That does not mean that we should not be casting spells but we need to understand that this is a perfect opportunity that has been designed in order to learn from our experience and become better. Being a Witch is not just a title we bear, but instead it is a responsibility to ourselves first and foremost, to the people we advise, to the Environment and the whole Universe. With that in mind, let’s see some of the most common mistakes we make:
1.Spellcasting with no emotion, is like a sea without water
As it is impossible to have a sea without water, it is impossible to have amazing results while casting spells if we do not have strong feelings about what we want to achieve. Curiosity is a motive, but when combined with fear the results can be catastrophic. The same applies to a spell we have borrowed from a fellow witch, but does not mean anything to us – it makes no sense and does not speak to our soul
Yes sometimes people who own spells ask readers not to change them, this is because we know that the energy that can be raised is tremendous and needs a delicate way to be expressed. So take this as a lesson and always remember, how do I feel about this spell, how do I feel about this goal? Why is it important to me? How much do I really want it? These are all legitimate questions which I hope will not discourage you from casting spells but instead make you think what can be done in a better way.
2. Repetition is a key to success
I have already cover the topic that patience in witchcraft is a required quality. Now I am going to analyse it under a different prism. The more you repeat a spell or ritual, the more power you give it. The spell/ritual matures with you, becomes a way of living, it is embroidered with your energy and starts working its way.
Let’s say that you cast a spell for prosperity and the Universe responds but not in a way that you notice and then you stop because you feel you are doing something wrong. Guess what? If you have kept going you could have your end result. Mastering an art is not an easy thing even if you have affinity for it, and one of the qualities apart from patience which is required is persistence. Learn to persist and repeat your spells and stop getting discouraged, this will not take you very far.
3. Clear blockages first and trust the guidance you receive
Okay, I know there are two messages here but let’s see this for an example: Janet was always shy and was not very successful in matters of love, and she decides that she want to cast a spell to find true love and ideally her soulmate. Analyzing this, first Janet must understand why she chose to be a shy person, then look into why this shyness (which many find cute) is to blame for not being successful in love, is there anything else that actually blocks Janet, why Janet wants to cast a love spell, how open is she to find true love and another hundred related questions.
What we realise is that Janet should not have been casting a love spell, at least not yet, but instead a self-awareness one. Well if you are working with forces that try to be helpful, even if you want to cast a love spell, they will give you hints during your love/spells rituals – visions, signs, dreams, about where you need to focus in order to succeed in your goal. The more you resist, the bigger the blockage and the less the energy that is being accumulated and released. Release the blocks and see what will happen. It takes time but believe me it is well invested.
4. Know with what you are messing with
This particular piece of advice should be taken with a piece of salt. To be very explicit, what I have in my mind while writing this it is those who mindlessly engage with entities or ‘deities’ that actually are malevolent or those who want to cause harm, those who didn’t have luck in love and they want to bring their ex back no matter what, those who abuse their power, those who feel that breaking a decade long hex should be a piece of cake and those who actually trust blindly the words of others without thinking for themselves should not face consequences for their mistakes.
As you can see, I have specifics in my mind and to be honest I would like this excerpt to be a sort of guidance to them. Yes we all make mistakes, but it is important to understand that there are always consequences – good or bad for whatever we do. Some people call it karma, some people call it the ‘law of three’, others call it simply consequences. What we do in our Craft has a direct impact in our lives, and believe me the fact that we are working to a less material level makes it more difficult to perceive the changes we make. Going back to the point, help will always be provided but always remember the biggest damage we can get is when we inflict it ourselves with our choices. Change your mind, change it all. (Read more here why your spells sometimes don’t work).
5. There is a time and season for everything
There is a ton of occult knowledge about the importance of doing the right things at the right time. Astrology, ritual magic, alchemy have already outlined the importance of timing. There are cosmic forces which are at play, we witness it in the phases of the moon, in the position of the Sun and the Stars, in the Seasons and our land.
As above so below is the law and so it is. The more we get attuned to the natural world that surrounds us we manage to tap into this energy and with our spells we manage to ride a bigger wave. Now imagine that we ride that wave the opposite way, this is a time of banishing and we cast a love spell, this is a time for prosperity and we cast a self-awareness spell (this may actually work). I do not want to deter you from actually casting any sort of spell instead I ask you to put more effort into planning your spell casting better. Only because, like any successful farmer knows, planning and timing the sowing will greatly affect the quality of crops that you will get.
I just got through with some meditation. I don’t usually use guided meditation anymore, but sometimes I’m glad it’s there because I need some extra help. So, today, I went to my favorite YouTuber for meditation, Lillian Eden. I picked out a past life regression meditation. I’ve only done this one time before and got an image of my shoes standing on a corner outside watching horse-drawn carriages go by and one or two old fashioned cars. I think it was 19th century. Well, today, when I did it, Lillian Eden took me down to a place where I was to walk into a portal to get to my past life. The first thing I saw again was my shoes, but this time I saw the skirt of a dress and the same carriages going by. But then something unexpected happened, there was another portal, so I walked through it and I think I was a man in ancient Egypt. I remember being in the middle of a large city and looking at some monumental structures. Then, I saw another portal, so I walked through that one as well. This time, I was a child of about 3-5 years old. I remember having to look up at the adults and they seemed very large. They all wore skins. Like the men wore leather pants and skins with fur over their torsos. I looked down at myself and saw my arms were filthy with dirt and I was wearing some kind of dirty shift. My hair was very long, blond and matted. There was much commotion going on and lots of corpses laying around. A large man picked me up and put me in a wagon drawn by horses. I think I was going off to be a slave. I’m not entirely sure about that though. I didn’t feel any emotion one way or the other about this. I was just observing. Finally, there was one more portal. I moved through it and everything became dark. There was no light at all and no sense of gravity or of having a body. I remember thinking, “What is this?” and “Where am I?” I sort of floated in that place for a few minutes and then the guided meditation counted me up and out of that space.
I did find it a bit hard to stay in that space where the higher self reigns and the ego-mind is silent today since there were all kind of outside noises and my daughter was singing, my nose wouldn’t stop being itchy and then when I thought everything was okay, I started to cough. So, I thought today’s session was going to be for naught, but it was incredible. I’m so grateful.
1. Exploding Candle-candle protected you against a spiritual attack or a large amount of negative energy directed your way or the person you are working against is protected.
2. Candle Will Not Burn-wrong candle or spell is being used. Use another. Spiritually cleanse yourself. Your goal will be longer to obtain.
3. Low Burn Flame-Clear yourself of negativity. Different spell is needed.
4. Glass Turns Black-Stop and cleanse yourself. Burn a reversed candle. A spell may be directed at you.
5. Bottom Of The Candle Turns Black-Negative energy sent against you. The person is aware of your attack and is countering.
6. Candle Burns On One Side-Spell is moderately effective,
7. Candle Has Broken-Someone lays in wait or is against you. Protection of the target is broken.
8. Candle Flame Cracks-Spirits speak and work on your behalf.
9. Candle With Multiple Flames-Center flame is you with multiple spirits around you.
10. Top of The Candle Including The Wick is on Fire-Spell is successful, your target’s guardian is fighting back.
11. Candle Flame Going Out-Spell was directed at you. You need a more powerful candle. Your target was able to fight off your attack. If a money spell, it will not work. Spell you sent out-Your target is against your will and has time to reverse it.
12. A lot Of Smoke- With a clean burn at the end~Alot of negative energy is being removed. You may need to repeat.
13. Serpent Long Wax Lines-Evil negative energy being neutralized. Repeat.
14. Wax Puddles-Read into the shapes to see what it shows.
I give my blood to back to the Earth. Watching her drink it into her rich, dark soil. Feeding her with my elixir of life, the recipe tucked into the soft folds of my womb, held in the marrow of my bones for centuries.
This is why they burned us.
They did not understand how we didn’t fear death. How we could live more fully each time we bleed. Why we worshiped with reverence the cycles and rhythms of the earth. How we honored that sacred dance of the seasons mirrored in our own human flesh.
This is why they burned us.
We tender warriors of heart, keepers of the womb, protectors of the earth. Because our love for Nature and our devotion to Her scared them. For love that powerful strikes fear in the hearts of those who are unwilling to be soft, in those with ears that are closed to the heartbeat of the Earth. Who choose not to hear the love songs of Spirit all around us.
This is why they burned us.
Trying to domesticate and eradicate the wild in our bones. That emerges on the Full Moon. That seeks to howl and retch, scream and cry, sigh and sing life back into our bodies when they have become heavy or feel broken. Because we see the medicine in all things, the medicine all around, and we know that the purest medicine is the medicine within.
And medicine this strong can dismantle systems, bring authority to its knees, and is the embodiment of sovereignty.
This is why they burned us.
Because our worship is of no man, of no one church, of no one god. We call forth and invoke Spirit in all forms. Seeing God, Goddess, and Spirit in every plant, animal, and elemental being. Our palms and knees covered in dirt, as we sink ourselves onto the soil, finding our home, our holy place, our sanctuary in the wild.
This is why they burned us.
Because women in their bodies are a force of nature that cannot be tamed. We demand softening, reverence, and the type of integrity that comes from a wholehearted willingness to feel the connection to the whole world, to all living beings.
This is why even when they tried to burn us, we live on. As mothers, sisters, lovers, midwives, healers, artists, dancers, grandmothers, teachers, as all the flavors and forms of the Feminine. Because the whole world needs this medicine. Especially right now.
So answer the Wild Calling of your souls, sisters. Burn bright in your power, my loves. Give into your feral nature. Sing the songs of the ancient ones. Pour your blood, tears, and love into the Earth.
Do not fear. Let your heart flame be seen. For no flame of hate can burn as bright as the Love that you are.
You are holy.
You are whole.
Der Tod by Hans Baluschek, 1895.
ACONITE is a VERY POISONOUS herb, and should only be administered by a qualified healer. It has been used to help the dying (at the time of death) transition comfortably to the stage after death. It can be planted on a burial, and used in an incense in ritual. The roots can be placed on an ancestor altar, especially around Samhain.
ANEMONE can be used in a ritual fire after the deceased has past over to encourage reincarnation.
ASPHODEL has traditionally grown on graves and washing the corpse. Gather in a bunch and tie in a red ribbon to aspurge the body in ritual.
BASIL is associated with love and protection, and is excellent to be used in an incense. It is used to help bring dignity and courage to one facing death. Can be incorporated into the ancestors’ feast on Samhain.
BAY LAUREL is used for communication with the dead, and is sometimes used in funeral wreaths. Can be used in dishes for the ancestors’ feast at Samhain.
BIRCH is often associated with rebirth and reincarnation. Blessings for the deceased can be written on birch bark and can then be buried or burnt with the corpse.
BLUEBELLS are planted on graves to bring peace and blessings, and may also be used to decorate the altar at the funeral, or on Samhain.
CHERVIL can be drank to aid one to in rituals of communing with the dead.
COMFREY is a helpful herb to help one get over the loss of a loved one. Excellent to plant in the garden in memorial of the deceased.
CYPRESS is associated with endings. Can be used to ritually bathe the body of the deceased.
ELDER is an excellent wood for a cremation pyre, or a sprig of elder can be buried with the deceased. Elderberries are excellent to decorate the funeral altar, or the altar at Samhain.
FRANKINCENSE can be burned at the funeral ritual, or in ritual while communing with the dead for purification, and spiritual transformation.
GARLIC is used for protection, and can be put on a grave, and cooked in dishes for the ancestors’ feast at Samhain.
HOLLY is associated with resurrection and renewal, and can be buried with the deceased or used to decorate the funeral altar.
IVY can be planted at a grave to celebrate the life of the deceased and to encourage rebirth.
LAVENDER should be planted in memory of the deceased either on the grave or in the home of a living loved one to bring peace.
LEMON BALM is associated with immortality and happiness, and can be drank in a tea to lift spirits of the mourning.
LILY can be planted on a grave to represent resurrection.
LOTUS pods can be used as an incense burner to aid the soul seeking reincarnation.
MANDRAKE root can be buried with the body to protect the spirit and send it safely on its way. It also can be used to decorate the ancestor altar at Samhain.
MARJORAM can be planted on a grave and used in the ancestors’ feast at Samhain.
MINT can be used as a strewing herb to bring joy to the mourning.
MISTLETOE can be buried with the deceased for protection.
MUGWORT can be drank by the dying to gain inner sight.
MULLEIN can be used to cleanse the body of the deceased.
MYRRH was once used in embalming, but can now be used as an incense at the funeral to bring healing, purification, and protection.
OAK is a tree of strength, and is an excellent pick to plant in the memory of the deceased.
PARSLEY can be strewn on the path of where the body is being transported, and can be planted at the grave site for good luck in the after life.
PENNYROYAL is used to bathe the corpse to assist in the soul being reborn.
PERIWINKLE is a herb of immortality and can be used in a funeral wreath or used to decorate tombs. Often used in the passing of children.
POMEGRANATE can be eaten at the ancestors feast on Samhain to represent rebirth.
POPPY can be used in funeral wreaths or planted at a grave site to bring restfulness to the deceased.
ROSEMARY can be thrown into grave sites, carried on funeral processions, or burned as an incense. Can be used in the ancestors’ feast at Samhain, especially to commune to deceased friends.
ROSES represent love and purification, and are used in funeral wreaths and planted in memory of the deceased.
ROWAN is associated with protection. The berries can be buried with the deceased or used to decorate the funeral and ancestor altar, and can be planted on a grave site.
RUE can be burnt for karmic completion.
SAGE can be used as a smudge for purification, and ingested when communing with the dead, and to bring wisdom.
SANDALWOOD is an excellent purification incense that can be used during the funeral ritual.
TANSY was once used for embalming. It can now be used to aspurge the temple and the body of the deceased, and used to decorate the ancestor altar.
THYME makes an excellent ritual cup to drink before communing with the dead, and can be used in a ritual incense or bath for purification.
VIOLETS are appropriate flowers for the graves of children.
WILLOW is said to ease the soul at the time of death if it is planted by the deceased in their lifetime. Willow baskets can be used as offering containers for ancestors.
WORMWOOD can be used as an incense for transformational healing for the mourning, or to bring insight to the dying.
YARROW can be grown on graves in in the gardens of the mourning to bring protection and healing.
YEW is associated with immortality and endings, and was often planted in graveyards to protect the bodies of the deceased.
I am setting the grandest table for them, these women of my childhood religion who so wholly embodied the woundings of the global Feminine collective.
Teardrops are falling on my grandmother’s silver as I straighten and perfect each place setting, and my heart-drum beats out a mournful dirge as I light the black candles.
One by one, I summon them, bidding them to join me on this Samhain night when the veil is so thin that I can hear the wails of burning women tied to stakes, and the gasps of holy healers swaying at the noose ends. I summon them, these women I was told to shun, and I take my seat at this Last Supper of Holy Whores, this so solemn Samhain celebration that is my highest ritual.
I call on the Mystery to resurrect the Divine Feminine dark, and I set fire to the sweet-grass braids while I whisper their infamous, ill-reputed names.
Mother of Babylon, I welcome you and your revelations to this table. On this ghostly night, I remember you for your Witch-warrior nature and your kinship with nature. I can read the language tattooed on your body, and I have memorized the truest apocalyptic verses. You represent the end of their days, and their condemnation of your leadership is fear-born and unholy.
You will give them their last rites, and I will stand with you while you draw a phantom pentagram over their hearts.
The ghost of the wild Mother materializes, riding her seven-headed wolf and glowing an ethereal red.
They feared the future you represent, the Wild Rising and the genesis of pan-human equality. They tell little ones you embody all that is evil and unjust, but many know the truth. You are the collective feminine wound of our stolen right to affect change, to vindicate our dead, and to unearth the bones of the socially powerless. You are our right to grieve, and our divinely sanctioned right to share our own prophecies.
They called you a whore, but tonight I will call you Mother.
The wild one dismounts her beast and takes a seat at the table’s head. I pour wine for her and crush my eyes closed, readying myself to call in the next guest.
Mary Magdalene, I welcome you and your devotion to the Sacred Masculine to this table. I remember you for your passion and your grace, and I have heard your lover beg me to resurrect you with my words. You are the holy partner, the eternal Creatrix, and you will not be shamed.
The ghost of the red-hooded She-God appears holding a baby in her arms, and the Mother of Babylon raises a fist high in solidarity.
They feared your sexuality and your intimate, heart-born connection with the man they worshiped as their savior. They do not tell their daughters you were the lover of Christ, but I will. They do not speak of your divinity, but I will raise my voice for you. You are the collective feminine wound of our stolen cosmic birthright to make love to our Gods, to drink the holy water, and to pray with our bodies.
You, Lover-Priestess of Magdala, are the pulse-beat of the universal heart, and you are our right to hand-craft our own religions. They called you a whore, but I will call you Mary, Lover of Christ.
She lowers her hood, taking a seat next to the Mother, and I spoon some of my Witch’s brew into her bowl. Still more ghosts are all around us, and their curious whispers nearly drown out my call to the fallen queen.
Jezebel, I welcome you and your devotion to this table. Tonight, I remember you. This is a memorial service to your spiritual conviction, your bone-deep spiritual autonomy, and your refusal to bow down to a God that was not your own. I am giving your crown back to you, and I am tattooing your name on my belly.
The royal woman who was denigrated for her beliefs appears in all her adorned glory, and both the Lover from Magdala and the Mother of Babylon bow their heads in reverence to the one they called an idol-worshiping adulteress.
They feared your spiritual freedom, and they denounced your religion. They beat you, and they tried to rob you of your worth. They still use your name to restrict the sexual liberty of women, and they have bound you in their so-called holy book to be forever the unchaste one. You are the collective feminine wound of stolen spiritual agency, and all women feel your pain.
They called you the fallen queen, but I will call you Jezebel, Priestess of Baal and Lover of Mystery.
The queen takes her seat at the table, leaving just one empty chair, and I butter some bread for her. We four sit in silence for a time then, readying and steadying ourselves, raising our frequencies so high that we sprout wings from our backs and milk-white crowns from our heads.
I feel her before I call her, and these words pass from my lips in an accented tongue I do not speak, and yet I understand my meaning:
Lilith, I welcome you and your brave heart to this table. On this sacred night, I remember your refusal to accept the conditions they set for you, and I remember your liberation from the sweet floral prison built to contain your sexuality, your wit, and your fem-force. You are a fire-walker, sent into the desert to repent the sin of feminine independence, and you risked much in the dangerous search for your own house.
No, you said. No, I will not apologize for knowing my worth. No, I will not submit to your will. No, I will not surrender to the hand of those who would harm my daughters, and by the grace of all things holy, I will not bow down to a God that thinks me less than a man.
There is an earthquake in my bones, and I shiver, waiting. The candles dim, threatening to die out, and then the flames extend so high, white-hot and sparking. All of us — the Mother, the Lover, the Priestess, and I — bow our heads in womb-felt reverence, and she appears.
The original incarnation of the Feminine Divine, this wild-haired, bare-breasted, and dark-skinned force of nature who descends all religion, sees straight into my marrow. Her black eyes bear down into my soul’s deepest wounds, and suddenly she knows all of my secrets. I would have begged her to consume me then, to swallow all of my energy and use it as she sees fit, but again I speak without trying:
They twisted your story, Dark Goddess, as they have stolen and molded the stories of every woman who sits at this table. They used your names to teach their lessons, and kept you shackled to a book you never read and a God you did not worship. You are the collective feminine wound of social inequity, oppression, and isolation. Lilith, they called you the Mother of Demons, but I will call you Dark Goddess, Mother of All.
The rawest human form of the Feminine Divine takes her seat at our table, and I slice her some forbidden fruit as the candles blaze. We hold hands, and the scene is like no other. The Mother’s seven-headed beast is snoring softly at our feet, and the baby of the God-among-men and his red-hooded lover is cooing softly, mesmerized by the fires.
When I join hands with them, Lilith to my left and the Mother to my right, I can feel them inside of me. My guts twist with the red, throbbing ache of our shared wounds. I feel the Mother’s wound of stolen prophecy, the Lover’s wound of denounced body prayer, the Priestess’ wound of spiritual subjugation, and the Dark Goddess’ wound of inequity, the original sin.
I feel it all, and I pray for death; the collective feminine scars are so egregious, so unbearable, I have nowhere to keep this pain. I am in agony. I am birthing a billion black holes from my belly, and they are ripping their way out of my soft flesh. I want to bleed out, but my guests will not let me.
I am pulled from my pain by their hands, and my thoughts are lucid again. I feel the merit of their vindication, and sit, slumped and breathless, while they pray-howl in unison over our Samhain supper:
On this holy night, we bless this table with our tears and our rage. We sit together in solemn solidarity, and we invoke a total transmutation of the collective feminine wound. We invoke the Mystery’s cool, cosmic wonder to come forth and quench our thirst for change.
Their voices grow so loud, I feel my body will combust with the pressure of the sound, and I surrender to their invocation fully, with all that I am or will ever be.
We are calling on the Sacred Feminine to rise up, to groundswell under our feet and swallow up the outmoded religions of this world. We are calling on holy wildfire to incinerate any ropes that bind the hands of the oppressed, and we are demanding to be heard. Hear us, women, and know you will not be tamed by their laws. You are She-Gods, and for this, you are feared.
Hear us, all who value the Feminine, and know it is your time. Hear us, and affect the transformation of spiritual systems that would keep you in the dirt.
Hear us, for we are owed. We have suffered much in the tragic names of piety and morality. We have been burned, scorned, pushed from windows, and shamed. Our power has been locked inside countless cages, their laws, their commandments, their moral codes. Tonight we say no more, and tomorrow we rise.
Tonight we have risen from our unmarked graves to ignite a bonfire of the Feminine Returned, and tomorrow we will visit the dreams of anyone who will have us.
We are the ghosts of the Holy Feminine, and we will haunt the churches that banned us. We will take the titles they said we could not have, and we will wear their most sacred robes. We will stand and sing with their choirs, and the Sunday-dressed women will whisper of the spectral, wild-haired ones. We will stand bare-breasted in front of their stained glass windows, and we will wail when our names our mentioned.
You cannot have us anymore. We are not yours to use, Priest. Find other tools of indoctrination, for our stories do not belong to you. We are the Spirits of the Wounded Feminine, and we demand justice. We will shred any mask you make for us, and the dead do not get tired. Our energy is self-renewing, ever-flowing, and all-encompassing. We are here, and we are staying.
Their last words hang in the air. The candles have been snuffed, and I am alone in the dark, left with nothing but my resolve.