A Witch Alone

We are the Grand Daughters of the Witches they couldn’t burn

- Unknown

Powerful isn’t it; for a woman.

When you read that, does it bring up any feelings, does it open your thoughts, is it the word witch that maybe makes you a little uneasy or make you think of black pointy hats, toads and cackling old hags over a cauldron?

In an age where we are in where being openly spiritual, new agey, divinely feminine, a light worker, a crystal collector or an oracle card hoarder is Insta trendy. Why is the word Witch still not openly used, why does it still have this dark stigma that comes with it?

Being in the Iso life, we have had time to go through every single box that we have had packed away - 10 years of Gypsy life for this family has meant a lot of boxes stored away for many years untouched. Now that we have finally anchored at a base (for now) the boxes have slowly come out. Boxes that I haven’t seen for years. It has been a very emotional memory lane visit for many of them. Other’s I have cringed and thought what the actual fuck were you thinking woman and if it still wasn’t full blown closed fire ban sason, I’d be burning that shit in a pile outside in the back yard.

So I found my book, my very first witchy book, the book that opened my soul with remembrance- a shit load of ah ha’s, a yearning for something more and anew path that would send me on many untold adventures. This book was the very first and only “mainstream” book that I had found in my beautiful old local library. Found in the .133 of the dewy library system - some of you may have to google that to know what it is. It had pretty much fallen off the shelf into my hand. This book was written by the talented and beautiful Marian Green called A Witch Alone. ( FYI there were many fines of overdue and lateness and then full payment for replacement to the library for when I lost it, I wonder if I took it back now - would I get a refund?)

Now when I first found it at the age of 12/13. I thought it was really rebally of me. I too had preconceived ideas of pointy hats, cauldrons, love spells and dragons. Cause who doesn’t love to have a pet dragon.

As I opened the book and read its pages, I felt an awakening, the more I read the more I craved to learn even more. I questioned everything. It was like I had found myself (as bloody corny as that sounds) at an age where I was really lost, messed up and heading down a very slippery path to some big bloody trouble.

I kept it to myself for years, I was weird enough as it is, I definitely wasn’t going to highlight that anymore than necessary. I continued to fill the cravings with books I’d hunt for and beg my mother to get for me, find articles online when dial up was the normal. It wasn’t till I remember writing this letter to a lady in Hamilton that I found that worked in a bookshop, that I felt like I was truly home. I had finally found similar minded people. My people you could say, non judgemental, free, open, caring people. I had found my tribe of woman and men, a coven of witches.

For many years to come after there were incredible Sabbath celebrations, circles, full moons, drumming circles, firepits, friendships, so many laughs, dance parties, road trips, sisterhoods, family, herbs and crystals, spell work, guided meditations, books - so many glorious books. We even got to organize festivals for the community and for the public to attend, Natures Magick NZ Pagan Festival - each year getting bigger and bigger. I mean meeting your overseas idol author in the flesh was pretty bloody epic- but that’s for another story

Then something happened. To tell you the truth I lost myself again I think. Depression can do that to you. This life throws you curve balls, you lose contact with special people and shit just fucken happens. So I packed away my books, my candles, crystals and my altar. The judgement had also got too much for me and you could say I went back into the broom closet. It is now, going through theses boxes, opening memories Id packed away that I have realized that I didn’t need all the bells and whistles and high fluting ceremonies. That I had never forgotten nor quietened anything, I didn’t turn my back on anyone but I was just to experience a different journey before really coming home.

Growth for me came with age, patience, experience, releasing, feeling, living and being and finally I guess finding who I really am, not who I think I must be for others.

Now I stand in my truth, with all my being. For me now- there is no closet door and to be honest you’d actually never know unless I told you or maybe you browed through my bookcase. There’s also not a pointy black hat at or black cat insight at this house.

So the granddaughters of the witches burnt before us, the divine souly woman and men I now surround myself with, I thank thee.

For anyone that also may be lost or abit scared of the judgment still to this day. Listen to the voice inside yourself, feel from your heart not your head, watch, listen, learn, and lean into nature and get up close and personal with Mumma E. Its the best friggin medicine ever!

Because Beauties, there is a little witch within us all