Cauldrons & Crossroads

The Magickal Uses of Pumpkin Spice

October 27th, 2025
As the air turns crisp and autumn settles in, pumpkin spice emerges everywhere—in coffee, candles, baked goods, and cozy kitchens. But beyond its seasonal charm, pumpkin spice is steeped in magickal significance. Each ingredient in this aromatic blend carries its own spiritual energy, and when combined, they create a powerful potion of abundance, protection, and transformation.
- Cinnamon is the fiery heart of pumpkin spice. Ruled by the Sun and the element of Fire, it has long been used in witchcraft to draw prosperity, speed up spellwork, and kindle love and passion. Its warmth is also protective, making it a powerful ally against negativity. Nutmeg, once valued more than gold, is Jupiter-ruled and associated with luck, expansion, and wisdom. It enhances psychic abilities, aids in dreamwork, and carries soothing energy that brings comfort during times of stress. Together, these two spices infuse pumpkin spice with both fiery drive and expansive fortune.
- Clove, pungent and strong, contributes the power of protection and spirit connection. It is often burned to banish negativity, honor ancestors, and strengthen bonds of loyalty among friends. Ginger adds a dynamic spark to the blend. Associated with Mars, ginger’s energy stimulates courage, vitality, and manifestation, making spells work more quickly and with greater force. It is the catalyst in pumpkin spice, turning intention into reality.
- Allspice, though a single berry, embodies wholeness and success. It carries the energy of healing, balance, and empowerment, providing determination when facing new challenges. It harmonizes beautifully with the other fiery ingredients, amplifying their magickal qualities. And while pumpkin itself is not a spice, it is the very foundation of the blend’s seasonal power. Pumpkins symbolize fertility, abundance, and transformation. Their seeds are tied to growth and creation, their flesh to sustenance and prosperity, and their carved forms—jack-o’-lanterns—protect against wandering spirits. Pumpkins also serve as offerings to ancestors during Samhain, grounding the spice mix in cycles of death, rebirth, and ancestral reverence.
When woven together, these ingredients form more than a festive flavor—they become a spell in themselves. Pumpkin spice can be added to baked goods for prosperity and love, sprinkled into candles for manifestation, stirred into drinks as a daily charm for abundance, or used in offerings to ancestors. Each cup of pumpkin spice latte becomes a quiet ritual, each sprinkle of spice a magickal act.

Ultimately, pumpkin spice is the embodiment of autumn’s spirit. Cinnamon ignites, nutmeg expands, clove protects, ginger empowers, allspice unifies, and pumpkin grounds it all in the cycles of nature and ancestry. The blend is a reminder that magick is often hidden in plain sight, and that even in something as ordinary as a spiced drink, we can find centuries of wisdom, enchantment, and the eternal turning of the wheel of the year.
Grief, Spirits, and the Continuation of Life

October 26th, 2025

When a death occurs, people often expect grief to look a certain way — tears, black clothing, long mourning periods. Anything less is often seen as cold, detached, or even disrespectful. I’ve felt those judgments before. Having worked in hospice care, I learned early on that grief wears many faces, and no two souls grieve alike. Some rage, some collapse, some become quiet, and some — like me — commune with the stillness between worlds.

My Relationship with Death

Death has never been a stranger to me. Being born when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest marked me from the beginning. Spirits have always found me — I hear them, feel them, and sense their presence in ways that are impossible to ignore. I am both clairaudient and clairsentient, which means that I hear and feel beyond the veil. To the spirits, I am a light in the darkness, and they are drawn to that glow — just ask my husband, who has seen and felt their visits as much as I have.

When someone I love dies, I do grieve — deeply — but differently. My tears are few, not because I don’t care, but because I understand death as transformation, not as loss. I’ve witnessed the moment a soul takes its final breath and slips away from the body. It’s not something to fear; it’s an awakening. The body is simply a vessel, a beautiful shell that once carried a spark of divine energy. When the shell is left behind, the spirit continues on.

I’ve always disliked funerals. To me, they focus too much on what has been left behind instead of celebrating what continues. I don’t need to stare at a lifeless form when I can feel the living spirit nearby. My mourning takes place in quiet spaces — at my ancestor altar, in candlelight, through whispered conversations in dreams. I speak to them, and they answer. Sometimes I catch their scent in the air, hear their voice in a half-awake moment, or feel the brush of their energy pass by.

My grief may appear cold to others — a brief visit at a funeral, no sobbing in public — but my connection runs deeper. I know the terrain of the land of the ancestors. I’ve walked between those worlds too many times to fear it.

Grieving Across Cultures

Around the world, grief manifests in ways that are as diverse as the human experience itself. In some cultures, mourning is loud and expressive; in others, it is silent and internal — yet all are sacred in their own right.

In Mexico, Día de los Muertos celebrates the dead with color, food, and music. Families build ofrendas adorned with marigolds, photos, and the favorite foods of their ancestors, welcoming the spirits home with joy instead of sorrow. Death is not the end — it’s a reunion.

In Ghana, funerals are elaborate celebrations of life, complete with music, dancing, and storytelling. The Ashanti believe that death is a transition to the ancestral realm, and the deceased must be joyfully sent off so their spirit travels peacefully.

In Japan, Obon is a Buddhist festival where families light lanterns to guide their ancestors back to the spirit world after visiting the living. It’s a time of reverence and remembrance, filled with gratitude for those who came before.

Among Indigenous peoples of North America, death is seen as a return to the Great Spirit. Mourning is intertwined with ceremony — songs, smudging, and prayers that honor the natural cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

And in New Orleans, where Vodou and Catholicism blend in rich spiritual harmony, funerals can be both mournful and jubilant. Jazz funerals begin with slow, solemn hymns and end with lively celebration — a reflection of the soul’s journey from sorrow into freedom.

Embracing Death as Continuation

My way of grieving is not about denial — it’s about recognition. I recognize that life and death are not opposites, but companions. Each breath we take is one step closer to that great return, and each ancestor we honor has simply walked a path we too will one day tread.

When someone dies, I don’t say goodbye. I say, “Until I see you again.” I light candles on my altar, pour water for the spirits, and listen for their whispers in the night. Death is not an ending. It is only life — transformed.
The Open Gate: Exploring How “Closed” Vodou Really Is

October 26th, 2025

Vodou plays a central role in my spiritual life, walking hand-in-hand with my witchcraft practice. I work with the spirits, honor the lwa, and engage with the tradition in a deeply respectful and dedicated way. Like many others who walk this path, I understand that some knowledge—particularly the inner, initiatory mysteries of Vodou—is not available without formal initiation. That said, many practitioners openly perform rituals and invite the public to participate. So it raises the question–how “closed” is Vodou, really?

There is a clear line between practicing Vodou as a spiritual tradition with devotion and respect, and being brought into the deeper current through initiation. The latter opens access to secret rites, the structure of sosyetes, and the complete transmission of lineage teachings that cannot be gleaned from books or observation alone.

But here’s the nuance: Vodou has never been entirely hidden. In fact, it is both private and public. Rituals like fèt lwa (spirit feasts) and seremoni (ceremonies) are often held in open spaces, and it’s not uncommon for initiates to invite guests, observers, or community members to participate. Vodou emerged from communal necessity and resistance, and it thrives in connection with spirits, ancestors, and people.

A great example of this openness can be seen in the work of Sallie Ann Glassman, a respected Mambo Asogwe based in New Orleans. She regularly holds public Vodou rituals, including ceremonies for St. John’s Eve and major lwa feast days, which are open to the community and often attended by both practitioners and the simply curious. Her work demonstrates how Vodou can be practiced with transparency, respect, and accessibility—while still maintaining the integrity of the tradition.

So, is Vodou closed?

The answer is both yes and no.

Yes, in that there are sacred teachings, spirits, and rites that are only shared through initiation and within the walls of a sosyete. These inner workings are protected for a reason—they hold power, lineage, and responsibility.

But also no, because Vodou is not elitist or exclusionary. Many practitioners, even those who are not initiated, maintain deep relationships with the lwa and practice respectfully. Public rituals, open education, and spiritual community support are part of the living tradition. Vodou is adaptive, communal, and resilient. Which brings me to another question I’ve been considering:

Has Vodou become more solitary in modern times?

There’s no doubt that spiritual practice as a whole has become more individualized. The rise of digital platforms, solitary study, and personalized spirituality has shifted the landscape. Some practitioners connect with the spirits privately, especially if they don’t have access to a local community or are not yet ready for initiation.

However, Vodou by its nature is community-centered. While solitary devotion is certainly possible—and sometimes necessary—Vodou is designed to be practiced in community, where the spirits are fed through collective energy, drumming, dancing, and ritual service. Sosyetes remain strong, especially in Haiti, New Orleans, and among diasporic communities. Initiation still holds meaning, and public celebrations of the spirits continue to thrive. So yes, modernity may at times encourage a more solitary path, but Vodou remains rooted in community, connection, and living tradition.

Vodou isn’t a monolith. It lives differently in Haiti than it does in New Orleans, and differently still in the homes of solitary practitioners around the world. But one thing remains true: it demands respect, humility, and a willingness to listen to the spirits, the ancestors, and the elders who keep the tradition alive.

Whether you’re a devotee, an initiate, or someone simply curious about the path, approach Vodou not as a trend or aesthetic, but as a powerful, living current of spirit.

If you’re called—listen. But listen well.
Walking the Voodoo Path: Race, Respect, and the Spirit of New Orleans

October 26th, 2025

New Orleans Voodoo—sometimes spelled Vodou, Voudou, or Voudon—is a unique spiritual tradition born from the blending of West African spiritual systems, Catholicism, Native American beliefs, and European folk magic. Unlike Haitian Vodou, which is deeply tied to specific African lineages and initiatory structures, New Orleans Voodoo evolved in a culturally fluid environment that naturally embraced adaptation, integration, and resilience. One of the most beautiful aspects of New Orleans Voodoo is its inherent inclusivity. It has always been, at its core, a practice of survival, resistance, and empowerment for the marginalized—and that same spirit of openness is what allows sincere seekers, regardless of race, to walk its path.

A Syncretic Tradition by Nature

New Orleans Voodoo arose out of the crucible of colonial New Orleans: a city where enslaved Africans, free people of color, French and Spanish colonizers, indigenous peoples, and European immigrants all lived, clashed, and coexisted. In that melting pot, enslaved Africans preserved their traditional spiritual practices in secret, often hiding them beneath the façade of Catholic saints and rituals. As the years passed, these systems organically merged with European folk traditions and indigenous customs, creating something wholly unique to New Orleans. This syncretism isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. New Orleans Voodoo never relied on rigid orthodoxy. Instead, it evolved through community, necessity, and adaptability. Its spiritual core is about honoring the spirits (the Loa or Mystères), connecting with ancestors, and working magic for healing, protection, justice, and prosperity. These are universal human needs, not limited by skin color.

The Role of Race in Voodoo Practice

Let’s address the question directly: Can white people practice New Orleans Voodoo? The answer is yes—with respect, responsibility, and deep reverence for the culture and the spirits. It’s important to acknowledge that Voodoo has historically been a path of empowerment for people of color who were enslaved, oppressed, and dehumanized. That history should never be erased, ignored, or minimized. Cultural sensitivity is essential. But inclusivity doesn’t mean erasure—it means understanding your place within a tradition and honoring its roots.

White practitioners must be especially mindful of not commodifying or appropriating Voodoo for aesthetics, profit, or shock value. It’s not about buying a “voodoo doll” in the French Quarter or donning beads and feathers for a social media post. It’s about walking the path humbly, doing the work, honoring the spirits, and showing up with authenticity.

Gatekeeping vs. Guardianship

There’s a distinction to be made between gatekeeping and guardianship. While some practitioners, especially within more initiatory systems like Haitian Vodou or West African Ifá, may have strict rules about who can be initiated, New Orleans Voodoo is often practiced outside of these structures. There are no central temples or universal initiatory requirements. Instead, the tradition is usually passed down through oral teachings, personal mentorship, or spirit-led experiences. That said, cultural guardianship remains important. Seek out teachers who are authentic, lineage-honoring, and who deeply understand the history and the spirits. Respect their time, their wisdom, and their boundaries. Learn from people of color, support black practitioners, and give back to the culture that is offering you its spiritual wealth.

Spirit Doesn’t Care About Skin—But It Does Care About Integrity

Many Voodoo spirits don’t discriminate based on race. They care more about your heart, your intentions, your offerings, and your ability to listen. Spirits like Papa Legba, Erzulie, and Baron Samedi welcome those who come in truth and service. Ancestors may speak in dreams, saints may reveal themselves in moments of crisis, and the Veve may call out to you in unexpected ways. What matters most is that you’re walking the path with integrity. Are you honoring the spirits? Are you studying the history? Are you approaching with humility, not entitlement?

Walking the Path with Respect

New Orleans Voodoo is a tradition forged in fire—a living, breathing, evolving system that has survived centuries of oppression and misunderstanding. It is a birthright for many, and a calling for others. If you feel that call, listen with your soul, not your ego. Approach with reverence, humility, and the understanding that you are stepping into a sacred tradition shaped by pain, power, and profound spiritual beauty.

Yes, white people can practice New Orleans Voodoo—but only if they do so with an open heart, a grounded spirit, and a commitment to honoring the culture, the people, and the spirits that make it what it is.
Why Witches Must Stand in Solidarity with the Oppressed: A Call for Compassionate Action

October 26th, 2025

As witches, we are deeply attuned to the energies that move through the world—the unseen forces of nature, spirit, and magick. Our craft is built upon ancient traditions of connection, balance, and transformation. But at its core, witchcraft is about empowerment: the power to change, to manifest, and to heal. In this light, it is essential that witches use their unique gifts to support those who are oppressed, marginalized, and silenced by societal forces.

Throughout history, witches have often been cast as outsiders, persecuted for their beliefs and practices. This shared history of marginalization should fuel a sense of kinship with those who continue to experience oppression. It is not enough for witches to simply practice their craft in isolation or for personal gain; we must also be active participants in the fight for justice and equality.

The Witch’s Responsibility to Stand for Justice

The principle of do no harm is fundamental to many witchcraft traditions. Yet, this harm isn’t limited to direct actions. Silence in the face of injustice is a form of complicity. As witches, we are taught to recognize imbalance in the world and to act to restore harmony. Whether it is through ritual, prayer, or activism, we must use our knowledge and our magick to address the disparities and inequalities that continue to plague our communities.

Supporting the oppressed is not just an ethical duty—it is a spiritual one. Witches understand the interconnectedness of all things, and how the suffering of one affects the collective. In our craft, we work with energies that transcend boundaries—spiritual, physical, and societal. It is through this understanding that we must work to dismantle systems of oppression and uplift those whose voices have been silenced.

The Power of Compassionate Action

Witches are uniquely equipped to support the oppressed, not just through words but through action. Our connection to the unseen world allows us to tap into deep wells of compassion, empathy, and spiritual guidance. Whether through the casting of spells for justice, the holding of sacred space for healing, or simply standing in solidarity with marginalized groups, witches can offer both spiritual and practical support.

For example, ritual work can be an incredibly powerful tool for bringing attention to causes of social justice. Lighting candles for the oppressed, chanting for the well-being of those suffering, and holding community rituals dedicated to collective healing are all ways that witches can channel their magick into real-world change. Additionally, witchcraft traditions often encourage the use of divination tools like tarot and scrying to help guide decision-making in moments of uncertainty. As witches, we can use these tools to discern the best ways to support those in need and bring clarity to social justice work.

A History of Marginalization: A Call to Action

Witches have historically been marginalized, demonized, and oppressed—whether during the witch trials, the colonization of the Americas, or the continued targeting of spiritual communities worldwide. This shared experience should not be forgotten. It is a powerful reminder that those who are oppressed need our voices, our activism, and our support. It is crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who are fighting for their rights, their dignity, and their survival.

The fight for equality, freedom, and justice is ongoing, and the role of witches within it is vital. Whether it is through challenging systems of racial, gender, or economic inequality, witches must use their influence to shift the balance of power in favor of the oppressed. We must be vocal against injustice, both in our personal lives and in our spiritual communities.

Building Inclusive Communities

One of the greatest ways witches can support the oppressed is by building inclusive, diverse, and supportive communities. This means recognizing the value in every person’s experience, fostering spaces that are welcoming to all, and amplifying voices that are often marginalized. It also means confronting the biases and prejudices that can exist within our own communities, ensuring that our practices and teachings are rooted in compassion and justice for all people, regardless of race, gender, sexuality, or socioeconomic status.

As we work toward this, we can draw upon the teachings of the divine feminine, the Goddesses of justice, freedom, and transformation, who have long been associated with the act of liberating the oppressed. From Hecate’s role as a protector of the marginalized to Kali’s power to destroy injustice, the divine feminine is an embodiment of resistance and strength. Drawing from these archetypes, witches can strengthen their resolve and be beacons of support for those who need it most.

The Magick of Standing Together

As witches, we are empowered not only by our magick but also by our ability to show up for one another. Supporting the oppressed is not just about casting spells for change—it is about becoming the change we want to see. When witches unite in solidarity with those who are suffering, we send a powerful message: we will not stand idly by while injustice reigns. Through our magick, our actions, and our voices, we create ripples that move throughout the collective, bringing healing and transformation.

We are a part of something much larger than ourselves. By supporting those who are oppressed, we contribute to the ongoing work of building a world where justice, equality, and love are the cornerstones of our shared existence. Let this be the legacy of our craft: a legacy of compassion, unity, and unwavering support for the oppressed.
When the Veil Thins: Respecting the Dead This Samhain

October 23rd, 2025

As autumn folds in on itself and the nights grow long, we enter that liminal season the ancients called Samhain — the time when the veil between the worlds is thinnest. It’s the witch’s new year, a sacred hinge of time when spirits drift closer and the air hums with the energy of endings and beginnings.

It’s no surprise that as October darkens, everyone seems to want to reach out to the other side. Curiosity is natural — the idea of speaking with a loved one lost, of feeling their presence again, is a comfort and a mystery that calls to us. But this desire must be tempered with respect. Because while the veil may be thin, the boundaries between the living and the dead still matter.

The dead are not ornaments of the season or curiosities to be summoned for amusement. They are who they were in life — complex, emotional, layered beings. A spirit may still hold the same personality, fears, or attachments that defined them before death. Someone who was confused, angry, or struggling with mental illness in life may carry echoes of that struggle after crossing over. They do not suddenly become all-knowing or enlightened. Some may not even realize they are dead, caught in a loop of memory or emotion.

The Spirit World Deserves the Same Dignity as the Living

When we call to the dead, we’re not just “ghost hunting.” We are opening sacred doors — doors that deserve to be approached with reverence. Here are some ways to communicate respectfully and safely during Samhain or any time you reach across the veil.

1. Create a Sacred, Protected Space

Never attempt to contact spirits in chaos or casual energy. Cleanse the space with smoke, sound, or salt. Light candles with intention — white for peace, black for protection, purple for spiritual connection. Call upon your guides, ancestors, or protective deities to guard the space. Remember, when you open the door to the unseen, not everything that wanders through is meant for you.

2. Set Your Intention Clearly

Before beginning, decide who you wish to communicate with and why. Are you seeking closure, comfort, or guidance? Speak your purpose aloud. Spirits are drawn to intention — the clearer your heart, the clearer your connection. Vagueness invites confusion, and confusion invites interference from wandering entities who may not be who they claim to be.

3. Invite, Don’t Command

You cannot demand an audience with the dead. You can only invite. When you call upon them, do so with courtesy. “I welcome only those spirits who come in peace and love.” This statement of boundary ensures that you’re speaking to benevolent energies. Always ask permission before communicating or asking questions.

4. Recognize the Humanity in Spirit

Remember, a spirit’s personality remains. Someone who was shy may still be quiet. Someone who was humorous may still play tricks with lights or scent. Be patient and kind. Don’t press for answers or proof — sometimes, simply acknowledging their presence is enough.

And know that some spirits are still healing. A person who struggled with mental illness or trauma may appear fragmented, emotional, or confused. Offer compassion, not fear. They are still in process — as we all are.

5. Do Not Assume All Spirits Understand Their Death

Not every spirit knows they’ve passed. This is especially true in sudden or tragic deaths. If you encounter a confused energy, speak softly: “You are safe. You’ve passed from this world, but there is light waiting for you.” You can light a candle and pray for them, asking your guides or ancestors to help them cross. Never mock, provoke, or exploit such spirits — they deserve peace, not performance.

Offer Something in Return

Spirits appreciate offerings, just as our ancestors did in life. Leave flowers, water, bread, rum, or incense as tokens of gratitude. It’s a simple gesture that shows respect for their time and presence.

7. Close the Door Properly

When you’re finished, thank the spirits who came and gently close the veil. Snuff out candles (never blow), ring a bell, or say: “I release all who have gathered here in peace. Go with love.” Then cleanse yourself and the space. Leaving a door open between worlds can lead to unrest — both spiritual and emotional.

8. Not Every Presence Is a Spirit

Energy lingers. Grief, memory, and trauma can echo in places long after death. Sometimes what we perceive as a ghost is an imprint — a residue of emotion. Other times, it may be a thoughtform, or even our own projection. Use discernment. And remember that skepticism is not the enemy of spirituality — it’s the ally of wisdom.

This Samhain: Walk with Reverence

This season, when the veil grows thin and the dead draw near, walk softly. Let your curiosity be balanced with compassion. Speak to the dead as you would to the living — with love, patience, and understanding.

The dead do not exist for our entertainment. They are our teachers, ancestors, and mirrors. Some are lost, some are resting, and some simply come to remind us that life — and love — never truly end.

May your candles burn steady, your heart stay open, and may the spirits you meet be gentle, wise, and kind.

Blessed Samhain.
🖤
What is a Vodou Witch?

October 21st, 2025

When most people hear the word Witch, they think of bubbling cauldrons, black cats, and the rhythmic chants of a moonlit coven. When they hear Vodou, they imagine drums, veves drawn in sacred cornmeal, and the powerful spirits known as the Lwa. But what happens when these two sacred paths intertwine—when a witch walks with the spirits of Vodou, blending magick and mystery into one? That, dear readers, is the essence of the Vodou Witch.

Walking Between Two Worlds

A Vodou Witch lives between the crossroads—where Witchcraft and Vodou meet, dance, and exchange their secrets. In Witchcraft, we call upon the elements, the ancestors, and the Gods of nature. In Vodou, we serve the Lwa, powerful spirits who guide, teach, and sometimes test us. The Vodou Witch honors both, understanding that all magick, no matter its name, flows from the same divine source.

We move through the world as bridges between realms—rooted in the earth yet open to the spirit world. We know that every herb, charm, candle, and bone holds a spirit, and that magick is not only cast but fed through prayer, offering, and respect.

The Witchcraft Within Vodou

In New Orleans Vodou, there’s a deep thread of folk magick that runs through every working. Mojo bags, powders, oils, and candles are as much the tools of a Vodouisant as they are of a Witch. A Vodou Witch understands the rhythm of ritual and the importance of intention. We dress candles with herbs to draw love, sprinkle powders to protect the home, and whisper to spirits in the flicker of flame.

But unlike some forms of Witchcraft that focus solely on self or elemental forces, Vodou centers around relationship—the sacred bond between human and spirit. To be a Vodou Witch is to be a servant, not a master of magick. We do not command the spirits; we invite them, honor them, and make space for them to speak.

Serving the Lwa and the Loa of the Witch

Many Vodou Witches find themselves drawn to certain Lwa—Maman Brigitte, Baron Samedi, Ezili Dantor, or Papa Legba—each with their own domains, powers, and personalities. Some serve at the crossroads; others tend to the cemeteries, the rivers, or the hearth. These spirits walk beside us in our witchcraft, empowering our spells and guiding our hands.

A Vodou Witch knows that magick is not just energy—it’s relationship. It’s the drink poured on the altar, the rum shared in gratitude, the song sung to a spirit who has listened for generations.

Roots, Rituals, and Responsibility

Being a Vodou Witch is not about aesthetic—it’s about authenticity. It requires respect for both traditions, proper guidance from elders and teachers, and a commitment to integrity. Vodou is a living religion with deep ancestral roots, and to walk its path as a Witch means honoring that lineage with care and humility.

Our craft is not for spectacle. It’s for healing, justice, protection, and transformation. We are conjurers, charmers, and spirit-workers—healers of the seen and unseen.

The Magick of the Crossroads

At the heart of it all lies the crossroads—the place of decision, transformation, and power. Here, the Vodou Witch meets Papa Legba, the gatekeeper who opens the way. It’s where we speak to our ancestors and weave the old ways with the new. The crossroads reminds us that we are never one thing—we are many things at once: witch and servant, priestess and healer, mortal and divine.

In the end, the Vodou Witch is a weaver of worlds.
We stand with one foot in the temple and one in the wild, our hearts bound to the spirits who whisper their wisdom through the smoke of incense and the shimmer of flame. We are the keepers of balance, the singers of spells, and the children of both moon and bone.
Social Media & Closed Practices

October 21st, 2025
If you’ve spent any time on spiritual TikTok, Instagram, or other corners of social media, you’ve probably seen it: the endless parade of comments declaring “That’s a closed practice!” to anyone burning sage or palo santo, using High John the Conqueror root, or mentioning New Orleans Voodoo.

And while I understand the intention—protecting sacred traditions and preventing cultural exploitation—this trend has spiraled into misinformation and gatekeeping that helps no one.

The Problem with Blanket “Closed Practice” Claims

The issue isn’t about respecting traditions. We should respect sacred practices, know their history, and honor their roots. The problem is when people declare something “closed” without understanding its history, cultural context, or current usage.
Often, these claims come from short, oversimplified posts that get shared thousands of times, turning partial truths into internet law. People then parrot those claims without ever doing deeper research.

Unfortunately, this creates two big problems:
1. Erasing history – Many of these practices have always been shared across cultures through trade, migration, and mutual exchange.
2. Spreading misinformation – People get shamed out of perfectly respectful and historically valid practices.
Let’s Break It Down

Sage White sage is sacred in many Indigenous North American traditions, and yes—it has been overharvested in certain areas. But burning herbs for cleansing isn’t unique to any one culture. Europeans have used rosemary, juniper, and mugwort for centuries in similar ways. Other sages—common sage, desert sage, garden sage—are widely available, ethically grown, and not tied to closed traditions. The respectful approach? Don’t steal from endangered sources, learn where your herbs come from, and understand the difference between cultural theft and cultural respect.

High John the Conqueror Root High John is a root tied to African American Hoodoo traditions. Hoodoo itself is not a religion—it’s a folk magic system born from the survival, resilience, and cultural blending of enslaved Africans, Indigenous people, and Europeans. While certain rituals within Hoodoo are deeply personal and community-based, the use of High John root in spells, luck charms, and empowerment work has been documented, shared, and sold in general metaphysical shops for decades. Claiming only certain people can touch it ignores how widely it’s been integrated into American folk magic.

New Orleans Voodoo This one gets complicated. Voodoo (or Vodou) as a religion—especially Haitian Vodou—does have initiatory paths and sacred ceremonies that are not open to outsiders. But “New Orleans Voodoo” has always been a syncretic tradition, influenced by Haitian Vodou, Hoodoo, Catholicism, Indigenous beliefs, and European folk magic. While certain rituals, ceremonies, and priesthood roles are closed, many public-facing practices—gris-gris, candle magic, mojo bags—are accessible if learned respectfully and attributed correctly. The harm comes when outsiders profit from these traditions without giving credit, or worse, when they misrepresent them entirely.

Respect vs. Gatekeeping

There’s a massive difference between respectful participation and appropriation.
- Respect means learning from credible sources, crediting the culture, and avoiding sacred rites you’re not invited into.
- Appropriation means stripping a practice of its cultural roots, commercializing it, or misrepresenting it for clout or profit.
Gatekeeping everything as “closed” without nuance ends up silencing people, spreading misinformation, and erasing the history of cultural exchange. Worse, it shuts down meaningful conversations about how to honor these traditions.

What We Should Be Doing Instead
1. Educate, don’t shame – If someone’s using a sacred plant incorrectly, teach them the context and offer ethical alternatives.
2. Do your own research – Look beyond TikTok infographics. Seek out books, oral histories, and first-hand accounts.
3. Support the communities – Buy from Indigenous harvesters, Black-owned botanicas, and practitioners who live the traditions.
4. Acknowledge the source – If you learned something from a specific culture, say so.
The spiritual world has always been one of exchange, evolution, and shared wisdom. Our job is to honor where things come from—not to lock them behind gates built on half-truths.

If social media really wants to protect traditions, it’s time to move past the one-size-fits-all “closed practice” label and toward something more powerful: respectful, informed, and connected practice.
AI & The Myth of Lazy Witchcraft

October 21st, 2025
The great debate! Is using AI in witchcraft “lazy”? In every age, witches have used the tools of their time. Our ancestors carved symbols into bones, etched runes into wood, painted charms on doorways, or burned words into parchment. Today, we carry the same magickal intention—but we also carry laptops and phones. And for many of us, these tools have become part of our ritual practice.

One of the questions I hear most often is: “Isn’t using something like ChatGPT to create sigils lazy?” My answer is simple: no—because the power of a sigil does not come from how it’s drawn. The power comes from the witch.

Sigils Are About Intention, Not Method

A sigil is a symbolic representation of will. Whether you build it through the traditional letter-reduction method, sketch it freehand, or let a program suggest shapes, the magick begins only when you pour your intention into it. The design process is simply a doorway. The real work begins when you charge the sigil—through meditation, breathwork, trance, candle flame, orgasmic energy, or whatever method you choose. Without that energy, even the most beautifully hand-drawn sigil is just ink on paper.

Witchcraft Has Always Adapted

Our craft is not stagnant. It evolves, shifts, and adapts to the world around us. Centuries ago, a witch might have used chalk on a cottage floor. Later, they might have used fountain pens and leather-bound journals. Today, we have software, styluses, and yes—even AI.
Using ChatGPT (or any digital generator) to help design a sigil is no different than using sacred geometry software or tracing paper. It’s a tool. What makes it magickal is you—your focus, your energy, your charging, your release.

And here is why its not lazy
- You still do the magick. A program can sketch a symbol, but it cannot charge it, empower it, or send it into the universe. That is the witch’s work.
- Time spent is not the measure of power. Hours of drawing do not make a sigil stronger. What strengthens it is your will, clarity, and energy.
- Tools don’t weaken the craft. A cauldron bought at the store doesn’t make a spell less potent than one made of clay by hand. Tools—whether stone, wood, or digital—are neutral until we awaken them.
Witchcraft has always been about resourcefulness. We take what we have, and we turn it into magick. Whether you draw sigils by hand in candlelight or generate them digitally, the truth is the same: the magick comes from within you.

So no—it is not lazy to use ChatGPT for sigil creation. It is creative. It is adaptive. And it is proof that the witch’s craft continues to thrive in every era, using every tool available, as long as the will behind it is strong.

Because in the end, the pen, the keyboard, the chalk, or the pixel doesn’t matter. The witch matters.
The End of the Beginning

October 21st, 2025

Welcome, dear readers, to my new blog home! Unfortunately, my previous blog — which held over four years of my writing — has vanished, thanks to Weebly’s failure to correctly update my DNS and IP, despite my many attempts to resolve the issue. But fear not! I’ll be gradually transferring some of my favorite posts here, one by one. It may take some time, but they’ll find their way back. So grab a cup of something warm, settle in, and make yourself at home in this new, cozy corner of my world.

Yours Respectfully,

Zehara

Cauldrons & Crossroads

The Magickal Uses of Pumpkin Spice

Grief, Spirits, and the Continuation of Life

My Relationship with Death

Grieving Across Cultures

Embracing Death as Continuation

The Open Gate: Exploring How “Closed” Vodou Really Is

Walking the Voodoo Path: Race, Respect, and the Spirit of New Orleans

Why Witches Must Stand in Solidarity with the Oppressed: A Call for Compassionate Action

When the Veil Thins: Respecting the Dead This Samhain

The Spirit World Deserves the Same Dignity as the Living

1. Create a Sacred, Protected Space

2. Set Your Intention Clearly

3. Invite, Don’t Command

4. Recognize the Humanity in Spirit

5. Do Not Assume All Spirits Understand Their Death

Offer Something in Return

7. Close the Door Properly

8. Not Every Presence Is a Spirit

This Samhain: Walk with Reverence

What is a Vodou Witch?

Walking Between Two Worlds

The Witchcraft Within Vodou

Serving the Lwa and the Loa of the Witch

Roots, Rituals, and Responsibility

The Magick of the Crossroads

Social Media & Closed Practices

AI & The Myth of Lazy Witchcraft

The End of the Beginning