Pagan

Witchfire for the Full Moon at Samhain

The year turns and the dark leans in. Samhain asks for clean work and honest power. This is a good time to speak plainly about Witchfire.

By Witchfire I mean the inner current a witch raises and directs. It is not a literal flame. It is will, breath, and spirit gathered into one stream and put to work. When it rises, practice feels steady and exact. When it slips, everything thins out. The body knows the difference. Some feel warmth in the chest or hands, others a fine tingling along the spine, and others a cool bright pressure behind the eyes. Breath slows. Attention sharpens. The aim and the body line up.

Raising Witchfire is simple. Sit or stand with your spine easy and your jaw loose. Breathe in to a quiet count of four and out to a quiet count of six, three cycles. Speak one sentence about the result you are after. Say it once and mean it. Wake a little rhythm in the body: rub your palms, tap your heel, drum the table. Then go still and notice the moment when your attention comes into one piece. That shift is the first rise of Witchfire.

Holding and shaping it is also simple. Give the current a home and a job. A candle can be a hearth. A cauldron of sand, an iron key, a length of cord, a mirror, or the circle itself can hold it just as well. Keep the aim to one clear line. Bring the power up with breath or chant, then release it into the vessel or act that fits the work. When you are done, close clean. Thank what you called, release what should go, and seal the space. Ground with food and warm water, and rest your senses.

Here are three ways to bring Witchfire into practice at Samhain. Choose the one that suits your house and your tools.

Iron and Salt. Set a small dish of salt on the altar and place an iron key or nail in your palm. Breathe the way I described above and speak your single sentence into the iron. Stand the iron in the salt and let your hands grow warm or bright with focus. On a long, steady exhale, pour the current into iron and salt and say, quietly, that it is held and working. When you are ready to end, cover the iron with a bit more salt and say that it is seen and sealed. This is a dry, steady way to work in a small space.

The Witchfire Candle. If flame speaks to you, set one candle in a safe holder or in sand. Settle your breath, name your aim once, and trace a small circle above the wick as you whisper that this light will answer yours. Light the candle and, on the next few exhales, press the inner heat into the flame. Hold your hands near it and feel the link take. When the working rests, snuff the light and tell it to rest while the work continues.

Cord and Breath. Take a length of red or black cord in both hands. Breathe to four and six and speak your aim. With each inhale, feel the current rise from chest to hands. With each exhale, feed that current into the cord. After several breaths you will feel the cord wake in your grip. Tie a simple overhand knot to anchor what you have set. Wear the cord for a time, or lay it across the altar. When it has done its job, untie the knot, breathe once, and tell it the work is done and grounded.

If you lead a group at Samhain, consider a short call and answer to raise Witchfire together. Keep it spare. A leader calls “Fire of will,” the circle answers “Rise and be ready,” repeated a handful of times until the current stands up in the room. Move it into the shared vessel or act without hurry. Close well.

Samhain can stir memory and strong feeling. Work within your limits. If you become lightheaded, slow down, sit, and breathe. Eat something warm afterward. Sleep on the results before making large decisions. Write what you felt and what you saw, especially the first clear image or phrase that rose when the power came up. Over time your body will learn its own signs and your hands will know which vessel suits which task.

Samhain invites honest work. Witchfire is the power that makes that work real. Raise it with breath. Give it a clear job. House it in something that suits your hand and your house. Close well and eat. That is enough.

Blessed be.

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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?

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:

  1. Knowledge – The gathering of lore, theory, tools, and stories. Books and breath.
  2. Experience – The doing. The failed spells. The moments of awe. The nights of doubt.
  3. Actualization – The integration. When the witch no longer works the spell, but becomes it.
  4. Wisdom – The still point. When discernment is sharper than desire.
  5. 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?

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.

The Time of Apophis – A Witch’s Warning

I was warned.

It began more than twenty-five years ago, in a small living room thick with incense and shadow. The five of us sat cross-legged on the floor, chanting our invocation. My Priestess, Lady Teara, veiled and still, opened herself, and as the breath left her body, the Crone stepped in.

Her voice came low and dry, ancient as dust and bone.

“There will come a time,
of fire, famine, and war.
A time of great unmaking.
And you must be ready.”

I didn’t know it then, but that was the first time I heard the breath of Apophis coiling through the veil.

The warning returned, again and again, over the years. In dreams. In trance. In ritual.

The Crone came to me in different faces, sometimes as the Morrigan, sometimes cloaked and nameless. The only date she ever gave, spoken again through Lady Teara’s voice: “In twenty-five years.”

She never offered comfort. Just the knowing. Just the echo: Prepare.

And the gods of war began to stir.

Ares stood at the edge of my dreams, shield gleaming red. Tyr raised his stump of justice. Sekhmet’s eyes burned with plague and righteous flame. The Morrigan gathered her tribes, feathers blacker than the void between stars.

The war gods are walking again.
And they are not quiet.

We Were Told, But We Forgot

We thought the fire would come all at once. We imagined mushroom clouds, not slow-burn collapse.
But chaos rarely screams.
It whispers, through storm and flood, through smoke-blackened skies, through laws twisted into weapons against the people they once claimed to serve.

We saw the signs.

The Earth cried out, forests burning, oceans warming and rising, storms of untold strength, animals fleeing from lands gone silent. The people fractured, turning on each other, fed lie after lie until truth was drowned beneath spectacle.

Empires teetered.
Masks fell.
And still, we looked away.

But witches, real witches, do not look away.

We listen.
We feel the bones of the world humming underfoot.
And we know.

In 2015, I sat with a beloved friend and oracle. Together, we spoke again with the Morrigan.

She warned us once more, this time, more urgently.

A threat from the Great Bear.
A war that would begin in the early spring.
And something else: the rising of a name barely spoken for centuries, an obscure Egyptian deity suddenly surfacing in books, conversations, and even visions within our own circles.

Then, in late February of 2022, the war in Ukraine began.

The Morrigan had whispered: a time of chaos was at hand.
The time of Apophis had arrived.

Who Is Apophis?

Apophis, Apep, is not the devil.
He is not evil in the moralistic sense.
He is unmaking. He is entropy. He is dissolution.

He is what comes when truth collapses, when order fractures, when the center no longer holds.

In the stories of ancient Kemet, Apophis is the serpent of chaos, rising from the abyss each night to devour the solar barque of Ra.
He is not a creature of one strike, but of endless return.
Even if defeated, he comes again. Always.

He is the force that whispers:

“Nothing is real. Nothing matters. Burn it all down.”

Apophis unravels by lies.
He devours not only the sun, but the mind.
Confusion is his mist.
Division is his weapon.

He rises in propaganda, in conspiracy, in the algorithmic storm of a thousand half-truths.
He does not need to be believed, only to be repeated.
His power lies in erosion.
He wears down faith, coherence, meaning.

He comes when Ma’at, the principle of balance, truth, and justice, is weakened.

And make no mistake: Ma’at is bleeding.

Apophis slithers through every unchecked greed, every broken promise, every law twisted to serve power instead of people.
He delights when the people are too tired to care.
When cynicism replaces vision.
When witches forget their oaths to truth and become influencers instead of initiates.

This is not a bedtime tale.
This is the mirror we must not turn away from.

We are not living in Revelation.
We are living in the age of the Great Unbinding.

And yet, Ra still sails.
The sun still rises.

Not because the serpent is slain once and for all,
but because each night, someone stands to fight.

Let that someone be you.

The Witch’s Role

We were not born into this time by accident.

I believe this with all my soul: witches are not tourists in the age of collapse.
We are the ones who light the way through it.

We are threshold-walkers.
Grief-bearers.
Justice-callers.
And when the world frays, we do not run.
We weave.

We do not worship Apophis.
But we name him.
Not to glorify the serpent, but to understand the shape of the battle.

This is a spiritual war.
But not the kind preached from pulpits.

This is a war of forgetting vs. remembering.
Of greed vs. generosity.
Of silence vs. song.

It is a war for the soul of the Earth.
And it is being fought in courts and forests, kitchens and dreams.

Our ancestors knew how to survive collapse.
Their bones still remember.

So must we.

What You Must Do

  • Prepare. Truly. Learn to live with less. Store what you need. Know your neighbors.
  • Build your circles. Magical and mundane. No one survives alone.
  • Work your shadow. Do not bring your unhealed poison into the world. That is how tyrants are born.
  • Hone your gifts. Second sight. Word-craft. Protection. Conjuring joy.
  • Shield the vulnerable. Speak truth, even when your voice shakes.

And remember:

This is not the end.
This is the unraveling before the weave begins again.

This is the death throes of empire and patriarchy,
a last gasping grasp to hold power through fear and force.

But from this collapse, something else may rise.
Not dominion, but balance.
Not hierarchy, but wholeness.
A world where the sacred is not hoarded, but shared.

The Crone does not come only to destroy.
She comes to clear the way for rebirth.

The Mirror and the Flame

When the veil thins and the nights stretch long, I sit in ritual and I remember her words.

I remember the war gods watching.

And I remember: even Apophis cannot stop the sunrise.

I do not fear the dark.
I was made for it.

And if you’re reading this, so were you.

The serpent rises.

Let us rise higher.

Shadows of Our Ancestors

The limbs that move, the eyes that see,

These are not entirely me;

Dead men and women helped to shape,

The mold that I do not escape;

The words I speak, the written line, these

Are not uniquely mine.

For in my heart and in my will, old

Ancestors are warring still,

Celt, Roman, Saxon and all the dead, from

Whose rich blood my veins are fed,

In aspect, gesture, voices, tone, flesh of

My flesh, bone of my bone;

In fields they tilled, I plow the sod, I walk

The mountain paths they trod;

Around my daily steps arise – the good,

The bad – those I comprise.

Richard Rolle 1300- 1349

 

It was five years ago now, when sixteen witches from a then amazing community came together to create what would be the most memorable Samhain of my life. We were hosting for the Orlando Pagan Collective, a public Samhain and Witches Ball. I speak of it now, because it’s message resonates with the energies of today, the racism, sexism, religious intolerance, lack of empathy, hatred but most of all of fear. “Shadows” most simply is “The Burning Times”, it was inspired and guided by two Goddesses ( My Lady Arianrhod and My Lady The Morrighan), and included beautiful invocations by Lady Lionrhod, two songs from some renowned artists and the input, love and hard work of some truly inspiring people. We worked on this in practice for more than six months, with the entirety of the 30 pages of it memorized. Not work you see too often any longer.

 

The Intent of “Shadows” was to give us a moment of what it was like for our ancestors during this time of chaos and terror.   We found that even in those darkest of moments when all hope should have been lost, that they found peace and were able to move past what was done to them. It also gave us a glimpse into the thoughts, prejudices and fears of their accusers, torturers and even those who sat silent. We realized that we all have those same feelings. From Murderer to victim we can both be controlled and paralyzed by them. “Shadows” was an amazing working in self transformation. It was about recognizing all those things within us and letting them go. It was about freeing ourselves by giving us permission to move past the pain and by forgiving not only those we felt had done these terrible things to us, but also forgiving ourselves. Forgiveness for our own terrible thoughts, feelings and fears, forgiveness who the things we had done as well as for those we have not. In truth it is powerful magick.

 

I do not share my ritual work publicly, however, given the current energies in the world today, I felt it was time to share excepts of “Shadows”. I will apologize ahead of time, the actual meditation which contained the largest part of the working is not in print. In my practice, all meditations are channeled, so the perspective of those who were accusers, torturers, who were silent; will not be included. I leave it to you to take the time, to seek the Gods for those. I urge you to do so. It can be life changing. I will be sharing the Invocations and some the stories and songs used in the ritual. I hope that it inspires your own inner discourses and helps fuel your inner transformation.

May the Blessings of Samhain Be Yours

Nyt

 

Shadow of Our Ancestors 

The Invocations

(A Word on these invocations, they are written from the perspective of a witch on the eve of their death, as they call out to an aspect of the God/dess. There are eight of them; Maiden & Lover, Father & Mother, Matron & Warrior, Hunter & Crone.)

 

Lover God Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the river and the drowning awaits you.

Invoker: (on his knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

God, Lover I call upon you,

You who are the flute in the meadow

And the sap rising in the trees

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Lover: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my son, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the loving expression of your adoration.

Invoker: (rises to his feet and to god pose)

You who are the wind whispering joy and the song of lovers moaning

You who are the grain rising to the face of the Sun and the brook babbling passion, forsake me not.

Lover: I am with you, now and forever.

Maiden Goddess Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the stones await you.

Invoker: (on her knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lady, Maiden I call upon you,

You who are the beauty of the green earth

And the crescent moon among the stars

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Maiden: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my daughter, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the loving expression of your joy.

Invoker: (rises to her feet and to goddess pose)

You who are the seeds springing from the land and the song of children’s voices

You who are the sound of the lark and thrill of my own maidenhood, forsake me not.

Maiden: I am with you, now and forever.

Father God Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the rope awaits you.

Invoker: (on his knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lord, Father I call upon you,

You who are the windswept sky

And the mountains we seek to attain

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Father: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my son, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the loving expression of your encompassing heart.

Invoker: (rises to his feet and to god pose)

You who are the tide of noon, bringing fullness to my power

You who are the wise one, teacher of lessons and mysteries, forsake me not.

Father: I am with you, now and forever.

Mother Goddess Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the fires await you.

Invoker: (on her knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lady, Mother I call upon you,

You who are the cauldron of passion

And the blazing heart eternal of the Earth

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Mother: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my daughter, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the loving expression of your enfolding heart.

Invoker: (rises to her feet and to goddess pose)

You who are the full moon whispering magick and the power of creation

You who are the flow of lava that gives birth to land, forsake me not.

Mother: I am with you, now and forever.

 

Warrior God Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the fire awaits you.

Invoker: (on his knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lord, Warrior I call upon you,

You who are the raging fire-swept prairie

The fields of conquest razed by sword

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Warrior: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my son, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the conquest of passing your limitation.

Invoker: (rises to his feet and to god pose)

You who are the Sunset-warrior, champion of the just

You who are the leader who guides me to victory, forsake me not.

Warrior: I am with you, now and forever.

Matron Goddess Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the rope awaits you.

Invoker: (on her knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lady, Matron I call upon you,

You who are the She-Wolf guarding your sister’s pups

And the wise pruner of the orchards

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Matron: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my daughter, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the ways that you guide and prune.

Invoker: (rises to her feet and to goddess pose)

You who are the whispering wind that knocks the dead leaves to earth

You who separate wheat from chaff, forsake me not.

Matron: I am with you, now and forever.

Hunter God Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the stones await you and will press you flat.

Invoker: (on his knees)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lord, Hunter I call upon you,

You who are the dolmen door we all fear to pass

The heart of mystery we yearn for and deplore

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Hunter: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my son, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in your trust as you reach beyond the veil.

Invoker: (rises to his feet and to god pose)

You who are the Rider between death and birth

You who are the shaman who opens the door to mystery.

Hunter: I am with you, now and forever.

Crone Goddess Invocation:

Jailor: Go to your cell. Fall to your knees and pray. For tomorrow the drowning awaits you.

Invoker: Nay! My old bones will not take me there! Nor does the Lady of All expect her worshippers to meet her as a supplicant!

Jailor: Silence witch!

Invoker: I will not be silent! I will harangue you till I am a ghost! For as I call upon my gods they WILL answer!

Invoker: (Laughs) False gods, they are not. Indeed, they are Living Gods! Gods of the green earth, the magick and mystery of Life itself! Beginnings and endings! I curse you with it! In a day when your name is forgotten, the gods of the Old Ones and the Old names will rise and be remembered! And they shall live again, in the spirits of their children who remember them and their old ways.

Invoker: (seated on a sack)

From the depths of this, my prison cell, my last home on this Earth,

Lady, Crone I call upon you,

You who are the tomb and womb of our bones

The cauldron of eternity to whom we return in every life

I invoke you.

Be with me in my hour of need.

Crone: (standing before the prisoner and stretching out a hand)

My children do not call me on bended knee. Stand tall, my daughter, and have faith,

For I ask naught of sacrifice. And that done onto you in this earth does not reach the Spirit Eternal except in the ways that you transform those about you. I am the beginning and the end.

Invoker: (rises to her feet and to goddess pose)

You who are the ice that freezes us to the shape we create for ourselves

You who are beginning and end, a new possibility, a new chance, forsake me not.

Crone: I am with you, now and forever.

All Aspects: We are with you, now and forever.

 

The Stories of the Elements

(These stories were told by our elemental invokers from the perspective of each element)

Air

I am Air and you are my beloved child Ursula Kemp. In 1582 you were a cunning woman and midwife. You were renowned in your home of Chelmsford, England, for helping cure various ailments and sicknesses. However, it was a former friend, whose son refused to pay for you meger services, yet took them instead, and became no better. That proved your undoing. For then the family stood staunchly against you and complained to the magistrate. First for his lameness, and then for other accidents which befell them. A lifetime of work, undone by a miser. Under torture you confessed. Your last breath was drawn into me, from the hangman’s noose. So my child in 1582. I took you from the pain and anguish that men visit upon one another in their ignorance and hatred. You find rest within the soft whispering breezes of my cradle. I am Air and you are my beloved child Ursula Kemp.

 

Fire

I am Fire and you are my beloved child Johannes Junius. In 1628 you were the Mayor of Bamburg, Germany, when the witch craze enveloped your area. You had been Mayor since 1608, a fine upstanding citizen of your community, with love of your neighbors and family foremost in your heart. You were implicated by other victims, shortly after the execution of your wife. You held out against your accusers after almost a week under torture. I forget not your letter to your daughter.

“Many hundred- thousand good night’s, dearly beloved daughter Veronica. Innocent I have come into prison, innocent I have been tortured and innocent I must die. For whoever comes into this witch prison must become a witch or be tortured until he invents something out of his head. Dear child, keep this letter secret so that people do not find it, else I shall be tortured most piteously and the jailers will be beheaded. So strictly is it forbidden. Good night, for your father Johannes Junius will never see you more. So my child on August 6, 1628, I swelled with indignation and flared brightly, drawing you from the pain and anguish that men visit upon one another in their ignorance and hatred and you find rest within the warmth of my embrace. I am Fire and you are my beloved child Johannes Junius.

 

Water

I am Water and you are my beloved child Kristy Bamu. It was Christmas in 2010, when you are your four siblings went to visit your sister in London. It must have been a welcome and exciting trip, coming from your home in France. Your family had moved around somewhat, originally coming from the Congo. Life is full of promise for a young healthy teen boy. I am sure you felt that way. Shortly after arriving at your sister’s home, her mate Eric Bikubi, accused you and your sisters of witchcraft. It is not uncommon, in the Congo, where you all come from. He became more and more obsessed with witchcraft, and the torture began. There were more than 101 injuries covered with deep cuts and bruises. An armory of weapons were found, after you had been dragged in to the bathroom and placed clothed into the bath. You had pleaded forgiveness repeatedly, to no avail. And finally, you were asked if you wanted to die. “Yes, I want to die.” So, my child December 25, 2010. My water surrounded you and I took you from the pain and anguish that men visit upon one another in their ignorance and hatred and you find rest within my arms. I am water and you are my beloved child Kristy Bamu.

 

Earth

I am Earth and you are my beloved child Giles Corey. In life, you were a farmer and a member of the community of Salem Massachusetts. You devoted your life to your home and family. Age and work weather a man, and as an elder in your community you were hard and stubborn. You were not afraid to speak your mind. On April 18, 1692, you were arrested for witchcraft. You had seen those who came before you, including Martha your wife. As was your way, even under examination you refused to enter a plea. To do so would mean the loss of your property to the state on your death. As had been your life’s devotion family was most important. To force a plea from you, you were sentenced to pressing. On September 19, 1692, The Sherriff placed you naked between two boards, over the next two days places more boulders on top of you. They asked you three times to enter a plea, your last words to them were “more weight”. So my child I took you from the pain and anguish that men visit upon one another in their ignorance and hatred and you find rest within my womb. I am Earth and you are my beloved child Giles Corey.

 

Meditation

(Included in the meditation as spoken word, each a witch at the stake. This is a beautiful chant from Reclaiming, I believe)

Witch: Spirit of the Water, soothe away my anger, For, I am soon to leave here in great fear and pain. Surround me with thy beauty, if it please thee, That I may lose my fear of the flame.

Witch: Spirit of the Fire hear me when I cry, For I am soon to die, and leave a daughter to mourn. Let me burn brightly, if it please thee, That she might see my flame and be warned.

Witch: Spirit of the Air, lift my ashes, quietly, So high above that gathering, then let them fall again. And this shall be a sign, if it please thee, That I shall be returning, on the north wind.

Witch: Spirit of the Earth, I give my body to thee, Oh, let my bones, scattered, be among the growing things. And let the forest grow, if it please thee, O’er this place of death and suffering.

 

Chant

Where There is Fear there is Power

(This chant was used for our energy raising post meditation to actualize and what had done in our meditation, author unknown)

Where there’s fear there is power

Passion is the healer

Desire cracks open the gate

If you’re ready it’ll take you through

But nothing lasts forever

Time is the destroyer

The wheel turns again and again

Watch out, it’ll take you through

But nothing dies forever

Nature is the renewer

The wheel turns again and again

If you’re ready it’ll take you through.

 

As I had said these are just excerpts, my hopes again that they inspire you!

I do ask if you use them in any part, please credit them.

Blessings!

 

Credits:

The Photo is a Modern Burning in the 2000’s in the Middle East.

Invocations:  Lady Lionrhod

Elemental Stories:  Nyt ( based on true stories from current and historical research)

“Spirits”  The Reclaiming

Where There is Fear There is Power – unknown