I still feel like a fledgling in this commune of witches, Selkies, healers and mystical women who share this space with me, their observations and their practices.
Witch was a foul word, a forbidden one, in my home where I was raised by my born-again Christian parents. There was to be no uttering, no contemplation – not even a single, gentle peek inside a little book of spells for girls; purple velvet, with a matching pen attached, perched on the front-facing shelves of Ottakar’s Book Shop on Glasgow's Buchanan Street. My mother said it was bad, we don't entertain such silliness, and besides, the devil hides even in pretty things.
My best friend was allowed to indulge in these things, so I lived vicariously through her. We cast enchantments without knowing it: writing poems, which we chanted aloud, and decorated with doodles of flowers, stars and faeries.
I felt a strong pull to the colour purple at that time, to gold ink, and to pentacles. I had to make do with Groovy Chick stationary instead, and I'd longingly stare at the star-spangled witchy stuff on the shelves, trying to build up the courage to commit this deep betrayal; going over and picking something up. Whenever I managed it, I'd look furtively around, and only get a few pages in before chest-crushing fear came over me and I became convinced some poison had seeped onto my fingers, staining them, and my soul, black for all eternity.
A girl in my year who cast spells and dressed only in black once asked me to write my name on a little bit of paper. Something about how I spelled it. I obliged, then thought twice as she popped it in her bag. My cheeks burned fire when I desperately asked her to return it to me, in case it was for a spell. She laughed slyly, said 'well yeah, but a good one' and I said thanks, but no thanks. I felt like my soul was on that scraggy bit of paper and the relief when she casually handed it back to me was enormous.
One of the more serious conversations with my parents I can recall, was not about contraceptives or stranger danger, but ouiji boards and how I should never, in absolutely no circumstances, no matter how fun it looks, use one. The devil can be summoned and he will get into you.
I’ve never used one. I'm not really interested in calling the dead. The closest experience I ever had to something like it, was my first tarot reading, with the same girl who wanted to take my name home in her backpack. My best friend and I went to her house one day in the summer break, and her best friend, another black-dressing fan of the occult, was also there. They were both nice, friendly and funny girls, and we all got on well at school. The four of us sat on the floor of her room, in her very beige, very minimal home. She was the utter antithesis of this place. She wore smudged kajal, hid her face with two long strands of jet-black, loosed hair, and the atmosphere felt to me as if all the air had been sucked from the room. I shouldn't be doing this. This will be bad. She did a reading for me, and said that there was going to be a huge separation in a long-term friendship sometime in the near future. I looked at my best friend, the shock and fear on her face mirroring my own. 'No way. Not going to happen.' We made our excuses and left. Not long after this incident, our friendship did indeed end, and on my terms – an agonising but vital thing. The anguish of such a severance affirmed my parents warnings of how bad an idea it was to entertain the dark stuff.
Maybe I could see that path because of what the cards showed me. Maybe there was a sense of inevitability that helped me to see how I could take that freeing step. Or maybe that day was what conjured the malignancy which eventually put the nail in the coffin. Who's to say.
I appreciate there are various shades to this thing we call magic, and my being seems to align closest with pagan beliefs and rituals, and the wheel of the year. The connection I feel to the plants, the sea, rocks and stars. The energy between us all, the threads of connection and the tangible, silky thinness of the autumn gloaming.
My knowledge of various magics doesn't cover much ground (astrology for example is something I feel connected to, but I don't know much beyond my own sun sign, with occasional peeks at my natal chart.) I will articulate more a feeling or an observation, and more often find out later through others' shared experiences, that it can be connected to older Pagan and Celtic practises and beliefs.
I found my way back to this playful magic when I started pursue to my authentic self after a brutal, life-altering burnout seven years ago years ago, which saw me pack in my PR job and go rogue as a writer. Still healing, I set up a co-working group for writers, quite a few of whom used tarot cards both personally and as inspiration tools for writing. I was open to whatever energy the universe wanted to send my way, and was embarking on taking action towards the dream of being a writer, so I did a few readings. I felt pleased when they were not only positive, but incredibly insightful. More than that, I came to see that they could be helpful in showing me my deeper feelings about certain topics, and how I wanted my path to go.
Any cards, be it tarot or oracle, give us an opportunity to re-calibrate our compass as often as required, and to redirect our actions to align with our truth, our desires and needs.
This deep time between Christmas and the end of January is often where I find myself most called to do a reading. I don't have my own Tarot deck, I use two oracle decks – Starseed, for when I feel possible and I want to feel space, or to take big leaps forward; and Spirit Animal Wisdom, for when I need comfort, wisdom, reason, and soul-truth. The Animal cards reveal a lot about where my needs aren't being met and my energy expended too far, and the Starseeds show me where I still want to go, where I've not yet taken steps. The Starseeds deck has it’s own mythology system, which I don’t use, but I can understand that it might be particularly helpful to those who seek a connection to deities rather than simply the mirror the cards hold up to us, the questions they ask, and the energetic pulse of listening to our own intuition.
It's something about the thinness between day and night, the long, dark days and the cooried-up warmth of candles, blankets, thick woolly socks, twinkle lights, and the glow of the windows around me in the neighbourhood; folk all snuggled up like me, that makes me feel safe, secure and part of a community. It's a natural time to want to dive deep. Not least because the wheel has reached it's end and is beginning again.
Who ever said reflection and listening to your inner voice wasn't helpful? I can honestly say I'm so deeply grateful to get to know myself more deeply every time I do a reading. Often I share what I learn with friends, and we talk about what the cards have helped us to see – whether it's something lacking in a relationship, or in work, or a deep want for something that we think is unattainable, or a confirmation of an inkling we've had for some time. There's validation, connection, introspection and a strong awareness of self that's garnered from the relationship we build with these cards, the images on them, the messages they carry.
It's been a few years now that I've referred to myself as a witch. Fellow witches know what this means. You get the knowing nod, the silent acknowledgement of a kindred spirit. I was told by two people on separate occasions, years apart, that I'm a white witch. It gave me permission to entertain the notion that spirituality can exist outwith the realms of religious doctrine, rather, be a playful patchwork or pick-and-mix of various practices that resonate. I've been an atheist since I was eighteen… but I've always intuitively used aromatherapy for healing, meditation for rest, movement for wellbeing, and breathing for connection to myself. I've intuitively lit candles in the dark, uttered soft incantations under the stars, made bowls of steaming saltwater with offerings from my walks, or my herb and spice store.
Sometimes I go months without doing anything, I dip in and out. Usually the dipping out is distraction, and coming back is coming home again.
I did a starseed reading on New Year’s day, which resonated deeply. The cards asked me to think about what I need to let go of, and how to relinquish control and the fears that keep me wound tight. I journaled my responses and formed a pretty clear intention for the year. A couple of days ago, I felt the urge to pull from the spirit animal deck, which invited some questions about more immediate actions, around healing deep, lifelong wounds, finding connection through water, and building community.
The cards told me in short, go to the water, let go, and bring your kin-folk with you.
After three years of the hardest trauma, burnout and loss, as a carer and an activist, my body-mind is asking me to re-center on myself, my physical body, and the friends I feel deepest connections with.
And I Listen.
I’m so grateful to have found other people like me, who are neurodivergent, who are sloughing off layers of trauma into the freezing sea, re-birthing in this mid-part of life with all the messiness and stress it brings. Writers and creatives, beautiful glinting souls, young stars in the cosmic nebula of life. No longer fearful, ashamed, or tired of who they are and how the world has treated them.
We are gathering. Resurging.
This year is so much about letting go.
Essential.
Survival.
There will be many steps to take, but I resolve to be unafraid, to leave my heart open, and to honour the sacred connection with this wondrous earth, as I heal the oldest, deepest wounds.
Thank you for reading this and for being here on this expedition with me.
If this chimes with your soul I’d love to hear from you in the comments below xx
I really enjoyed this one, and how similar my desk looks to your picture as I read hehe. I like that you described coming back to magic and introspection as coming home from distraction, I know that feeling well. I can find that in the water, in the earth, and in the quietest moments of yoga. I'd love to read more about magic and witchy things from your perspective. Thanks for sharing!
I was drawn to ‘witchy’ things too (perhaps as a reaction to a traumatic encounter with evangelical Christians in my teens). I had a wonderful friend who was a white witch as part of her daily existence and she opened my eyes to the comfort and insight of the Tarot. I still do a spread every new year with another good friend on zoom as we live miles apart and this year in our spiritual transformation pavement we BOTH got the Empress! What are the chances?! I love feeling part of some ongoing mythical relationship with the cosmos. You’re certainly not alone!