I’ve come to realize that I’m both
an old soul in a young body and
a new soul just learning how to be alive
meaning there are times
when the only people I relate to
are those with enough years and experience
to be my grandparents
sometimes I’m incredibly confused
by the choices my peers make
because nothing seems thought through at all
but other times
I’m exuberant with my joy for each moment
each breath a gasp of delight
cheeks aching with a permanent smile
or sometimes I don’t understand
why we can’t all just get along and be happy
it seems so simple
this is the life of an underworld spirit
forever teetering between wise and naive
Category: [witchcraft & wonder]
anything related to witchcraft, magick, spirituality, and philosophy
[Witchy Review] “Magic for the Resistance” by Michael M. Hughes
Full Title: Magic for the Resistance: Rituals and Spells for Change
Author: Michael M. Hughes
Published: September 2018 by Llewellyn Publications
Genres: Nonfiction, Human Rights, Magic Studies, Occult, Witchcraft
Edition Details: 264 pages, trade paperback
Source: Purchased
Rating: 4/5 stars
First Glance
In light of the social and political turmoil following George Floyd’s death, I mentioned to my wife that I had a list of witchy books related to activism and magic resistance. I had originally started a wishlist based on several Patheos posts. When she asked me why I hadn’t purchased any of them yet, I didn’t have a good reason. Half a dozen books were ordered immediately, and this was the first to arrive.
Positive Bits
To start, I appreciate the author’s choice to include a large section on the history of magic and activism before touching the magic itself. I think context is key to understanding magical workings, and the added knowledge gives additional strength to your magic. It was also interesting to note that he was the creator of the “Bind Trump” ritual that went around in 2017 and hit the major news networks. I had no idea!
The histories presented are done so in an entertaining and informative way, and I appreciate that sources are listed as footnotes. Some of the events are familiar, if only in a word-of-mouth kind of way; however, I like to look up details on events, particularly if they sound outlandish and have no specific sources.
In the section that includes spells and rituals for your magical activism, the variety provided allows for a “different strokes, different folks” approach. In fact, more of the rituals lean toward what I would call generally pagan or Wiccan-flavored than I expected, considering the author’s description of his own spiritual path and history. However, I found the less delicate options (like the spells “Calling Bullshit” and “Hex the NRA”) fit the more offense-vs-defense attitude the book seems to suggest. There’s a good balance.
I’ve personally set aside notes on a couple of projects for upcoming moon workings, so I definitely gained some ideas from this book that I didn’t have before. I’m glad this book was written to be so approachable, even from a non-witch perspective.
Less Enjoyable Bits
No book is perfect. I’ll admit that part of my issues stem from differences in paths. The author made it clear that he’s not a witch or pagan, but rather a magician with a relaxed attitude toward methods of magic. In some cases, you can see the ceremonial magician leanings, particularly when he tells you to do a thing, but then tells you “it just works, not sure why”.
When my previous training covered some basic ceremonial magic, we were told the same thing: if you follow the instructions, with or without belief, you will get the results. Actions matter more than intent. That never really worked for me, considering how often we’re told that intent matters more than tools, herbs, and stones – because we’re the source of magic, and they’re just a focus.
Unfortunately, the author gets a little preachy in the middle as he discusses “Self-Care and Resilience” and “On the Casting of Circles”. I don’t mind someone suggesting a no-kill fast for magical purposes, but implying that your magic will be negatively impacted by eating animals is a step too far. (To be fair, he does say to “trust your intuition and what your body tells you”.)
When we get to the section on casting circles, he dismisses the entire process without discussing the benefits of a circle; clearly, he has a hard preference for no circles in magic. He then immediately follows that dismissal with a watered-down ceremonial magic circle that takes up several pages of instruction, rather than anything familiar from witchcraft and circle casting methods in general. I feel as though the pages of complaint against circle casting are a product of the author’s experience in ceremonial magic and its structures. To each their own?
Tidbits Worth Repeating
A good rule of thumb to use is this: Would you endorse a legal action to stop the target’s harmful actions or policies (say, against a minority group, a forest, or a person unjustly accused of a crime)? If so, then a magical action is absolutely ethical. – Page 7
The more you do magic, the more possibilities you see for its use. Always look for ways to blend your magical workings with your practical activism. – Page 118
Now light a candle and get to work. – Page 222
Is it worth the coin?
Yes – I think this is a good place to start, if you’re wanting to use your magic as part of our activism. The overall accessibility of the spells and rituals makes it ideal for a beginner in this kind of work.
true names [poem]
to know a name is to hold power
but true names are hard to learn
I mean
it’s like a child trying to understand physics
there are bits and pieces explainable in ways that
anyone could comprehend
but the bigger concepts are impossibly complex
so too is my true name
it’s more than just a sound passing through your lips
it’s the scent of rain after a long dry spell
the sepia tones cast over everything by sunglasses
the sharp bite of a lemon wedge
the relief of a well tucked blanket in winter
my true name is an experience
just like me
reincarnation [poem]
I was buried in the dry clay that is so much of Texas
my blood and bones decomposed into dirt
my last breath stirring dust into the air
I’ve never been so happy to die again
to give up a life in order to be reborn over
and over
this soul fueled by the cycle of change
I’ve passed away
left pieces of myself in every place I called home
because that’s what reincarnation requires
the letting go and
the starting over again
involuntary nomad [poem]
I’ve always claimed my early life as that of
an involuntary nomad
my home always a temporary shelter
between shifting points on a map
I thought I hated it
moving away and losing touch with friends
and never having anything permanent of my own
but now
I can’t help but wonder if it’s in my blood
to wander
to pull up my own roots
before they dig too deep into familiar soil
maybe it’s me
deciding not to stay
not to become a local
I almost did it
once
but even the comfort of
a chosen family of friends and
streets memorized like my own name
couldn’t keep me when times got tough
I ran to ancestral lands along the coast
and now we’ll see
if I’ve always been an itchy footed traveler
or if maybe I’ve just been working my way back home
*note: this poem used to include the word “gypsy” and has been updated due to the word’s status as a slur
trust darkness [poem]
the biggest lie I ever heard was that
evil disdains the light
the demons who I’ve crossed paths with
have always been blazing suns of laughter and sin
the devil himself was a beautiful angel
the morning star
this is why you have to trust shadows
those who exist because of
(and in spite of)
all the overwhelming light but are not a part of it
trust darkness to be real and honest
to hold silence as both a comfort and a terror
as needed
the light returns [poem]
the moon is full and I do nothing
smile up at Her face and find solace in the cycle
having depression is like being the moon
your emotions
a cycle of waxing and waning hope
when the moon is new and it’s too dark to see
you just have to remember
that the light returns
it always returns
moonflowers [poem]
we watch flowers bloom in the moonlight
and see the beauty in the shadows
healing is a candle
flickering against the dark recesses of your teacup
drink deeply and feel the warmth
blossom in your core
a Will-full woman [poem]
Sometimes the force of my own Will scares me.
The way it bubbles up, teeming with ravenous purpose
seeking with silent demands my cooperation.
I am just Her host.
She swallows me
down
even as I try to find my footing on the fence
between letting my Will be done
and making people happy.
Why can’t I do both?
Does my iron-rod spine require the melting down of another’s heart?
Does their flesh serve no purpose but as fuel
in the fires of my own forge?
I am a gentle creature,
and I do not harm.
I try not to harm.
I harm,
far more often than I care to admit.
I am blundering toward an eventuality,
a future I see so clearly it could be mistaken for glass.
Each step is a decisive move
made by an indecisive body.
I cannot make myself move any faster,
and yet
I’m already sprinting toward my future
as if pausing for a breath would bleed the Will to live right out of me.
I am running toward Her,
toward a Will-full, wild woman
after spending years clawing my way in the wrong direction.
I am running full of fear,
mind-numbing anxiety streaking down my sweat-drenched spirit.
I am afraid of becoming a strong woman,
a Will-full woman,
a woman who does not bend, nor break.
I am afraid of losing myself
to a woman I’ve always wanted to be.
mundane magic [poem]
magic is the way
heat blossoms through your core when you sip hot cocoa
the warmth filling in your empty places
until you’re full and content with yourself
at least until the cup is empty
magic is the way
reading a good story drags your heart up and down
tumbling left and right after the characters
until they finally find their happy ending
and you find peace in the thought you’ll find one too
magic is the way
it only takes a few minutes of good music
to loosen up your spine
and find tension dripping off your skin with the sweat
your body relaxing into the primal beat
magic is the way
moments can slip by unnoticed
accidental time travel while you’re focusing on unimportant things
instead of enjoying the pumping of your blood
through your own veins
the wolf girl walks in human skin [poem]
hello
is this okay?
I’m not sure if you remember me but
hello
I’m a human
no
really
I promise I’m human this time
I made sure of it
checked the box on the way out
yes
hello?
I used to curl up next to your sleeping body
in that hidden alcove
the cave no one else could see behind those bushes
do you remember it?
you let me eat your scraps and
I led you to the next meal
nose to the ground
paws careful not to make a sound
we were a pack or
a partnership
family of a sort
I kept you safe from the hungry ones
I always kept you safe
hello?
fallen angels [poem]
I had wings once in elementary school
at recess I’d let them unfold
feathers ruffled by the spring breeze
no one questioned them
no one told me to be more human
but still
I’d carefully tuck them back in
when we returned to class
shift myself into something normal
the wings faded away with puberty and
I didn’t miss them once they disappeared
but sometimes
I wonder if the devil fell before or after
forgetting how to fly
birthing a demon [poem]
I would follow you into the depths of hell for a kiss
this is how thoroughly you’ve ruined me
made me unholy
this is what a newborn demon looks like
you’ve won this twisted game of temptation
convinced me to forsake myself
with just a smile
sin has never been so damn delicious
as this almost love
this not quite romance
I would rather be made a demon
than be slave to your desire
I’m a wildfire
out of control and terrifying and you
can’t contain me
hell can’t even contain me
but it can try
you can shove me down into the darkness
until the only light left is Lucifer’s wicked smile
and the last sound you’ll hear from me
will still be laughter
at least the devil knows my real name