The Glue, the Grind, and the Thing We All Pretend We Don’t Need

(everything stated in this blog is based upon my own research, personal practice, and opinion)

So, picture this: Sicily… I attended a… oh wait.. that’s my inner Sophia… ummm… Back on track now.

I attended a dear friend’s workshop the other week, sipping bad coffee and half-listening, when he starts dropping the word devotion into the conversation like it’s seasoning, hell like it was the secret sauce…and damn it, he’s right.

Here’s the thing: we don’t like that word. Not in occult spaces. It feels sticky with church pews, rosary beads, and somebody’s grandma whisper-singing about Jesus. We’ll talk about power, hacking reality, and invoking gods with impossible names. But devotion? Everyone suddenly gets really quiet, like you suggested a group hug.

And yet… it’s devotion that keeps this whole circus from collapsing. Not the fancy robes, not the thousand-dollar crystal, not the edgy aesthetic that makes you look like you’re auditioning for a Netflix show. Devotion is the thing that keeps you coming back when the honeymoon ends.

So, let’s talk about it.

Devotion to Self-Work: Stop Ghosting Yourself

Alright, let’s start with the hardest part: you.

Self-devotion is awkward because it feels like homework. Nobody got into the occult thinking, hell yeah, I can’t wait to write about my feelings every night in a beat-up notebook… but if you can’t keep promises to yourself, why would spirits or allies keep theirs to you?

Once upon a time, in what feels like three lifetimes ago, I was really into the idea of daily meditation. I bought a fancy cushion, lit the incense, and had the playlist. Did it religiously, for eight days. On day nine, cleaning won. On day ten, I forgot. By day fourteen, the cushion was just an expensive cat bed.

Then… a few weeks later, I tried a working that absolutely fizzled. Nothing. Dead air. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it was: I had no devotional relationship to myself, no consistency. I was being the magical equivalent of a bad Tinder date, showing up once with big promises, then ghosting.

Self-devotion isn’t about never missing a day. It’s about coming back when you do. It’s writing down “I was petty and jealous today” instead of pretending you’re suddenly enlightened. It’s lighting the candle even when you’re cranky. It’s refusing to ghost yourself, even when you’d rather look away.

That’s foundational devotion: the daily unglamorous choice to sit with yourself, shadows and all.

Devotion in Energy Work: The Love Affair With the Boring Stuff

Energy work is where devotion really hits home. Grounding, centering, shielding, ugh. The Holy Trinity of Yawn. Everyone wants fireworks and astral travel; nobody wants to do energetic sit-ups.

I used to treat energy work like flossing: technically important, but easy to ignore. Until one day I walked into a party where the energy was so off, like everyone had just binge-watched true crime and marinated in resentment. I came home feeling like I’d rolled around in psychic garbage. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t shake it. Then it hit me: I hadn’t shielded. I was basically walking around spiritually naked, wondering why I was catching every stray mood like a cold.

That was my wake-up call. Energy work is devotion disguised as maintenance. You don’t do it once and call it done, you do it because devotion builds strength over time. Sometimes you’ll sit there running energy and feel nothing. That’s fine. Devotion says: keep going anyway.

Eventually, energy stops being a wrench in your toolbox and becomes more like a dance partner. Something you move with, not just “use.” That shift only happens when you’ve put in the boring hours.

Devotion in Group Work: Herding Cats, but With Candles

Now let’s talk about group work. If self-devotion is awkward and energy devotion is boring, group devotion is chaotic. Humans are messy. Put more than three occultists in a room and you’re one dramatic eye-roll away from someone flouncing out.

I once joined a group where half the meetings devolved into arguments about who got to stand where in circle. No lie. We’d spend thirty minutes raising energy, but it was usually proceeded by forty-five minutes of arguing over east vs. west like we were dividing kingdoms. It was ridiculous.

The only reason that group worked at all was devotion. People still showed up. We still lit the candles. We still did the work, even when it was inconvenient, even when we wanted to strangle each other.

Devotion in group work isn’t about ecstatic harmony. Sometimes it looks like someone cleaning wax off the floor after a ritual gone sideways. Sometimes it’s practicing together when nobody’s “feeling it.” Devotion means committing to the rhythm of the group, because the rhythm itself builds power.

It’s easy to be devoted when the group is all laughter and magick sparks. The real test is when everyone’s annoyed, but you still show up, work through it, and circle up anyway.

Devotion in Deity and Entity Work: Not Your Cosmic Vending Machine

Now the big one: deities, spirits, ancestors.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth…a lot of people treat devotion like bribery. “Here’s your incense, now where’s my blessing?” As if the gods are celestial vending machines. They’re not.

A friend of mine learned this the hard way. Years ago, he made an offering to a deity, asking for help with a very specific problem. Then he sat there waiting, like they were DoorDash and he’d ordered “divine intervention.” Nothing happened. He was pissed.

After sulking, ranting, and asking advice from several friends, he finally realized the problem; he hadn’t built a relationship. He’d just shown up with a grocery list. If a stranger knocked on your door and handed you cookies, then demanded your car keys, you’d slam the door. Same thing.

Devotion in deity work isn’t a transaction; it’s a relationship. It’s bringing offerings because you value the connection, not because you want a prize. It’s remembering them in your daily life, while cooking dinner, while stuck in traffic, while laughing with friends. It’s talking to them even when you aren’t asking for something.

And yeah, sometimes devotion means humility. You’re not the main character in their story. You’re one thread in their tapestry. If you tend that thread with care, it strengthens. That takes devotion.

Why Devotion Feels Cringe (and Why It’s Hardcore Anyway)

So why does devotion feel so uncomfortable in occult spaces? Because it looks like surrender. I feel I can safely say, as a general whole, we hate surrender. We want to be in charge, the ones with the power. Devotion feels like handing it over.

Here’s the twist: devotion is actually the most hardcore move you can make. It’s easy to do magick when you’re hyped up and inspired. Devotion is doing it when you’re tired, bored, or getting nothing back. In a nutshell…it’s showing up and putting in the work.

In a world obsessed with quick results, devotion is rebellion. It’s saying: I’ll keep showing up even if nobody’s watching, even if there’s no reward. That’s strength. That’s Will. That’s the difference between dabbling and mastery (in all aspects of life).

Devotion as Lifestyle: Folding the Sacred Into the “Ordinary”

Here’s where it all comes together. When devotion becomes your baseline, magick stops being a side hustle and starts being how you live.

I’ll give you an example: dishes. I used to hate them. Then one day I thought, fine, I’ll make this an offering. Every plate I scrubbed was for the spirits who kept my home safe. Suddenly, the boring chore became a devotional act.

That’s what devotion does… it folds magick into the mundane. Walking the dog becomes grounding and connecting with the environment. Cooking dinner becomes spellwork for health and vitality. Laughing with friends becomes an invocation of beauty and joy (and/or a banishment of negativity).

You don’t need incense 24/7. You just need to live with devotion as the undercurrent. That’s when magick becomes a lifestyle, not just an occasional performance.

The Love That Outlasts the High

Here’s the truth my friend was imparting with his pointed address of “devotion”: it’s the glue. The grind. The love that outlasts the high.

Devotion is lighting the candle or cleaning the altar when you don’t feel like it. Meditating even when hearing the siren call of distraction. Showing up for your group, even when you’re annoyed with them. Talking to your gods when they’re silent. Choosing, over and over, not to ghost your path.

It’s not glamorous. It’s not sexy. But it’s the most rebellious, powerful, sustainable thing you can do. Anyone can dabble. Devotion is what makes you stay.

Make the offering, light the damn candle, and get devoted. Your magick deserves it.