• How to Build Community

    July 28, 2025
    Basics, Community, Uncategorized

    Without Acting Like a Cult Leader


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

    You’ve read the warning signs, salted your altar, exorcised purity culture, and you’re feeling fired up. You want to build something better. A coven, a temple, a Discord server, a backyard solstice drum circle with more consent and fewer narcissists in wizard robes. Excellent!

    But wait! Before you don that velvet cloak and call yourself “High Priestess of the Spiral Light Chicken Collective”, let’s have a frank little chat.

    While the dream of spiritual community is sacred, beautiful, and even achievable, the execution often feels cursed. What starts as a few people lighting candles together ends up with someone crying in the woods, someone else sleeping with three initiates, and a third person rewriting history in a 42 comment Facebook subthread.

    So, here’s a guide to building a sustainable, anti-culty community, without becoming the next cautionary tale in a Netflix original called “WitchTok Survivors Anonymous”.

    Leadership Is Not Divine Right

    Let’s be crystal clear from jump. Deciding to found a community doesn’t mean you’re chosen by the gods. It means you were the one brave (or bored) enough to start the group chat and own some folding chairs. Maybe a garage. That’s it.

    Being a leader does not make you a guru, a messiah, or the CEO of anyone’s soul. It makes you the janitor, the therapist, the spreadsheet maker, and occasionally the crisis mediator when the ritual goes sideways because someone’s ex’s neighbor’s dog’s cousin’s owner “had the audacity to show up”.

    If you crave leadership because you want authority, attention, or uncritical adoration you are aiming for a pit of toxicity… maybe get a puppy instead.

    Consent Isn’t Just for Sex, It’s for Everything

    Spiritual community without consent is just spiritual manipulation with better branding. If you’re asking people to perform rituals, share trauma, enter trance states, or get naked in a forest, you better be crystal clear about what’s going down and why.

    Is it required? Optional?

    Can people opt out without punishment or side-eye?

    Are power dynamics being named and discussed?

    Do people know what “calling down a deity” might actually feel like?

    Consent means ongoing negotiation, not one-time permission. It means building a culture where people can say “no” without consequences. No guilt, no gaslighting, no “well maybe you’re just not spiritually ready yet.” Miss us with that culty condescension.

    Share Power or Prepare to Implode

    Hierarchies aren’t inherently evil. But…rigid, unaccountable, god-king hierarchies where no one can question the leader without being exiled to the astral wastelands? That’s how you get cults. And documentaries. And lawsuits.

    If you’re the founder or facilitator, great. Thank you for your service to the community. But…you are not the sole gatekeeper of the gods. Rotate responsibilities. Encourage collective decision-making. Create feedback loops that actually get used. If your ego can’t handle being challenged, you’re not leading a group, you’re running a monarchy.

    Beware the Trauma Vortex

    Spiritual communities often attract those of us who’ve been hurt by religion, by families, by the world. That’s not a problem. That’s why we build community. But here’s the kicker: you’re not a therapist (unless you are, in which case, be careful of therapizing your friends for free at ritual).

    You cannot build a community where everyone’s deepest trauma gets excavated every week without serious tools, safety protocols, and boundaries. Shadow work does not mean turning the circle into a group therapy free-for-all while Mercury is retrograde and half the people are sleep-deprived but juiced up on spellwork and meade. Make space for healing, yes, but build structures that protect people. Don’t re-traumatize folks for “depth”. Sometimes the deepest work is not dragging someone’s pain out into the candlelight, it’s holding space for their silence.

    Do Not Sleep With Everyone in the Circle

    Do I need to say this? Apparently yes.

    If you are in a position of power, perceived or actual, you cannot ethically initiate romantic or sexual relationships with people under your authority. Period. It creates a power play. “We’re all adults” is not a magical shield against coercion. “They came onto me” is not a defense against pushing. “It was a sacred tantric union guided by the goddess” is just horny cult leader Mad Libs. This goes triple for group founders, coven leaders, and anyone leading initiations, trance journeys, or naked bonfire rituals. If you are “in charge”, just don’t.

    Spiritual intimacy is real. It’s powerful. It’s also easy to abuse. Don’t.

    Actually Handle Conflict (No, Really…Do It)

    One of the biggest red flags in any group, spiritual or otherwise, is how they handle conflict. If the vibe is always “everything’s fine,” you’re in a time bomb, not a community.

    Create clear, transparent conflict resolution processes before the fight breaks out. Normalize disagreement. Model apologies. Address harm directly and proportionally.

    And for the love of all that is holy, stop using “you’re bringing in bad energy” to shut down criticism. People are allowed to be upset. If your idea of harmony is silence and obedience, you don’t want a community, you want minions.

    No Secrets, No Sacred Cows

    Does your group have secret rules? Off limits topics? A culture of reverence for one person above all others?

    That’s not mystery tradition. That’s cult behavior.

    Mystery should invite curiosity, not demand obedience. Sacredness should inspire reverence, not fear. If someone questions a belief, asks “why,” or says “this feels off,” and your instinct is to deflect, or demand silence…congrats, you’re halfway to being the problem.

    Create a culture where people are allowed, encouraged, even, to question, critique, and challenge. If your path can’t handle that, maybe the problem isn’t the question.

    Laugh. Loudly. Often.

    Want to know the fastest way to tell if you’re in a healthy spiritual community? Laughter. Not performative chuckles. Not tight smiles. I mean snort-laughing during setup for ritual. I mean someone saying, “Did that incense just fart?” and everyone losing their minds for five minutes.

    If your group can’t laugh, at itself, at the absurdity of ritual, at the ridiculousness of being human, it’s not enlightened. It’s afraid.

    Humor dissolves hierarchy. It punctures ego. It reminds us we’re alive, messy, ridiculous creatures spinning spells on a rock hurtling through space.

    And honestly, if your gods don’t have a sense of humor, get better gods.

    The Red Flag Speedrun

    Here’s your spiritual community red flag bingo card. If you check more than three, abort mission and grab the nearest goblin to help you escape.

    ✖ The leader never apologizes

    ✖ Conflicts always end in exile

    ✖ No one can explain why the rules are the rules

    ✖ Rituals are mandatory for group acceptance

    ✖ Every conversation circles back to the leader’s trauma

    ✖ Dissent is framed as betrayal

    ✖ You’re told to cut off anyone who disagrees with the group

    ✖ Everything feels a little too perfect on the surface

    You Don’t Need to Be a Cult Leader to Lead Well

    Building spiritual community is hard. It takes emotional labor, humility, flexibility, and deep unsexy commitment. You will mess up. You will piss someone off. Sometimes more than several in a day at big events. You will hold space and still somehow drop it. That’s okay.

    You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be honest. Consensual. Accountable. Open. Self-aware. Willing to learn. And not seeking your own hype. In short, integrity matters.

    You want to build real magic?

    Lead with less power and more presence.
    Create containers that bend instead of break.
    Love people enough to let them leave, and come back.
    And most of all, don’t make yourself the altar.

    Because this isn’t about you being worshipped.

    It’s about all of us being free.

    (from the Oracle of Perception)

    Monthly Mindfulness – 7-28-2025

    The Unknown

    This card asks us to sit with the beauty of not knowing. Can you relinquish control, and admit not knowing? How do you approach the unknown? How do you navigate the knowledge blanks in your world (great and small)?

    Some things are unknowable, and that’s ok. It is not a defeat to admit ignorance. Only in awknowldgment of the unknown can we access the map to growth. I get it. It’s a scary place for many. Not having the answer… In magick the unknown is in the position of alteration. The unknown is your friend. The unknown is a thing in flux.

    What is important at this time is the present, and the known. Pull your sight back in a bit, and live in today more than tomorrow. You can plan ahead, but you exist in the now…are you existing in the now?

    —- You can grab a copy of the deck, Oracle of Perception in the shop @ BuyMeACoffee.com/EmbalmedApple

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  • Mysticism Isn’t a Personality

    July 23, 2025
    Basics, Community, Uncategorized

    How to Be Spiritual Without Becoming Intolerable

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

    A hard pill for many to swallow is, being spiritual doesn’t automatically make you a good person. Or an interesting person. Or even a tolerable person.

    I know. Shocking.

    Contrary to what Instagram bios and WitchTok might suggest, mysticism is not a personality trait. It’s a practice. A path. A process of transformation. Somewhere between the moon water trend and the 800th “What deity are you?” quiz, a disturbing phenomenon has emerged:

    People treating spirituality like it’s an aesthetic identity instead of a sacred, lived reality.

    Here’s the tea, my divine friend: When you confuse your mystical practice for your entire personality, you don’t ascend, you just become that person no one invites to brunch anymore because you keep trying to read their aura over pancakes.

    How Did We Get Here?

    Easy. Late-stage capitalism met the wellness industrial complex, shook hands with social media, and said: “Let’s make spiritual identity something people can buy, brand, and weaponize!”

    And so, it was.

    Suddenly, spirituality wasn’t something you do, it was something you perform. You correct people’s chakras in casual conversation. You say things like “I’m just too empathic to be around unhealed people” while giving off the energetic equivalent of a wet cat in a thunderstorm. You stop becoming and start curating.

     If you can convince the world you’re spiritual enough, maybe no one will notice you’re still a whole-ass human under the patchouli and pentagrams.

    Spoiler alert: they notice.

    Let’s Talk About the Vibe People Hate

    We’ve all met that person in the spiritual scene. Hell, some of us have been that person (it’s okay, consider this your intervention). You know the one:

    Talks like a horoscope swallowed a thesaurus.

    Believes they’re more “evolved” because they stopped drinking coffee and now commune with starlight.

    Insists on leading every group ritual, even when it’s someone else’s group.

    Uses “boundaries” as an excuse to be a jerk and “downloads from spirit” as an excuse to ignore accountability.

    Weaponizes words like “vibration,” “sacred,” and “energy” to shut people down instead of lifting them up.

    The people who believe spiritual insight exempts them from humility.

    The ones who talk about detachment while desperately clinging to their curated mystic identity.

    The gods are rolling their eyes so hard they’re astrally concussed.

    Being Mystical Doesn’t Mean You’re Done Growing

    Mysticism is not a final form. It’s not the end of the path, it’s the start. It’s vulnerability on steroids. It’s soul-surgery with no anesthesia. It’s dancing naked in your own pain while spirits offer cryptic advice and your shadow self judges your footwork.

    And none of that makes you better than anyone. It just means you’ve chosen to walk a particular path toward meaning and mystery. That’s beautiful. That’s brave…but it’s not a license to stop being human. Or kind. Or fun to be around.

    Being Spiritual Doesn’t Excuse Bad Behavior

    Let’s make something painfully clear:
    You don’t get to skip accountability because you’re “high vibe.”
    You don’t get to ghost people and call it “protecting your energy.”
    You don’t get to emotionally manipulate folks and say, “Spirit told me to.”

    Mysticism is about alignment, not ego cosplay. It asks you to examine your impact, your shadows, your habits, and how your presence affects others. Not just to post selfies next to your altar like, “Saging away toxic people.”

    If everyone in your life is “low vibration,” maybe you’re not ascending, maybe you’re just insufferable.

    Signs You’ve Mistaken Mysticism for a Personality

    Let’s check in. A little self-diagnosis never hurt anyone

    You might be spiritually intolerable if:

    You answer simple questions with “Well, it’s all an illusion anyway.”

    You think small talk is beneath you unless it involves star charts.

    You’re incapable of being wrong because “that’s not my truth.”

    You’ve replaced your emotional regulation skills with moon phases.

    You can’t take a joke. Especially about your gods.

    Pro tip: If your spiritual identity can’t survive a little satire, it’s a defense mechanism.

    What Actually Makes a Person Spiritually Magnetic?

    Not the robe. Not the ritual skills. Not the Saturn placement you won’t shut up about.

    It’s:

    Compassion. Real, inconvenient, unsexy compassion.

    Curiosity instead of certainty.

    A willingness to not know and still show up.

    The ability to laugh at yourself mid-invocation.

    Knowing when to shut up and hold space for someone else’s experience.

    Mysticism isn’t about being right, it’s about being real. The more you drop the performance, the more potent your presence becomes.

    You’re Not Here to Be Worshipped, You’re Here to Be Transformed

    The real magic happens when you step off the stage and into the dirt. When you remember that every god you invoke is older, weirder, and wiser than your ego. No number of past-life memories can replace the value of showing up fully in this one.

    Your incense doesn’t matter if your pride chokes the room. Your sigils won’t save you from your own unexamined projections. Your aesthetic won’t keep you warm when your relationships rot from the inside out.

    Be the mystic and the mess. Be the priestess and the person who forgets the offering and has to apologize to their altar like it’s a pissed-off roommate.

    That’s the work. That’s the magick.

    Be Spiritual, Not Special

    Here’s the truth bomb with extra glitter…you’re not special because you’re mystical. You’re special because you exist; messy, beautiful, contradictory and all. The next time you find yourself tempted to perform your path like it’s a monologue from a witchy soap opera, ask yourself:

    Am I sharing my truth… or performing for approval?

    Am I embodying my practice… or using it to hide?

    Am I here to impress people… or connect with them?

    When you drop the performance, something better arrives:

    Presence.
    Power.
    People who don’t cross the street when they see you coming.

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  • The Will to Do the Work

    July 18, 2025
    Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Community, Uncategorized

    Why Discipline of Mind and Action is the True Occult Secret

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

    If the path to illumination were easy, everyone would be a wizard by now. This is a sentiment any seasoned practitioner can claim as their mantra.

    It’s easy to imagine the occult as a power download after a few secret midnight rituals. Put on some fancy robes, say a chant in some dead language, and… POW! Fireballs cast from the hands (ok, maybe that last part is just me). It’s sexier than a tarot deck and more mysterious than a sealed grimoire by an author whose name is lost to antiquity. Here’s the thing… any adept worth their salt will tell you, the true secret isn’t in the ritual, the tool, or the spell. It’s in the one thing most try to skip…discipline.

    The Occult is Not for the Fickle

    Most people approach the occult as a hobby. I’ll try this after work, after dinner, after that Netflix series finishes… The problem? The occult doesn’t respond to half-assed effort. It’s like going to the gym, doing one set of curls, and expecting to win a bodybuilding contest. You don’t dabble in the unseen and walk away with the keys to the universe.

    Discipline is the gatekeeper, the dragon that separates the tourist from the initiate. It’s the ability to focus the mind when every shiny distraction begs for attention. It’s committing to meditate when scrolling social media would be infinitely more entertaining. It’s doing a banishing and invoking ritual every morning when your bed feels like a five-star resort. It’s showing up for the work, every day, regardless of how inspired or spiritual you feel.

    The Mind is a Magician’s Forge

    All serious traditions, from Hermeticism to Tantra to Zen, insist that the mind is the crucible where the magician is forged. It’s tempting to skip this part and go straight for the power moves, the invocations, the sigils, the fancy astrological elections. But an undisciplined mind is like a Ferrari with no steering wheel. Sure, it’ll go fast, but it’ll also crash spectacularly.

    Why? Because thoughts are forces. In the occult paradigm, every thought is an act of creation. An unfocused, reactive mind will create as much chaos as it will intention. The magician with an undisciplined mind is like a chef tossing random ingredients into a pan and hoping for a gourmet meal. It’s not happening. It’s more likely to cause a spiritual version of food poisoning.

    Action Without Discipline is Just Flailing

    Then there’s action. You can meditate until your knees disintegrate and still fail if you lack the discipline to act. Many talk endlessly about “Will” but forget that Will is meaningless unless it’s expressed in the world. It’s the discipline to carry your intention across the gap from thought to deed that separates the magician from the wishful thinker.

    Action grounded in discipline creates a resonance between inner and outer worlds. It’s aligning desire, thought, and action into a singular point of force. The magician doesn’t just ponder a sigil for success, they create it, charge it, and then act in ways that support its reality. Will without action is a ghost. Action without discipline is a zombie. Put them together…they’re an unstoppable force.

    Ritual as a Training Ground

    Ritual isn’t an end in itself. It’s a practice space for discipline. The routine of lighting the candle, tracing the circle, invoking the energies, and closing down the space is more than pageantry. It’s a training ground for precision, focus, and consistency. Every ritual is an exercise in aligning intention and action. It’s like doing scales on a piano or katas in a dojo. You don’t skip them because they’re boring; you do them until they’re second nature.

    Performing ritualistic acts with discipline develops the magician’s ability to operate with precision across planes of reality. It’s like gaining mastery over your psychic muscles. The deeper the discipline, the stronger the magician’s grip over their internal state, and by extension, their external reality.

    True Will vs. Impulsive Will

    It isn’t about forcing the universe to give you stuff. It’s about aligning yourself so completely with your True Will that external reality reshapes itself like clay. True Will is discovered, not manufactured. It’s the quiet voice that speaks when you silence the noise. A magician’s discipline is the foundation needed for the practice of removing the internal and external clutter that obscures this voice.

    Impulsive will is the ego barking for attention. True Will is the deep, resonant hum of purpose. Discipline of mind allows you to discern between the two. Without it, you’re flung about by every whim, every emotion, every trend. You’re chasing sparks and mistaking them for flame.

    Resistance and the Alchemy of Friction

    Discipline isn’t about making life harder for the sake of it. It’s about creating the right kind of friction. Friction creates the flame. It’s what allows the latent to become potent. It’s what separates an aspirant from an adept.

    If you want mastery, you have to learn to dance with resistance, and in doing so transmute it. The early morning meditation you dread? The challenging ritual that makes your ego squirm? Flames to the lead weighing you down. It’s alchemy. True discipline doesn’t eradicate resistance; it uses it as a force for growth.

    In an era of instant gratification, discipline is a revolutionary act. It’s the backbone of a mind that doesn’t just tolerate adversity, but grows stronger because of it. The magician disciplines themselves not to extinguish desire or kill the ego, but to harness their forces creatively. It’s about making the internal and external worlds more congruent, more harmonious, and more potent.

    Through discipline, the magician evolves from someone who is acted upon by life to someone who acts upon life. Will replaces a desperate grasping with a serene assertion. Action becomes the dance, precision meeting spontaneity. The disciplined magician doesn’t just survive in the current of forces; they learn to ride the wave.

    The Cost of Indiscipline

    What’s the price of ignoring discipline? It’s a path littered with abandoned rituals, half-read grimoires, broken vows, and a lot of wishful thinking. The cost is a lifetime of unrealized potential and spiritual stagnation. The cost is mistaking sparks for flame, thrills for wisdom, and ego trips for initiation. The cost is ultimately betraying yourself, and your True Will.

    The Path of the Magician is the Path of Willful Evolution

    Ask yourself: Do you want to play at the edges like a tourist, or do you want to walk the depths like a sovereign? Do you want to learn how to channel the forces of the universe, or merely scroll through aesthetic shots of altars? The difference isn’t in the books you read or the rituals you mimic, but in the discipline you cultivate.

    Discipline of mind and action is the skeleton upon which the magician builds their practice. It’s the difference between a spell and a wish, between knowing and hoping, between mastery and mediocrity. In a world that caters to the distracted and the undisciplined, the magician must rise from the static… to focus, precision, and relentless action.

    The secret isn’t buried in an ancient grimoire or hidden in a sacred site. It’s right where it has always been…within. In the silence of a still mind, the precision of a well placed action, and the discipline to walk the path long after the initial thrill has waned.

    Pick up the wand, or the pen, or the staff, or the paint brush, or the candle, and commit. Not for applause. Not for status. Not for ego. Do it for the sheer glory of knowing that you can carve your Will upon the world and have it answer, “Yes”.

    That is the work. That is the discipline. That is the path of a Magician.

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  • Thou Shalt Not Be Gross

    July 15, 2025
    Basics, Community, Rituals, Uncategorized

    The Specter of Purity Culture in Pagan and Occult Spaces

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

    Let’s talk about the ghost in the ritual circle. No, not the one your medium-friend swears is Aunt Edna again. I mean the shadowy, bone thin specter of purity culture, yes, that one, that haunts even the most liberated groves, covens, and witchy Discords like an astral Karen demanding to speak to the High Priestess’s manager.

    You’d think, after centuries of Christianity using purity culture to monitor bodies, muzzle pleasure, and weaponize shame, that the moment someone lights a candle to Lilith, they’d be immune to that nonsense. And yet. Purity culture is like glitter: it gets everywhere, sticks to everything, and no amount of moon water will get it out of your sacred salt bowl.

    Once it’s in your cauldron, it starts pretending it belongs there, whispering sweet nothings about being “high vibrational,” “ethically clean,” and “aligned with love and light,” while subtly policing trauma survivors, kinksters, hexers, sex workers, neurodivergent folks, and anyone too real for a 24/7 Instagram filter.

    Let’s unpack how this insidious, invasive nonsense keeps shape-shifting its way into our supposedly radical, subversive, soul-widening spaces, and what we can do to salt the damn earth behind it.

    What Is Purity Culture, and Why Is It in My Magick Circle?

    At its core, purity culture is the belief that one’s moral, spiritual, or social worth is directly tied to being “pure”. This is usually in terms of sexual behavior, emotional control, spiritual “cleanliness,” or ideological conformity. It’s about drawing lines between good and bad, clean and dirty, sacred and profane, and then enforcing those lines with shame, exclusion, and the occasional smug social media takedown.

    In Christianity, this looks like virginity pledges, purity rings, “modest is hottest” T-shirts, and Bible study leaders who couldn’t say “masturbation” without spontaneously combusting.

    In modern neo-pagan, witchy, and occulty spaces? It looks like “no hexing ever,” “good vibes only,” “if you’re vibrating low, you’ll attract demons,” “you shouldn’t be angry,” “don’t bring your trauma into the circle,” and “you can’t be spiritual if you’re not sober, vegan, and celibate (or poly, but only the Instagram kind).”

    Same judgment. New packaging. This time it comes with crystals.

    How Purity Culture Sneaks Into Paganism and Occultism

    Despite the moonlit nudity, chaos deities, and insistence that “witchcraft is resistance,” our communities are not immune. In fact, many of us are so busy trying to be “better than the mainstream” that we end up importing the very crap we claim to be fleeing, just with more eyeliner and goddess statues. Let’s take a walk through some of the usual suspects.

    “High Vibes Only” Culture

    Ah, the pastel plague. You’ve seen it. Manifestation coaches who smile with the force of ten thousand suppressed traumas and chirp, “Only high vibes in this space, babe!” while deleting your comment about systemic injustice because it “lowers the frequency.”

    This is purity culture in activewear. It says only certain emotions are allowed. Joy? Gratitude? Radiance? Great! Anger? Grief? Fear? Ugh, you’re attracting bad energy.

    This kind of spiritual cheerleading creates spaces where people can’t be honest about their struggles. You start faking bliss so you don’t get exiled by the positivity police. It’s emotional fascism in a flower crown.

    The Hex Shame Spiral

    “Oh my goddess, you hexed someone? Don’t you know that breaks the Rede, offends the spirits, poisons your aura, and will rebound on you threefold times infinity?”

    This is one of purity culture’s most bizarre mutations: the belief that being magically assertive, defensive, reactive, or retaliatory, is inherently impure. You’d think we were conjuring Satan on a Ouija board made of baby teeth (that’s not until next Saturday, byob).

    Never mind that the gods many of us worship are literal war deities, tricksters, underworld rulers, and chaos dragons. Apparently it’s okay to invoke Hekate or Kali as long as you don’t actually do anything messy…

    Purity culture frames protection magick, baneful workings, and righteous anger as “negative” or “low vibration,” and reinforces a false binary: you’re either a benevolent magickal Care Bear or a morally corrupt warlock.

    Which is wild, considering half the grimoires in history are about cursing someone who stole your goat.

    “Spiritual Hygiene” as Gatekeeping

    Spiritual hygiene is real. Energetic cleansing is useful. But… when people start treating trauma survivors, neurodivergent folks, or people dealing with grief or mental illness like they’re contagious, we’ve left the realm of wellness and entered the realm of spiritual eugenics.

    We’ve all seen it. Someone says, “I’m going through a hard time,” and suddenly the group chat goes quiet. Or someone struggling with addiction is told they’re “spiritually unsafe.” Or a sex worker is banned from ritual because their energy is “disruptive.”

    This isn’t cleansing. It’s quarantining. It’s creating spiritual in-groups and out-groups based on behavior, neurotype, class, race, and trauma performance. It’s purity politics in sandlewood scented robes.

    The Sacred Slut Double Standard

    Paganism and occultism should be the last place on Earth where sexuality gets policed. Alas, purity culture shows up even here, just sneakier.

    Sex is okay if it’s sacred. If it’s ritualized. If it’s “divine union” between “balanced masculine and feminine energies” (and missionary, only on Sunday, oh wait…). But, if you’re nonbinary, kinky, queer in a way that’s not aesthetic enough, or just someone who likes casual sex without attaching a pantheon to it? Oh, well now… suddenly you’re “misusing energy.” You’re “disrespecting the goddess.” You’re “impure.”

    Some spaces still treat vanilla polyamory as enlightened, but BDSM as “low vibe.” They’ll call Aphrodite a sacred whore while side-eyeing actual sex workers. It’s not liberation, it’s cosplay with a side of moral panic.

    Trauma Olympics and the “Healed Person” Fetish

    Here’s a curveball: purity culture also sneaks in through the healing-industrial complex. In this version, you’re not allowed to participate until you’ve healed all your wounds, transcended your pain, and fully “integrated your shadow.”

    Which sounds noble until you realize the bar for being “healed enough” to deserve community is constantly shifting, and always conveniently just past wherever you are.

    If you’re too depressed, too angry, too messy, you become a liability. A problem. A contaminant. Communities will act supportive right up until your pain gets inconvenient, then exile you under the guise of “toxic”.

    Why Purity Culture Is So Damn Persistent

    Simple: it sells control.

    In a chaotic, unjust, terrifying world, purity culture offers a seductive promise: If you’re good enough, clean enough, pure enough, you’ll be safe. Bad things won’t happen. Karma will protect you. The universe will reward your virtue. It’s a metaphysical insurance policy. Too bad it’s a scam.

    When shit inevitably hits the fan, when the spell backfires, the illness returns, or the world burns anyway, the only explanation left is that you weren’t pure enough. So you try harder. Buy more crystals. Do more detoxes. Judge yourself. Judge others.

    This is how control systems work. They turn your spiritual practice into a never-ending quest for unattainable perfection, and when you fail (which you must), they blame you.

    How It Hurts Communities (Not Just Individuals)

    Let’s get real: this isn’t just a you problem. This is a we problem. When purity culture worms its way into our circles, we all lose.

     Marginalized People Get Excluded

    People with visible trauma, people in survival mode, neurodivergent folks, fat folks, Black and Brown folks, poor folks, sex workers, trans folks, disabled folks, anyone who doesn’t match the aesthetic of spiritual “purity…get pushed to the margins. Or shoved out completely.

     Community Becomes Performative

    Everyone’s pretending to be zen, balanced, “high vibe,” and perfectly aligned. No one’s honest. No one’s messy. No one’s real. You’re not building a community; you’re LARPing a cult.

     Healing Becomes Hierarchical

    We start ranking people by how “evolved” they are. Who’s integrated their shadow the most. Who’s “done the work.” Instead of compassion, we get competition. Instead of healing, we get hustling.

     Accountability Gets Lost

    When people are obsessed with appearing pure, they can’t admit wrongdoing. Purity culture creates fragile egos, not strong relationships. Conflict becomes catastrophe. Repair becomes impossible. Power hoards itself under the guise of virtue.

    So What Do We Do About It?

    First: exorcise the ghost.

    Second: burn the manual.

    Third: build something better.

    Embrace the Mess

    Real spiritual growth isn’t clean. It’s not manicured. It’s not “on brand.” It’s crying into the void, screaming in ritual, bleeding on the altar, laughing at death, and throwing a tarot deck at the wall because it gave you The Tower again.

    Your messy, complex, rage-filled, horny, grieving, contradictory self is the exact self the gods want.

     Create Imperfect, Brave Spaces

    Don’t aim for safe spaces, aim for brave ones. Spaces where people can show up whole. Where conflict is possible, repair is encouraged, and performance isn’t mandatory.

    Let people cry. Let people vent. Let people be angry. Let people be too loud. Let them bring their whole damn haunted house of a soul.

     Dismantle Hierarchies of Purity

    Interrogate every unwritten rule about who gets seen as holy. Who gets to lead? Who gets invited? Who gets centered? If the answers are always the thin, white, cis, neurotypical, spiritually sanitized ones, it’s time to flip the ritual table. Holiness isn’t cleanliness. It’s depth. Power. Complexity. Sacred doesn’t mean sanitized.

     Normalize Shadow Work as Lifelong

    Shadow work isn’t a one-and-done. It’s not a box you check before joining the group. It’s a lifelong process. Make room for that. Don’t treat people like spiritual bedbugs for still being in their process.

    And… for the love of all that is sacred, stop acting like integration means perfection. Sometimes it just means notpunching someone while heavy planetary energy is abound. That’s progress.

     Practice Sacred Disobedience

    Say the unspeakable. Break the taboos. Do the “low vibe” thing. Cast the protective hex. Invoke the angry god. Talk about trauma. Have the hard conversation. Laugh in the temple. Cry in the circle.

    You are not here to be pure. You are here to be powerful.

    Your Dirt Is Sacred

    Purity culture is a lie. A trap. A prison cell lined with rose quartz and scented like lavender oil.

    But you, my dear heretic, are not pure, and that’s exactly what makes you sacred. You’re messy. You’re complicated. You’re traumatized, turned on, exhausted, enraged, and still showing up with candles in your pockets and an invocation on your lips.

    You are divine in your rage. Holy in your grief. Sacred in your chaos. Your very existence is a rebellion against every system that told you to sit down, shut up, and scrub yourself clean.

    Go light that black candle. Bless your filth. Anoint your scars. Feed the gods the parts of you purity culture tried to starve.

    Let the circle be messy.

    Let the work be real.

    Let your magic be dirty, because that’s where the power lives.

    1 comment on Thou Shalt Not Be Gross

  • Overcoming Impostor Syndrome as an Occultist

    July 11, 2025
    Basics, Community, Uncategorized

    Telling That Inner Troll to Sit Down

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

    If you’ve ever sat in front of your altar, clutching a dollar store candle and wondering if the spirits can smell your self-doubt, welcome. You’re in good company. From fresh initiates to long-time practitioners, occultists of all stripes have wrestled with that greasy little goblin called impostor syndrome. It slithers into our sacred spaces, whispering, “You’re not a real witch. You’re a fraud. You’re just playing dress-up with incense.”

    And… sometimes, gods help us, we believe it.

    But here’s the thing: that voice? It’s not truth. It’s just loud. Like most loud things, it can be told to shut up and sit in the corner with a juice box while you get on with your magickal life.

    Let’s break down exactly why impostor syndrome happens, how we sabotage ourselves (hint: that “just joking” voice isn’t so innocent), and what to do when you feel like the cosplay police are about to break into your living room mid-ritual.

    Impostor Syndrome in a Ritual Robe

    Impostor syndrome is the psychological equivalent of summoning a minor demon and forgetting the banishing script. It shows up precisely when you’re about to grow, stretch, or try something new. It’s the voice that says:
    “You don’t know enough.”
    “You’re faking it.”
    “Someone else could do this better, and with cooler robes.”

    In the world of occultism, where there are no diplomas, no standardized tests, and frankly, very few universally agreed-upon rules, that voice hits harder than a retrograde.

    But let’s get one thing straight:

    Everyone ,yes, everyone, feels like a fraud sometimes. That TikTok witch with 200k followers? Her too. The ceremonial magician who can recite Thelema backward in a trance state? Him too. The local elder who’s been practicing since the ’70s and still doesn’t know if she believes in half the spirits she invokes? Yep. Still human.

    Impostor syndrome doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re aware, which, funnily enough, is one of the top prerequisites for good magic.

    The Comparison Curse: No One Wins

    Want to supercharge your impostor syndrome? Easy. Compare your practice to everyone else’s filtered, curated, hyper-aesthetic, algorithm-optimized social media presence.

    Scrolling Instagram can make you feel like your whole craft is being judged by a panel of ancient gods in flower crowns. They have ethereal altars, misty forests, and Latin invocations pronounced correctly on the first try.

    Meanwhile, your altar looks like a flea market crash-landed in a craft store. Your last spell? You forgot half the words and your cat ate the herbs.

    Here’s the deal: you’re comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel. Nine times out of ten, those glamorous witches don’t have it together either, they’re just good at lighting and filters.

    Magic isn’t a performance. It’s a practice. That’s why it’s called practice. Get messy. Get weird. Let your candle topple. Let your incense smell like sadness. That’s real.

    The Self-Deprecation Trap (or… How to Accidentally Hex Yourself)

    Let’s talk about the sly little saboteur that is self-deprecating humor. You know the lines:

    “I’m not a real witch, I just hoard crystals and cry during moon phases.”

    “I can’t be a real magician, I Google everything before ritual.”

    “I’m basically just a goblin with a Pinterest board.”

    Harmless? At first…but say it enough times and your subconscious stops laughing.

    Self-deprecation can feel safe. It lets you joke about your insecurities before anyone else does. The thing is, if you do it often enough, it stops being funny and starts becoming belief. You’re not shielding yourself with humor, you’re feeding the impostor troll your confidence as a midnight snack. (You’re also teaching others how they can talk to you…think on that.)

    The real kicker? The spirits don’t care. They don’t need you to be perfect. They need you to show up.

    Unless you’re literally trying to hex yourself into magical mediocrity, stop diminishing your own power with ironic disclaimers. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not your inner knowing.

    “I Don’t Have the Right Tools”

    Here’s another greatest hit from the Album of Self-Doubt:

    “I can’t do real magic. I don’t have the right wand/chalice/incense hand-rolled by druids under a solstice moon.”

    Let me say it loud for the witches in the back… your tools do not make your practice valid.

    That chipped mug from your grandma’s kitchen can be your chalice. That stick you found on your morning walk? Boom. Wand. That tea light from the dollar store? As long as you don’t burn your curtains, you’re golden pony boy.

    The power isn’t in the object, it’s in the intention. In your focus. In your relationship with spirit. The gods aren’t grading you on aesthetics. They’re asking if you mean it.

    Stop waiting to afford the $300 athame. Light the damn candle and do the work.

    Ritual Is Not a Performance (Unless You’re Trying to Impress Dionysus)

    Another lie that feeds the impostor beast is “I didn’t do it right.”

    Maybe your voice cracked during the invocation. Maybe your circle wasn’t perfectly cast. Maybe your ritual robe still smells faintly of Taco Bell.

    Guess what? No one cares.

    Ritual isn’t about putting on a perfect show. It’s about alignment. It’s about entering sacred space with your whole self, flaws and all. The spirits aren’t looking for a Broadway performance, they’re looking for authenticity. You don’t need to sound like a Gregorian monk. You just need to mean it.

    Messy is real. Awkward is sincere. And sincerity? That’s magick.

    The Cult of Competence: You Don’t Need to Know Everything

    Another impostor whisper: “I haven’t read enough. I don’t know enough. I’m not initiated. I’m not qualified.” (Full disclosure…this is one I have fought in many a bare knuckled brawl.)

    Let me introduce you to a hard truth wrapped in a hug. No one knows it all. Not even the tenured chaos magician with 40 years of practicing planetary magic and a only mildly alarming footnote addiction.

    The deeper you go, the more you’ll realize how little you know. That’s not failure, that’s progress.

    You don’t need to be an expert. You need to be engaged. Ask questions. Try things. Get it wrong. Learn. Repeat. Magick is a living art, not a pass/fail test.

    Find Your People and Share the Chaos

    Practicing magick alone can be empowering and isolating as hell. I spent most of my early magickal life solitary.

    When you’re stuck in your own head, it’s easy to think everyone else has their act together. That’s one of many reasons why community matters.

    Find folks you can be real with. Share your flops. Laugh at your spell fails. Admit that sometimes you chant for ten minutes and feel nothing. Let others see the unfiltered version of your path. Because spoiler… they’re going through the same thing.

    You’re not alone. You never were.

    And trust me, nothing slays impostor syndrome faster than someone saying, “Wait, I do that too.”

    How to Tell That Inner Troll to Sit Down and Shut Up

    You’re never going to fully get rid of impostor syndrome. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature of being human, curious, and daring to do something sacred without a safety net.

    But you can make peace with it. You can teach it manners.

    Name it. Say, “That’s impostor syndrome.” Give it a silly name if it helps. (Mine’s called “Ugg” and Ugg doesn’t get to run the show.)

    Speak truth over it. “I’m still learning” is not the same as “I’m a fraud.” Say what’s real.

    Laugh, but don’t belittle. Keep your sense of humor, but use it to uplift, not diminish.

    Keep practicing. Nothing pisses off that inner troll more than consistent action. Show up anyway.

    You Belong Here. Really.

    Let me say this again, as clearly as I can… You. Belong. Here.

    Whether you’re deep in ceremonial magick, dancing under the moon with a coven, or just lighting a candle in your bedroom and whispering intentions, you’re doing it.

    You’re not an impostor. You’re a practitioner.

    The work matters. Your path matters. The very fact that you care enough to doubt means you’re not faking it. Fakes don’t reflect. Fakes don’t wrestle with the Mystery. Fakes don’t show up, week after week, asking, “Is this real?” and listening for the answer.

    You are not a fraud. You’re a witch, a magician, a seeker, an occultist, a weaver of strange truths and unseen threads. You’re walking the path, wobbly, weird, and wondrous as it is.

    The next time that little inner gremlin starts whispering doubt hand it a broom. Tell it, “If you’re going to hang around, you’d better be useful.”

    Then light your candle. Cast your spell. Chant your words. Stir your tea clockwise.

    And remember, real witches feel like fakes all the time.

    But they show up anyway.

    And that? That’s part of the magick.

    Stay magickal. Stay weird. Stay real. And if your spell goes sideways, at least you’ve got a great story for your next get together.

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  • But…But Real Witches Don’t Charge

    July 7, 2025
    Basics, Community, Dreams/Oracle/Divination, Rituals, Uncategorized

    The Curious Case of Capitalist Shame in a Capitalist World

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

    Let’s begin with a question that haunts every occult Facebook group, every wand-waving subreddit, and approximately 63% of Etsy reviews for tarot readings: “Should you charge for magick?”

    The expected answer, apparently, is: “Absolutely not! If it’s real, it should be free. Real witches work for love, light, and exposure.” Exposure, presumably, to the elements, since if you’re doing this full-time for free, you’re probably homeless.

    This line of thinking is like saying, “If you’re truly good at brain surgery, you’ll do it for free. Otherwise, you’re just in it for the money.” Or my personal favorite: “If you’re really spiritual, you won’t need to eat, pay rent, or own a functioning toilet.”

    Ah, but here we are. Again. Dancing the tired tango of spiritual purity versus capitalist survival, as if living in a late-stage capitalist hellscape wasn’t already enough of a metaphysical endurance test.

    So let’s talk about it, historically, and honestly.

    Back When Witches Got Paid

    If you’ve ever been told, “Witches never charged in the old days,” please understand that this statement is so historically incorrect it could be taught in a Texas high school textbook.

    Historically, witches, cunning folk, seers, astrologers, and magical practitioners absolutely charged for their services. In fact, they did pretty good business, until the Inquisition made customer service a lot more complicated.

    The cunning man who helped you find your lost cow? Charged.

    The herbalist who made a poultice for your festering battle wound? Charged.

    The granny midwife who whispered charms while delivering your child and cursing your cheating husband’s manhood to shrivel? Charged. (Twice, if the curse was extra juicy.)

    This wasn’t considered unethical. It was common sense. If someone was using their knowledge, skills, and years of experience to help you with real problems, they deserved real compensation.

    We’ve only recently decided that spiritual or magical labor should be a hobby you do after your 9–5 soul-crushing job. And if that sounds suspiciously Protestant Work Ethic™, well… buckle in.

    Blame the Puritans. (Again.)

    Here’s the root of it: the Western world has a weird hang-up about money and spirituality. Somewhere along the line, someone said, “Money is the root of all evil,” and everyone conveniently ignored that the original line is “The love of money is the root of all evil”…a very different sentiment.

    Puritanism, and later Victorian moralizing, taught us that anything spiritual should be austere, unpaid, and slightly miserable. If you’re enjoying yourself or making money, you must be doing it wrong. You must be a charlatan, a con artist, or (worst of all) a capitalist witch, which sounds like a great band name, but apparently makes you Satan in yoga pants.

    This is particularly ironic because religious professionals have always been compensated. Priests, monks, shamans, imams, rabbis; some got paid in donations, some got food, land, or housing, but they weren’t just vibing in a cave hoping someone brought them a granola bar. Even the aesthetics of asceticism have infrastructure; go look at the Vatican. It’s not exactly minimalist.

    Yet somehow, modern witches are expected to be broke, barefoot, and broadcasting on TikTok for free. Preferably from inside a forest hut made of ethical mushrooms and debt.

    The Ethnocentric Elephant in the Room

    Now here’s where the conversation gets uncomfortable, but necessary.

    The idea that it’s “wrong” or “impure” to charge for spiritual services is wildly ethnocentric. Let’s call it what it is: a view rooted deeply in white, Western, Christian-influenced frameworks that don’t understand how other cultures treat spiritual labor.

    In countless cultures around the world, spiritual professionals charge, and rightly so. Curanderas in Latin America, diviners in West African traditions, babaylan in the Philippines, Voudou houngans, Ifá priests, shamans, herbalists, and so on. These people often train for years, and their communities understand that what they offer is vital work. Not a hobby. Not cosplay. Not something to do on weekends between barista shifts.

    The notion that “real spiritual work is always free” becomes deeply problematic when white Western neo-pagans start pointing fingers at BIPOC practioners who are charging for their time and labor. That’s when it stops being philosophical and starts being colonialist as hell.

    Because what you’re really saying is: “If I can’t charge for this, you shouldn’t be able to either.”

    And that, my friend, is not ethics. That’s ego wrapped in moralistic pants, preaching poverty while scrolling Etsy for another $300 handmade wand.

    The Scam Scarecrow and the Straw Witch

    Now to be fair: yes, there are scammers in the spiritual world. People who promise to “remove generational curses” for $2,000 and a kidney. That exists. But you know what else has scammers?

    Every profession.

    There are fake doctors, shady mechanics, lying landlords, corrupt politicians (okay, all politicians), and investment bankers who gamble your retirement fund on NFTs shaped like buttholes.

    We don’t respond by saying, “Doctors should work for free, or they’re fakes.” We say, “Wow, that guy’s a crook. Let’s hold them accountable.”

    But when a witch says, “I’ll read your cards for $30,” suddenly it’s a crisis of authenticity. A real psychic wouldn’t need money! (…but they apparently do need crystals, rent, groceries, Wi-Fi, and self-care tea.)

    This is the double-bind: if you don’t charge, you’re a starving artist. If you do, you’re a greedy fraud. Sound familiar? It’s the same trap we spring on creatives, healers, teachers, and anyone who does work that isn’t easy to quantify in spreadsheets.

    And frankly? That’s capitalism gaslighting us into believing that our labor is only valid if it kills us slowly.

    The Energy Exchange Argument (a.k.a. Spiritual Capitalism’s Soft Pants)

    Now here comes the moment where someone puffs up and says, “Well, I believe in energy exchange, not money.”

    Cute. But unless you’re living in a fully off-grid barter commune where your landlord accepts goat milk as rent, money is energy. You work for it. You trade time, skill, and life-force for it. That’s as energetic as it gets.

    You want to trade three jars of pickles and a poem about the moon in exchange for a curse removal? Great. But that doesn’t make you less capitalist, it just makes you cute capitalist adjacent.

    There’s no “clean” money in a capitalist system. That $20 bill in your wallet probably passed through a strip club, a church basket, a drug dealer, and a smoothie bar before it hit your pocket. The money isn’t the problem, it’s the values we attach to it, and the weird guilt we’re programmed to feel for using it to survive.

    Let’s call this what it really is: spiritual labor deserves to be compensated, full stop. Just because you can’t put a spell in a spreadsheet doesn’t mean it’s not real work.

    Why It’s Not Just About You

    Let’s also talk about the real-world impact of this mindset: discouraging people from charging for spiritual work means fewer people doing it professionally.

    Which means fewer skilled witches, healers, astrologers, and spiritual teachers building long-term practices, refining their craft, and offering real support to communities that need it.

    Instead, we get an ocean of dabblers who burn out fast, ghost their clients, and treat spellwork like it’s a hobby they’ll abandon when Mercury goes direct.

    If we don’t allow people to build sustainable, ethical practices, they won’t stick around. And then you’re left with an army of TikTok teenagers hexing the moon and a few bitter elders living off ramen and resentment.

    Charging for magick doesn’t mean you’re selling your soul. It means you’re investing in your ability to keep showing up, doing the work, and not dying of scurvy in a tent.

    The Future of Paid Magick (a.k.a. Let’s Not Be Silly About This)

    So how do we do it right?

    Simple.

    Transparency: Be clear about what you’re offering, what you charge, and what your boundaries are.

    Ethics: Don’t exploit vulnerable people. Don’t promise miracles. Don’t threaten to curse someone unless they Venmo you $500.

    Professionalism: Respect your own damn craft enough to treat it like a real service. Contracts, refunds, communication, be a witch, not a walking red flag.

    Magick is a service, an art, and a discipline. It can be sacred and profitable. Compassionate and sustainable. Ancient and modern.

    You can have incense and invoices. Tarot and taxes. Sigils and Shopify.

    The idea that you have to choose between being real and being compensated is a false binary, built by a system that fears anything it can’t commodify, and then mocks you when you try to not die of capitalism.

    Recognizing Our Part

    Let’s stop pretending that magick is less real because someone charges for it.

    Let’s stop projecting our money trauma onto witches, healers, and spiritual workers who are just trying to make a life doing what they’re called to do.

    Let’s stop pretending that starving for your craft makes you morally superior. It doesn’t. It just makes you hungry, bitter, and likely to yell at your herbs.

    You want to do this work for free? Great. That’s your path. But don’t slap a purity sticker on it and expect everyone else to bow to your self-imposed martyrdom.

    The future of magick isn’t broke witches whispering under bridges. It’s powerful, skillful practitioners building real careers, communities, and practices that can last.

    If you’re a witch who charges? Bless you. Keep going.

    If you’re a witch who doesn’t? Cool, just don’t judge the ones who do.

    The real spell we need to cast is breaking the hex of poverty mindset in spiritual spaces.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I have invoices to send. The spirits don’t mind, as long as I offer a % to the ancestors and maybe a little extra rum on Saturdays.

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  • Everything is Magick: the Inescapable Enchantment of Being

    July 3, 2025
    Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Community, Rituals, Uncategorized

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

    The False Divide Between Magick and the Mundane
    Spoiler alert: You’re already doing magick. You just keep calling it “Tuesday.”

    Magick, according to modern Western esotericism (and at least three witches on Instagram), is the act of using will aligned with intention to shape reality. Whether you’re summoning archangels with Latin incantations or whispering affirmations to your sourdough starter, magick is typically portrayed as something extra, set apart from your Netflix queue and laundry day. It’s sacred, symbolic, and designated by ritual tools, solemn oaths, and a vague sense that you should probably be wearing more velvet.

    But…what if that whole separation is bogus?

    What if it’s not just artificial, but laughably wrong?

    Let’s entertain a radical notion: if we’re magickal beings, meaning we’re made of the same juicy stuff as spells, dreams, archetypes, and cosmic Wi-Fi, then nothing we do is non-magickal. Every email, every eyebrow raise, every bathroom break is humming with the same sacred circuitry that powers a Solomonic evocation. If will, consciousness, and pattern are the holy trinity of magick, then reality itself is a full-time ritual. To call something “non-magickal” is to forget your own damn nature.

    Let’s tear down the velvet rope between “ritual” and “reality” and step into the ever-enchanted chaos we already live in.

    Will, Consciousness, Pattern

    Let’s define our terms before we go galloping off into mystical metaphor.

    Aleister Crowley (patron saint of ego and eyeliner) defined magick as “the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will.” Dion Fortune (who had significantly fewer scandals) called it “the art of changing consciousness at will.” Others riff it as “the technology of the soul,” “symbolic interface,” or “a cosmic Choose Your Own Adventure with better lighting.”

    Beneath the flowery phrasing, the core elements are remarkably consistent: will, consciousness, and pattern. Magick isn’t some glittery goo you smear on reality, it’s a verb. A process. An active collaboration with existence where your awareness participates in shaping the pattern.

    This means, and here’s the twist ending, you don’t need candles or incantations to do it. If magick is about aligning intention with action inside the matrix of meaning, then making a child feel safe, painting a dreamscape, or speaking words that shift someone’s reality is just as magickal as a lunar rite with full ceremonial flair.

    The ingredients haven’t changed. Just the costume.

    The Myth of the Mundane

    So why the big fuss about “magick” versus “everything else”?

    Blame modernity… and capitalism…and maybe the Enlightenment, while we’re at it.

    In animistic cultures, magick was like air, everywhere, assumed, taken for granted. The wind had opinions. The deer were spies. Rocks were wise. It wasn’t a special category; it was the default setting. Your ancestors didn’t ask, “Is this magick?” They asked, “Which spirit is messing with my crops this week?”

    Then came materialism, industrialism, and the joyless march of rationality. Magick got demoted to “irrational,” “silly,” or “that thing goth teens do in cemeteries.” Even modern witches, bless their besom-riding hearts, often draw lines: magickal time vs. normal time, ritual tools vs. normal junk drawer, the altar vs. the sink full of dishes.

    A being steeped in magick doesn’t need that split. That split is the ghost of disenchantment, and it’s haunting your mindset.

    Spoiler: magick isn’t just something you do. It’s something you are.

    If We Are Magickal Beings…
    Let’s sit with this: you are a magickal being. Not just on full moons. Not just when you remember to meditate. Always.

    You’re not casting spells like a wizard with a wand; you’re casting them because you exist. Your thoughts ripple through the astral like sonar. Your emotions sculpt the vibes of rooms. Your words alter minds, shift moods, and change trajectories. You are a one-person metaphysical jazz band improvising with symbols, breath, and meaning.

    Your very attention is an invocation. Your heartbreak is a sacred rite. Your joy? A sigil of the infinite.

    This means that every choice is a spell. Every outfit is a glamour. Every kind word is a healing charm. You don’t need to wait until the candles are lit, your very heartbeat is a drum of enchantment.

    You can’t opt out. You’re in the spell whether you admit it or not. The only question is: are you an active participant, or just background noise in your own ritual?

    But…enough theory let’s zoom in on your Tuesday.

    Making Coffee as Ritual –
    When you brew coffee, you’re not just chasing caffeine, you’re invoking alertness, presence, power. The aroma triggers memories. The warmth shifts your state. Stirring clockwise becomes a daily spell for focus. That’s not breakfast. That’s alchemy.

    Typing Emails as Incantation –
    You send an email. Congratulations, you just cast a spell on someone’s mind from miles away. Your words shape thoughts, inspire action, provoke emotion. Each sentence is a charm. If done with awareness, it’s potent. If done mindlessly? Still magick, just less tuning.

    Walking as Trance –
    Your morning commute? That’s a moving meditation. Your steps drum rhythms. Your breath becomes chant. Graffiti speaks. Crows carry messages. You are a pilgrim in the Temple of Sidewalk. Are you reading the omens?

    Sleeping as Astral Journey –
    And sleep? Don’t even get me started. You think it’s a nap. But it’s initiation. You dreamwalk into symbol-space. You commune with shadows. You regenerate in the cosmic womb. Whether or not you remember, your soul is doing full-blown magickal heavy lifting.

    The point is this: drop the illusion of “ritual” versus “real life,” and suddenly, your entire existence becomes one seamless spell. A 24/7 enchantment cycle. Batteries included.

    But What About Terrible Things?
    Ah yes. The elephant in the ritual circle: if everything is magick, what about violence, injustice, and suffering? Is genocide magickal? Is capitalism a ritual?

    Yes. And no, that’s not a moral judgment. It’s a metaphysical reality.

    Magick is a mechanism, not a moral compass. Shadow work exists for a reason. People unconsciously cast hexes every day, through fear, projection, social conditioning, and trauma. Entire institutions are running on automated, exploitative spells of disempowerment.

    The danger in saying “this isn’t magick” is that we stop interrogating it. We stop noticing how we’re being entranced by social media, hypnotized by ads, or drained by systems designed to steal attention and autonomy.

    Seeing everything as magick doesn’t let evil off the hook, it puts it under a microscope. It says, “Yes, this too has power. Now, what will you do about it?”

    The Return to Immanence
    This worldview isn’t new. It’s as ancient as dirt…or stars.

    Immanence means the sacred is here, not elsewhere. Right here, in the smudged mirror, the subway car, the melting ice cube. Not in heaven, not in nirvana, but now. Every object is alive. Every second is sacred. Every breath is an opportunity to choose alignment or autopilot.

    Living in immanence doesn’t mean everything becomes grand and operatic. It means everything becomes real. Available. Textured.

    The tree outside your window is a temple. The rain is holy water. Your bedroom is a liminal portal. You’re not waiting for the magick to begin, it never stopped.

    Living the Enchanted Life
    Now what do we actually do with this knowledge, besides sound cool at parties?

    Practice Reverent Awareness: Life is layered. Peel it like an onion. With tears.

    Create Rituals in the Ordinary: Clean your toilet like it’s the altar. Bonus: cleaner bathroom.

    Speak with Purpose: Words are weapons. Wield them wisely.

    Notice the Patterns: Synchronicities are not coincidences; they’re cosmic elbow nudges.

    Honor the Unconscious: Dreams and moods aren’t glitches. They’re dispatched from the depths.

    Take Responsibility for Your Field: You are broadcasting energy. Constantly. What’s your frequency? Be aware, and own your shit.

    Dismantle the Disenchantment: Ask who benefits from you seeing yourself as ordinary. Then revolt.

    Invite the Others for Tea: The spirits are bored. Talk to them. They miss drama.

    Rest as Ritual: Sleep. Nap. Daydream. Sacred downtime is not optional.

    Celebrate the Whole: Joy, grief, awkwardness, it’s all part of the spell. Don’t waste a good existential crisis.


    Here’s the mic-drop…

    You are the working.

    Not your spells. Not your tools. Not your witchy wardrobe. You.

    Your life is the altar. Your presence is the talisman. Your choices are the enchantment. There is no escape hatch from sacredness, you’re soaking in it.

    You can forget. You can pretend. But the spell keeps spinning.

    Now you remember.

    …and the magick continues.

    2 comments on Everything is Magick: the Inescapable Enchantment of Being

  • “Harm None” : The Neo-Pagan Dilemma of Living in a Bubble-Wrapped Universe

    June 30, 2025
    Basics, Community, Uncategorized

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

    “An it harm none, do what ye will.”
    The neo-pagan golden rule. The spiritual equivalent of putting on oven mitts before typing an angry email. The phrase that’s been embroidered on too many tote bags and tattooed in too many regrettable fonts across shoulder blades.

    It sounds nice, doesn’t it? Like a metaphysical utopia where we all flit about in flowing robes, casting spells powered only by kindness, moonlight, and maybe a bit of organic chamomile. A world with no fallout, no side effects, and certainly no receipts.

    And yet, brace yourself, dear reader, the Law of Harm None is a beautiful, glittery, ethical lie.

    A comforting delusion. A spiritual placebo. A philosophical glass house where everyone’s pretending, they don’t also throw the occasional stone, especially during Mercury retrograde.

    This is not an attack on being kind, or mindful, or morally awake. This is a callout of the idea that it’s possible to live without causing harm, especially if you’re engaged in a path that’s about transformation, power, or gods who definitely don’t play by those rules.

    Let’s dig in. The incense is lit. The tea is scalding.

     What “Harm None” Actually Says (and Why It’s Doomed)

    The phrase comes to us from the Wiccan Rede, a piece of modern poetry cobbled together in the mid-20th century, which somehow got treated like it dropped from the sky engraved on obsidian tablets.

    It was meant to encapsulate the moral compass of Wicca: do your thing, but don’t hurt anybody. Sounds fair, right?

    Except life doesn’t work like that.

    To live is to harm. You cannot not harm. The barista you startled by asking for your latte “blessed by the Moon” is now psychologically scarred. The sage you burned? Harvested from overpicked desert fields. The love spell you cast to “attract your soulmate”? Yeah, you just rearranged the chessboard of someone else’s free will.

    Even saying “no” can be a form of harm. You reject a toxic friend? Harm. You set a boundary? Harm. You refuse to attend your cousin’s third baby shower because you’re fasting for the Solstice and aligning your root chakra? Harm.

    “Harm None” quickly becomes less a rule, and more a trap: something you can’t follow, but feel bad about violating.

    The Tyranny of Good Vibes Only

    Here’s where things get dark (but still funny, don’t worry): the Law of Harm None is often weaponized into spiritual gaslighting. It becomes a way to police behavior within pagan communities, especially when someone wants to challenge problematic power dynamics.

    Call out a group leader for manipulative behavior? That’s “causing harm.” Express anger about racism, transphobia, or cultural appropriation? “That’s not very Harm None of you.” Try to enforce your own spiritual boundaries? Oh, now you’re the problem.

    Suddenly, the idea of not doing harm starts to look a lot like enforced silence and passivity. A kind of fluffy-light censorship, where people are encouraged to smile through teeth clenched tighter than an overused athame.

    The irony is that in trying so hard to avoid conflict, many neopagan groups create environments that are emotionally dishonest. Fun fact, nothing screams “spiritually toxic” like a community that can’t admit it’s made mistakes for fear of breaking the no-harm rule.

     Nature Doesn’t Care About The Rede

    Let’s be honest: if “Harm None” were an actual metaphysical law, the entire natural world would be under arrest.

    Nature kills. It maims. It eats its young. It poisons. It erodes, floods, drowns, burns, and then composts the evidence. Nature is the original chaos magician, and it doesn’t ask permission before it floods your basement or gives your aunt strep.

    If Neo-Paganism claims to revere nature, which most traditions at least pretend to, it needs to accept nature in full: both the healing and the havoc.

    When you perform a binding spell to protect yourself from an abuser, you’re channeling the energy of a predator defending its den.

    When you banish someone’s influence from your life, you’re the spiritual equivalent of a thunderstorm saying, “Not today, Be-youch.”

    And that’s not wrong. That’s natural. Evolution happens through conflict, transformation, and sometimes, yes, a bit of well-placed destruction.

    Ethics vs. Aesthetic: The Real Pagan Struggle

    Here’s the thing: “Harm None” is often more about how people want to look than how they actually act. It’s not a system of ethics, it’s a branding decision.

    It’s a spiritual performance. Like owning a compost bin you never use, or posting selfies at Beltane with captions like, “All I do is bless.”

    Too many people latch onto “Harm None” as a way to feel morally superior while sidestepping the difficult, nuanced ethical questions: When is it okay to curse? What counts as self-defense in magical terms? How do we navigate harm when it’s unavoidable?

    These are messy questions. They don’t look cute on a tote bag. But they matter.

    If you’re not willing to get honest about when harm is necessary, you’re probably still causing harm, just with less awareness.

    The Curse Conundrum

    Let’s talk about curses for a hot witchy minute.

    There’s a subset of neopagans who go full frothy-mouthed at the mention of hexing, like you’ve just suggested using babies as candle wax.

    Look closer, and you’ll find these same people gossiping, ostracizing, and passive-aggressively excluding others in their spiritual communities.

    They may not be hurling poppets or calling upon dark gods, but they’re engaging in very real, very effective forms of social cursing. Just less honest about it.

    Cursing isn’t inherently unethical. It’s a tool. A scalpel. Whether you use it to hurt or to heal depends on your intention, your situation, and yes, your willingness to take responsibility.

    The Law of Harm None doesn’t ask you to consider the bigger picture. It just tells you to keep your hands clean. But real ethics? Real ethics ask you to get your hands dirty sometimes.

     The Cost of Not Harming: Magical Paralysis

    If you actually tried to live by “Harm None” in a literal sense, your magic would grind to a halt. You couldn’t do anything.

    You couldn’t ask for a raise (what if your boss can’t afford it?). You couldn’t end a relationship (what if your partner spirals?). You couldn’t even call in peace without accidentally messing with someone who profits from conflict.

    You’d become spiritually constipated—forever waiting for the perfect, zero-harm conditions that never arrive.

    This isn’t just unproductive. It’s dangerous. It keeps people stuck in harmful dynamics because they’re afraid that any act of agency might create a ripple of unintended consequences.

    Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is cause harm, to a toxic system, to a lie, to a narrative that’s killing your spirit. Not all harm is cruelty. Not all pain is unjust. Growth hurts. Death heals. Decay makes space for beauty.

    What Real Ethics Might Look Like Instead

    So… what do we do? Ditch morality altogether and go full chaos gremlin? No, unless that’s your aesthetic.

    But we do need a more nuanced ethical framework. One that accepts the inevitability of harm, and asks us to navigate it with courage, compassion, and critical thinking.

    Here’s a better starting point:

    Acknowledge harm is inevitable. Stop pretending you can avoid it and start paying attention to where it’s landing.

    Take responsibility. Don’t hide behind vague karma-logic. Own your choices.

    Consider power dynamics. Who benefits? Who suffers? What systems are you reinforcing or breaking?

    Practice consent. In spellwork, conversations, relationships, everything. Consent is one of the most real-world forms of magic we’ve got.

    Balance intention with impact. Wanting to help doesn’t exempt you from screwing up. Learn, apologize, and adapt.

    These are messier, less marketable ethics. Messy… but they’re real, and they grow with you.

    Conclusion: Beyond the Rede, Into the Real

    “An it harm none, do what ye will” is a beautiful ideal. But like most utopian ideals, it collapses the minute you try to live inside it.

    That doesn’t mean you’re doomed to be a spiritual sociopath. It means you’re human. You live in a web of relationships, energies, and consequences. Magic isn’t about avoiding harm, it’s about becoming aware of the power you hold, and using it with discernment.

    The Law of Harm None isn’t wrong because it promotes kindness. It’s wrong because it oversimplifies a complex moral universe.

    We need spiritual ethics not built on fear of punishment or obsessive purity, but on engagement, reflection, and responsibility. Ethics that allow us to make mistakes, to cause harm unintentionally, and to do the difficult work of repair and restitution.

    Go ahead: bless, hex, bind, protect, dismantle, grieve, laugh, rage, heal.

    …But don’t pretend it doesn’t matter.

    Don’t hide behind a bumper sticker when the real work is standing right in front of you, asking if you’re brave enough to do it, harm and all.

    TL;DR: The Law of “Harm None” sounds good but fails in practice. Instead of pretending we can live in a consequence-free fantasy, let’s grow up spiritually and take real responsibility for our magic, our actions, and the delicious, dangerous, sacred mess of being alive.

    No comments on “Harm None” : The Neo-Pagan Dilemma of Living in a Bubble-Wrapped Universe

  • Opening the Gates: The Power of Daily Ritual in Occult Practice

    June 26, 2025
    Basics, Ceremonial, Chaos, Rituals, Uncategorized

    (also the Monthly Mindfulness oracle pull)

    Opening the Gates: The Power of Daily Ritual in Occult Practice

    There is a secret known to every serious occult practitioner: how you begin your day shapes not only the quality of your magick but the trajectory of your entire spiritual life.

    Ritual is not just a tool; it is the foundation of the entire esoteric path. Nowhere is this more crucial than in your morning daily practice.

    In the systems of ceremonial magick, Hermetic Qabalah, Thelema, Rosicrucianism, and even broader occult traditions, the daily ritual acts as a kind of spiritual ignition. It is a metaphysical key that unlocks the gates of consciousness and aligns the practitioner with divine, cosmic, and elemental forces. It is not an add-on to your day. It is the day. Everything else proceeds from it.

    The Dawn of the Magician: Why Mornings Matter

    There is something sacred about the first light of day. In almost every ancient spiritual tradition, from Egyptian heliolatry to Vedic fire rituals, dawn has been revered as the meeting point between night and day, spirit and matter, death and rebirth.

    In Hermetic terms, dawn is the time when the Solar Logos reasserts itself over the chaotic unconscious. Psychologically, it is when your consciousness is most malleable. Spiritually, it is when our subtle bodies are freshly unbound from the dream state and most receptive to magical influence.

    To wake and immediately engage the forces of the divine is to stake your claim on the day. It is to say: “I am a co-creator with the Divine. I do not stumble blindly into the world. I shape it.”

    Ritual as Spiritual Hygiene

    Just as the body requires regular washing, so does the aura, mind, and soul. Magicians do not perform daily rituals to “look spiritual.” They do it because forces accumulate. Energetic residue, emotional sludge, chaotic thought-forms, all of these accumulate through ordinary life.

    The daily ritual acts as a cleansing, sharpening, and aligning. In magical terms, it:

    Banishes unwanted energy or spirits.

    Centers the practitioner in the microcosm and aligns with the macrocosm.

    Activates the astral body and its latent powers.

    Opens a direct channel between the self and higher forces (gods, angels, divine archetypes, the HGA).

    Grounds and integrates the magickal will into the waking world.

    Failing to do this is akin to walking into battle without armor or trying to perform surgery with unwashed hands.

    The Magical Engine: Building Momentum Over Time

    The most profound transformations in occultism don’t happen through dramatic rites, they come from the compounding power of consistent practice.

    Daily rituals are cumulative. Each time you perform a banishing, a solar adoration, a middle pillar exercise, or a personal invocation, you reinforce psychic pathways. You strengthen the bridge between the conscious and unconscious mind. You deepen your rapport with spiritual intelligences.

    Eventually, the ritual becomes a portal, not just a prayer. It becomes something that enlivens your body with power, saturates your mind with clarity, and brings tangible synchronicities into your day.

    Many magicians report that after months or years of uninterrupted daily work, the effects move beyond the ritual space:

    Dreams become prophetic or lucid.

    Coincidences accelerate.

    Emotional resilience increases.

    Intuition becomes razor-sharp.

    Inner guidance grows louder, clearer, more intelligent.

    This is no accident. You are literally changing your vibratory state every single morning, and the universe begins to respond in kind.

    A Temple You Carry With You

    One of the most beautiful teachings in ceremonial magick is that the magician is a walking temple. The circle, the altar, the compass points, the four elements, the planetary spheres, these are not merely outer constructs… They are maps of the human soul.

    When you perform a daily ritual, especially one involving the calling of quarters, the pentagram or hexagram, or the invocation of divine names, you are not just “doing” a ritual. You are reconstructing the temple of the self.

    Eventually, even when you’re walking through the grocery store or having a conversation at work, the scaffolding of that temple holds. You carry within you the stillness of the altar, the fire of the wand, the clarity of the sword. You become a point of contact between heaven and earth.

    The daily ritual, then, is how you rebuild yourself each day as a sacred vessel.

    The Archetypal Field: Aligning with Greater Forces

    One of the central goals in ceremonial magick is communion with the divine, whether through God-names, planetary intelligences, angelic hierarchies, or the Holy Guardian Angel.

    These intelligences do not operate on your schedule. They don’t dwell in the mundane world of distraction and sloth. They live in an archetypal field, a realm of symbolic clarity and spiritual law. Daily ritual is how the magician rises into that field.

    By attuning your consciousness each morning through sacred geometry (e.g. the pentagram/hexagram), divine names (e.g. YHVH, ADNI, AGLA), and gestures (e.g. Qabalistic Cross), you train your inner senses to become fluent in that archetypal language. Over time, you develop resonance with those powers. You no longer feel you are calling them “from the outside.” They move through you.

    You become a clear channel, not just a petitioner. A conduit of power, not just a seeker.

    Anchoring the Magical Will

    Aleister Crowley defined Magick as “the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will.” But will is not just brute desire. It is spiritual alignment, and it must be anchored.

    The daily ritual is how you remind yourself of your True Will, not in a vague, wishful sense, but through direct contact with the divine.

    When you perform a morning invocation, say, to your Holy Guardian Angel, the solar intelligence, < insert title of choice >, you realign your path. You call down the purpose that transcends ego and personality. You ask, in essence:

    What am I for?

    What am I building with my day, my life, my soul?

    How shall I serve the divine pattern today?

    This is not just a nice sentiment. It has consequences. The world begins to bend around the Will that is reinforced ritually each morning.

    The Alchemical Day: Structure and Flow

    From an alchemical perspective, the day itself becomes a kind of Great Work. It has stages like the phases of the magnum opus:

    Nigredo – The dark, unconscious state upon waking.

    Albedo – The light of the ritual illuminating the soul.

    Citrinitas – The golden midday labors of your worldly and spiritual path.

    Rubedo – The culmination, integration, and review at day’s end.

    Daily rituals, especially those performed at solar stations (sunrise, noon, sunset, midnight), turn your entire lifeinto an alchemical vessel. They help the practitioner live ritually, not just perform ritual.

    Even the simplest act, lighting a candle, saying a prayer, tracing a pentagram, places you inside that vessel.

    Challenges to Consistency, and How to Overcome Them

    Despite the beauty and power of daily ritual, many practitioners (myself included) struggle with consistency. Life is hectic. Time is short. Energy fluctuates.

    Here are strategies to overcome these challenges:

    Keep it short, but sacred: Even a five-minute ritual, if done with presence and reverence, is potent.

    Use physical anchors: Create a set altar, use robes, light incense. These tactile cues signal the subconscious that something important is happening.

    Ritualize waking: Get out of bed and go directly into your ritual before checking your phone or engaging the world.

    Track your work: A magical diary can motivate you, build self-awareness, and provide proof of progress. (I suggest a ritual journal for all practitioners, ALWAYS)

    Remember the why: You’re not doing this for performance. You’re doing it to transform your life. Never forget the reason behind the rite.

    The Fruits: What Happens After Years of Daily Work

    The fruits of a sustained daily ritual practice are subtle at first, and then profound. I cannot speak for others, but can confidently report from personal practice:

    A growing sense of inner peace, power, and purpose.

    Heightened dream activity and lucidity.

    Stronger results in ceremonial workings.

    A deepening relationship with divine beings and archetypes.

    Spontaneous moments of ecstasy, union, or gnostic insight.

    A psychic sense of “being held” or accompanied by invisible intelligences.

    Ultimately, the magician becomes a pillar between heaven and earth, living in the world but governed by higher laws. Daily ritual is how that transformation begins, and how it is sustained.

    Final Thoughts: A World Lit from Within

    In the end, the purpose of a daily ritual is not to escape life, but to sanctifyit. To start your day as a magician is to recognize that every moment, however “mundane”, contains the spark of divinity.

    When you rise each morning and step into sacred space, you do not merely perform a rite. You affirm a truth: the temple is here. The gods are listening. The universe is watching. I am awake.

    There is no better way to begin.

    Your mission, if you chose to accept…tomorrow morning, before you check your phone, before you sip your coffee, step into the circle. Trace the pentagram. Speak the divine names. Light the lamp. Face the east. Do the thing.

    …And open the gates. 

    Extra credit? Do it every day for 1 full lunar cycle and document your day in a journal. We just had a new moon; it is a wonderful time to take that step.

    Monthly Mindfulness June into July

    This card reminds us of the beauty in not knowing. Sometimes we get so swept up in the future that we forget to be present in today. Sometimes the answer isn’t there. Sometimes we are operating blind. and that is ok. There is power in “I don’t know”, and accepting that not everything is to be revealed to us at our whim. Over the next month ask yourself:

    How do I navigate the unknown?

    Can you relinquish control to admit not knowing?

    No comments on Opening the Gates: The Power of Daily Ritual in Occult Practice

  • The Threefold Law: A Triple Serving of Nonsense?

    June 23, 2025
    Basics, Community, Uncategorized

    (Why Karma Doesn’t Come With a Receipt)

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

    Let’s begin with a bold, mildly heretical statement: the Threefold Law, as it’s commonly understood in modern Neo-Paganism, is complete and utter nonsense.

    There. I said it.

    Now, before you fetch your athame or ready your incense for an uncrossing spell, hear me out. This isn’t a jab at magick, ethics, or personal responsibility. It’s a critique of one specific concept that has taken on the weight of doctrine in certain circles: the idea that “whatever energy you put out into the world returns to you threefold.”

    Sounds poetic, right? Almost like a spiritual boomerang dipped in glitter. But the more closely we examine the origins, the logic, the implications, the more it starts to resemble a metaphysical cartoon. Cute, harmless, and utterly devoid of consistent substance.

    Buckle up, my friends. It’s time to walk the crooked path of reason and see just how wobbly the Threefold Law really is.

    What Is the Threefold Law, Really?

    In the simplest terms, the Threefold Law (also called the Law of Threefold Return or simply the Law of Three) states that whatever energy a person puts into the world, whether positive or negative, will return to them three times as strong. It’s a karmic multiplier effect.

    This idea is most famously associated with Wicca and, by extension, many branches of modern Neo-Paganism. The phrase was popularized by Gerald Gardner, and later echoed in various forms of the Wiccan Rede (“An it harm none, do what ye will”), a document that itself teeters on the edge between poetic advice and dogmatic commandment.

    But where did the Threefold Law come from?

    The earliest written appearance of the Threefold Law seems to be in Gardner’s 1949 novel, High Magic’s Aid. The idea reappeared in his writings later, but he wasn’t entirely consistent with it. Sometimes the return was metaphorical, sometimes magickal, sometimes moralistic. Doreen Valiente, one of Gardner’s high priestesses and a crucial figure in Wiccan history, later admitted that the law had been misunderstood and exaggerated.

    And yet, it stuck… Why?

    Probably because it feels good. Like a cosmic safety net. Do good things, and you’ll get back a triple helping of blessings. Do bad things, and the universe will spank you three times harder than you deserve. It’s justice, but with sparkles.

    But is it true?

    Let’s Do Some Magickal Math

    Let’s imagine a hypothetical: You light a candle and speak a blessing for someone’s healing. According to the Threefold Law, you should receive not just equivalent healing or goodwill, but three times that energy. If that were really how magickal return worked, wouldn’t you be immortal by now from all the nice things you’ve done?

    Likewise, if you hex someone’s ex to get a rash in their nether regions, are you destined to suffer three simultaneous groin-related afflictions in return?

    This isn’t just an issue of belief. It’s a problem of scale. Energy, action, and consequences are not so neatly quantifiable in spiritual or magickal work. What does “three times” even mean in metaphysical terms? Is there a karmic Excel spreadsheet somewhere tracking these ratios?

    The idea crumbles under scrutiny. And yet, many Neo-Pagans continue to uphold it like it is divine law handed down by the Goddess herself. Why?

    Why We Want to Believe It

    Because it’s comforting.

    Because it offers moral clarity in a messy world.

    Because it’s a great way to scare off newbies from dabbling in curses.

    Because it makes magick feel safe, as if there’s a built-in insurance policy.

    But… comfort is not the same as truth. And this is where the Threefold Law starts to feel less like wisdom and more like a spiritual pacifier.

    Magick is messy. Life is messy. Ethics are messy. There are no metaphysical referees throwing flags every time you send a spell in the “wrong” direction.

    A Pagan Version of Christian Sin?

    Here’s a spicy take: the Threefold Law is Neo-Paganism’s version of sin and punishment. That’s right. Despite all the efforts to distance itself from Christian dogma, modern Paganism has, in some areas, simply repackaged it.

    Think about it:

    Do good, and you’ll be rewarded (heavenly brownie points).

    Do bad, and you’ll be punished (triple hellfire).

    Be afraid of your own power, because misusing it could backfire terribly.

    This sounds suspiciously like the carrot-and-stick logic that drove much of Abrahamic religion for centuries.

    Even more ironically, many of the same Pagans who laugh at the concept of divine judgment accept the Threefold Law without a second thought. Why? Because it’s not “God” punishing you, it’s “energy”. The Universe. Karma.

    Change the words all you want, it’s still a punitive moral system based on fear of reprisal.

    The Slippery Slope of Magickal Absolutism

    Another issue with the Threefold Law is its absolutism.

    According to the most common interpretations, you are responsible not only for your intentions but also for the full consequences of your magickal actions, even those you couldn’t have foreseen. Accidentally hexed the wrong guy? Sorry, triple karma incoming. Tried to help someone, but it went sideways? Triple punishment is out for delivery.

    This is not morality. This is tyranny. A cosmic version of “zero tolerance” policies.

    It also discourages nuanced magical thought. Instead of discerning what is just, necessary, or effective, practitioners are encouraged to avoid any magic that could possibly harm anyone, ever.

    This makes practioners afraid to be practioners.

    But What About Karma?

    Ah, karma. The Eastern spiritual principle that got chewed up by the New Age movement and spat out into a glittery, digestible slogan.

    In its original Hindu and Buddhist contexts, karma is incredibly complex, tied to intention, dharma, rebirth, and liberation. It’s not a tit-for-tat system or a cosmic vending machine where pressing the “good deed” button gets you a cookie.

    But in Western Neo-Paganism, karma often gets simplified into a cosmic credit score. Good spells add points. Bad spells deduct them. If you go into spiritual debt, the Threefold Law comes to collect.

    This is not only intellectually lazy, but culturally disrespectful. Karma is not a vending machine, and the Universe is not your high school principal.

    So… What Should Replace the Threefold Law?

    Here’s the beautiful thing, you don’t need a metaphysical boogeyman to be an ethical practitioner.

    There are far more mature, nuanced ways to approach magickal morality:

    Consequentialism: Consider the likely outcomes of your spellcraft. What will this action cause in the world?

    Intentionality: Examine your motivations. Are you acting from ego, revenge, fear, or compassion?

    Responsibility: Acknowledge that magic is powerful and unpredictable. Own your actions, good, bad, or indiffrent.

    Reciprocity: Engage with the world, and the spirits within it, as a web of mutual exchange, not a coin-operated machine.

    These frameworks honor both the intelligence and the power of the practitioner. They ask you to think, not just obey.

    The Irony of “Do No Harm”

    The Wiccan Rede is often quoted alongside the Threefold Law: “An it harm none, do what ye will.”

    It’s lovely. Noble. Utterly impossible.

    All actions cause harm in some way. If not directly, then by consequence or omission. Choosing one path means not choosing another. Lighting a candle may help one person while distracting you from another’s need. Spells ripple outward, and their effects are rarely clean.

    To live ethically is not to avoid harm at all costs. It is to navigate a complex web of needs and effects with humility, awareness, and compassion. Not with fear.

    Fear-Based Magick Is Not Freedom

    Ultimately, the Threefold Law encourages a fear-based approach to magick.

    It tells you to be good because you’re afraid of being punished. It tells you not to hex because the karmic police will get you. It tells you that your spells are boomerangs instead of arrows, that the world will respond to your magic not based on intent or justice, but on a fixed, arbitrary ratio.

    This is not the logic of liberation. This is the logic of control.

    If modern Paganism seeks to free itself from the rigid structures of dogmatic religion, then it must also challenge the internal dogmas it has created, no matter how sparkly, poetic, or well-intentioned they may be.

    Let’s Grow Up a Bit

    It’s time to admit that the Threefold Law is a charming myth, not a metaphysical truth.

    It’s a story we told ourselves in the early days of modern witchcraft to help us feel safe, moral, and justified. It served a purpose. But it’s outlived its usefulness.

    We don’t need magickal bumper stickers. We need thoughtful, courageous, and evolving systems of ethics. We need to recognize that life is complex, magick is wild, and consequences are real, but not always quantifiable.

    Being a practioner isn’t about playing by rules. It’s about understanding the forces you wield and using them wisely. That means taking responsibility for your actions, not relying on mystical karma spreadsheets to sort it out for you.

    Go ahead. Light that candle. Cast that spell. Think carefully. Act with intention. Accept responsibility.

    If you still believe in the Threefold Law… May it return to you threefold.

    Whatever that means.

    1 comment on The Threefold Law: A Triple Serving of Nonsense?
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