we are the weirdos, mister 🕯

(another) lesson in being honest with yourself

Photo by Eléonore GAUTIER on Unsplash

In less than a month it is the official day of fall, September 22. I live in Oklahoma, part of the Southern US. Over the last couple weeks, I have noticed the subtle changes in nature to indicate the shifting of the seasons. The grasshoppers are making their August appearance. The rain storms have subsided in contrast to their tornado season domination. This lack of moisture and humidity increase causes the grass’s green to fade and the tree leaves to turn downward. The earth around me begs for a drink to cool her off as we all sizzle in what’s left of summer. The nights have started to be cooler. The sun goes down earlier. The air, while heavy with humidity, even smells different. It’s enough for me to know that fall is approaching but we aren’t quite out of the heat yet.

Watching the seasons change has always been a joy of mine. When I was a young lass in the humble mountains of Arkansas, I entertained myself a lot being the oldest of five (at the time) and living in a rural area. I would spend hours outside exploring the bramble overgrown land around our home. There was an old round hay bale in the backyard by a towering pine tree. I would often go sit on it, listen to my Sony Walkman, and belt out Hilary Duff just because I liked to sing. I loved doing this even more so when it was cloudy or drizzly outside. There was something about the vibes and how the combination made the experience mystical. I remember pretending to have powers over the weather, like Storm from X-Men. Every time the rain fell from the sky, it washed everything anew and cleansed the earth. That alone was magic to me.

the time I had to beg my mom to ride my bike in the pouring rain at my grandparents house in Ohio (late 90s)

As an adult, I took an interest in learning to recognize some weather patterns because of this desire for weather manipulation powers. I wanted super powers as a kid, like many others who wrapped themselves in the safety of fantasy. When I was 8, I used to have this grey-ish jacket that was too big for me. I would stand at on the top of the front porch’s wooden stairs, tuck my arms inside to make sleeve wings, and then jump, while flapping, praying for super powers like the PowerPuff Girls. Of course, that never came true but it didn’t stop me from trying over and over again.

Despite growing up in an Evangelical home, I was still allowed to watch and read stories, within reason, that were magical, mysterious, and mystical. You best bet that every chance I was given, I devoured it. My Saturday morning’s as a pre-teen often included ‘Sabrina the Teenage Witch: the Animated Series’. I remember watching ‘Twitches, Too’ on Disney. I wanted to be a cool witch with cool powers. And that is what the changing of summer to fall always reminds me of — Halloween. It reminds me of the classic witchy black shadow on a broom that they slap on seemingly every Halloween product tossed onto store shelves.

Now, I am her.

I have always been her, really.

I am a witch.

A bona-fide modern witch.

It is both a title and declaration that I have been running away from for about a decade. I’m tired of running. I am tired of denying myself who I am. I am tired of shrinking myself into place that I don’t fit into or that I have outgrown. I suppose this is my way of exiting the proverbial broom closet, as it is called, that I found myself inside for years. The song below is a good song that helped me in the last couple years.

I’m not going to retell my journey within the church and Christianity. I have an old podcast episode that can tell you about that. I want to talk about witchcraft and my journey with it.

I believe witchcraft to be morally neutral and secular at it’s core. We, as humans, give it meaning beyond that. We are the ones who decide if it’s good or if it’s bad. We decide when to incorporate religion into it, or not. The practice of witchcraft is different for everyone.

For me, being a witch is linked to my experience of womanhood. It lends me power in an often powerless world. I grew up with a mom who knew about herbal remedies, essential oils, and Hollyhocks, the one flower she said I could eat the petals of. However, I would say that my official origins start in a book store buying a small travel sized set of tarot cards for my 19th birthday. That deck was the physical representation of what I had been feeling for a while by that point. I used them on and off for a few years before I ever bought anything else. I was too anxious for anyone to “find me out” to me a witch to purchase any other kind of occult or pagan supplies. Mostly, over years, I redirected that energy into learning about religions, theology, and philosophy through independent study and learning from other people. Slowly, without even noticing honestly, I stopped trying to purposely hide myself. I carried crystals with me. I gave friends and family tarot readings when requested. I wore my 777 necklace. I embraced the more hippie, loose, and casual clothing I enjoyed wearing all the time. I just showed up as me and called it good. Sometimes with confidence, sometimes not.

While I don’t yap about it to most friends or family, I do witchy stuff all the time. It’s just who I am at this point. You don’t need all those expensive tools, to follow any religion, or to look a certain way to be a witch or practice witchcraft. Some people may think of the green skin, black hat (harmful stereotype btw) while others might think of something more like Harry Potter or Sabrina. My own image of witch has shifted and changed over the years too. In my mind, witches have been everything from wise herbalists to medicine women to dark power wielding to hippie fairy type and all that’s in between. While I think there is truth in each of them, the point is that knowing you are a witch is more of a feeling in your bones, deep in your gut, not your appearance.

Sometimes it feels ancestral. Somehow deeply engrained in your way of being. An instinct you are relearning. The truest way to honor the earth. Trusting that we are all interconnected in ways beyond our human comprehension. It doesn’t matter what you call the energy of the universe to me since I do not follow the Christian God or any religion. It could be Source, Universe, God, etc. Source is me, you, and us. She is the trees, the water, the soil, the air, the creatures, the wildflowers. The energy that flows in everyone and everything. The constellation of stars written in your DNA.

That’s a smidge of what this path has been for me. This was a very vulnerable share for me. So, if you are witchy, secular or religious, let me know. You can comment on the post or respond to this email if you are reading from your inbox.

That’s all from me. Take care! 🤍

xo, Brenna

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🤝🏻 Reads and Videos That Inspired Me:

— Heal The Witch Wound by Celeste Larsen

– ‘I'm a witch’ by Rage Quit!

— TheCottageFairy on YouTube