Category: Rituals

Reflection & Release:

January 1, 2026

Basics, Rituals

The Slow, Unsexy Work of Growing Up (Spiritually and Otherwise)

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

Everyone says they want growth. Growth sounds great. Growth looks good in bios. Growth gets applause. Growth feels like progress. Reflection? Reflection has a branding problem. Somewhere along the line, it got tangled up with overthinking, self-obsession, or that specific flavor of faux-depth where people stare at their feelings like they’re waiting for them to confess something dramatic. That’s emotional doomscrolling, not reflection. Real reflection is quieter, and less theatrical. That moment you notice a pattern and can’t unsee it. The moment you realize you’ve had the same argument in five different fonts. The moment you catch yourself reacting the same way you always do and think, “oh. There it is again.”

Reflection isn’t about judging yourself or digging up flaws to fix. It’s about noticing how you actually move through the world when no one’s curating the narrative. What you avoid. What you cling to. What you keep calling “just how I am” even though it’s clearly costing you something. It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest. Honesty is the raw material everything else is built from. Many say they want growth, but what they really want is change without confrontation. They want insight without discomfort. They want transformation that doesn’t require admitting, even privately, that some things they’ve been doing simply don’t work anymore. Reflection interrupts that fantasy. Reflection asks you to slow down and actually look at the shape of your life. Not the version you explain to others, but the one you live in. Sometimes what you see is inconvenient. Sometimes what you see is repetitive. Sometimes it’s painfully human. That’s the point. You can’t change what you refuse to name.

Once you start noticing patterns, release becomes unavoidable. Release gets romanticized in all the wrong ways. People talk about it like a dramatic exhale, a ceremonial purge, or a big emotional breakthrough where everything suddenly feels light and resolved. In real life, release is usually much quieter and a lot less cinematic. It’s often administrative. It’s deciding not to carry something forward because it’s heavy and no longer useful. It’s closing a tab that’s been draining your battery in the background for years. Release isn’t erasing the past or pretending something didn’t matter. It’s acknowledging that something mattered once and doesn’t need to keep steering the wheel. It’s recognizing when a belief, a habit, a role, or a story did its job and is now overstaying its welcome.

There’s a lot of pressure to treat release like moral purification, as if letting go means you’ve transcended something, forgiven perfectly, or reached some higher frequency. That’s nonsense. Most of the time, release is just boundaries finally growing teeth. Saying, quietly, “I don’t need to keep paying for this.” A healthy spiritual life depends on that kind of discernment. Without it, practice turns into accumulation. You collect meanings, rituals, identities, and beliefs the way people collect books they swear they’ll reread someday. Eventually, it all gets heavy. Eventually, it stops breathing. Spirituality that can’t let go calcifies. It becomes rigid, defensive, and weirdly fragile. Questioning feels threatening. Change feels like betrayal. Growth starts to look like disloyalty. That’s fear, not depth. A living practice has circulation. It sheds skin. It allows things to die without turning that death into a moral crisis. It understands that what once supported you might one day restrict you. Letting go isn’t abandonment, it’s maintenance.

Reflection and release work best together, because on their own they both get distorted. Reflection without release turns into endless self-analysis. You notice everything and change nothing. You become very insightful and very stuck. Release without reflection turns into avoidance. You let go of things before you understand them, and they quietly reappear later wearing a different name. When they work together you notice what’s actually going on, then you choose what you’re no longer willing to carry. That choice doesn’t always feel dramatic. Most of the time it shows up in small, almost boring ways. You pause before reacting. You stop overexplaining. You don’t chase the same emotional loops. You rest earlier. You let silence do some of the work. This is the part we don’t glamorize because it doesn’t photograph well. Integration isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It just quietly rearranges your internal furniture, so you stop tripping over the same things.

Dismantle the idea that growth means constant motion. Constant healing. Constant becoming, as if you’re a project that’s never allowed to be finished. That mindset burns people out fast. It turns self-awareness into surveillance and spirituality into a performance review. Sometimes the most mature thing you can do is stop digging and let what you’ve already learned settle into your bones. There are seasons for excavation and seasons for inhabiting what you’ve uncovered. You’re allowed to stabilize. You’re allowed to plateau. You’re allowed to rest inside your own progress without immediately trying to transcend it. Reflection, at its healthiest, becomes less like interrogation and more like conversation. You learn your own rhythms. You recognize when you’re acting from fear, when you’re tired, when you’re avoiding something, and when you’re actually okay. You stop treating every uncomfortable feeling as a problem to solve and start treating it as information. That builds trust with yourself. Real trust that doesn’t need constant external validation or spiritual theatrics to hold together.

Release flows naturally from the trust in self. When you know you won’t abandon yourself, letting go stops feeling like a threat. You don’t cling as hard. You don’t force things to stay meaningful past their lifespan. You can say, without bitterness or drama, “This mattered, and now it’s complete.” That’s not cold. It’s respectful. Growth isn’t about becoming someone unrecognizable. Growth is about becoming less tangled. Growth is about becoming less burdened, and reactive. It’s about becoming more honest. More present. More capable of choosing instead of defaulting. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t come with a soundtrack. It doesn’t need an audience. It just quietly changes how you move through your days. You notice when something doesn’t fit anymore. You loosen your grip. You keep going… a little lighter than before.

That’s the work. Not dramatic. Not performative.
Just real, lived, ongoing human becoming.

Mirror of Release

(This is a less personalized version of a ritual I perform every season. )

Materials:

A mirror (bathroom, compact, or black mirror/dedicated magick mirror if you’re fancy like me)

One candle (any color; intention > aesthetics)

Something to write with

2 scraps of paper you don’t mind destroying

At least 5 uninterrupted minutes (yes, really)

Ritual:

Light the candle. Look into the mirror; into your own eyes, and see yourself, accurately. Truthfully. No gloss, no blinders…

Say out loud, with confidence:

“I’m here to see what’s real, not what’s comfortable.”

Hold your own gaze and answer these out loud:

What did I avoid this year because it scared me? (your answer)

What did I keep doing that I know doesn’t work? (your answer)

Where did I betray my own energy, time, or values? (your answer)

What part of me is tired of pretending this is fine? (your answer)

No self-flagellation. This isn’t a confession, it’s an internal inventory.

On one of the pieces of paper, write one sentence that captures the pattern you’re done carrying.
Example: “I keep over-giving so I don’t have to ask for what I need.”

Look back into the mirror and say confidently:

“I see who I’ve been. I choose who I’m becoming.”

Burn the paper and release it’s hold on your mind. Let it go for it no longer serves you.

Hold your own gaze and answer these out loud:

What would future-me thank me for starting now? (your answer)

What boundary, habit, or truth actually changes the trajectory? (your answer)

On the other piece of paper, write one clear, doable commitment. Not a glow-up fantasy. A commitment you can accomplish with a bit of applied awareness.

Example: “I stop explaining myself to people who benefit from misunderstanding me.”

Hold the second statement to the mirror with your projective* hand and say confidently:

“Witness this.”

Read your commitment out loud.

Blow out the candle and say confidently:

“I walk forward with my eyes open.”

Keep your commitment somewhere you can revisit it in times of indescision. Burn it, without ceremony, once it’s job is complete.

**Projective hand – the hand you would default to for holding a wand, and/or the side you use to send energy.

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Ritual or Performance?

November 18, 2025

Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Community, Rituals, Uncategorized

Stop Auditioning for the Gods

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

Let’s talk about stage fright, the kind that hits when you step into ritual space and suddenly feel like the gods are judging your pronunciation, your robe, and your dollar store votives.

Ever found yourself treating ritual like a Broadway audition? Scripted lines, dramatic pauses, and the creeping sense that you’re not quite holy enough to pull this off? This is a clear sign of being stuck in performance mode.

Performance is about impressing. Ritual is about connecting. When you start treating every spell like a show, your focus shifts. It’s no longer about communion, transformation, or intention…it’s about whether you “look” magical. Whether the aesthetic will get reactions on Instagram. Whether the spirits are giving you a standing ovation.

Spirits don’t care about your performance. They care about your presence. They care whether you show up honestly, not whether your robes are steamed or your incantation rhymes.

The circle isn’t a spotlight. It’s a container. It’s where magick happens, not where you prove you’re good at it.If you find yourself performing in ritual, pausing for effect, worrying about how you sound, or adjusting your movements for dramatic flair, you should ask “who is this for?” The gods already know who you are. The spirits already see past the pageantry. You don’t have to impress them.

When Ritual Becomes Theater

There’s a reason so many magical traditions use drama… it works. Symbolic movement, language, and costuming can be powerful tools for altering consciousness and raising energy. The problem shows up when the ritual becomes only theater, when the actions are hollow, when the focus is on aesthetics rather than intention. Are you conjuring, or cosplaying? Ritual theater is fine. Beautiful, even. Let it be a means, not the end.

Much of the performance mindset comes from fear. Fear of getting it wrong. Fear of offending the spirits. Fear of looking silly.

So… we script everything. We over rehearse. We try to sound mystical instead of sincere. In doing so, we lose the magick.

Magick doesn’t require perfection. It requires engagement. It requires you to be in it, heart, breath, sweat, nerves, and all. It’s hard to channel spirit while policing your posture. You can’t open your heart if you’re worried about your lines.

The Aesthetic Trap

We live in a world where everything is a photo op. Your altar. Your tools. Your rituals. While beauty has its place in the sacred, it can uplift, inspire, and focus energy, it’s also easy to fall into the trap of curating rather than conjuring. If you’re more focused on how your ritual looks than what it does, you’re in performance mode.

Magic is not a vibe. It’s a verb.

Breaking out of Performance

Ways you can shake off the performance energy and get back to the work:

Strip it down. Do a ritual with no tools, no script, no costume. Just you, your breath, your intention.

Improvise. Speak from the heart. Make it messy. Let it be real.

Focus inward. Close your eyes. Stop worrying about what anything looks like. Tune into how it feels.

Talk to the spirits like they’re real. Because they are. They don’t need you to be dramatic, they need you to be present.

The Risk of Vulnerability

Performing is safe. Vulnerability is not. Performance gives you a mask. It lets you hide. Real ritual, the kind that shakes you, remakes you, moves something, that requires showing up as yourself. You might stutter. You might cry. You might say the wrong word. Good. Let it happen.

The gods don’t want your script. They want you.

Group Ritual & the Temptation to Perform

In group settings, performance pressure multiplies.

Suddenly, your magical peers are an audience. You want to sound wise. You want your invocation to impress. You want to look the part.

Don’t.

Model authenticity. Model imperfection. Let others see that it’s okay to stumble, to speak from the gut instead of the glossary. If your group is more focused on choreography than connection, it’s time for a serious chat.

Real magick looks like a shaking voice, a cluttered space, or a moment of doubt followed by sudden clarity. It’s the candle that won’t light until you stop trying so hard.

Magick isn’t always pretty. It’s raw. It’s weird. It resists polish. Let it be awkward. Let it be clumsy. That’s where power lives, in the cracks that show our humanity.

Burn the Script

You don’t need to audition for the gods. You don’t need to impress your spirits. You don’t need to be the most mystical voice in the room. You just need to show up. Honestly. Fully. Without the need to perform. Step into the circle with all your human mess. Light the candle. Speak the truth. Let the ritual carry you.

The gods aren’t critics. They’re co-creators.

And they already said yes to you.

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Drag Makeup as Ritual:

October 18, 2025

Basics, Community, Glamour, Rituals, Uncategorized

The Magick of Resistance, Gender-Bending, and Sacred Foolery

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

When Eyeliner Becomes a Spell

Drag makeup isn’t just about looking sickening (though, yes, that too). It’s paint as prayer, contour as conjuration, lashes as little wards against a world that wants to shrink you down to something beige and manageable. Drag queens, kings, things, and divine in-betweens don’t just get ready…they perform ritual.

Every swipe of highlighter, every precisely cut crease, every rhinestone glued at 1 a.m. is an act of magick. It’s rebellion in sequins, glamour as a weapon, absurdity as sacred offering. The sacred gender bend and the archetype of the holy fool shimmer through drag like glitter in a carpet…once they’re in, they never leave.

Drag makeup is war paint, clown paint, prayer paint. And if you don’t believe that? Darling, let me take you on a little pilgrimage through the altar of the vanity mirror.

The Altar is the Vanity

Drag begins in front of a mirror that doubles as a portal. The vanity table, cluttered with powders and palettes, is the altar for this ritual. Where some folks light candles and chant, drag artists crack open a Kryolan pan and say, “Not today, Satan, and if it is today, at least let me look fierce while you try me.”

The brushes? Wands. The glitter? Salt for the circle. The setting spray? Holy water with extra attitude. You sit down one way, you come up another…and that’s invocation, baby.

Gender-Bending as Sacred Act

Let’s be clear: drag doesn’t just “play with gender.” It dismembers gender, rethreads it, sews it together with sequins and duct tape, and sends it out to lip sync for its afterlife.

The sacred gender bend is about showing that gender was never a cage; it’s clay. To feminize the masculine or masculinize the feminine isn’t parody, it’s invocation. You’re calling on archetypes bigger than the binary.

The Queen invokes the goddess, priestess, empress. She doesn’t just tuck, she transubstantiates.

The King channels warriors, tricksters, father-gods. He doesn’t just draw on stubble, he chisels myth from bronzer.

The Nonbinary Drag Thing tears the whole script up and says, “My pronouns are glamour/chaos, thanks.”

Every painted brow arch screams: “Your categories are cute, but my existence is divinely inconvenient.”

Glamour Against Oppression

Here’s the truth: drag makeup is dangerous. Always has been. Men in wigs and lipstick were once criminal. Gender nonconforming expression was (and in some places…still is) outlawed.

People get beaten, jailed… killed for it. And still, the paint goes on.

Why? Because drag makeup flips the bird to the systems that want conformity. It’s defiance with contour. It’s standing in the ruins of patriarchy with a ring light and saying, “Oh, we’re doing camp apocalypse chic tonight darlings.”

Resistance isn’t just protest signs; it’s an intensity that says, “I dare you to look away.” The most radical thing is to exist loudly in a world that demands your silence. Drag performers have always understood that survival isn’t beige…it’s Technicolor.

The Ritual Steps of Transformation

Every drag performer has their own ritual, but the structure is uncannily universal. Like liturgy, it has stages:

The Bare Face – the vulnerable, mortal state. Acknowledging the self before transfiguration.

The Blocking of Brows – destruction of the old order, clearing the temple walls for new icons.

The Foundation – the new skin, clay for sculpting identity.

Contour and Highlight – death and resurrection. Shadows carve bone where none existed, light conjures divine geometry.

Eyes and Lashes – windows of the soul become projectors of archetype. The lash? The sword.

Lips – the final seal. The mouth is the oracle. Painted red, black, blue, or green, it’s the vessel of spellcasting.

By the end, a new entity walks forth, both human and divine parody of humanity.

The Sacred Fool Archetype

Drag is never just sacred; it’s also ridiculous. That’s the point.

The sacred fool appears in nearly every tradition: clown-priests in Indigenous cultures, jesters in medieval courts, trickster gods from Loki to Coyote. Their role? To destabilize authority with absurdity, to expose truth by being intentionally “foolish.”

Drag queens and kings are modern holy fools. Walking in size 15 stilettos? That’s devotional absurdity. Drawing a six-inch eyebrow? That’s mocking the seriousness of beauty standards. Splitting a wig mid-number? That’s divine comedy, and the crowd goes wild.

The sacred fool isn’t just clowning, it’s holy chaos. Drag embodies that, refusing to let the world calcify into boring binaries.

Drag Makeup as Spellcraft

Occultists know glamour magick: the ability to alter perception, to be seen as something else. Drag makeup is glamour turned up to eleven.

Protection Spells: Foundation thick enough to withstand police tear gas or at least a sweaty Pride parade.

Invocation: Drawing eyeliner so sharp it channels Athena, Beyoncé, and your grandmother’s disappointment simultaneously.

Banishing: Powdering your face until no hater can get a foothold.

Drag performers are walking talismans. Their faces are sigils. The very geometry of the makeup, triangles of contour, circles of blush, lines of eyeliner, form ritual diagrams of transformation.

The Aesthetic of the Gods

Drag makeup often leans into camp, and camp is sacred exaggeration. Camp says, “Nothing is too much.” Camp is a shrine to excess, a devotion to over-the-top that reveals how absurd “normal” actually is. Drag makeup as camp is basically Dionysus cackling in contour. It is divine intoxication rendered in highlighter.

Community as Congregation

Every ritual needs witnesses. Drag doesn’t live in the mirror, it thrives on the stage. The audience is the congregation, and applause is the amen.

When a queen steps out, the crowd gasps. That gasp is the recognition of divinity. When a king stomps the floor, the room vibrates like temple drums. That’s ritual resonance.

Drag shows are churches where the hymns are lip-syncs, the wine is vodka Red Bull, and the holy spirit is a wig reveal.

Drag Makeup and the Queer Mysteries

Queer people have always been keepers of mysteries. We live in the liminal. Drag makeup is an initiation into that mystery. It says:

You can survive by becoming.

You can bend what was rigid.

You can be holy and hilarious in the same breath.

When the world tries to erase you, painting your face becomes a sacred refusal. When the law says you can’t exist, you carve existence in contour.

Resistance in a World of Regression

We live in a time where queer rights are under assault. Where drag bans are proposed as though lipstick is the real threat to society (spoiler: it isn’t). Drag makeup in this climate isn’t just art…it’s resistance.

Every queen who paints a face in Tennessee, every king who sharpens a jawline in Florida, every performer who beats a mug in small-town bars across the globe, they’re frontline warriors. Their weapons? Lipstick, lashes, and laughter.

This isn’t hyperbole. This is survival.

Glitter is Forever

Here’s the kicker: drag & drag makeup aren’t going anywhere. Glitter, like queerness, is impossible to eradicate. You’ll find it weeks later… in places you didn’t even know you had.

That’s the truth of drag-as-ritual. Once you’ve encountered the sacred fool, the gender-bent divinity, the spell of eyeliner sharp enough to cut through fascism, you can’t unsee it.

Drag makeup is messy, holy, hilarious, defiant, and divine. It’s ritual. It’s resistance. It’s magick.

The next time you see a drag performer painting their face, know you’re watching more than a beauty routine. You’re watching someone build a shield, invoke a god, clown the devil, and resist erasure… all while looking drop-dead gorgeous.

If that’s not sacred, what the hell is?

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Pleasure & Power

October 16, 2025

Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Rituals
and the Weirdest Productivity Hack Ever Invented

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

Ever notice how the world acts like pleasure is suspicious? Like the second you admit that feeling good might actually mean something, someone shows up clutching a Bible or a business plan telling you to “be productive” instead?
Well, jokes on them, because pleasure is productivity. It’s the original renewable energy source, and sex magick is basically humanity’s earliest operating manual for it.

Before you roll your eyes, no, this isn’t about Hollywood-style orgies where everyone’s chanting naked under a blood moon. (Though, let’s be honest, that does sound like an interesting Friday.) Sex magick, when you strip off the incense and performance, is really about harnessing erotic energy, that electric, body-deep life current, and aiming it somewhere intentional.

It’s the oldest “manifestation hack” in existence, but with better lighting and way fewer pastel vision boards.

So, What the Hell Is Sex Magick?

Imagine you could take the intensity of an orgasm, or the slow, building heat of arousal, or even the quiet hum of sensual curiosity, and instead of just letting it fizzle out, you directed it. Into art. Into healing. Into creating the kind of life that actually turns you on to be alive.

That’s sex magick.

It’s not about who you sleep with or what parts you’ve got. It’s not even necessarily about sex in the physical sense. It’s about energy, focus, and choice. It’s the act of saying, “This power is mine. I get to use it, not just spend it.”

If that sounds radical, that’s because it is. We live in a culture that sells sex while simultaneously shaming it, that monetizes your desire but forbids your agency. Sex magick looks at that system, laughs, and says, “No thanks, I’ll generate my own power grid.”

Humans Have Been Doing This Forever

You know how everyone acts like “sex magick” is a new-age trend invented by someone with a moon tattoo and a Patreon? Yeah, not even close.

Humans have been mixing the erotic and the sacred since we figured out that both make our brains light up like fireworks. Ancient Mesopotamian priests performed sacred marriages between deities and rulers, full-on ritual unions meant to bless crops and kingdoms. In Greece, Dionysian rites were essentially divine raves where ecstasy was prayer.

In India, Tantra explored sex as a spiritual technology long before anyone in the West could spell “chakra.” Authentic Tantra, by the way, isn’t “how to last three hours while staring into someone’s eyes.” It’s the art of turning the body into a temple of awareness, where every breath, every movement, every sensation is a doorway to the divine.

Then, Europe came along with its alchemists, and we all love those nerds with flasks and metaphors. They weren’t just turning lead into gold; they were experimenting with the union of opposites, masculine and feminine, sulfur and mercury, sun and moon. Sometimes symbolically, sometimes very literally. (Let’s just say a lot of medieval “experiments” involved less metallurgy and more moaning.)

And of course, the twentieth century brought Aleister Crowley, the controversial poster child of “doing too much.” Crowley basically said, “What if we treated orgasm like rocket fuel for prayer?” He blended sex, ritual, and willpower into something equal parts brilliant and chaotic. You don’t have to like the guy, but he did kick the door open for modern magical sexuality.

Then came the feminists, the queers, the revolutionaries of the 1960s and 70s who looked at repression and said, “Nah, we’re taking our bodies back.” Sex magick became protest, liberation, and self-healing. It became ours again.

So no, this isn’t new. It’s just been through a few outfit changes.

Okay, But What’s “Erotic Energy”?

Let’s kill the mystique: erotic energy isn’t some glittery pink aura swirling around your pelvis. It’s just… life. It’s what makes flowers bloom and humans flirt and artists obsess. It’s your biological, emotional, creative fuel, the pulse behind everything you do that makes you feel alive.

When you’re turned on, your brain releases dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins. Your body floods with nitric oxide. Your mind shifts into trance. Congratulations, you’re already halfway to magick. The body knows how to alter consciousness; it’s just waiting for you to give that energy somewhere to go.

That’s the difference between sex and sex magick. Sex happens. Sex magick happens on purpose.

Solo, Partnered, and Everything Between

People always want to know if you have to be in a relationship to do this. Short answer: absolutely not. Longer answer: most people start solo because it’s easier to stay focused when no one’s trying to impress anyone.

Solo sex magick is powerful. You’re the energy source and the spellcaster in one. You can build erotic charge through masturbation, breathwork, fantasy, or even creative expression. At the height of that energy, whether or not you orgasm, you channel it toward your intention.

Partnered sex magick adds complexity and intensity. Two (or more) energies blending, syncing, amplifying each other, it’s a literal ritual circuit. But it only works if everyone’s on the same page: open, consenting, clear on boundaries and goals. Otherwise, it’s just sexy chaos.

Here’s a fun truth: orgasm isn’t required. Edging, slow build, abstinence, touch without release, all of it works. The key isn’t what your body does, it’s what your mind is doing while it happens.

Think of arousal as a volume knob, not a light switch. You can turn it up, down, or channel it sideways into something entirely different.

Everyone’s Invited (Seriously)

Let’s get one thing straight, and also, delightfully, not straight.

Sex magick is for all bodies, all genders, all orientations, all experiences. You don’t need to fit into a hetero-missionary mold to be divine. The energy doesn’t discriminate, so why should you?

Queer sex magick? Completely valid. It’s actually one of the most potent expressions of creative energy, because it defies rigid binaries. It’s living proof that divinity isn’t confined to “masculine” and “feminine” boxes. It’s the universe playing jazz instead of marching band.

Kink and BDSM? That’s practically a masterclass in ritual design. Negotiated consent, power exchange, altered states, intentional sensation, that’s magick with safewords. The best scenes have as much structure as a good spell, and aftercare is just grounding by another name.

Asexual and graysexual practitioners? You belong here too. Sex magick isn’t about sex acts; it’s about energy. You can build erotic charge through touch, imagination, creativity, or connection. You don’t need to want intercourse to understand sensual aliveness. Some of the most powerful sex magick workers I’ve met are aces who channel their erotic current into art, prayer, or pure joy.

At the end of the day, erotic energy belongs to whoever’s alive enough to feel it. If you’ve got a pulse, congratulations, you qualify.

So How Do You Actually Do It?

First, you set an intention. Not “I want to be hotter” or “I want them to text me back.” Think deeper. What are you trying to become? What are you ready to release? Maybe it’s body confidence. Maybe it’s healing shame. Maybe it’s writing that damn novel you’ve been putting off.

Then, set the scene. Light candles if you want. Play music that makes you feel alive. Maybe that’s soft chanting; maybe it’s Nine Inch Nails. Your altar can be a silk-covered table or just your bed with the laundry finally put away.

Start building energy. Touch yourself. Move. Breathe. Feel what pleasure actually feels like, not performative, not goal-oriented, just present. Let that energy rise.

When you hit that peak, whether orgasm or just that dizzy “I could explode into stardust” feeling, focus. See your intention like it’s happening now. Let that wave crash through it, feed it, ignite it.

Then: breathe. Ground. Eat a snack. Drink water. Journal. Aftercare isn’t optional. You’ve just done emotional surgery with your libido; treat yourself like a tender deity afterward.

If your brain tries to distract you mid-practice with “Did I pay that bill?” or “Where’s my other sock?”, that’s fine. It’s part of it. Just bring your mind back gently. Magick doesn’t require monk-like concentration. It requires willingness and humor.

Why Even Bother?

Because reclaiming your erotic energy changes everything.

When you stop outsourcing your pleasure, to other people, to porn, to social approval, to algorithms, you start reclaiming your agency. You stop moving through the world like a consumer of experience and start moving like a creator.

Sex magick teaches you that your body is a temple and a laboratory. You get to experiment, to play, to explore. You heal not by denying desire but by meeting it with reverence.

It’s a practice of sovereignty. Of saying, “My pleasure belongs to me. My power belongs to me.” And when you build that relationship with your own energy, you become harder to manipulate. The world’s constant noise loses its grip. Shame stops being a language you speak.

Also? It’s fun. And in times like these, joy is a radical act.

But Wait…Is It Safe?

Good question, and bless you for asking. Because no amount of rose quartz will save you from a bad boundary.

Consent is non-negotiable. If you’re working with others, talk. Be explicit. Discuss boundaries, desires, and aftercare before you start. And if you’re solo, check in with yourself, too. Self-consent means listening to your body’s “no” as much as your “yes.”

Sex magick can also stir up old trauma. Sometimes you’ll hit emotional depth you weren’t expecting. That’s normal, and it’s not something to push through. Stop, breathe, journal, and reach out for support if you need it. Magick and therapy aren’t enemies; they’re allies.

And please, let’s stay in reality: magick doesn’t replace condoms or birth control. Energy work won’t prevent STIs or pregnancy. Protect your body as much as your aura.

If you struggle with compulsivity, guilt, or dissociation, build your practice slowly. Combine it with grounding tools, meditation, journaling, therapy, and community. Pleasure should be empowering, not escapist.

The Awkward, Hilarious Truth

Here’s the part most teachers skip: sex magick can be absolutely ridiculous. You will light something on fire by accident. You will climax before you finish your incantation. Your cat will jump onto the altar at the worst possible moment.

It’s fine. Laugh. Laugh hard. That’s part of the magick.

Pleasure doesn’t require solemnity. The divine doesn’t need you to be perfect, just present. The universe doesn’t flinch when you snort-laugh during ritual; it probably laughs with you.

The Bigger Picture

Sex magick isn’t a separate branch of the occult; it’s the pulse beneath everything else. It ties into astrology (Venus hours, lunar cycles), tarot (The Lovers as integration, The Star as renewal), and energy work (that sacral hum you feel during breathwork? yeah, that’s it).

It can even blend with deity devotion. Many ancient gods of love, lust, and creation were offered pleasure itself as prayer. You can do the same, not as a sacrifice, but as communion. “Here,” you say, “this joy is for us.”

You don’t need to “add sex magick” to your practice. You just need to notice where it’s already happening, every time you create, connect, or dare to feel alive.

In the End, Pleasure Is Power

Here’s the secret the world keeps trying to hide: pleasure makes you powerful.

Not because of the orgasm itself (though, yes, those are nice), but because choosing to feel in a numb world is radical. When you claim your body, your desire, your agency, you stop being easy to control.

Sex magick whispers:
You are sacred.
Your body is not dirty.
Your queerness is holy.
Your kink is wisdom.
Your boundaries are divine architecture.

Pleasure isn’t the opposite of discipline. It’s the reward for being alive.

So maybe next time you’re lighting candles, meditating, or just vibing alone in your room, remember this: you are a walking ritual. Every breath is a spell. Every heartbeat is an invocation.

And when you finally let that energy flow freely, when you stop apologizing for it, you become unstoppable.

Now go make some magick. And hydrate. Always hydrate.

Continued Reading & Resources

For those who want to go deeper (pun intended):
- Margot Anand, The Art of Sexual Ecstasy
- – Anand, The Art of Sexual Magic
- Carolyn Elliott, Existential Kink
- Aleister Crowley, Liber XV: The Gnostic Mass and Magick in Theory and Practice (for historical context—handle with salt)
- Donald Micheal Kraig, Modern Sex Magick
- Barbara Carrellas, Urban Tantra: Sacred Sex for the Twenty-First Century
- Cosi Fabian, Queer Sex Magick (zines and essays online)
- Communities like Temple Scarlet, Scarlet Imprint and Rebel Mystic for contemporary takes.
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Mirror Magick

October 8, 2025

Basics, Dreams/Oracle/Divination, Glamour, Rituals, Uncategorized
The Art of Staring at Yourself Until the Universe Blinks First

Let’s be real, mirrors have seen things. They’ve seen you at your best, your worst, and that weird liminal state between “self-care aficionado” and “swamp cryptid with a coffee addiction.”
They’ve witnessed us practicing fake arguments, rehearsing apologies, psyching ourselves up before job interviews, and having full-blown conversations that we swear are just internal dialogues.

But beyond all that glass-and-guilt dynamic, mirrors hold power, real, ancient, slightly spooky power. Before humans learned to scroll, we learned to stare. And that act, of meeting your own gaze and asking what lies beneath, has been the backbone of spiritual reflection (pun intended) for thousands of years.

Mirror magick isn’t about vanity; it’s about vision. It’s about peeling back the layers of illusion until what’s left is something startlingly honest, and a little bit holy.

A Brief History of Humans Freaking Out About Their Reflections

Let’s time travel to ancient Egypt: desert sun, golden tombs, and people who took the afterlife very seriously. They buried polished bronze mirrors with the dead, believing those reflective surfaces would help guide souls safely into eternity. A mirror was a compass for the spirit, not just a shiny toy.

Meanwhile, in Greece, the priestesses of Delphi were staring into reflective bowls of water, channeling divine messages while everyone else was busy philosophizing about rocks. The Romans copied the Greeks (as they often did) and added flair: they used mirrors for divination, predicting everything from harvests to heartbreaks.

In China, mirrors weren’t just mystical, they were functional defenses. A mirror hung in the right place could deflect bad luck, malevolent spirits, or nosy neighbors. The ancient Aztecs crafted obsidian mirrors, sleek, black, otherworldly, and used them to converse with gods. You can practically hear them whisper, “Hey, you up?” across the veil.

In Japan, the sacred Yata no Kagami, the Mirror of Truth, became one of the imperial treasures, symbolizing purity and divine honesty. The message? Reflection reveals. Always has. Always will.

The Renaissance magicians, naturally, took this to goth levels of extra. They combined mirrors with alchemy, astrology, and the occasional questionable safety practice. Their logic? If you can gaze deep enough into the reflective unknown, you might catch a glimpse of the divine, or at least figure out what’s really going on inside your own skull.

Across time and culture, mirrors have always served the same purpose: to reveal what’s hidden, whether that’s the soul, the truth, or just the fact that your hair looks way better than you thought.

So What Is Mirror Magick?

Let’s clear something up. Mirror magick is not about saying “Bloody Mary” three times and regretting your life choices. It’s not spooky, it’s psychological. It’s spiritual. It’s personal. It’s the intersection where self-awareness meets energy work, wearing a dramatic cloak and holding a candle.

Think of it as energetic alchemy: your mirror is the cauldron, your focus is the fire, and your intention is what you’re transforming.

When you sit before a mirror with purpose, you’re not just seeing yourself, you’re meeting yourself. The mirror becomes a doorway between the seen and unseen, the conscious and the subconscious. What stares back isn’t an image. It’s an invitation.

Psychologically, this is pure Jung. Mirrors are metaphors for the Shadow, the parts of ourselves we shove into the mental basement and hope never resurface. Magically, they act as amplifiers, reflecting energy, thought, and emotion back to us until we finally get the hint.

In short, mirror magick is less “Charmed” and more “deep therapy but with better lighting.”

Spiritual Glass Maintenance

Here’s the thing: if you’re going to work with mirrors, you have to treat them like living tools. They’re not just décor, they’re energetic devices. You wouldn’t meditate in the middle of a noisy food court, right? Same logic applies here.

A bathroom mirror full of toothpaste spatter, mascara smudges, and lingering existential dread is not the vibe. That’s reflection in the literal sense, not the metaphysical one.

It’s About Energy, Not Aesthetics

When it comes to selecting your mirror, go with what feels right. Forget size or price, and pick something that hums when you touch it. That little buzz in your palms? That’s recognition.

Antique mirrors are powerful (and occasionally creepy). They carry stories. If you go that route, cleanse thoroughly, who knows what’s been staring into it for the last hundred years. Black mirrors are popular for scrying; they absorb light, allowing your intuition to paint images on the surface. But honestly? Even a small, cheap mirror can become a gateway if you treat it with reverence.

If you’re crafty, make your own. A thrifted picture frame, some glass, a coat of black enamel on the back, boom, instant portal. Handmade tools tend to hum with your energy, like a custom spiritual playlist.

Ambience Is Magick

The right atmosphere turns ordinary glass into sacred space. Candles help, both for lighting and for attitude. Dim the room until it feels soft around the edges. Play instrumental music or sit in silence, whichever helps your brain hush.

You don’t need a fancy altar, but do clear a spot and make it intentional. Light incense if that speaks to you. Sprinkle salt to purify. Maybe tell your roommate not to knock unless the house is on fire.

Your basic toolkit:
- Your mirror
- A bowl of salt and water (for cleansing)
- A candle (for focus and flair)
- A black cloth (to cover your mirror afterward)
Bonus items: crystals, herbs, offerings, or the one cat who insists on supervising rituals.

You’re building a liminal zone, a boundary between “mundane life” and “sacred moment.” The shift in atmosphere is half the spell.

From Object to Oracle

Cleansing isn’t optional it’s essential. Mirrors hold energy like fabric holds scent.

Mix a little salt and water, dip your fingers or a soft cloth, and gently wipe the mirror. As you do, visualize all leftover energy, dust, fingerprints, tension, trauma, dissolving into light. If you’re feeling extra witchy, whisper something as you clean. It doesn’t need to rhyme (though bonus points if it does). Try:

By salt and sea, I cleanse thee.
By will and breath, I set thee free.

Wipe it dry with a lavender, or sage scented cloth, and notice how the air around you subtly changes. The mirror begins to feel awake, like it’s breathing. That’s the signal, it’s ready for its big debut.

Give It a Job, Not Just a Purpose

Now it’s time to give the mirror direction. Consecration is basically a cosmic HR meeting: you’re clarifying expectations.

Hold the mirror in your hands. Ground yourself. Feel your pulse sync with the weight of it. Then speak to it, out loud. Mirrors respond to resonance, and voice carries energy like nothing else.

You can go formal:

I consecrate this mirror as a vessel of reflection, truth, and transformation.
Reveal what must be known and protect what must be kept.

Or conversational:

Hey, mirror. You’re my partner now. Show me the truth, don’t sugarcoat it, and please, no jump scares.

What matters is sincerity. When you feel that subtle pulse of connection, the air thickening, your chest tightening slightly, congratulations. You’ve just made a magical contract.

Mirrors Get Tired, Too

When you’re done, always cover your mirror. It’s not superstition; it’s energy management. Mirrors are absorbent, they soak up stray emotion and psychic noise like sponges.

Covering them helps “close” the channel. Think of it as turning off the headlights so your spiritual battery isn’t draining overnight.

Keep your mirror somewhere safe and private, not out in the open, not near your bed unless you want dream interference. Cleanse and recharge it periodically, especially after heavy work. You’ll feel when it needs it, the reflection goes flat, or it starts feeling emotionally… sticky.

Take care of it, and it will take care of you.

How to Stare at Yourself Until Something Profound Happens

Now that your mirror is all shiny and spiritually employed, it’s time to play. Mirror magick is exploration, not performance. You’re not trying to impress the universe, you’re trying to understand it.

So pour some tea, and let’s talk shop.

“Psychic Netflix for the Spiritually Curious”

Scrying is simple: you gaze into the mirror until your perception shifts. The trick is not trying too hard. Think of it like letting your eyes go soft until the world starts humming.

At first, it’ll feel awkward. You’ll think, “This is dumb,” about fifteen times. But then, something shifts. The light changes. The edges of your reflection blur. Shapes, colors, or faces may start to form. The mind’s eye wakes up. This isn’t about seeing literal ghosts, it’s about translating intuition into imagery.

A practioner I once met, used this method when she couldn’t decide whether to stay at her job or finally chase her dream. During her scrying session, she saw a door. Not a metaphorical one, a vivid, glowing door. Two weeks later, she walked through a literal door: her new business’s front entrance. Coincidence? Maybe. Alignment? Absolutely.

That’s mirror magick in action, a reflection of truth before it becomes reality.

The “Eye Contact With Your Soul” Challenge

If you want to meet your Shadow, skip the horror movies and grab a mirror.

This exercise is deceptively simple: sit down, look yourself in the eyes, and hold the gaze. No distractions, no filters, no fixing your hair halfway through. Just you and you.

It’s intense. You’ll fidget. You’ll laugh nervously. You might cry. Because suddenly, you’re not just seeing your reflection, you’re seeing your history. Every version of you staring back. The strong, the scared, the survivor.

Try this every day for thirty days, but be aware that for myself it was like peeling an onion made of feelings. It can be very uncomfortable at first. By the end, I wasn’t scared of my reflection anymore. I respected it. That’s what mirror work does, it turns your reflection from an enemy into an ally.

Try this sometime. Sit, breathe, look. Ask your reflection: “What do you need from me today?” Then listen. The answer’s already in you. The mirror just gives it a voice.

Turning Reflections Into Resonance

Mirrors amplify everything: light, energy, intention, and occasionally anxiety. If you’re casting a spell, use one to give your intention extra oomph.

For example, if you’re manifesting abundance, set a green candle in front of your mirror. The flame doubles, symbolically reflecting your energy into the unseen. Speak your goal. Watch the reflected flame dance. That’s your intention vibrating between realms.

Pro tip: mirrors don’t discriminate. They’ll amplify whatever you project. If you’re angry, tired, or in emotional chaos, maybe wait a day. The mirror’s job is reflection, not emotional babysitting.

Protection and Deflection

Mirrors are ancient shields. Hang one near your door, window, or workspace, and visualize it glowing, reflecting all negativity outward.

You can also carry a compact mirror for personal shielding. When you feel overwhelmed, imagine it flashing bright like a psychic mirrorball, scattering bad vibes in every direction. Bonus: no one can tell you’re doing it. It’s stealth witchcraft.

The Real Magick

Every mirror practice, from scrying to shielding, leads back to the same truth: mirrors don’t lie. They don’t coddle. They simply show. Sometimes what they show is glorious. Sometimes it’s humbling. Always, it’s real. That, in a world built on filters and curated perfection, is one of the purest kinds of magick there is.

The Deep End of the Looking Glass

So you’ve gazed, reflected, scryed, and shielded. You’re comfortable in the glass. What’s next? The advanced stuff, where the mirror stops being just a reflective surface and becomes a full-blown portal for transformation. We’re talking multi-mirror mandalas, astral travel, and energy weaving, the kind of work that’ll have the spirits going, “Oh, they’re serious.”

Energy Architecture for the Bold

Picture a circle of mirrors around you, angled just right so the candlelight bounces infinitely. Congratulations, you’ve built a feedback loop of intention. This is called a Mirror Mandala, and it’s used to magnify and focus energy during rituals.

If you try it, start small. Two or three mirrors max. Energy builds fast in a reflective field; you don’t want to fry yourself because you got overzealous with the Home Depot mirror aisle.

Walking Through the Glass (Metaphorically, Please)

This is graduate-level mirror work. The goal isn’t to literally step into your reflection (that’s how horror movies start). It’s about using the mirror as a launch point for consciousness expansion.

You sit, breathe, gaze until you feel that gentle pull, the sense that your awareness is stretching beyond your body. Then you imagine stepping through the glass, entering a vast space of light or shadow, depending on your intention.

You’ll know you’re there when your body feels distant but your mind feels electric. Don’t stay too long. Always ground yourself afterward, eat something salty, touch something real, remind your cells you live in the physical plane.

Healing With Mirrors

You can also use mirrors for self-healing. Project loving energy toward your reflection, literally beam compassion at your face. It sounds silly until it works.

The reflection amplifies it and sends it back doubled. That’s why mirror healing is so powerful: it bypasses the intellect. You’re feeding the self-image directly with light, acceptance, and truth.

Do this when you’re having a rough day, when your confidence has gone missing, or when you’re tired of carrying the world. You’ll feel your energy recalibrate, like your cells are remembering they’re made of starlight, not stress.

Reflect Responsibly

Mirror magick isn’t about superstition. It’s about honesty, dressed up in ritual and a little sass. It’s self-work with sparkle. A way of saying, “I’m ready to see myself clearly, and I can handle what shows up.”

Start small. Whisper micro-spells. Journal after scrying. Light a candle before bed and look yourself in the eyes with gentleness instead of judgment. Let your mirror become your confidant, your altar, your therapist that doesn’t bill by the hour.

Because the truth is this: you are both the magician and the mirror. The glass doesn’t hold power, you do. The mirror just reflects it back until you finally recognize what’s been there all along.

Look deeper. Laugh at yourself. Cry if you must. Keep showing up.
And when your reflection finally winks back… smile.
You’ve just met your magick.
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Devotion in Magick:

October 3, 2025

Basics, Community, Rituals

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.

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The Art of Enchantment:

September 29, 2025

Basics, Glamour, Rituals, Uncategorized

Lighting the Room From Within

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

Let’s get one thing straight right out of the gate: glamour magick is not about faking it, tricking people, or pretending to be someone you’re not. It’s about power, the power to shape how you’re seen, how you’re felt, and how you’re remembered. You’ve probably done it without even realizing. That bold lipstick that made you walk taller? Glamour. The jacket that turned you into a storm of authority? Glamour. The perfume that left someone haunted for days after you left the room? Glamour.

The difference between stumbling into glamour and practicing it as magick is intention. Practioners don’t leave this stuff to chance. We know that you don’t just happen to dazzle, you choose to. When you choose to? The world notices.

What Is Glamour Magick, Really?

At its heart, glamour magick is about weaving perception into enchantment. Folklore gave practioners the power to appear younger, more beautiful, or even invisible. Today, you can use the same principles to walk into a job interview radiating calm confidence, to exude warmth and charm at a party, or to cloak yourself in mystery when you’d rather observe than be observed.

It’s not about being fake. It’s about deciding which version of yourself takes the stage.

A Brief History of Glamour (Because Humans Have Always Been Extra)

The word glamour comes from an old Scottish term meaning “enchantment” or “illusion.” Back then, witches were accused of casting glamours to hide their true forms or lure admirers. Fairy tales are stuffed full of glamour: fae appearing dazzling or terrifying at will, witches cloaking themselves in beauty, enchantresses weaving illusions.

By the Victorian era, “glamour” mellowed into meaning “beauty” or “allure.” Then Hollywood swooped in. Marilyn Monroe didn’t become Marilyn, she built her. Norma Jeane was just a girl. Marilyn was a spell. Same with Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust. Same with Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce.

That’s glamour: picking your costume, embodying it, and casting it until it sticks.

The Core Principles of Glamour Magick

Like any spell, glamour has bones. Miss one and things wobble. Nail them all, and you’re a walking enchantment.

Intention: The Compass

Be specific. “I want to be attractive” is vague. Attractive how? Approachable? Dangerous? Commanding? Your intention is the compass. Without it, you’re just spinning in heels.

Visualization: The Dress Rehearsal

See it before you live it. Imagine yourself as the version you’re aiming for, posture, clothes, expression, even soundtrack. Actors call this rehearsal. Practioners call it spellwork. Same principle, different name.

Energy Application: Charging the Tools

Everything can be a magical amplifier: lipstick/lip balm, jewelry, perfume/cologne, clothes, and even how you stand. Treat them like vessels. A necklace isn’t just shiny, it’s an amulet. Perfume isn’t just scent, it’s liquid sorcery. Posture isn’t just posture, it’s a signal flare.

Affirmation & Ritual: Anchoring the Spell

Words matter. Ritual matters. Together they hold glamour in place. Whisper a micro spell in the mirror. Light a candle while you get dressed. Apply lipstick/lip balm like you’re sealing a charm. Consistency and intent are key. That’s what separates “getting ready” from “casting a spell.”

Authenticity: The Secret Ingredient

Don’t try to project what you can’t sustain. If you’re naturally gentle, don’t fake icy dominatrix vibes, it’ll crack. Glamour isn’t about fabrication; it’s about amplification. Take what’s already in you and turn the volume up to 11.

Tools of the Trade

You don’t need a Pinterest-perfect altar or a crystal shop haul… but tools help. They engage your senses and give your subconscious a stage cue: we’re doing magick now.

The mirror is your sacred stage. Not just for checking spinach, but for rehearsing your aura and speaking micro spells.

Candles sharpen focus. Scales vary, but in basic candle magick: Black radiates power/mystery, pink whispers charm, gold beams charisma, red smolders with passion, white clears the slate. In all things do some research, and use what works best for you.

Crystals are portable batteries. Rose quartz glows with warmth, labradorite hums with mystery, citrine beams confidence, obsidian projects “admire, but don’t touch.” — ALWAYS check stone interactions, water safe doesn’t mean makeup or oil safe. —

Scent is sorcery in a bottle. Jasmine seduces, citrus uplifts, sandalwood commands. Perfume is one of the most potent glamour tools when applied with intent.

Makeup and jewelry are your armor and amulets. Lipstick seals spells, eyeliner frames the soul, rings channel energy, necklaces amplify charisma. Charge them and apply.

Clothes are wearable sigils. Red commands, black protects, green prospers, gold radiates. The right outfit doesn’t just cover your body, it casts your role.

Remember: the power isn’t in the object. It’s in how you use it.

Advanced Glamour: For the Extra-Extra

Once you’ve got the basics under your belt, the mirror, the lipstick, the deliberate choice of outfit, you can start weaving in the bigger, cosmic flourishes. This is where glamour stops being a confidence boost and starts feeling like an entire ritual performance with the universe as your co-star.

One of the easiest upgrades is working with sigils. These little symbols are like shorthand for your intention, and the fun part is you can hide them anywhere. Draw one for confidence and dust it over with foundation so only you know it’s there. Scribble one in body lotion before rubbing it in or etch one on the bottom of your perfume bottle so every spritz recharges the spell. They’re invisible to everyone else, but your subconscious sees them and acts accordingly.

Then there’s the moon. Practioners have been syncing with lunar cycles forever, and glamour is no exception. The new moon is the perfect time to reinvent yourself; debut a new style or start a fresh ritual. As the moon waxes, build momentum: refine your look, expand your aura. The full moon is when you hit maximum dazzle, the night you walk into the room, and everyone feels the shift. When the moon wanes, it’s time to release: wipe off what no longer serves you, ditch the clothes that make you feel small, let go of draining habits. Working with lunar phases is like catching a current instead of swimming upstream.

If you want to go even deeper, play with planetary timing. Venus is your best friend for beauty, charm, and attraction. The Sun lends radiance and visibility, perfect for stepping into a spotlight. Saturn gives you weight and authority, the kind of energy that makes people sit up straighter when you speak. Mercury sharpens wit and persuasion, while Mars gives you fire and boldness when you need to walk into a room like you own it. Aligning your glamour with these planetary energies doesn’t just add sparkle, it makes your whole being hum with resonance.

Finally, there’s the art of layering. Think of it as building an ecosystem of glamour where every part reinforces the others. Maybe you’ve got a sigil for charm hidden under your foundation. You spritz perfume charged during a Venus hour, whisper your micro spell as you slip on your jewelry, and dress in colors that match your intention. Each step is small, but together? You’ve stacked an entire web of enchantments that carry you through the day.

Advanced glamour ritual isn’t about complexity for complexity’s sake. It’s about weaving your tools, timing, and intention together until the whole world feels like your stage.

Everyday Glamour: How to Actually Use This

Here’s the thing about glamour: it’s not just for big rituals, full moons, or dramatic entrances. The real magic comes from weaving it into your daily life so it becomes second nature. Think of it less like “a special event” and more like brushing your teeth, just with better accessories and a lot more flair.

Start with your morning ritual. Before you even step out the door, set the tone. Stand in front of the mirror and actually look at yourself, not the rushed, “ugh, do I have pillow lines?” glance, but a deliberate meeting of your own eyes. Speak your micro spells out loud, even if it feels silly. Apply your makeup, skin care, and/or accessories slowly, with intention, as if each step is charging you up. Choose one anchor item for the day, maybe a ring, a scarf, a pair of shoes, or a spritz of perfume, that you’ll treat as your portable glamour battery. Every time you touch it, you’re recharging the spell.

At work, glamour is subtle but no less powerful. This isn’t Broadway, you don’t need to strut in like you’re accepting an Oscar (unless that’s your vibe). It’s about small, steady signals. Shoulders back. Breathing calm. Eye contact held just a little longer than usual. Those micro-shifts are often what people notice most. When you start to wobble, use your anchor item: touch the ring, adjust the jacket, reapply your lipstick like you’re sealing a spell. These little gestures refresh your glamour without drawing attention to themselves.

Then there are social settings, where glamour gets to have fun. This is when you can turn the volume up to 20. Want to be magnetic? Laugh easily and openly, it’s contagious. Want to radiate mystery? Speak less, smile knowingly, and let others lean into your silence. The trick is remembering that glamour isn’t about being liked by everyone. That’s people-pleasing, and it’ll drain you fast. Glamour is about being memorable. You’re not auditioning for prom queen. You’re casting a spell that lingers long after you’ve left the room.

Everyday glamour isn’t flashy. It’s not exhausting. It’s a series of small choices that add up until you realize you’ve become the person who doesn’t just walk into rooms, you shift them.

The Psychology of Glamour

Alright, let’s drag this out of the corner for a second. Glamour magick works not because the universe is handing out sparkles on request, but because your brain, and everyone else’s brain, is wired in ways you can absolutely tap into.

Think about how fast we judge people. You meet someone, and in less than ten seconds, you’ve decided if they seem trustworthy, magnetic, threatening, or dull. Most of that decision is subconscious, based on micro-signals: posture, tone, scent, the way their eyes move, even whether their smile looks like it reaches their eyes or not. Glamour magick is just taking control of those signals instead of leaving them to chance.

Confidence is the biggest one. Even if it starts out as performance, “fake it till you make it”, your nervous system eventually buys the act. That’s why standing tall and speaking steadily changes how others perceive you and how you feel inside.

Scent is another heavy hitter. Smell bypasses the logical brain and dives straight into the emotional centers. One whiff of jasmine or sandalwood and someone might not know why they’re leaning toward you, they just are. That’s sorcery, plain and simple.

Then there’s visualization. Neuroscience has shown that when you vividly imagine yourself doing something, your brain lights up in nearly the same way it does when you actually do it. That’s why athletes rehearse their moves in their heads. Practioners do the same thing with glamour: imagine yourself commanding the room, and your body follows through when you step into it.

So yes, you could call glamour “placebo with eyeliner.” But… here’s the kicker: placebo isn’t fake. Placebo is belief reshaping reality, measurable in clinical trials. Glamour just dresses it up and makes it fun.

Pitfalls and Real Talk

Here’s the part nobody likes to admit: glamour can misfire, backfire, or burn you out.

The first trap is overcompensation. We’ve all seen it: someone barging in, practically shouting “I’m confident!” while their eyes scream panic. That disconnect is obvious. Glamour magnifies what’s already there; it can’t paste over raw chaos. Pair it with inner work or it collapses.

Then there’s manipulation: glamour can seduce, deceive, and dominate. That’s why practioners were feared for it. But it’s a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Use it to enchant, not exploit, or you’ll become the villain in your own story. Unless you want to be the villain. In which case, own it, but don’t pretend you’re not playing with fire.

Finally: exhaustion. Glamour takes energy. Keeping yourself “on” 24/7 is like running every light in the house, you’ll blow the fuse. Take it off like makeup at night. Rest. Recharge. Even god/desses get tired.

Journaling Your Glamour

Most people do glamour once or twice, notice it kind of works, and then stop paying attention. That’s like casting spells with your eyes closed. If you want to get good at glamour, really good, you’ve got to track it.

I’m not talking about a leather-bound grimoire with calligraphy (though if that’s your style, rock it). A cheap notebook, a Google Doc, or even voice memos will do. Just record what you did: your intention, tools, outfit, scent, how you felt, and, most importantly, what happened next.

Over time, patterns will leap out. Maybe red lipstick is your nuclear option. Maybe green makes people confide in you. Maybe a certain affirmation leaves you buzzing all day. Without notes, you’ll forget. With notes, you’ll build your own glamour grimoire.

Think of it like tuning an instrument: every record sharpens your resonance until your glamour hums in perfect sync with who you are.

Glamour as Empowerment

Glamour magick isn’t vanity, though there is nothing wrong with vanity, it’s agency. It’s reclaiming control of how you’re perceived instead of leaving it in the hands of strangers.

When you practice glamour, you’re not lying. You’re choosing. You’re saying, “This is the self I’m amplifying today.” Sometimes that’s power in the boardroom. Sometimes it’s allure on a date. Sometimes it’s composure when everything inside you is chaos.

That’s not fake, it’s strategy. The more you practice, the less it feels like a mask and the more it feels like a switch. You’re not inventing someone new, you’re amplifying what’s already there.

When you catch your reflection, don’t just see a face. See a spell. See the choice you’ve made about how to walk into the world. Know that you’re the one weaving it.

Glamour isn’t something you wear. Glamour is something you are.

How This Looks in Action

It’s one thing to talk about glamour in theory; it’s another to watch it play out in real life. Let’s look at a few moments where glamour turns the ordinary into the unforgettable.

The Job Interview

Jewel was terrified. The kind of terrified where your stomach feels like it’s doing backflips and your palms are basically Niagara Falls. She needed this job, but nerves were threatening to undo her before she even walked in the door.

So… she made a plan. Her intention: confidence with warmth. Not just “hire me,” but “trust me.” She drew a little sigil for success on the back of her compact mirror, then smoothed her foundation over it like sealing wax. She whispered affirmations as she fastened her favorite necklace, charging it to be her anchor for the day.

During the interview, every time panic started to creep in, she touched the necklace and breathed. That small act brought her back to center. The panel didn’t know any of this, of course, they just saw a calm, steady, self-assured woman who answered questions with ease and warmth. She left with a job offer. Not because she “faked it,” but because she gave her best self the microphone. That’s glamour.

The First Date

Alex didn’t want to come off like they were trying too hard. Charm, yes. Desperation, no. Their intention was simple: magnetic ease.

While getting ready, Alex lit a pink candle and spritzed perfume over a sigil they’d drawn on the bottle. They slipped on a ring and whispered, “You carry my glamour tonight.” That was their anchor.

At dinner, conversation flowed. Alex laughed easily, listened intently, and didn’t rush to fill the silences. They touched the ring whenever nerves bubbled up, and each time, it felt like resetting the spell. The date leaned in closer as the night went on, clearly caught in the orbit. By the time they parted, Alex’s laugh was still echoing in their head.

The Night Out

Jon almost bailed. He was tired, the week had been a mess, and the thought of a crowded club made him want to crawl under the covers… but he’d promised a friend, so instead of cancelling, he decided: mystery will carry me.

He slipped into black slacks, a smokey toned shirt, and a labradorite pendant that shimmered like hidden fire. While getting ready, he puts on cologne he charged under the waxing moon, whispering, “I draw curiosity to me.”

At the club, he didn’t force it. He let the music move him, smiling when he felt like it, staying quiet when he wanted to. He didn’t need to shout to be seen, people noticed anyway. They watched him dance like he was in his own private world, drawn in without knowing why. By the end of the night, strangers were circling, pulled into his gravity. He hadn’t worked the room. He was the room.

Go Forth And Shine!

The world is already enchanted. Glamour magick just reminds you that you’re not a passive character in it, you’re one of the enchanters. Tools help, rituals anchor, timing adds sparkle, but at the end of the day, the glamour is you: deliberate, amplified, unapologetic.

Step into the mirror. Set your intention. Paint yourself into the role you want to play.

You’re not just wearing glamour. You are the glamour.

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Equinox Musings:

September 19, 2025

Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Community, Rituals

Celebrating the Sun’s Balancing Act Like an Occultist

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

Let’s be honest: the equinox is kind of the show-off of the solar calendar. Twice a year, the Sun decides to flex on us, balancing day and night like some smug gymnast on a beam. And we, the occult practitioners, witches, druids, and magical oddballs, go absolutely feral for it.

Right now, as I’m writing this, we are moving into the autumnal equinox where I live. Leaves are flirting with decay, shadows are getting long enough to trip over, and every shop is drunk on pumpkin spice. But somewhere else, looking at you, southern hemisphere, it’s spring. While I’m lighting candles and mumbling about death, someone else is literally dancing with flower crowns, sneezing their lungs out from pollen, and screaming, “It’s rebirth, baby!”

That’s the equinox for you: same Sun, two totally different moods. Cosmic split-screen.

Why We Even Care About This Thing

The equinox isn’t just some astronomical trivia that makes scientists clap politely. For us, it’s a hinge in the year, a door creaking between light and dark. The word itself comes from aequus (equal) and nox (night), which sounds fancy but really just means, “Look, the Sun is playing fair… for once.”

And here’s the kicker: balance is weird. Humans like to say we want balance, but the truth is we’re terrible at it. We tip too far into light and get burned out, or we drown ourselves in shadow and call it “character development.” The equinox holds up a mirror and goes, “See? It is possible to have both.” Which is beautiful, and also kind of terrifying.

Autumnal Equinox: Death Dressed Up in Gold

Okay, let’s talk about the equinox that’s happening for me right now: autumn. The great dying. The harvest feast before the underworld starts sending you cryptic late-night texts.

There’s something delicious about this season. Everything is dying, yes, but it’s doing it with so much flair. Leaves don’t just fall off trees, they throw themselves into the abyss in fiery reds and golds like they’re auditioning for a Broadway exit. Pumpkins swell like nature’s middle finger to scarcity. And we, the magical folk, see all of this and think, “Yep, time to feast, time to thank, time to let go.”

For witches and pagans, this is traditionally the second harvest, time to take stock. Not just of your garden, but of your life. What grew? What flopped? Did you water your intentions or just scroll TikTok while your spell candles gathered dust? No shade. The equinox is the perfect excuse to pause, sigh dramatically, and whisper, “Okay, what’s next?”

Personally, I like to mark it with food. Bread, squash, pumpkin, and mulled wine. Eating seasonally is the easiest kind of magic, no elaborate incantations, no ingredients you have to smuggle out of Mordor. Just chew slowly and remember you’re chewing the Sun’s work. That’s spellcraft.

If you’re more ritual-minded, try a little balance work: write two lists, one for what you’re keeping, one for what you’re letting die. Burn the letting-go list if you like drama, bury it if you like subtlety, compost it if you want bonus witch points. Keep the other one where you can see it when winter depression comes knocking.

Vernal Equinox: The Audacity of Life

Now, while I’m here sighing about rot and endings, some of you are in the southern hemisphere, celebrating spring. In a way, I kind of envy you, because spring is pure chaos energy. Everything’s budding, buzzing, humping, and blooming like the world just chugged five espressos.

The vernal equinox is fertility writ large. Rabbits go feral, birds scream from treetops, pollen tries to murder your sinuses, and magic hums under it all like an electric current. For practioners, this is the time to plant, not just literal seeds (though blessing your garden seeds is a classic), but ideas, projects, the messy beginnings of things.

One of my favorite spring traditions is egg magic. Eggs are tiny symbols of fertility and potential. You can paint them, bury them, or just eat them with intention. I’ve whispered blessings over scrambled eggs before. It counts. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

And then there’s the dancing, the frolicking, the straight-up silliness that spring demands. Magic doesn’t have to be solemn all the time. Sometimes the best way to honor the equinox is to spin in circles in your backyard until you collapse, drunk on the absurdity of being alive. That’s witchcraft too.

Balance, That Tricky Little Bastard

Here’s the thing about the equinox: balance is not comfortable. It’s not cozy. It’s precarious. It’s standing on the knife-edge between dark and light and realizing, “Oh. This doesn’t last.”

That’s the real teaching here. Equinox isn’t about achieving eternal zen. It’s about honoring the fleeting moment when things line up, knowing full well it’ll tip again tomorrow. It’s the cosmic reminder that life is cycles. You inhale, you exhale. You grow, you decay. You binge Netflix, then you clean your altar at 3 a.m. like a gremlin. Both matter. Both belong.

That’s why equinox rituals often focus on shadow work and light work together. Instead of banishing your fears, sit with them. Instead of ignoring your joys, revel in them. Accept that you’re a messy blend of both. The Sun is balanced for a day; you can at least try.

Northern vs Southern Hemisphere Drama

Ah yes, the great occult debate: do we celebrate the Wheel of the Year as written (which is very northern-hemisphere harvest-heavy), or do we flip it depending on where we live? Spoiler: flip it.

I’ve never once met a spirit or deity who cared if you swapped your feasts to match your seasons. No cosmic referee is going to blow a whistle and yell, “Offside! You can’t honor fertility in September!” Magic is local. Your land, your sky, your seasons. If it’s autumn, grieve and feast. If it’s spring, plant and sing. If you’re at the equator and it’s always the same… well, good luck, friend.

How Occultists Actually Celebrate (The Messy Truth)

Not every equinox celebration is an Instagram-worthy altar shot with perfect lighting and ethically foraged herbs. Sometimes it’s just lighting a candle and muttering, “Thanks, Sun.” Sometimes it’s a drunken potluck with too much cider. Sometimes it’s crying in the bathtub while pulling tarot cards with wet hands.

And that’s fine. Magic is not a performance sport. You don’t need a Pinterest board to commune with the turning of the year. You just need sincerity. And maybe snacks. Spirits love snacks. (So do raccoons. Manage your expectations when leaving offerings outdoors.)

Mythic Echoes

Humans have always been obsessed with the equinox. From Stonehenge lining up with sunrise to myths of Persephone straddling two worlds, the equinox is baked into our DNA. It’s the story of descent and return, of planting and harvest, of dying and being reborn. Every culture has its spin: Inca sun festivals, Japanese higan honoring the ancestors, Celtic harvest feasts. All different, all circling the same truth: the Sun is wobbling, and so are we.

The Therapy Session None of Us Asked For

Let’s be real: equinoxes are cosmic therapy. They make us check in on the balance of our own lives. Am I working too much? Neglecting my joy? Hoarding dead projects like a spiritual version of the Junk Lady from Labyrinth? The equinox calls you out.

It’s not about “fixing” everything, but about noticing. Saying, “Ah, yes, I am wildly out of whack. Time to nudge the scales.” That’s powerful magic, not the kind that sparks fireworks, but the kind that keeps you sane through the next tilt.

At the end of the day, the equinox is not about perfect rituals or cosmic brownie points. It’s about presence. It’s about standing in your yard, or your living room, or your own messy heart, and saying, “Okay. I see the shift. I honor it. Let’s keep going.”

Whether you’re sinking into autumn’s gold or exploding into spring’s chaos, celebrate. Eat. Drink. Dance badly. Light a candle. Whisper to your ancestors, elementals, gods, or your seedlings. Don’t overthink it.

The Sun balanced itself today. Tomorrow it’ll tip again. But tonight? Tonight you can raise a glass to the wild, impossible fact that you are alive in this wobbling, spinning world.

And if that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.

Autumnal Equinox Blessing (Northern Hemisphere)

O Sun at balance, slipping toward the shadows,
I honor your golden retreat.
As the fields fall silent and the harvest rests in my hands,
May I gather what is worth keeping,
and release what hungers for decay.
Light and dark stand equal, and so shall I,
not clinging, not fearing, but walking steady.
Bless this descent into the deepening night,
and grant me wisdom in the turning of the year.

Vernal Equinox Blessing (Southern Hemisphere)

O Sun at balance, tipping toward the light,
I welcome your rising strength.
As the soil awakens and seeds tremble with promise,
May I plant with clear intention,
and tend with joy the green that stirs in me.
Light and dark stand equal, and so shall I,
not rushing, not doubting, but opening wide.
Bless this ascent into the swelling day,
and grant me courage in the blossoming year.

A Quick Aside: Oh Look, an Eclipse

Because the cosmos can’t resist drama, this equinox season comes with a solar eclipse tossed in like a celestial plot twist. An eclipse during equinox time is basically the Sun and Moon saying, “Let’s upstage balance with total chaos.”

Occultists tend to treat eclipses as wild cards. They’re not your average “light a candle, feel serene” moments. They’re liminal inside liminal, a balance point suddenly blacked out, the lights cut in the middle of the ritual. Eclipses are power surges, but not always gentle ones. They expose, they disrupt, they make you rethink what’s really in shadow.

If you’re planning equinox rites, you can lean into the eclipse energy: do magic for revelation, endings, and sudden course-corrections. Or, if your instincts say nope, maybe just sit quietly, watch the sky, and let the Sun and Moon have their weird little cosmic make out session without you meddling.

Either way, remember: eclipses remind us that even the most reliable cycles can surprise us. Balance is never as tidy as it looks on paper.

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Dancing with Shadows:

September 10, 2025

Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Dreams/Oracle/Divination, Planetary, Rituals

Eclipse Energy and Its Utility in Magick

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

Let’s dive into the cosmic rollercoaster that is eclipse energy and why magicians, witches, and occultists treat it with the same mix of reverence and side-eye usually reserved for that one friend who’s both inspiring and terrible at life choices. Think of eclipses as the cosmic version of mixing tequila with Red Bull: potent, exhilarating, transformative… and possibly a terrible idea if you don’t respect the dosage.

When the Sky Goes Weird

There’s something primal about eclipses. Even if you’re the most cynical, science loving, “show-me-the-data” witch in the coven, when the Sun or Moon decides to disappear mid-show, your lizard brain perks up. The ancients weren’t wrong to bang pots and panic. Eclipses rupture the normal rhythm of light and shadow. In magick? That rupture is like a cosmic crack in the dam. You can either step through it with intention… or get swept into the undertow and end up magically faceplanting. Let’s be real: eclipse magick isn’t your gentle “light a candle, manifest abundance” affair. It’s high voltage. You don’t dabble with eclipse energy the same way you don’t casually lick a live power line. Yes, you can harness it, but you also have to accept its chaos, its “ready or not” intensity, and the fact that it does not care if you’ve color-coded your Book of Shadows with washi tape.

Why Eclipses Matter in Magick

Eclipses interrupt the cosmic script. Normally, we’re on a neat cycle: new moon beginnings, full moon culminations, rinse and repeat. But eclipses? They’re cosmic hacks, glitches in the program. A solar eclipse turbocharges a new moon, while a lunar eclipse supercharges a full moon. Think of them as season finales in your personal storyline. Dramatic reveals, betrayals, and sudden cliffhangers. Magick during an eclipse taps into that rupture. It’s about endings that stick, beginnings that feel fated, and revelations that can’t be shoved back under the rug. Do a ritual during an eclipse, and you’re basically signing a cosmic contract in Sharpie. Permanent ink. No erasers.

Why You Should Use Eclipse Energy

Eclipses are like free upgrades from the Universe. They’re an opportunity to cut cords, break cycles, and shove yourself into a new timeline with cosmic backing. If you’ve been dragging your feet about ending that toxic situationship, quitting the soul-sucking job, or burning the last of your “manifest a billionaire soulmate” spells from 2015, an eclipse will gladly provide the push. Magically, eclipse energy is superb for:

Banishing and cutting ties – Eclipse energy is ruthless. If you want something gone… it’s a guillotine.

Shadow work – Eclipses are literally about light and shadow, so diving into your personal shadow side during one is practically on theme.

Big transformations – Not the “I’ll drink more water and meditate daily” kind. The “pack your bags, we’re moving to another reality” kind.

Revealing truth – Hidden things come out. Lies unravel. If you ask for clarity, don’t be surprised when your rose colored glasses get stomped on mercilessly.

Do Not Treat Eclipse Energy Carelessly

Okay, but here’s the catch. Eclipse energy is not your friendly neighborhood full moon. It’s volatile. It doesn’t bend easily to “cute” intentions. Try to manifest a parking spot with eclipse energy, and you’ll either get a spot plus a flat tire or end up questioning why you’re even driving anymore.

Some things to keep in mind:

It’s disruptive.

Don’t use eclipse energy to “stabilize.” That’s like trying to pour gasoline on a campfire to make it cozier.

It sticks.

Eclipse magick echoes for months, sometimes years. You can’t undo it with a quick cleansing. If you hex your ex during an eclipse, congrats, you’ve just built a magical time-bomb that might detonate on both of you in unexpected ways.

It demands shadow confrontation.

You can’t cherry-pick the nice parts. Eclipse energy will drag your secrets out of the cellar and parade them around like a drunk uncle at Thanksgiving.

So…yes, work with eclipse energy, but mindfully

How Long Eclipse Energy Lasts

Here’s where it gets spicy. The effects of an eclipse aren’t confined to that single dramatic moment. Nope. They ripple. Astrologically, an eclipse sets the tone for about six months, basically until the next eclipse season. Some say the energy can even stretch years, depending on how it hits your personal chart. When you do magick during an eclipse, you’re setting a domino chain that will clatter forward for at least half a year. Think of it like planting seeds during an earthquake. The soil is wild, unpredictable, but the things that take root? They grow with freakish strength.

Practical Use of Eclipse Magick

Okay, you’re intrigued. Here’s how to approach eclipse energy in a manner less likely to nuke your life:

Banishing > Manifesting

Stick to cutting away, letting go, and closing chapters. Eclipse energy loves subtraction more than addition.

Rituals for Revelation

Divination during an eclipse is brutal honesty hour. Tarot pulls won’t mince words. Scrying will show you what you don’t want to see. Ask only if you’re ready to handle it.

Shadow Work

Journal, meditate, confront your triggers. Eclipse energy will amplify the process. Bonus: less glittery candles, more raw honesty.

Don’t Overdo It

This isn’t a “light every candle I own” night. Pick one intention, one ritual, one working. Eclipse energy magnifies, so minimalism works better.

(Because Humor Helps)

Let’s be blunt: eclipse magick has a track record of “be careful what you wish for.” Ask anyone who tried manifesting love during an eclipse and wound up in a karmic entanglement with their landlord… Or the witch who hexed her boss and then found herself unemployed and mysteriously allergic to printer ink. Eclipse energy doesn’t just deliver; it makes it theatrical. The moral? Eclipse magick is like ordering from a cosmic wish granting monkey’s paw. It gives you what you think you want, in the most inconvenient, soul rearranging way possible.

The Balance & Returns

Here’s the paradox: eclipse energy is both the best and worst time for magick. It’s not about “should you” or “shouldn’t you,” but about why. If you’re ready for the long-haul consequences, ready to let your foundations quake, and ready to deal with revelations that make therapy bills skyrocket, eclipse magick is a gift.

If you’re just bored and want to spice up your manifestation journal? Step away from the altar, friend. Go charge some crystals under the next normal full moon instead.

Because eclipse energy unfolds slowly, you need patience. Plan to wait at least six months to see the “results” of what you set in motion. Think of it like slow-release fertilizer. Immediate sparks may happen, but the big stuff? It sneaks up. One day, months later, you’ll look back and realize your life is unrecognizable since that eclipse ritual. The trick is: don’t obsess. Eclipse magick is a “set it and forget it” situation. Plant the intention, walk away, let the cosmos do its chaotic work.

Eclipse Energy Is Not Here to Play Nice

At the end of the day, eclipses remind us that we’re tiny creatures under a vast, uncaring sky… and yet, in that chaos, there’s power. Working with eclipse energy isn’t about control, it’s about surrender. It’s about aligning yourself with upheaval and saying, “Okay, Universe, let’s see what happens if I stop clinging to the script.” So here’s my advice:

Use eclipse energy when you’re ready for transformation, not decoration.

Expect the unexpected.

Laugh when it gets messy, because it will.

And for the love of the Moon, don’t hex your ex during an eclipse. Seriously…

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Hexing as Ethical Resistance:

August 26, 2025

Basics, Community, Rituals, Uncategorized
The Sacred Art of Saying “Not Today, Oppressor”

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

Hexing. The word alone makes some neo-pagans clutch their moonstone necklaces like Victorian ladies spotting ankles.

The idea of using magic to cause harm, or even mild inconvenience, has become so taboo in certain corners of the New Age and Wiccan echo chambers that saying “I hexed someone” can get you excommunicated from your crystal shop’s punch card program.

We’re told that hexing is “low vibe,” “not spiritually evolved,” and definitely not in line with The Rede (you remember, that brittle moral napkin too many keep pretending is divine law).

Here’s the inconvenient, incense-scented truth: hexing can be ethical.
In fact, hexing can be radical, necessary, and even holy.

This isn’t about revenge spells cast because Karen cut you off in traffic or didn’t compliment your Samhain outfit. This is about resisting oppression, defending the vulnerable, and wielding spiritual power like it means something. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is say, “Absolutely not, and may your WiFi always buffer.”

What Even Is a Hex?

First, let’s define our terms before someone emails me angrily in Comic Sans.

A hex is a magical act intended to cause disruption, harm, interference, or imbalance in someone’s life. It’s often used to punish wrongdoing, create consequences, or remove power from someone who is abusing it.

It’s not a prank spell. It’s not “manifesting their karma.” It’s not a “bad vibes” visualization wrapped in spiritual euphemism. It is a conscious, direct act of magical opposition.

And guess what? That’s not inherently evil.

In fact, many of our spiritual ancestors wouldn’t have even blinked at the concept. Cunning folk, rootworkers, brujas, shamans, shamankas, bokors, witches…all had techniques for cursing and hexing. Not because they were sadistic, but because they lived in the real world, where people hurt each other and power needs checks.

The modern Western rejection of hexing as “unethical” says more about sanitized suburban spirituality than it does about actual moral reasoning.

The Cult of Niceness Is Spiritually Bankrupt

Let’s be blunt: “positive vibes only” is not a moral code. It’s a spiritual anesthetic. It lets you avoid the discomfort of real emotion, real confrontation, and real accountability.

The idea that you must always act in love, peace, and sparkles is a philosophy best suited to Care Bears, not occultists navigating late-stage capitalism, systemic injustice, and generational trauma.

Hexing violates the code of “niceness,” and thank the gods for that. Because nice doesn’t mean kind. Nice means inoffensive. Nice means submissive. Nice means complicit. The demand that all witches be “nice”, even to their oppressors, is spiritual tone-policing. Ethical resistance requires moral clarity, not moral purity. Sometimes clarity looks like saying, “You do not get to keep hurting people without magical consequences.”

The Hex as Political Act

Now we get into the real fire.

Hexing isn’t just personal, it can be political. It can be a way of fighting back when all the other systems are rigged against you. When the courts are corrupt, when the cops are violent, when institutions protect abusers, what tools are left?

For many, especially practioners who are BIPOC , queer, trans, disabled and/or otherwise on the margins, magic becomes the last space of agency. Hexing becomes an act of radical defiance.

Hexing the landlord who’s trying to evict your elderly neighbor so they can gentrify and raise the rent?
Hexing a cop who brutalized someone in your community?
Hexing a politician trying to erase your existence? Hexing a group removing science, and history from school textbooks?

This isn’t petty. This is revolutionary.

Magic has always been a weapon of the disenfranchised. If you’re only comfortable using it for herbal tea and affirmations, then you’re treating it like a lifestyle accessory, not a living tradition.

“But Karma!”, And Other Toothless Threats

Let’s tackle the inevitable New Age counterargument: “If you hex, karma will get you.”

Okay, let’s be serious. Karma is not a cosmic point system with immediate refund policies. It’s a complex philosophical principle from Eastern traditions that Westerners love to misinterpret as “what goes around, comes around, especially to practioners I disapprove of.”

Karma doesn’t mean you get punished for defending yourself. Karma means your actions have consequences, yes, but that doesn’t make all consequences equal.

If I hex a fascist to get chronic diarrhea before a press conference, and they stop inciting genocide for five minutes to sprint to the bathroom, guess what? I’ll take that karmic hit.

That’s not imbalance. That’s justice. That’s resistance.

You cannot bastardize another culture’s moral scaffolding just to avoid hard choices. We need to build an ethical structure that actually accounts for power, context, and impact, not some candy-coated cosmic boomerang.

Who Gets to Be “Above” Hexing? (Hint: The Comfortable)

Let’s unpack a little spiritual classism, shall we?

The witches who most vehemently denounce hexing tend to be… well, comfortable. Safe. Removed from direct violence. Often white, middle-class, neurotypical, and living in communities where the worst injustice is someone parking in their space at the farmer’s market.

For folks who don’t need hexes, hexing looks like a moral failure. For those who do, it’s a survival tool. If you have the luxury of choosing not to hex because your environment is safe, your life is protected, and your rights are respected, congrats, that’s privilege. But… don’t pretend your abstinence makes you holy. It makes you comfortable. Don’t shame others for using the tools they have when the world has failed them.

When Hexing Is Actually More Ethical Than Forgiveness

Forgiveness is great. Until it becomes a bludgeon. There’s a dangerous tendency in neopagan and New Age circles to demand that victims forgive too quickly. To let go. To “love their enemies”. To bypass the necessary fires of rage and retribution.

Forgiveness without justice isn’t healing. It’s erasure.

Sometimes the ethical thing is not to forgive, but to act.
To hex the abuser so they can’t keep hurting others.
To curse the institution that enabled harm.
To bind the hands of those who perpetuate cycles of trauma.

That isn’t “lower vibrational.” That’s soul-deep integrity.

The hex can be the ritual of justice in a world where justice often fails.

Consent, Consequence, and the Hexing Code

Let’s be clear: hexing isn’t free of responsibility.

That’s what separates an ethical hex from spiritual sadism. There are rules. Not the Rede’s cartoon rules, but real, lived, relational ethics.

Here’s a working framework for hexing as ethical resistance:
1. Is this hex defensive or retaliatory?
  If it’s to stop harm, it’s probably ethical. If it’s just to satisfy your ego… reflect.
2. Is this person in a position of power or causing harm?
  Punching up is very different from punching down.
3. Have other routes been tried or exhausted?
  Hexing shouldn’t be the first resort, but it doesn’t have to be the last.
4. Are you willing to accept the consequences?
  Because magic always has consequences. Not punishment…ripples.
5. Are you doing this with clarity and intention, not just anger?
  Rage is sacred, but scattershot hexing is just magical flailing.
Hex with discernment. Not because you’re afraid of punishment, but because you understand your power is real.

Reclaiming the Witch as Resister

Witches were not the peacekeepers. They were the edgewalkers. The ones who cursed the nobles, hexed the sheriff, poisoned the landowner’s crops when he raised taxes. They were resisters, outsiders, subverters of empire. If your witchcraft doesn’t challenge power, what exactly is it doing?

The image of the witch as a healing earth-mama with soft hands and a passive smile is a modern construction, mostly made for selling bath bombs. Witches hexed injustice. It’s long past time to bring that back.

The world doesn’t need more docile “lightworkers” with Etsy shops and victim-blaming mantras. It needs warriors. Spell-slingers. Hex-wielding saboteurs of the status quo.

Hexing as Sacred Duty

Sometimes, hexing isn’t just allowed, it’s required.

When you hex, you’re saying:
I will not let this pass.
I will not make peace with this injustice.
I will not wait for someone else to fix this.

That is sacred. That is powerful. That is resistance.

We honor our gods, ancestors, and spirits not only with love, but with righteous anger. Sometimes the most devout prayer is a hex spat through clenched teeth. Sometimes the holiest ritual is a curse written in ash and wine under a moon that understands exactly what you mean.

Cursing Isn’t the Enemy…Apathy Is

To hex is to care. To hex is to refuse silence. To hex is to take spiritual responsibility for protecting what matters when no one else will. Ethical hexing doesn’t mean casting chaos for fun. It means choosing to disrupt systems of harm with precision, passion, and moral clarity.

Let’s stop pretending that “doing no harm” is a viable strategy in a world built on harm. Instead, let’s be brave enough to say:
If they harm the vulnerable, I will act.
If they abuse their power, I will curse their grasp.
If they endanger the sacred, I will hex without shame.

Light that black candle. Chant with purpose. Trace sigils in iron and fire. And when you curse, do it with your full chest, the full weight of your ethics, your gods, and your unyielding love for what must be protected.

Not because hexing is easy.
But because sometimes, it’s right.
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