peoples] mythic structures that could be adopted to challenge that very colonising authority.” The colonized, in being told that The Kings had been pilgrims from their own lands, were then able to use The Kings to claim their right to be kings themselves. During yearly Epiphany celebrations honoring The Kings, colonized peoples took up the European practice of dressing as the Kings and demanding tribute, to the anxiety of colonial authorities. In 1609, rumors began to circulate through Mexico City that black residents had chosen the night of the Epiphany to elect their own kings in a symbolic challenge to colonial authority. These symbolic acts of reclaiming power became, in Cummins’s telling, a source of fear in the hearts of local colonial rulers: “The shackles placed by colonial masters upon the ancestors of their servants and slaves had been thrust into the fire of their nightmares and had been forged back into crowns.”
The treatment of this particular aspect of the history of The Kings can feel a bit quick, and might well leave the reader asking for more detail, especially into how the politics of the use of The Kings in anticolonial activity evolved. But the primary focus of A Book of the Magi is how, as ancestral magicians, the Kings came play a role in traditions of magic and sorcery, and for this Cummins collects and lingers over a number of great finds and experiments.
Jumping hither and yon in what could serve as a kind of Medieval Grimoires 101, Cummins skips through a number of different spellbooks to present examples of The Kings being invoked work wonders. Included are magical operations to, say, use The Kings and iron nails to ward off epilepsy as described in The Black Dragon, or to call upon The Kings and use “[p]ills made of the skull of one that is hanged” to cure rabies from Jean Bodin’s Of the Demon-mania of the Sorcerers and Reginald Scot’s The Discoverie of Witchcraft.
Cummins presents these in detail, and some are quite elaborate, especially the rites using The Three Kings to command spirits to bring the practitioner treasure or to transport the practitioner great distances. But the real marvel of this book comes when Cummins moves from reporting the contents of centuries-old texts and begins to describe operations that incorporate his personal research and experimentation. For Cummins is not simply a historian, but also a practicing sorcerer and diviner, offering spells “built upon [his] study of traditional Hoodoo and related folk magical methodologies, chiefly of course African-American Conjure and Latin American folk magic” and based on “discussion with professional rootworkers and Hoodooists.” And it is in this final section of the book that the idea of working with the Kings becomes much more personal and that A Book of the Magi really shines.
Here the spells take on a very practical tone, using materials one can assemble on a budget to develop tools for magical workings. Cummins offers methods for making oil for safety while traveling, incorporating the Three Kings into your altar, and invoking their help with a kind of crown: “Wear the crown when you are studying magic or searching for something. I have found this Crown assists in divination (a form of searching after all), as well as performing these sorts of magian operations.” There’s even a cake recipe.
In so doing, Cummins reveals the relative slimness of this volume for what it is: an invitation for you to pick up this journey and begin your own explorations. Whether it be the history of Three Kings lore, where any of the episodes Cummins covers in page-long summaries might warrant or already have the dedication of a full book, and any of the spells might offer a framework for you to adapt to your own needs and knowledge.
The Kings become more than something to simply be learned about or engaged with, but something to be harnessed and embodied. Much like the church elders painted into the stations of the cross of the three men singing “We Three Kings” in Russian, we might let our faces become the faces of The Kings, our voices become their voices, our tongue become their tongues, and—more vitally—we might make their power our power.
—
Cooper Wilhelm is an occultist, researcher, and poet in NYC. He is the author of three books of poetry, including DUMBHEART/STUPIDFACE (Siren Songs/2017). More at CooperWilhelm.com and on twitter @CooperWilhelm
Acting as Sigils: Magick Collage Erasures by David Joez Villaverde
Most art is magick. It is the same combination of intention, discipline, will, and praxis designed to open up a conscious space in the present.
Read MoreWhich Classic Winona Ryder Film Are You, Based On Your Zodiac?
Joanna C. Valente is a ghost who lives in Brooklyn, New York, and is the author of Sirs & Madams (Aldrich Press, 2014), The Gods Are Dead (Deadly Chaps Press, 2015), Marys of the Sea (The Operating System, 2017), Xenos (Agape Editions, 2016), and Sexting Ghosts (Unknown Press, 2018). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: An Anthology by Survivors of Sexual Assault (CCM, 2017), and received a MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is also the founder of Yes, Poetry, a managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine and CCM, as well as an instructor at Brooklyn Poets. Some of their writing has appeared in Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, Them, Prelude, Apogee, Spork, The Feminist Wire, and elsewhere.
Read More6 Ways To Use A Tarot Deck To Get What You Want
Joanna C. Valente is a ghost who lives in Brooklyn, New York, and is the author of Sirs & Madams (Aldrich Press, 2014), The Gods Are Dead (Deadly Chaps Press, 2015), Marys of the Sea (The Operating System, 2017), Xenos (Agape Editions, 2016), and Sexting Ghosts (Unknown Press, 2018). They are the editor of A Shadow Map: An Anthology by Survivors of Sexual Assault (CCM, 2017), and received a MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is also the founder of Yes, Poetry, a managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine and CCM, as well as an instructor at Brooklyn Poets. Some of their writing has appeared in Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, Them, Prelude, Apogee, Spork, The Feminist Wire, and elsewhere.
Read MoreThis Is How A Witch Is Born
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
There is a young girl named Jolene.
She’s got violent blonde hair and eyes too clear to be trusted. Pretty and vicious by 12, Jolene trained a whole pack of followers to move 10 paces behind her, their mouths open and drooling.
Jolene and her pets are sitting behind me in gym class kicking my lower back, which is covered in a soft spill of dark Mediterranean hair. [Lovers today call it beautiful.] I’m so quiet I barely exist. I’m wearing cheap sneakers my grandmother picked up at the church flea market she sells nail polish at on weekends.
My sneakers are white and goofy and too heavy; I look like a twig in them, the tongue heaving over my tiny ankles. I’m supposed to be wearing the Filas everyone else has. I’m supposed to be everyone else.
From where I sit or hide or cower, it seems like everyone else has dinner at home at 6. Has school photos. Has all of the other accouterments of a teenage palace of cruelty. Popularity is my Queen but I won't sit on my knees at her ugly throne. I am daggers. I am full of poverty and mouths sewn shut. I am instead the town seer. I see the mediocrity of youth that will bleed into adulthood. Sometimes I still want to be mediocre. I want to be loved.
By 6 I’m at home alone with my brother, half my age, wondering where my mother is. Sometimes we walk a mile to my grandmother’s senior citizen center where she says those girls are just jealous. I say, but grandma—they’re pretty. You’re pretty, she says. Pretty girls are jealous of pretty girls.
I am raised in a land where pretty is economy. Where being a young girl means fitting into easy sentences and rules. I put on the FM radio in the bathroom and Nair my lower back. Which only makes Jolene siphon more of me, more of my weakness. I remove my body, my hair; I remove myself.
I want to be like Jolene and her pack but I’m not like them. On my head, I have black hair that gives no fucks. When it rains my hair grows fangs. I’m poor and my clothes smell like the local laundromat. Gin and dust and metallic-something—something like something I’m not supposed to smell like.
Jolene says it’s old people I smell like. I laugh stupidly and awkwardly, boldly, in her face, but I know it. I sleep at my grandmother’s tiny apartment a lot. I cry often into her shoulder; between us, there is a silent question blooming; why is her daughter—my mother—not coming home? She braids my hair, paints my nails, goes to bed early.
I sit up alone for hours perched at the window waiting for my mother to come home. To bide the time, I pull out two books: a 1970s pictorial on covens and sex magic and a book of spells, it’s Wiccan, made for teens, I think—I’ve wrapped both in the dust cover of other books, although I know my mother wouldn’t care if she caught me, but I was raised Catholic and am embedded with a certain fear of the devil consuming my soul for all eternity—and I read them quietly to myself, believing in my whole wide heart that magic was swirling out there, ready to be captured, pocketed, possibly brought to middle school.
I want to wear the capes. I want to draw a Pentagram. I want to understand what I’m reading and become all-powerful. At first, sadness drives me toward ritual, but then I take flight on my own.
Behind my grandmother’s house, behind three huge dumpsters, there is a very, very green sort of open space. Fences surround it and separate it from neighboring backyards and they’re covered in ivy. This green leads down to the local river—Rahway River in New Jersey—which is filled with tiny, people-sized islands and moves through the town, circling through neighborhoods where people have given up on themselves. My whole town is broken. Everyone either dies or is dying or hooked on drugs, and all of us kids have either taken on one of two protective stances: be the bully or be bullied. It depends on your heart; sometimes I hate my heart.
Even if some of us come from decent homes, there is always something rotten in this town. Always a secret. A disguise. An animal searching through the wood. No one is untouched.
RELATED: To Be a Witch: The Balancing Act of Embracing Darkness & Light
I tiptoe to the edge of the river and look down into the rocks. My feet get muddy, I smell the earth; copper, moss, summer water. Across from me—at this point the river is hallow, trickling, maybe 100 feet across, dotted by a shower of flat stones—is the back of three stores: a glass shop, a small pub, a dilapidated house. No one can see me, so I step further toward the water and sit at the edge. I wonder what they would think of they catch me.
My book says I need to look for the mushrooms—that’s where the faeries live. I could maybe befriend them but don’t expect them to be kind, exactly. I could maybe ask them to be my friends.
My book talks about drawing down the moon. I stand in the middle of the green, at times glimpsing behind me hoping my grandmother won’t come out and see me, and call on the sky. I open my palms and stand quietly, feeling the power of the earth rise up through and into me. I look into the shadows of my life and find peace knowing I always have myself, these green places, this water.
I have nothing to distract me. No phone, no real friends, no curfew, no Internet. I only have the earth and the sound of water pulsating. If I close my eyes I can hear my own heartbeat.
I whisper into the blue air, "Please protect my mother." The wind moves; she takes my request.
***
By twenty-five I struggle with my beliefs. It’s not that I don’t believe in anything, it’s that nothing makes sense. Something is out there, I think. I call myself a staunch atheist; I mostly am.
I won’t meet my lovers or my mother in the afterlife. I won’t be consumed by fire. I won’t reincarnate, I think. But I might just evaporate into the mist of the cosmos, become starlight or a patch of bugambilias. My dying body will be the universe exhaling; it’s exhaled a million times today. The world gets bigger, smaller, bigger, smaller. And it means everything and nothing at all.
I find the word "witch" again and again. She follows me in and out of my life. I find myself always standing at the riverbank or wading through the sea, piling aside my sorrow. I find myself washing my hands in blessed rose water. I find myself in dark rooms, in a circle, pulling something out from my chest and putting it into existence. I create rituals I don’t talk about, fearing I’ll be misunderstood.
If I am seen as a witch, I am seen as other. Rebel, dreamer, enchantress, want-er of things bigger. Want-er of more. Maker of light. Purveyor of shadow.
If I am seen as a witch, I’ll be classified, boxed-up, differentiated.
If I am seen as a witch, I won’t get a job or be taken seriously. I won’t be seen as rational. I won’t be seen as me.
And yet, if I am seen as a witch, I’ll be seen for what I am. I’ll be seen as someone who respects nature, respects myself, respects my body. I’ll be seen as someone who resists the complacency of the status quo. I’ll be seen as someone who resists acts of warfare against other humans. I’ll be seen as someone who questions simple answers and seeks something deeper. I’ll be seen as someone who wants to create a life of intention and autonomy. I’ll be seen as someone who, when the palace of night washes over my life, will be able to strike a match in the dark. I do dream. I do rebel. I do exist as a natural thing. I am not separate from the earth. I am not a cog. I am not a mime. I am tending to a careful garden where, throughout time, others have come and gone, tinkering in the magic of self.
A witch is born of trauma. A witch is born of solitude. A witch is born of watching. A witch is born of listening. A witch is born of light.
Lisa Marie Basile is a writer and founding creative director of Luna Luna Magazine—a diary of darkness and light, literature, identity, and magic. Her book of rituals and practices, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, will be released in September 2018. She has written for The New York Times, Narratively, Grimoire Magazine, Venefica, The Establishment, Refinery 29, Bust, Hello Giggles, and more. She's also the author of a few poetry collections, including the forthcoming Nympholepsy.
How to Create a Witchy Gallery Wall in Your Home
There seems to be a misconception that to curate a proper gallery wall, you have to spend a fortune. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Here are some tips to create your own gallery wall in a short amount of time with affordable materials.
Read More4 Dreamy Stones To Keep By Your Bedside
It is perhaps the most simple part of my nightly routine. These little stones just sit there on my nightstand, exuding their beauty and tiny imperfections, and that is where they stay. Thier role is just to rest there beside me. Yet, their simple presence is so meaningful to the ritual as a whole...the only one I can seem to keep on a regular basis.
Read MoreHow the Words of the Dead Carried Me Home
Awakening Osiris is a celebration of all dark aspects of life and the capacity we possess to overcome them. As Ellis stated, we are all Osirises, each with the ability to create ourselves again and again on our path towards spiritual truth. Through years of research, she amassed such a powerful message, one she believed the world should have.
Read More6 Witchy Spots You Must Visit in Philadelphia
4. The Strange and Unusual
This is a shop of oddities, antiques, taxidermy, and much much more. The entire shop is decorated in purple damask and velour fainting sofas. A stuffed grizzly bear wears a gold grown and lords over you as you browse through dusty ouija boards and spooky wooden dolls rocking in Victorian prams. You can spend a whole day here, flipping through the strange grimoires or asking the shopkeepers about the unique stories each object brings to the room. It’s an experience.
Read MoreA Prayer to Ganesh for My Children
Shannon Brugh is a writer, feminist, and mother primarily writing about parenthood, feminism, and fluidity within gender and sexuality. In addition to her contributions to Luna Luna Magazine, some of her writing has appeared in Brain, Child Magazine, Huffington Post, The Manifest-Station, SheKnows, Your Tango, and Smarty Mommies, where she is also the co-founder. She currently lives in Seattle, WA with her husband and two young sons.
Read More