Once, my brother said to me, “I’m pretty sure the sound of the universe is just mom saying: you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”
And I’m pretty sure he’s right.
While this applies to every aspect of life, I was thinking about it concerning the “types” of witchcraft available to a person.
When I first started on the “left hand path,” I was eleven. (This isn’t really when I started, but when I found words to apply to what I did and believed.) I imagined my basement bedroom as a dungeon, and I decorated everything in sun, moon and stars shit. My mother bought me A Witch’s Book of Divination (because my mom is cool like that), and I propped that bitch open on my music stand and lit candles and felt witchy as all hell.
I would see photos of old-fashioned kitchens cluttered with bottles and jars and hanging herbs and I would think: that’s what real witchcraft looks like. I decided that, when I grew up and got my own kitchen, then I could be a real witch.
Fast forward 7 years and I surveyed the kitchen in my duplex. The light wasn’t warm enough and the floor was white tiles and the table I had was glass, not wood, and I knew this just wouldn’t work for being witchy.
A year later, I moved to another duplex that was a block from the cemetery where generations of my maternal family are buried. Ley lines converge there and the whole area is weird as fuck. By this time, I had decided that maybe “real” witchcraft was more of the Celtic variety. I needed lush greenery and damp abundance for witchcraft. Unfortunately, the Colorado ground was hard and dry and wasn’t good for growing shit. So I still couldn’t do “real” witchcraft.
During this time, the dead made constant contact. I had a very strange couple years there that were NOT GOOD for my mental health. When I found out I was pregnant, I decided that we needed to move.
We moved to a house right in the middle of the city. Sirens blared down the street at all hours, shootings at the apartment building at the end of the street, neighbors that couldn’t mind their fucking business. Well, this shit wouldn’t do for “real” witchcraft. The chaos outside became chaos inside the house and my own head as I had two children two years apart, and then discovered I was pregnant AGAIN about a year after having had my second.
My husband lost his job and we ended up desperately renting out our house and moving into my inlaws’ basement.
At the time, I thought my Magick had died.
Moving in with the kind of people they are and just having discovered I was yet again pregnant, my magick reawakened. I was mean and vengeful with it. In an attempt to get a handle on it, after I had the baby, I enrolled in yoga teacher training to try and find a better outlet. I tried here. I really did. But the culture surrounding the yoga was not conducive to magick in any way. I decided I must have been doing something wrong because I wasn’t like them at all, and yoga people are magickal, right? Right? Maybe “real” witchcraft wasn’t even witchcraft as much as it was rose quartz and dreamcatchers.
I call this time the Dark Time. My magick had become something to be feared rather than something I celebrated. I never left the windowless basement and a suicide hotline was called and it was just overall a bad fucking time.
Then one night, it unravelled. It was like an ego death, except that I’ve never used any drugs besides weed in my life. It was a Kundalini Awakening and an instant of Enlightenment and all of those other names used for the same thing. None of this exists and this is all that exists.
The next morning, I told my husband that I was leaving with or without him. We moved back into our house (which had been all but destroyed by the tenants).
Cramming together the pieces of my life and taking stock of what I now had, I discovered that I still had my magick. “Real” witchcraft was something that was going to have to wait because I had small children. We celebrated seasonal changes and started little traditions which, of course, wasn’t “real” witchcraft.
Finally, a few months ago, we bought a house in a rural area on an acre of land. I’m not going to lie: the kitchen’s witchy capabilities were what really sealed the deal.
Right away, I started to notice things about the house and land that would prevent me from doing “real” witchcraft. This shit is straight-up desert. Where’s the magick in that? And the animals and kids take up a lot of my time. How will I have time for witchcraft?
And then I realized:
It’s been witchcraft the whole time.
“Real” witchcraft is working with what you have and the land you’re on right this instant.