The Witchin' Post

Reflections of Light and Shadow



The Man with the Tao Tattoo

Street Light

I was thirteen the first time I met a spirit at a crossroad. I hadn’t gone there to meet him. I went to meet a friend, though I must not have waited long enough for the spirit’s liking, because later that night, he led me back there. Once there he told me stories, showed me things, and talked to me of magick. Later, when I would speak of him, and the things that happened that night, no one I had been with remembered him, or the things that happened the way I did. From the moment I stepped away from him, to this day, I can’t recall his name. It was very much as if, at some point in the night, I had fallen asleep, and experienced a dream no one else shared, but I had been awake, and I, and everyone present, had been stone cold sober.
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Confessions of a Pagan Hypocrite

Walt Whitman
Walt Whitman

I’m not your typical anything. Whatever label gets applied to me, be it religious, political, or social, it always turns out my personal views deviate in some way from the traditionally accepted ideas of the group. An acquaintance of mine, who practices Feri tradition, and I have spoken about the emphasis her practice places on paradox and how important is it to her personal path to reach out to those who have been rejected by mainstream society. I very much understand and respect this because, in the past, I have been fortunate enough to count many people who have been treated this way as friends. However, being myself someone who has so often been considered, in the categories I mentioned above, too mainstream to be alternative and too alternative to be mainstream, I have become accustomed to being rejected by pretty much everyone.
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The Witch and the Shaman


The Witch sat on the stone bench at the edge of her circle, staring into the fire. These last few years had all but destroyed her. Her faith and practice faded into a mere shadow of what it had once been. She had sought the help of the Shaman, out of desperation, if she was being honest. The work they’d done together thus far had been wildly successful. The skill and understanding of the Shaman had melded so seamlessly with the Witch’s natural ability for trance and affinity for shadow. The changes the soul retrieval work set off were sudden and powerful. Those who had seen her after had commented openly about how much better and more centered she seemed, body and soul. She’d felt better too. Literally something of herself she’d lost, had been returned.

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