At the beginning of this year I was feeling the least magickal that I have in quite some time. To be honest, the last two years have been full of rewarding adventures and some truly challenging experiences that have stretched my “keep-it-together” capacity.
On top of that, as I’ve been getting back into in-person teaching after a hiatus, I found myself struggling to find my flow again as a teacher. Including, finding myself struggling again with a resurgence in the dreaded imposter syndrome that so many of my fellow generation seem to experience. Not a pleasant place to be in especially considering that teaching in-person classes has traditionally been one of my absolute favorite things to do and is typically a time that I feel most comfortable and confident in myself.
It’s easy when we come to these places of spiritual malaise to seek out something to fix it now - whether that’s a new shiny crystal or the latest book on magick or thinking that if we scroll through pinterest or instagram for hours we may suddenly find it.
(I have, ahem, never done any of these things.)
(That last statement was entirely untrue.)
At some point I found myself returning to something which I know and love - making herbal remedies - to try and recenter. Now you might expect at this point of the story I will tell you that I spent a blissful afternoon making tea as sunlight danced across my apothecary table and a song blossomed in my heart. Alas, twas not the case. I did make tea - a brew inspired by the Moon in hopes of falling back in love with my magick. But I felt lackluster. I combined nine carefully chosen herbs, for that is the sacred number of the Moon, in my large silver bowl and stirred and sang over them. But it felt like I was going through the motions.
As I stirred, I couldn’t shake that feeling running up and down my spine that I wasn’t enough.. Or the creeping sensation that I had lost my magick, never to be found again.
But I still made that batch of tea. I brewed it and tasted it and decided that it was ok. Over the next few months, though, I somehow started to believe that it was one of the worst teas that I had made. I shoved it back in my herb cabinet, not wanting to waste the herbs, but not sure what to do with it quite yet.
A few more months passed and I had another class to teach. It happened on the heels of a rough few days of bittersweet revelation. I needed to bring tea to the class and did not have time to create a new blend. I saw the jar of lunar tea sitting on the shelf and grabbed it. As I was brewing it for the class a strange peace settled over me and I had the feeling that it might just be ok. That I was ok.
The class gathered, the tea was served, and I left a few hours later feeling more like myself than I had in a very long time. And folks loved the tea - I ran out of it before the class was even halfway over.
Walking home after class, carrying a heart full of healing vibes, and an empty tea canister, I was reminded that magick can be sudden but it’s most often slow. It requires us to trust in the long run. Magick asks us to trust in our future self even when we’re uncertain about who we currently are. And while magick doesn’t provide a predictable journey it’ll always provides a path.
My experience with that Moon-inspired tea pulled together a lot of personal lessons that I’ve been wrestling with the past few years. It also helped me to re-member (to put back together), as the Moon so often does, my joy of slow magick. A magick that takes time. A magick that refuses to speed up to fit the needs of culture or fade. A magick that shows up in uncertainty and charts a path towards resiliency. A magick that asks more questions than provide answers.
I found myself dreaming up and planning classes that I had been too hesitant to consider before. And reconnecting to the truth that what I teach has value (if for any other reason than it brings me joy). I’ve found myself wanting to write more openly about particularities of my spiritual path and what being a Witch and Priestx means to me. I started with a story on instagram about my spiritual geas (something which is both a prohibition and obligation, a restriction - or curse when particularly difficult - and gift) when working with crystals. Within it I mentioned a need for a slow magick movement within our magickal community. The conversations that sprung up around that post were amazing and this next year I’m going to spend time diving into the idea of slow magick with all of you (you can start to read some of my thoughts here). But for now, let’s make some tea…
Luna Love Spell Tea
A Moon-inspired tea of nine sacred herbs to help you fall back in love with your magick.
Combine all herbs and brew between 5 - 20 minutes.
- 4 parts Lemongass (Cymbopogon citratus)
- 1 part Damiana (Turnera diffusa)
- 1/2 part Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica)
- 1/4 part Blue Lotus (Nelumbo nucifera)
- 1/4 part Lemon (Citrus x limon)
- 2 parts Passionflower (Passiflora incarnata)
- 1/2 part Lavender (Lavandula x intermedia)
- 1/4 part Jasmine (Jasminum spp.)
- 1/4 part Mugwort (Artemisa vulgaris)
May you fall in love with your magick again, wise ones and witch kin. I hope you'll join me on my journey this coming year through the world of slow magick. There'll be tea, new types of content (hiya, videos!), and a renewed commitment to a magick that is in pace with the values of love, fierce justice, and radical kindness that has drawn us altogether in the first place.