I was browsing Barnes & Noble when I happened upon these little cards. It’s a box of 70 writing prompts meant to inspire self-love and reflection. I need some fresh material for my blog other than giving life updates, and this seemed like the perfect way to spark some creativity. Sitting at a hookah bar with my wife, I drew my first card:
And I blanked immediately. How do I feel connected to the earth? That’s such a lofty concept, I’m not sure I know how to answer that. The first thing that came to mind was my dabblings in magic and witchcraft. I hesitate to call myself a Christian witch (which is not an oxymoron surprisingly), as I don’t practice nearly enough. But my personal religious beliefs align somewhere between Christianity, witchery, and science. And a connection with our life-giving planet is a crucial part of all of those philosophies.
When I lived by the lake, I liked to take walks and collect various things I found along the way. Little pinecones and flowers and such. I’d put them on my altar alongside my favorite crystals and religious symbols like pictures and statues of saints I admire. I took a lot of pride in arranging my findings to be aesthetically pleasing. It was soothing, and I felt like I was bringing a little bit of Mother Nature home with me.
Another practice I enjoy when it’s a little warmer out is grounding by standing or laying on the grass or dirt with no shoes. Someone once told me it’s a great way to feel connected to the earth, and I agree! Is there anything scientific to it? I doubt it, but it feels good. I like standing in water even more though, feeling the waves hit my feet and my toes buried in the sand. I think it’s the Pisces in me, or maybe the Michigander in me. I just really like lakes, okay?
On a grander scale, just existing alongside other living beings makes me feel like part of something greater than myself. We’re all part of this beautiful cosmic experiment called humanity, and it’s pretty awesome when you think about it. We’re eight billion interconnected stories, all unfolding at once. Someday, God willing, I’ll have kids of my own, and perhaps they’ll have their own kids eventually, and the great cycle of life will continue. It’s the same cycle that’s been happening since the dawn of time. I’m someone’s great-great-granddaughter, and maybe one day, I’ll be someone’s great-great-grandmother. It’s all very overwhelming and exciting to think about.
I think being connected to the earth is much more than just being connected to a clod of dirt floating in space. It’s being connected to each other, to flesh and blood, and it’s being connected spiritually. You can’t love the planet without loving one another. We’re all a part of this together. And that’s pretty dope actually.
It’s a question I get asked a lot, especially during sandal season, when my little anchor tattoo is clearly visible on my left foot. It’s the symbol I chose to represent my blog, my business, and my spirituality as a whole. But where did my obsession with anchors originate, and why are they so special — dare I say, sacred — to me?
It helps to know a little about the traditional symbolism. In sailor culture, tattoos were popular long before they made their way onto the lower backs of even the most demure housewife. To these seafarers, the anchor represented stability. A sailor often got an anchor tattoo for a special lady, typically a lover or his mother, to remind him of the love and security he has waiting for him back home.
Additionally, the anchor is associated with bodies of water, to which I’ve always felt a connection to. I’ve lived near the same river for a majority of my life, and being a Pisces, the element holds a spiritual importance to me. The shape of the anchor resembles a cross, which is significant to me as well, as my Christian-rooted beliefs play no small part in my personal spiritual practices.
But believe it or not, it goes even deeper than that.
I remember briefly dating a fellow musician my freshman year of college. He was someone I admired greatly, and still do, for his musicianship as well as his humility. He would tell me about how he made music for other people, simply because he loved the way it made them happy. Music was more than just his hobby or his job. It was the way he connected with others, and he viewed it as something of a sacred duty to use his talents to spread joy. His band used a lot of anchors in their symbolism as well, representing humility and groundedness. He never wanted to lose sight of why he did what he did. He never wanted music to become a selfish act.
That philosophy really resonated with me, especially as a music therapist-in-training, and despite the relationship ending, I held fast to the wisdom he had shared. Music — and all my creative endeavours for that matter — now held a deeper meaning to me, and I adopted the anchor as a symbol of staying humble and remembering why I do what I do. Getting that tattoo, my first tattoo for that matter, was my way of making sure I always had that reminder to put others first in all things. Music and life in general shouldn’t be about getting famous or hitting it big. It should be about leaving the world a brighter place than how you found it.
No matter how far I sail in this life, I won’t forget or forsake the people and places I hold dear. May everything I do reflect a heart of humility and love.
A few nights ago was the new moon, which apparently is a great time to like, do intention setting rituals and whatnot. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — I’m pretty skeptical when it comes to this stuff, but choosing a goal or vision to work on for a month does tickle the science part of my brain. Besides, I have ADHD. This is the kind of structure I need in my life.
“Jess getting her shit together for once” will take all the magic in the universe.
The new moon is in Leo, which is a thing I don’t know a lot about, but I guess it’s a good time to do creative things. There’s supposed to be a lot of big, bombastic energy surrounding this moon, which is perfect for the average glam rock frontwoman trying to manifest her band’s success. Additionally, I found out when I was researching my birth chart that my moon sign is Leo. Coincidence? Realistically, yes. But I’d like to believe there’s something special there. I’m a frickin’ lion baby, and you’re gonna hear me roar.
Cue that annoying Katy Perry song.
My lovely wife, Crass, has been mostly supportive of my magical endeavors (albeit she’s a bit annoyed with how many essential oils and herbs I’ve accumulated in the past few weeks). Although she’s Jewish by birth and generally agnostic, she’s always felt drawn to the witchy side of life. So for this new moon, she decided to join me for an intention setting ritual.
Here’s what all was involved:
– “road opener” candle I got from this dope metaphysical store downtown (supposedly opens new opportunities)
– bay leaves
– citrine crystal necklace
– cedar smudge stick
– a black Sharpie
We started by assembling a makeshift altar on the balcony and smudging the air around it. It was a beautiful summer night, and considering it was dark out, we decided to go out naked as the day we were born. I didn’t bother to look up whether nudity affected the magic at all. Once we were settled in, we light the candle and said a few words. Our incantation was as follows:
Holy powers that be
Ignite a spark in me
Bring success to my art
And creativity to my heart
After reciting the incantation, we scribbled the names of our artistic projects — my band’s name and her art business’s name — on a pair of bay leaves using the marker. We then placed the leaves into the flame, envisioning our prayers being sent up to the heavens along with the smoke. Around that time, I took her hand, and we started daydreaming aloud about what our hopes and visions were for our respective endeavors. It felt nice, dreaming about the future with her. Somehow, it made the evening even more magical. At the end, we brought the candle inside and let it burn on the kitchen table, but not before holding the necklace we had in the smoke. The plan was for her to wear the necklace to art shows and me to wear it to my band’s gigs, as a reminder of our intentions.
It feels silly at times, but I really do get a sense of peace from performing rituals like this, like I have a sense of control over my destiny. Suddenly, my dreams of making it in music don’t seem so lofty. It gives me perspective. Perhaps this magic stuff is baloney, but I think there’s some substance to it after all. It’s retraining your brain to see your full potential and focus on achieving what you need to achieve. Maybe it just takes burning a couple of leaves to finally tame my ADHD. So mote it be.
If you haven’t read my last blog post, I’ve been dabbling in witchy shit as of late. It’s been interesting experimenting with herbs and oils and crystals and whatnot and seeing what works. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I tend to approach everything with a sense of skepticism. I like to weigh things against actual proven science. But sometimes, you just have to do something because it feels right. Because you don’t have any scientific way to fight the crushing weight of impermanence and mortality. My Prozac has worked wonders for a lot of my mental health issues, but there’s still that looming feeling of “I am going to die and be forgotten someday” that permeates everything I do.
It’s been a fear of mine ever since I was incredibly young — yes, I, as a sweet, innocent little girl, constantly perseverated on death. I have distinct memories of clutching my Bible and praying there was something after “the end.” It’s persisted to this day, and to be honest, it’s probably gotten louder, considering I’m closer to death now than I was as a child. I’ve noticed my brain tends to dwell on the idea that nothing lasts forever. I prepare for the end of things before they’re even over and can’t seem to live in the moment, because all I can think about is “this is going to end.” It’s not all about death, but it tends to circle back around to death eventually. Take for example my relationships. They might not work out, which is a scary enough thought, but then the thought occurs — what if they do? It’s still going to end someday. Someone’s gonna die first. And it’s going to kill me.
I remember reading something about how people are forgotten in only a few generations. Think about it. How much do you really know about your great-grandma? And someday when you have children of your own, will you tell them in extensive detail about your grandpa? You can only keep a memory alive for so long. The film Coco hit me on several levels. For one, it was the push I needed to get back into music therapy. But the scene where a dead man literally fades away as his family finally forgets him completely ruined me. It hit me that that will happen to me someday. I feel like it’s been a huge motivator in me being creative, since I want to leave something behind after I die, but the flip side is the amount of dread it places in my heart. It gets overwhelming to think about sometimes, and it’s been especially bad these past few weeks.
So, at my wit’s end, I decided to perform a banishing ritual to send my fears surrounding death into the abyss, once and for all. If you have similar fears to me, maybe try this little ritual and see how you feel afterwards.
You’ll need:
-a black candle
-frankincense and myrrh oils
-something to carve a word into the candle
Try to perform this ritual during a waning moon, since that’s the best time to get rid of the stuff that’s bringing you down. Start by purifying your space however you feel comfortable (I used my cedar smudge stick). Get out your black candle and place it in a safe space. The color black is used traditionally for protection and banishing negativity. With your chosen utensil, carve a word that represents your fear into the candle. I chose “dread,” but feel free to use whatever speaks to you. Anoint the candle with frankincense and myrrh. These oils are significant in my Christian tradition as the gifts the wise men brought Jesus as a baby, and for good reason. They’re symbolic of death, spirituality, and holiness. They seemed like the natural choice for this ritual for that reason. Light the candle and keep it in a safe place to burn out naturally, and meditate on the word you wrote melting away.
It’s worth noting here that my practice is rooted primarily in my Christian beliefs. So when I performed this myself, I used the time the candle was burning to talk to God, and I feel like He gave me a lot of insight on why the thought of being forgotten scared me so much. I felt like I was being convicted in my own elevated sense of self-importance. Why do I feel so strongly about being remembered for something? Shouldn’t I be working on staying humble and showing kindness to those around me? Aren’t there more important things in life than being a name in the history books? Jesus Himself said it best in the Parable of the Wedding Banquet:
When you are invited to a wedding banquet, do not sit in the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited. Then the host who invited both of you will come and tell you, ‘Give this man your seat.’ And in humiliation, you will have to take the last place. But when you are invited, go and sit in the last place, so that your host will come and tell you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ Then you will be honored in front of everyone at the table with you. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Luke 14: 8-11
Perhaps you’re of a different religious tradition, which is fine. I created this ritual to be something anyone of any faith can participate in, though your conversation with your spirit or deity will likely differ from mine. What’s important, however, is that you meditate on why you’re afraid of what you’re afraid of, and listen closely for insight on how to deal with those feelings. But one universal truth did come to me while I was praying and meditating, a simple affirmation.
I accept the flow of life.
People change, circumstances change, relationships change, and eventually, you will die. We all will die. But that’s okay. As an animated lion once said, we’re all part of the circle of life, and we all need to come to terms with that eventually. What matters now is how we treat each other. Love begets more love, and that will remain long after we are gone.
I started researching my family history during the lockdown. Genealogy is an endeavor my cousin beat me to, though, so I asked her some questions about our ancestors. Turns out, we’re descended from Appalachian witches! You see, before there were doctors in the remote areas of the mountains, wisened granny witches would serve as both apothecaries and spiritual leaders in the community. And it made sense — there were some weird things my family did that I never realized were weird, like being able to tell when a rainstorm was coming by the leaves and using tobacco as an antidote to insect stings. I guess normal families don’t rip up a cigarette and apply it to their child’s feet when they step on a bee.
SCREW URGENT CARE.
One thing that struck me as interesting was the fact that these Appalachian witches drew inspiration from the pagan traditions from the British Isles where they once originated, the indigenous traditions of the folks they often intermixed with, and, to my surprise, Christianity! You can be a Christian and a witch?
It makes sense when you throw out the demon-summoning, hex-casting preconceptions people often have about witchcraft and break it down into what it really is — taking charge of your own spirituality. It’s sitting on your bathroom floor with nothing but a candle and praying directly to your higher power. It’s going against the grain of organized religion and interacting with a god or a spirit by yourself, without the interference of a church or priest or pastor. And that’s what spirituality should be, in my humble opinion — a very personal affair, and one that’s unique to you. Everyone has their own interpretations of their sacred scriptures, and while it is wise to seek counsel from people you admire spiritually, no one should have the power to tell you what to believe. The second you succumb to dogma, you check your brain at the door. This is how dangerous groupthink and cults start.
The second you succumb to dogma, you check your brain at the door.
So how can a witch be Christian? Part of witchcraft is communing with a spirit guide of your choice, whoever speaks to you. Some witches work with members of the Roman or Greek parthenon, some with ancient Egyptian or Celtic deities, and others with fae or other spirits. I just happen to believe in the God of the Abrahamic faiths, specifically the Trinity, or the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (who I often interpret as the personification of wisdom, who is often characterized as feminine). So when I mix together oils to anoint a candle, or hold a crystal that’s supposedly imbued with a virtue I want to manifest, or use my cedar smudge stick to purify my spaces, that is the deity whom I am consulting. Additionally, Christianity and witchy spiritual practices are often intertwined in various cultures. Look at Haitian voodoo, Dia de los Muetos, and, most personally to me, the Appalachian spiritual tradition. Even a lot of standard Christian traditions are essentially witchcraft under a different name. Consecrating bread and wine and consuming to honor a deity? That’s witchy as heck, man.
The Pope: Head Witch In Charge
Full disclosure: I’ve always been a skeptic, even when it comes to Christianity in and of itself. I don’t claim to know everything, and I think it’s foolish to assert that any human has all the answers to the big spiritual questions. If we could understand our God, He wouldn’t be God. Part of embarking on a spiritual journey is accepting you’ll never know everything, and the truth is, this could all be bunk. But I know my spiritual practices give me a sense of inner peace, so even if I’m praying to absolute nobody in the end, the mental and emotional benefits I receive from my practice are worth it. And a lot of “witchy” practices are rooted in things like self-care and intention setting, which are helpful to me as the proud owner of the absolute worst case of ADHD my therapist has ever seen. If burning a candle or holding some rock gives me that extra motivation to create and do what I love, so be it. I’ll gladly psyche my brain into doing what I want it to do for once.
So that’s a little overview of where my beliefs and spiritual journey have been leading me lately. I’ll share some of my rituals and advice on this blog in upcoming posts. Until then, peace out, y’all. I’m off to eat unsuspecting meddling children and absorb their energy to maintain my eternal youth. The usual, you know?
JESSA JOYCE 