The pandemic has been surprising. Not just in the sense of the ripping away of any sort of certainty or the ongoing worry about becoming sick or someone I love becoming sick.
I didn’t realize how much I turned to community to motivate my magick. Whether it was being in a class, teaching a class, or participating in a ritual, I haven’t considered myself a solitary witch for a very long time.
But here I am.
And the gifts of this shift are continuing to emerge.
In the Beginning, There was Everything…and then Nothing(?)
If I look back at the way witchcraft entered my life, I can recall another series of unlikely events. I was studying other spiritualities, including intense energy work and Native American lodge teachings.
Then I turned to the internet on the very large desktop computer I spent way too much for.
Witchcraft, complete with songs that played the second you uploaded the website. (To be fair, I don’t think it was the songs that got me hooked. I mean, maybe. My twenties were a curious time.)
Anyway, I found some sites that described the kind of energy, the kind of MAGICK I wanted to have in my life, the way I was already thinking and living. The place I was supposed to be.
Then I wandered into a new age shop that I’d visited many times before, found a flyer that said a women’s Wiccan study group was forming — and thus began my coven.
But things happen. They always do. The coven went its separate ways. I have no idea where they are now.
I found myself as a solitary witch. And there, I had to motivate myself. I had to look at myself. No one else was doing what I was doing — or they weren’t talking about it. So, I had to figure out what worked for me.
This book, that book. The blue book, Spiral Dance.
From website to book to journal, into a large book of shadows that I rarely look at anymore. I created my own blend of what worked for me and what made sense.
There was a lot of sacred space making. Salt. Circle. Elements. Godds. I would go into a lot of trance states, sometimes with a purpose, sometimes with an open-ended question.
I would listen. I would be curious. And I always learned something.
I always uncovered something that I hadn’t expected.
Just from being open. Following the energy, following the intuition that said, “Why not try this?”
Following my own damn heart.
And never expecting or asking anyone to understand.
A witch alone is still a witch indeed.
Real Talk in Isolation
In the pandemic stillness of not planning a lot of classes or being out in the community doing this, that, or the other thing, everything got really quiet.
I have time to think. I have time to look at my practice, my values, and my relationships.
(I also have a LOT of time to think about the pandemic, its implications, how it’s impacted how I relate to people and…ill-reasoned thinking.)
Now, I won’t start a rant about whatever might be retrograde in the moment, but….
There’s something about this starlight shift that brings me back to what is important. The question that I’m playing with is: what makes me feel connected?
And I’m having a hard time answering that.
I’m heading back to my solitary practices: salt, sacred space, trance.
Gifts of the Pandemic
I’m heading back to the ways in which I can create places for myself to be curious.
I’m rebuilding the foundation in myself, the one that followed the energy, the one that moved her hips to the current moment.
The gifts of coming back to myself as the foundation of my magick, not as a dismissal of godds and beings and wonder and awe.
The gift of intuition. Stronger.
The gift of foresight. Clearer.
The gift of creativity. Wider.
The gift of connection. To myself first. To others.
In the quiet, I am also creating work that is aligned with the trueness of me. The me that I hadn’t realized was so swept up in the crowd. The loud.
In this pandemic, this shadowed time, this stretched-out, too-fast time, I invite you to listen to yourself. To come back to yourself if you have been missing.
(Even for five minutes a day. Or one.)
To remember that you are the foundation of your magick.
No matter what it looks like. No matter how it shifts and changes.
No matter if it is a strong wind or a gentle breeze.
And even if or as you miss the sweaty mess of community rituals, remember that you too are a gift to others. The more you can take the time to care for yourself, the more you will bring back to the circle.
We will hold hands again.
We will dance again.
We will forget what happens next in the ritual and we will screw up the Maypole again.
We will be together.
And let this time of being with ourselves be a blessing and balm too.
Also, if you want some additional resources to support you during this time, a collective of Moon Books authors (including me) put together a FREE ebook.
I wrote a piece about resilience.
(Okay, it’s 99p for folks in the UK. Apparently there’s nothing to be done about that.)
Here’s the link to “Weathering the Storm”: https://www.johnhuntpublishing.com/moon-books/our-books/weathering-storm?fbclid=IwAR2ylvVPvyO4QgvzgFlwSO15VQ1HhTzXsBToanenwK9Kksrr8RTP2ZGwlto