Pop Culture Magick: Modern Myths and the Living Current

Pop culture magick isn’t about pretending you’re a Hogwarts student or cosplaying your way to power.

It’s about recognizing myth where it lives now, in the collective imagination, in symbols millions of minds are feeding every day, and in stories that carry emotional and archetypal weight, whether they’re ancient or streaming on Netflix.

What Is Pop Culture Magick?

Pop culture magick is the use of modern symbols, stories, characters, and worlds in magical practice.

At its best, it’s mythic hacking.
It’s working with what the collective subconscious is already charging.
It’s speaking in a language your inner child, your shadow, and your godself can all understand.

Why It Works (When It Does)

Pop culture magick works not because the fictional is real, but because:

Emotion charges energy. Stories that move you are already lit with power.
Belief creates patterns. Millions of people thinking about a character or concept creates a current.
Symbolism is alive. The archetypes in pop culture often mirror the oldest gods, dressed in modern skins.

Examples in Practice

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) as a vessel for chaos, grief, feminine power, and reality-bending, paralleling Inanna, Apophis, and the Witch of the Wyrd.
Darth Vader as a shadow archetype, used in banishing work or inner confrontation rituals.
The TARDIS from Doctor Who as a portable astral temple or psychopomp symbol.
Pokémon for servitor design and energy-anchoring via familiar motifs.
Anime characters as thoughtform-based allies in confidence, courage, or transformation spells.

Cautions & Considerations

Don’t confuse symbol with reality. Pop culture magick is symbolic animism, not a religion unto itself (unless you intentionally build it that way).
Avoid cultural theft. Working with Black Panther as an ancestral guide is not the same as reverently connecting to African traditional religions.
Mind the licensing gods. If you’re invoking Mickey Mouse, understand Disney is a thoughtform of control. Use with caution, or jester energy.

Pop Culture and the Witch Today

A modern witch is a myth-maker.
Pop culture is one of the deepest wells of myth available to us now.

To reject it entirely is to miss the heartbeat of this generation’s sacred stories.
To embrace it without discernment is to risk shallow roots.

But to work with it skillfully?
That’s evolution. That’s enchantment in motion.
That’s magick that walks through the world wearing today’s face.

Case Study: The Charm of Making – Voice as Spellcraft

In the 1981 film Excalibur, the Charm of Making is uttered in Old Irish, a phrase woven with mystery, cadence, and power:

“Anál nathrach, orth’ bháis’s bethad, do chél dénmha.”
(Serpent’s breath, charm of death and life, thy omen of making.)

For many, it’s just a dramatic line.
But in the hands of a witch, it becomes living resonance.

Experimental Use: The Dragon Current

In our tradition, we already work with the dragon as the symbol of the Universal Is, the raw, primal power that underlies creation. The breath of the dragon is not just a metaphor. It is the current of making and unmaking.

The Charm of Making, when spoken with correct tone, vibration, and intent, taps directly into that current.

With training, you can get it to sing through your body.
The spine becomes a flute.
The lungs become bellows.
The dragon wakes.

Why It Works

Archetypal Alignment: The Charm mirrors core themes, creation, destruction, breath, serpent, life-death-life.
Phonetic Magick: The phrase carries a sonic architecture that vibrates the body like mantra or galdr.
Emotional Imprint: For those moved by the film, the phrase already holds emotional and mythic charge.
Symbolic Echo: Linking the spoken charm to your dragon work creates resonance across time, self, and story.

Try This:

Speak the charm aloud in ritual tone.
Breathe into each word from belly to crown.
Visualize your spine as the dragon’s body, coiling and rising.
Let it activate, not just as a quote, but as a trigger phrase for your power.

Your Turn

What characters live in your bones?
What stories set your will ablaze?
What myths do you live by, whether ancient, comic, or cinematic?

The Witch Is a Choice: Myth, Memory, and the Making of the Craft

We live in a world that has forgotten how sacred choice is.

To be a witch is not simply to be born with “gifts,” or to feel a pull toward the stars, the bones, the wind. Those things may call you, but calling alone is not enough. Witchcraft is a path walked with intention. It is an act of remembrance. A rebellion. A devotion. And most of all, it is a choice.

The word witch carries centuries of shadow and fire. It has been used to condemn, to silence, to burn. But it has also been used, by those who survived, to reclaim power, to heal, to protect, and to create. The word has teeth and tenderness both. It is not aesthetic. It is not trend. It is an oath.

The Human Birthright

There is a deep truth we must say plainly: the abilities often attributed to witches, intuition, energy sensitivity, spiritual communication, healing touch, dreamwork, spellcraft, the shaping of reality, are not limited to a special few. These are human abilities.

Some of us may awaken to them more quickly. Some may be born into families that nurture them, honor them, or protect them through lineage. But no one is excluded from the birthright. Witchcraft is not elitist. It is not gatekept by bloodline alone.

Every human being has the capacity to sense, to shift, to speak with the unseen. But not every human chooses to walk that path. That is what sets the witch apart.

Remembered in the Blood – The Science of Our Magic

Science is beginning to explore what witches have always known: we carry more than DNA in our cells. We carry memory, emotional echoes, behavioral patterns, survival responses passed down through generations. This is epigenetics: the way trauma, instinct, and sensitivity to the world can be inherited.

So when you feel something stir within you at the sound of a chant, or find yourself dreaming in symbols you’ve never studied, you are not imagining it. You are remembering.

You are tapping into the reservoir of all those who came before you, the mothers who whispered over herbs, grandfathers who watched the stars, ancestors who reached toward mystery in their own language and time.

You are not more powerful than anyone else. But you are awake. You are listening. You are choosing to answer the call and take the next step with reverence.

The Path to Power – No Shortcuts, Only Steps

Power is not granted by aesthetic.

It is not found in a TikTok spell or bestowed by bloodline.

Power is a path. And like all true paths, it must be walked.

There are no shortcuts. The Craft demands evolution. The path unfolds like this:

Knowledge – gathering lore, tools, teachings, systems.
Experience – testing that knowledge in the world.
Understanding / Actualization / Integration – when the lessons become instinct, internalized within you.
Wisdom – knowing not only how to work, but when and most importantly why.
Power – the quiet, earned hum of alignment between will, purpose, and reality.

You must walk the path. There’s no other way. But each step deepens your roots, sharpens your senses, and strengthens your flame.

Initiation – The Threshold No One Crosses Unchanged

Witchcraft is a path of initiation, but it’s not always in the way people expect.

Yes, there are formal initiations. Ceremonies. Oaths. Lineage rites that pass power and wisdom from teacher to student. And these are real. They are sacred. They matter.

But the Craft also initiates in other ways. Through grief. Through fear. Through the long dark night of the soul. Through the moment when your old life breaks and something new demands to be born.

Initiation means crossing a threshold and knowing that you can’t go back.

The witch is not just someone who studies magic. The witch is someone who has been changed by it.

Alone and Together – The Witch in Solitude and Circle

Many witches begin alone. And there is beauty in that. Solitary practice teaches self-trust and deep listening.

But the Craft is not only solitary. It is also relational.

Historically, magic was communal, shared in kitchens, fields, hearths. Even today, something powerful happens when we gather: we witness each other. We challenge each other. We raise power together.

You don’t need a coven to be a witch. But you do need connection. Every flame needs a hearth. Even the solitary witch benefits from shared fire now and then.

More Than the West – Honoring the World’s Magic

This piece speaks from the perspective of Western witchcraft. But the magical traditions of humanity are vast, diverse, and sacred.

From African Diaspora lineages to Asian animism, from First Nations medicine to Oceanic spirit paths, there are many ways to know the unseen, to work with energy, to honor ancestors and spirits.

Witchcraft is one thread in a much larger tapestry.

We honor what we know, but we also honor what we do not practice. Respect means listening. Learning. And never pretending that all magic looks like ours.

The Witch in the World – Responsibility and Reckoning

The witch does not practice only for herself. She stands at the edge of the world. She sees what others ignore. She heals what others won’t touch.

Witchcraft is not a retreat from reality. It is a response to it.

We are called not just to manifest for ourselves, but to protect the sacred. To resist injustice. To carry forward the flame of remembrance, responsibility, and radical hope.

To be a witch is to hold power, and power must be tempered by purpose.

The Witch Is Not Her Hashtag – She Is the Diamond

In today’s world, you’ll hear: Green Witch. Cosmic Witch. Love Witch. Shadow Witch. And while these names may help express interest, they are not identities. They are facets, not separate stones.

There is only one Craft. One diamond, many glints.

Just as all gods may be facets of one divine diamond, so too are the many expressions of the witch simply different faces of a singular, sacred calling.

You are not just your favorite spell or element. You are the whole gem.

Witch, Sorcerer, Magician – Names with Purpose

Not all magical practitioners are witches. Some are ceremonial magicians. Some are sorcerers. Some are cunning folk, brujas, spirit workers, shaman or mystics.

These are not aesthetic differences, they’re structural. They point to different philosophies, systems, and goals.

Choose your name wisely. Let it reflect what you do and how you walk the path, not just what sounds cool.

The Roots and Rivers – What Shapes the Modern Craft

Modern witchcraft, especially in the West, is shaped by both folk magic and ceremonial systems.

The rituals many of us use, calling the quarters, using elemental tools, invoking planetary forces, were deeply influenced by Western occultism: the Golden Dawn, Thelema, Kabbalah, alchemy, Hermetic thought.

That doesn’t make them impure. It makes them known. And when we know where our tools come from, we can use them more powerfully.

You Cannot Read the Past with Modern Eyes

We often romanticize the ancient world. But we can’t lift ancient practices into modern life without understanding context.

Just as many modern Christians misread the Bible by applying today’s morals and assumptions to ancient Jewish texts, so too do witches sometimes claim antiquity without understanding it.

The truth is: we are revivalists. And that’s not a weakness, it’s a calling.

Taking Off the Rose-Colored Veil

We have wrapped witchcraft in myth, and that’s fine, if we know it’s myth.

But too often, we pretend.

We pretend we’re the unbroken line of ancient priestesses. That we know exactly what was done in Neolithic caves. That our symbols are untouched by history.

It’s time to stop pretending.

We are writing the myths now. Let’s write them with integrity. Let’s build something our descendants won’t have to rewrite.

Mystery Is Not Make-Believe

Witchcraft is a mystery tradition. But that doesn’t mean it’s a free-for-all.

Mystery requires training. A path. A framework. You don’t need a lineage to begin, but you need foundation, study, and respect.

Saying “I’m a witch because I feel magical” is like saying “I’m Catholic because I like Mary,” while knowing nothing of the Saints, Sacraments, or Stations.

Intuition is the start. Not the end.

The Craft deserves depth. And so do you.

What the Tools Really Do

Our tools are symbolic keys. They speak to the subconscious. They unlock ritual states. They help us focus, anchor, awaken.

The candle isn’t magic. You are.

The herb isn’t power. It’s a mirror.

The ritual isn’t theater. It’s alignment.

Tools are the outer shape of inner work. They awaken the part of you that remembers how to cast, how to call, how to become.

Ritual Is the Architecture of Change

Ritual is how we shift our state. It’s the scaffolding for the sacred.

Whether basic or advanced, every ritual has the same goal: to move us from mundane to magical. To align body, will, emotion, and spirit. To create coherence. And from that, to cast change into the world.

Embodied Craft – The Body Remembers What the Mind Forgets

Magic lives in the body. In breath, posture, movement, sensation.

Gesture is spell. Voice is vibration. Touch is energy.

Your body is not separate from your power; it is your power. It holds memories older than thought. It knows how to move energy. It knows how to anchor spirit.

To be a witch is to be fully in your body, not apart from it.

Sidebar: Common Myths About Witchcraft

Witches worship the devil.Most don’t. The devil is a Christian concept.
Witchcraft is anti-Christian.Not inherently. Some witches blend paths.
You have to be psychic or special.You have to practice. That’s it.
It’s all love and light.No. The path includes shadow, death, grief, truth.
You can manifest anything instantly.Magic is real—but it’s also work.

What Witchcraft Is

Witchcraft is not just a set of tools or spells. It’s a way of being in the world.

It’s conscious. Intentional. Ethical. Responsive.

It’s rooted in mystery, in training, in self-awareness.

It’s not escapism. It’s engagement.

It’s not ancient, but it is real.

It is yours to choose. And yours to carry forward.

Closing Invocation: The Witch’s Choice

I was not born in the mists of Avalon,

Nor raised in a hidden grove untouched by time.

I was born here,

In this fractured world, with its wires and noise and memory.

But something ancient stirred in me.

A voice. A dream. A name.

I remembered the path.

And then, I chose it.

I am not the heir of a perfect line.

I am the stitcher of remnants,

The singer of new songs in old tongues.

I am the witch, not by fate,

But by choice.

I know the myths I build,

And I build them with intention.

I name myself,

Not as one above,

But as one becoming.

I am the flame of many fires.

The facet of many truths.

The echo of ancestors, and the voice of what comes next.

I am witch.

And I am awake

“Constellations of Power”: The Witch Who Looked Up

Turning Toward the Stars After the Descent

“There comes a moment, after the threshold is crossed, when the only thing left to do is lift your head and look toward the stars.”

I have walked the edge with you. We have spoken of power, of the blade, of what it costs to be true. We have touched the Gate that speaks our names. And now… I find myself standing still beneath the sky, the silence wide, the breath of the world holding its pause.

Because the truth is this: the witch does not live only in the root and the shadow. We are not only made of bone and ash and blood.
We are made of starlight too.

For all our grounding, all our descent, there comes a moment in every path, especially after reckoning, when we must look up.
Not to escape.
But to remember.

The ancients looked to the stars to know when to plant and when to reap.
When to mourn and when to crown.
When to speak, and when to keep silent.
The stars were never distant; they were mirrors, messages, and maps.

And not just in myth.
In Egypt, temples were aligned to the heliacal rising of Sirius, the star associated with Isis, and the annual flood that replenished the land.
In Mesopotamia, priest-astronomers read the heavens for gods and kings alike, inscribing fate into tablets of clay.
And during the medieval period, across Europe, the Jewish diaspora, and the Islamic world, magicians and mystics cast their eyes skyward to guide their workings.
They used the stars not only to mark time but to open gates, call angels, conjure spirits, and calculate when fate might bend.
The grimoires and charts they left behind still whisper of planetary hours, zodiacal talismans, and the names of spirits written in the stars.

And older still, before writing, before empire, stone was carved and lifted to meet the sky: pyramids, circles, henges.
Even now, they stand like frozen prayers, aligned to the sun and the moon, to stars that still rise and fall in the old ways.

This is not new work.
It is ancient remembering.
And the Witch, too, must remember, not just how to root into the land, but how to lift the eyes to the stars.

What I am seeking now is rhythm.
The great wheel above the wheel.
A map made not of rules, but of relationships.
Not of commands, but of cosmic memory.

In the weeks to come, I’ll begin tracing those lines. Not as an astrologer, not in the language of ephemerides and aspects. But as a witch.
As one who walks with myth and mirror.
As one who asks: What stories do the stars still hold? And how do we remember them in the body, the breath, the spell?

You are invited to walk that path with me.

We’ve stood at the edge. Now we rise like flame and look toward the constellations.
The next spell begins above us.

Sidebar: Stargazers of the Sacred Arts

“Long before telescopes, there were watchers. Not scientists, but sorcerers, scribes, and seekers.”

Throughout history, the stars were not just measured, they were invoked.

In Egypt, temples were aligned to the heliacal rising of Sirius, sacred to Isis and the Nile’s fertility.

In Babylon, priest-astronomers recorded planetary movements as divine messages, every eclipse, omen; every conjunction, a sign from the gods.

During the medieval period, magicians across Europe, the Jewish diaspora, and the Islamic world wove celestial wisdom into spellcraft:

Jewish Kabbalists calculated planetary hours and invoked angelic intelligences.
Islamic mystics and scientists mapped the heavens with astonishing precision, preserving Hellenistic and Persian traditions.
European occultists like Picatrix and Agrippa built systems of planetary magic rooted in astrological timing, angelology, and spirit correspondences.

Their altars were aligned, their talismans engraved, their rites timed to the arc of the stars.

This was not superstition; it was cosmic engineering.
And it lives on in the Craft.

Walking the Edge – Part IV: The Gate That Speaks Your Name

A Guided Meditation to Meet the Guardian at the Threshold

Find a quiet place where the veil is thin,
between breaths, between heartbeats, between thoughts.
Sit with your spine tall and your body grounded.
Feel the weight of the world beneath you,
not as a burden,
but as the Earth remembering your name.

Close your eyes.

Breathe.

Let the breath spiral in.
Let it spiral out.
Like wind threading a labyrinth,
like the turning of a wand in your palm.

With each breath, you descend.

Down through the coils of your spine,
Down through the roots of your being.
The world above fades into silence.
You are walking the edge now.

You find yourself on a narrow path,
worn smooth by countless feet;
witches, seekers, visionaries, fools.
The mist curls around your ankles,
and the air hums with memory.

Before you rises a gate.

Not of iron or stone,
but made of something older,
woven from your choices, your pain, your longing.
It shimmers with the language of your soul.

This is the Gate That Speaks Your Name.

Approach it slowly.

Listen.
What does it whisper?

Is it a challenge? A riddle?
Does it call you by the name you give others,
or by the one you have never spoken aloud?

You reach out.
Your hand trembles. That’s all right.

Touch the gate.
Feel how it responds to your presence,
not as a stranger,
but as something that has always known you.

And then,

From the shadows beside the gate,
someone steps forward.

The Guardian.

This being is neither enemy nor friend,
but a force shaped in the forge of your becoming.

It may wear your face.
Or the face of your deepest fear.
Or something ancient, winged, shrouded, radiant.

Do not turn away.

Look into their eyes.

Ask them what they guard.
What they protect you from.
What they hold back until you are ready.

Listen.

This is the voice of the threshold.

When you are ready,
ask the Guardian:

“What must I become to pass?”

Let the answer rise like smoke in your mind.
Let it burn if it must.
Let it show you something true.

You may pass through the gate today.
Or not.
It does not matter.

You have stood before it.
You have heard your name.

And that… is the beginning.

Return now.

Return with the breath.
Return with the whisper of your name still echoing.
Return with the knowing that there is power in waiting,
and greater power in daring.

When you are ready,
open your eyes.

And write what you saw.

“Dancing with Apophis: Witchcraft in the Shadow of Mercury”

Lean into the Retrograde. Twist the signal. Cast in the static.

But what if the witch doesn’t cower from chaos?

We’ve all heard the warnings:
Don’t sign contracts.
Double-check your emails.
Brace for tech glitches and tangled words.
And above all, don’t cast spells in Mercury Retrograde.

What if we choose to slip into the spiraling signal, to conjure within the static, to ride the tail of the Serpent of Unmaking himself and rewrite the rules from inside the glitch?

Because this isn’t just Mercury Retrograde; this is a summoning. A signal jam. A psychic hack.
And witches? We were born to speak in backwards tongues.

Shadow Magic Isn’t Passive

The retrograde shadow isn’t a rest stop. It’s the first echo of a storm, and we get to decide if we’re going to build sandbags… or ride the flood.

Yes, it’s a time when things break.
When the ghosts of old conversations knock on the door.
When truths slip between lines of code, and timelines twist like threads in a loom too ancient to name.

But instead of just “working out our shit”…
What if we used the shadow to cast some?

Apophis: The Serpent of the Void

Apophis is the force that challenges Ra each night.
He is entropy, breakdown, the refusal to comply with order.

But that’s not inherently evil. That’s opportunity.
When the structures that constrain are cracking, make something else.

Let Mercury scramble your enemies’ messages.
Let the misfires and missed calls twist around those who would silence truth.
Turn every garbled signal into a ward.
Let every glitch become a gate.

In the Age of Illusions & “Alternative Facts”

We are living in a world built on constructed realities. Misinformation, gaslighting, deep fakes, the entire media-sphere is a labyrinth spun from half-truths and curated chaos. The public is drowning in a sea of “alternative facts,” where the signal is buried in the static. And guess what? That is exactly the terrain Mercury Retrograde thrives on.

This is our playground.

While the masses scramble to fact-check and re-establish “truth,” witches can speak in the language of distortion and projection. Let the unseen sophistication of illusion become our conduit. Where reality is scrambled, magic can float in and reroute the current.

Harness the fog: When every feed is saturated in contradiction, layer your own spells in the swirl. Broadcast misdirection to entangle the deceivers’ own webs.
Mirror their nonsense: In a realm of gaslighting, mirror the confusion back at their feet. Use verbal sigils that thread contradiction into their messaging machine. Let their own lies immobilize them.
Manifest digital chaos: Amplify their nonsense signals by embedding strong witchcraft into viral content. A meme laced with intent travels faster than logic ever could.

Mercury’s retrograde shadow amplifies distortion and confusion, and in that lies opportunity. The more the world splinters in illusions, the more we can engineer our own fractures in systems of control. It’s not about illuminating truth, but weaponizing uncertainty.

Chaos as Spellcraft

For Inspiration:

Write a sigil to cause confusion in systems of oppression. Encrypt it in code, scatter it across the web, tuck it into hashtags.
Mirror curse: take their own words and twist them back. Mercury’s reversal makes this ripe.
Communication tangle jars: use tangled string, broken circuits, reversed speech to bind the mouths of liars.
Digital spell bombs: memes, phrases, videos that carry intent. Stealth magick inside the info-stream.

Spell-Weaving Through the Unseen

Try this:

Gather a handful of printed headlines or social media screenshots of blatant alternative facts.
Carve a reversed sigil of chaos into an obsidian mirror.
Arrange your headlines in a spiral around the mirror, face down, source-side hidden.
Chant:
“Words untrue, fold back on you. Twist the lie into your own. Mirror shards, corruption spawn.”
Breathe into the spiral, visualizing each bit of misinformation fusing into a knot in the mirror’s surface, trapping distorted words within its glass.
Shatter the mirror safely once the chant ends. Let shards represent their tangled illusions splintered apart.

Retrograde is perfect for nonlinear, multidimensional craft.
Do it backward.
Do it in secret.
Do it through symbols and static.

Why This Works in Retrograde

Mercury Retrograde thrives on breakdowns in communication, lost emails, false signals, and scrambled truths. It is the age of illusion distilled. In this period, your reversal and redirection of falsity is amplified:

You channel the broken signal, twist it inward.
You refract lies into disarray, even lies themselves become traps in your mirror.
You reclaim illusion as sacred material, transforming chaos into a weapon.

The Witch as Disruptor

The witch was never meant to soothe the machine.
We are not here to play nicely with empire.

Mercury Retrograde doesn’t have to be feared.
It can be the time we become the signal jam.
The whisper in the wires.
The ghost in the code.

In this era of disinformation, the witch is no longer simply a truth-seeker. You are the architect of misdirection, the signal jammer. Let Mercury Retrograde heighten the world’s dissonance, and let your chaos be the next wave.

Lean in.
Break patterns.
Reverse spells.
Cast hexes that stutter and loop.

Let Apophis kiss your third eye.

This Mercury Retrograde… don’t just survive.
Hack it.
Curse it.
Dance in it.
And remember:
Chaos is not your enemy.
It is your native tongue.

Walking the Edge- Part III: A Witch’s Journey Through Power, Preparing the Vessel

Know Thyself

Before you can wield real power, you must become a vessel capable of holding it.

That sounds poetic, but it’s also literal. Power rushes through the body like fire, like song, like voltage. It cannot be held in a cracked and leaking cup. It requires inner scaffolding, ethics, discipline, clarity, and alignment, so it doesn’t simply burn through you and leave you empty.

And most of all, it requires this:
To hold power, you must know yourself.

Not the fantasy-self, not the spiritual persona, not the carefully curated mirror you show to the world. You must look unflinching into the truest mirror, the one that shows your capability and your shadow. Because power will not lie to you. And even if power did not, the spirits, gods, and adversaries you may face absolutely will not. They will press every weakness, amplify every doubt, and offer tempting shapes to your most hidden desires.

Knowing yourself is not a luxury. It is armor.

Ethical Grounding

You cannot walk the edge if you don’t know where the cliff is.

Ethical grounding is more than knowing right from wrong. It’s learning how to hold power without exploiting others, how to be feared without being cruel, how to lead without controlling. It’s also about boundaries: yours and theirs.

Witchcraft does not hand you a rulebook. It demands something far more difficult: discernment.

Ethics requires that we build our own moral compass. Unlike, many religions, which foist theirs onto their laity, assuming them incapable of doing so. Witchcraft requires your full participation. You must know yourself, examine your motives, and choose the values you will live by, even when no one is watching.

Only you can hold your mirror. Only you can choose your line in the sand.

I have watched many a witch do this work, and I can say honestly: they are some of the most moral people I have ever encountered in my life. Not because they were told what to believe, but because they chose, again and again, to align power with integrity.

In the Wild Blackthorn Tradition, power is a flame cupped between two hands: one is Will, the other is Ethics. Lose either, and the fire goes out, or turns wild and devours.

Psychic Hygiene

Witches are sensitive. That’s part of the gift. But sensitivity without sovereignty makes you a sponge, not a channel.

Psychic hygiene is the daily practice of clearing, shielding, and reclaiming your energy. Just as you wash your body and tend your home, you must cleanse your spirit. Not occasionally. Not only when things feel “off.” But as a habit. As devotion.

A simple daily practice:

Breathe deeply.
Call your energy home.
Visualize a cleansing light or elemental force (fire, wind, water) moving through you.
Expel what does not belong. Thank it, then release.
Seal yourself with light, symbols, breath, or intention.

Neglect this and you invite intrusion. Practice it, and your light becomes sharp—less buffet, more blade.

Even in the most formal ceremonial traditions, daily spiritual hygiene is non-negotiable. In systems like the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, new initiates (Neophytes) are encouraged to perform the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (LBRP) every day for a full year. This ritual clears unwanted influences, centers the self, invokes elemental guardians, and aligns the practitioner vibrationally with their highest purpose. It also builds confidence, discipline, and internalization.

It’s not the ritual itself that creates mastery; it’s the daily doing of it.

Whatever your path, the principle remains: cleanse, center, protect. Again and again. Power respects those who tend their temple.

Neglect this and you invite intrusion. Practice it, and your light becomes sharp, less buffet, more blade.

Shadow Integration

The edge will cut you if you’re afraid of your own darkness.

Every witch has a shadow. Power will expose it. That’s not failure,it’s an invitation.

Do you long to be adored? Feared? Vindicated? Do you still seek permission? Revenge? Are there wounds beneath your rituals?

Shadow work isn’t about banishing these parts of you. It’s about acknowledgment, integration, and transformation. You must be able to name your hungers before they name you. You must be able to say:
I know what I am capable of, both the holy and the terrifying.

This is the first armor. This is the mirror you must not break.

Embracing your shadow is not only an act of healing but also of creating wholeness. In this wholeness, we are no longer divided. Our power courses freely without obstacle, unblocked by shame or self-denial. This integration can make us more powerful than we ever dared to dream.

As the saying goes: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

Strengthening the Will

The Will is the blade of the Witch.

Discipline sharpens it. Desire drives it. Belief tempers it. But it is forged in fire, by choosing, again and again, to act from the deepest truth of who you are.

Ritual strengthens Will. Repetition carves paths in the mind. Every time you say the words, light the candle, cast the circle, you are reminding the world (and yourself): I choose. I shape. I remember.

You don’t need to feel ready. You need to begin.

The Guardian at the Threshold

There comes a point in every path of power when you meet the one who bars the gate.

Sometimes they appear in dreams. Sometimes as illness, fear, loss, or a sudden pull to abandon the Work entirely. They are not your enemy.

They are you. The part of you that remembers every failure, every trauma, every vow you made to stay small or safe or silent. They wear your face. They know your secrets.

But if you face them, not with violence, but with presence, they become the ally you didn’t know you needed. They test you because power will test you. If you cannot meet your own shadow and stand your ground, what will you do when a real force opposes you?

Next time, I will offer a guided meditation to meet the Guardian at the Threshold.

But for now…
Cleanse your altar.
Name your values.
Look into the mirror.
Feel your breath return to your body.
Strengthen the vessel.
And prepare to knock at the door.

Footnote:
The Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (LBRP) is a foundational ceremonial magic rite used to clear space, establish energetic boundaries, and invoke the archangels of the four quarters. Originating in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, it is widely practiced in Western esotericism and often recommended as a daily practice for beginners to build clarity, presence, and alignment.
A simplified instructional version can be found in:

Modern Magick by Donald Michael Kraig
The Middle Pillar by Israel Regardie
Or online: [Search “LBRP ritual text” or “LBRP walkthrough” for trusted resources]

Walking the Edge – Part II: The Fire Beneath the Thorn

A Witch’s Journey Through Power Series

There comes a moment in every witch’s path where the wind changes.

You are no longer simply learning. The spells you cast begin to ripple outward. Your words take on weight. People turn to you for insight, for healing, for justice. And the power you once touched with trembling hands begins to move through you with ease, sometimes unbidden.

This is not mastery.
This is the dangerous middle.

The Moment When Power Answers

In the beginning, power is something we reach for. We read, we train, we practice. We cast the same spell again and again, tweaking the moon phase or the herb blend, trying to catch the current just right.

But then… something shifts. A whisper moves through you, a knowing rises in your gut. The work deepens because you are becoming more refined.

Your aura takes on a gravity of its own. Ritual becomes less about calling and more about opening. Your presence stirs reaction, resonance, or resistance.

And with that shift, the world begins to test you.

The Ladder to True Power

We speak in the Wild Blackthorn Tradition of a progression; a ladder of fire, climbed not in haste but with care:

Knowledge – The gathering of lore, theory, tools, and stories. Books and breath.
Experience – The doing. The failed spells. The moments of awe. The nights of doubt.
Actualization – The integration. When the witch no longer works the spell, but becomes it.
Wisdom – The still point. When discernment is sharper than desire.
Power – Not the lightning. The conductor. The one who knows what to do with the storm.

This is not a linear journey. We rise and fall through these states. But when one tries to leap ahead, when power is seized without wisdom, when understanding blooms without humility, something fractures.

This is where obsession is born. And obsession is not power, it is power turned inward, festering.

The False Fire

There is a kind of power that masquerades as mastery. It is loud, impressive, and intoxicating. It commands attention. It often gets called “influence.”

But true power does not always shine. Sometimes it walks barefoot. Sometimes it bleeds. Sometimes it waits in silence until the moment is right.

Beware the gleam that demands your gaze. In magic, as in life, the brightest thing in the room is not always the most powerful. Sometimes, it is the trap.

The Peril of Outer Praise

Power wants to be witnessed. This is part of its nature—it radiates. But the desire to be seen as powerful is not the same as being powerful.

There is danger in chasing recognition before the soul is ready. In every tradition, we see those who begin to shine a little too early—and who then reshape their magic around being seen rather than becoming whole.

This happens in subtle ways:

We post a ritual and check for likes.
We speak in circle hoping for admiration, not alignment.
We wear our title louder than our integrity.

The desire for outer validation is often a mask for unworked insecurity. When we seek applause, it’s because some part of us doubts our worth, and would rather hear others say it than learn to believe it ourselves.

But this kind of validation feeds the wrong fire. It grows the ego, not the spirit.

And ego, once fed too long, becomes a hungry ghost, always needing more. It will whisper that you are wiser than your elders, more gifted than your peers, immune to correction. It will resist stillness. It will panic at silence.

This is not sovereignty. It is spiritual inflation.

The Witch’s power must rise from within, not depend on a mirror held up by others. Otherwise, when that mirror breaks, and it always does, we are shattered with it.

The Forge of Becoming

You must be tempered, Witch. And that tempering is never comfortable. There will be days when the magic feels like fire in your mouth. When your spirit aches from holding boundaries. When you are tempted to use the Craft for validation, revenge, or escape.

Those are the crossroads. Not whether you can cast, but why.

Power without ethics is violence.
Power without devotion is vanity.
Power without will is waste.
But power with all these? That is the mark of the Witch whole.

A Vision: The Path of Ash and Ember

Close your eyes and walk with me.

You stand at the edge of twilight on a mountain pass older than maps. The air is sharp with myrrh and woodsmoke, and beneath your feet, the stones are warm with something ancient, something watching.

To your right, the land falls away into a golden plain lit by sunset. A wide road stretches across it, paved with sigils and scattered with broken wands, dulled blades, and tarnished crowns. Here walked those who hungered for power, who cast great spells and gathered titles—but whose works crumbled for lack of root.

To your left, a narrow path coils upward into mist and shadow. It is hard going. The ground is uneven, the stones slick with old blood and weathered tears. Thorn branches clutch at your sleeves. Along the trail stand cairns, one for each who walked the path to its end. Some bear names carved in languages long dead. Others are unmarked, known only to the stars and the Gods.

Here and there you glimpse offerings: a braid of hair, a ring of iron, a tooth, a prayer etched in salt. These are the tools of the true initiate, not trophies, but sacrifices.

Then, from within the thicket of blackthorn to your left, a voice stirs. It is dry as wind, sharp as bone, and yet somehow your own:

“Will you carry the fire, or be consumed by it?”

The forge is not at the summit.
It is within the climb.

The Power of Restraint

The witch who knows their own limits, and tests them with intention, is already walking toward wisdom.

We must build not just spellcraft, but soulcraft.

Restraint is not weakness. Patience is not passivity. These are disciplines of the deep magician, who understands that a spell well-timed is worth a thousand flung in frenzy.

Power must be shaped, not hoarded.
It must serve something greater, or it will devour its bearer.

The Witch as Keeper of Fire

You are not here to burn the world down.

You are here to carry the ember forward.
To protect the spark.
To light the beacon when others are lost.
To warm. To forge. To cauterize.
To know when to let the fire die into coals… and when to breathe it back to life.

In Part III

In the next part of this journey, we will begin preparing the vessel:

Ethical grounding
Psychic hygiene
Shadow integration
Ritual techniques for strengthening will
And a meditation on the “Guardian at the Threshold.”

But for now, I leave you with this: What in you is still flammable?
And what in you has already survived the fire?

Witches in the Wild: Summer Solstice and the Digital Age of Magick

Navigating the Turning of the Wheel in the Digital Age

(This first appeared in the Litha 2025 issue of the CWPN (Connecticut Welcoming Pagan Network) lovingly reshared here.)

The sun stands at its apex, high in the sky, as the land shimmers with heat, the grasses are soft beneath your feet, and the forests are swollen and lush with foliage. It is the Summer Solstice, and in this beautiful golden moment on the longest day, our ancestors have gathered around the standing stones and sacred groves, leaping over the bonfires or leaving offerings at sacred wells. Indeed, this is what I love about witchcraft. The heady swell of energy from throwing myself into celebration. We are a set of spiritualities that demand full participation. We engage with nature, the universe, and each other.

In the digital age, many witches find themselves weaving their magick through fiber optic threads, pixels, and code as opposed to under open skies, clasping one another’s hands in sacred dance.

However, still the wild remains!

So, this Solstice, I invite you to consider what it means to be a wild witch in a wired world.

We live in a time of paradox, and honestly, one I am surprised to find myself in. Our technology connects us across vast distances, however, we still can feel isolated and alone. Algorithms feed us curated lives, while the land outside our door waits quietly, full of stories, spirits, and sun-warmed soil. We as witches, shapers of reality and walkers between words, are uniquely positioned to bridge this gap.

Fire was the first technology. With it, our ancestors could warm and feed themselves, they could transform an area or signal across long distances. Today, our “fire” is digital screens that glow in the night. Our messages flung great distances across the globe. Yet a fire is still a fire, and a spell still a spell. Cast in a forest or a coded digital sigil magick still resonates.

So, how do we stay wild? How do we still honor the sun, the land, and each other in this world of shifting code and exploding technology?

Here are a few suggestions for Solstice magick in the digital age:

Rise with the Sun, no phone, no feed, just you and the rising light. Whisper your intentions to the dawn.

Plant something, a real seed in real soil. Name it for a goal you wish to grow. Get your hands dirty!

Use tech as a tool, not a tether. Let your camera capture the Solstice firelight, then step away and dance in it.

Host a virtual ritual, gather witches from every time zone. The circle is flexible, the connection real.

Offer something analog, write a spell by hand. Craft a talisman. Bake bread. Touch the world.

The Summer Solstice is a moment to celebrate both radiance and responsibility. The Earth is alive. Our spirits are aflame. The digital world is not our enemy, but it must not become our cage.

Stay wild, witches.

Stand barefoot on the Earth.

Raise your hands to the sun.

Cast your circles with fiber and flame.

And remember: the real magic was never in the tools.

It’s in you.

If this reflection spoke to you—whether you’re dancing around a bonfire or casting spells through glowing screens—I invite you to stay connected.

Subscribe to the Wild Blackthorn newsletter for seasonal writings, rituals, and invitations to walk the edge with us.

Newletter

Stay wild. Stay lit. And remember: the real magic was never in the tools.
It’s in you.

The Edge and the Spiral, A Witch’s First Reckoning with Power

Power Begins at the Edge

The Witch’s First Reckoning with Risk, Growth, and the Call of the Spiral

Most of us begin the path of witchcraft with small, beautiful things.
A phase of the moon, an herb tucked under the pillow, a card drawn in curiosity.
A whisper, a candle flame, a sense that something more is possible.

These are good beginnings.
Gentle. Curious. Sacred in their own way.

But there comes a time, sometimes after years, sometimes overnight, when something shifts.
The dream becomes a hunger. The candlelight isn’t enough. You want more than spells that look pretty and rituals that feel safe.

This is where the edge appears.

The First Reckoning

There’s no flashing sign that says, Power this way.
Instead, there’s a tension in the chest. A feeling that what you’re doing isn’t wrong, but it isn’t enough, you could go deeper. Maybe it happens in ritual, when your voice shakes as you call the Goddess, and something answers back. Perhaps it’s in a dream, when you wake, sobbing with a name you’ve never heard still on your lips. Or it could be when the world cracks open; grief, love, illness, birth, and the veil thins without warning.

And suddenly, you know: This path is real.
And real means risk.

You are standing on the edge.
And something inside you is asking if you’ll step forward.

The Path Isn’t Straight, It Spirals

No one hands you a map for what comes next. You don’t become powerful all at once.
It doesn’t matter how many books you’ve read or how many tools you own.

Power unfolds in spirals.

You begin with knowledge; learning names, signs, symbols.
You move into experience; casting, contacting, stumbling, trying again.
You start to understand the deeper structures and the “why’s”
Then, sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once, you grow into wisdom.
And from that wisdom, you begin to touch true power.

You come back to the same ideas again and again, and each time, they meet you deeper. The moon isn’t just a phase. It becomes a mirror.
The spell isn’t just a charm. It becomes a choice.

And here’s the truth no one glamorizes:
The people who succeed at this path, the witches, the magicians, mystics and healers who truly grow, have failed more than most people have even dared to try.
They’ve stumbled. Been humbled. Risked. Gotten it wrong. Chosen again.

Every scar is a sign of movement.
Every mistake is part of the spiral.

Power Will Ask Something of You

This is the part few people say out loud.

Awakening isn’t always beautiful, it breaks things.

You might lose the version of yourself that always played small.
You might lose people who loved that version.

You’ll face your fears. Those of failure and of success.
And you’ll meet your shadow, one who is not the villain you fear, but a wounded protector.

Because here’s the truth:

We all have a dark side.
It is simply hidden, not evil. Built from old pain and forged in moments we had to survive.

If you repress it, ignore it, pretend it isn’t there, it will find its way out anyway.
And when it bursts free, it will do so without your consent, or your control.

But if you turn toward it, if you meet it, name it, embrace it, you begin to reclaim your full self.

Your shadow has shielded you.
It carried the weight you couldn’t bear at the time.
It knows your wounds and your power.

When you embrace it, when you do the slow, brave work of integration you don’t become less.

You become more.
More whole.
More honest.
More powerful than you ever imagined.

You Don’t Have to Be Ready

You don’t need to know everything.
You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t need a coven, a title, a perfect altar, or the current aesthetic.

You need one thing:
A willingness to keep going, to be reshaped, to listen deeply to yourself, to the land, to the gods.
A willingness to walk forward even when the path vanishes into mist.

Because power isn’t a destination.
It’s a devotion.
And it begins the moment you say:
Yes, I will walk.

A Note for the Ones Still Standing on the Edge

If you’re here, if you’re reading this…
If you’ve felt the edge under your feet and the pull of something deeper.

Then you’re already on the path.

The spiral has already begun.

So take one breath.
Take one step.
And trust that you are not alone. We’ve walked this way too.
And the road ahead, while steep, is full of wonder.

What Witches Can Do Now – Standing in the Time of Apophis

“The serpent rises. But we rise higher.”

The warnings have come. The old systems are trembling. This is a time of unraveling, but also one of choosing. Witches are not spectators to collapse. We are part of what must come next.

This path was never meant to be comfortable. We walk it to remember who we are and to stay close to the land and its spirits. Many of us have lived through fire and come through stronger. We’ve listened in silence long enough to know: “This isn’t the end.”

It’s the beginning. And we’re being called to show up.

So what do we do now?
We hold fast.
We cast when needed.
We protect those we love.
We remember what matters.
We begin again.

The Circle Is Not Just a Spell—It’s a Stronghold

There was a time when the circle was for celebration and communion. A space to speak with the gods, practice our craft, and welcome change.

Now, our circle becomes something more: they become bastions of protection, thrones of our sovereignty, centers of transformative power, a place to remember what is real.

The Witch’s Circle is not escape, it is reclamation.
It says: Within this space, truth lives. Within this space, I am whole. Within this space, the old ways still live in me and through me.

Cast your circle as often as you need to. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. Some days, a single candle is enough. Or a quiet moment to breathe and draw strength from the Earth. A simple phrase. A hand resting over your heart. A clear boundary spoken aloud: “Only truth may enter here.” This, too, is a shield.

Discernment Is a Sacred Art Now

Apophis doesn’t always come in an obvious way. Sometimes he looks like distortion, illusion, doubt, and misdirection.

We live in a world full of noise. Everyone’s talking, few are listening. Witches can’t afford to get swept up in it. We need to tune in differently. Not through blind belief, and not through constant skepticism, but with something deeper.

Discernment asks more of us. It’s a quiet skill, sharpened over time. It comes from checking in, using your tools and gifts, yes, but also questioning yourself honestly.

Try it:
Ask your deck what’s hidden, not just what’s ahead.
Use your mirror to reflect, not just for visions, but to show your choices.
Name the lies you’ve heard out loud, then name what you know to be real. Lies in repetition often drown what we know to be true.

It’s not always comfortable. But it’s sacred work.

The Web Must Be Woven Now, Not Later

If you’re alone, reach out. Don’t wait for the perfect time or the perfect group. Start with a message. Share tea or a small meal. Make space to speak.

A coven does not have to wear robes and chant in the woods. It is a place where we are safe to speak, to be seen. In many respects, our covens and small groups become family.

Witches know how to endure. We’ve practiced solitude. But this moment calls for more. Don’t try to weather everything alone. We need one another. Now more than ever.

And While You’re Building—Go Deeper

Some have stayed on the edge of this path too long. Lighting the same candles. Reading the same books. Always planning to go deeper, but never quite starting.

That time has passed.

Beginner practice is valid, but it’s no longer enough. Not with what’s unfolding around us. The gods are restless. The land is in pain. There’s no more room for hesitation.

This is the moment to learn more. To stretch yourself. To risk something and, in doing so, to grow in power.

Years ago, I was told I wasn’t ready. I stepped forward anyway. I built what I needed, found my footing, and completed what would become my first true Great Work. Not because I had approval, but because the fire wouldn’t wait. Every serious witch will reach that moment eventually. And if no elder has told you before, I will.

You have permission.

To leave the safe edge of things.

To take a step forward.

To push yourself in ways you had not imagined.

To begin building something real.

Magic was never safe. That’s not the point. But risk is where growth happens. It always has been.

That doesn’t mean being reckless. It means choosing the path of power, again and again. A path built on learning, effort, experience, and understanding. Power doesn’t come through force. It arrives quietly, when we’re ready to carry it. A culmination that brings wisdom.

A Simple Oath for Those Ready

If this speaks to you, speak it aloud. All you need is a flame, your breath, and a moment of truth.

The Oath

I wasn’t called to skim the surface.
I didn’t come here to play small.

I’m choosing to show up.
To learn what I need to.
To remember who I am.

I’m a Witch.
And I’m ready.

Light your candle. Touch the ground. Breathe. Say what’s true.