It has been roughly four weeks since my first intentional living post, and boy has it been a wonderful experience! I have kept myself very busy with projects and find myself rejuvenated by the work. I have spent more quality time with my family, found myself truly happy and sleepy when I lay down at night, sparked the flame of passion inside myself, and even rekindled a spiritual side within myself I’d not nurtured in years. So, I suppose you could say, it has been a success.
I plan to share more recipes with you soon, I promise. I just need to remember to take photos as I cook; often too wrapped up to think about it. My husband and I took a tour of a local pasture farm this past weekend and I plan to share that with you soon, too. For now, however, I think I want to talk about my spirit, or rather, how this has effected my spirit. At the risk of losing some of you, I feel compelled to be honest here.
Witch…a word that hangs heavy with history, fear and confusion. To be clear, I am not claiming myself a witch, exactly. I think that would be highly presumptuous of me. I read books on witches history, practice, etc… (largely penned my Scott Cunningham and Silver Ravenwolf) when I was a teenager; and in that teenage naivete I identified myself as one. Admittedly, they are the Cheerios of pagan writers. There seemed so much nuance and ceremony to it all…but I didn’t understand why. A few years ago I felt drawn back towards this way of thinking and found myself reading books by Anna Moura. While I loved her practice and admired her dedication it just didn’t fit for me, so once again I abandoned it. It is only now, quite by accident, that I feel like I may be finding my way.
I spend a great deal of time in the kitchen, and I enjoy it. Cooking, cleaning, preparing treats, meals, even medicine for my family and friends. There is a magic in that, isn’t there? I think any matriarch would agree with me, at least on some level. Something to be said for the intention and love put into each morsel. Each stir with a spoon, each herb selected and added, every time I offer a plate of nourishment to my family, I am giving them a piece of me; or at least a piece of my love. Recently, after a silly Instagram post, my friend Margot used the hashtag #naturalwitch…and it jumped at me. Until that moment, I don’t think I had seen the things I do in that light. It made such clear, brilliant sense to me! Natural Witch, or Kitchen Witch (as I prefer), felt good inside my heart.
I began remembering things I’d learned in the past, practices and theory that never really made sense to me. Intention. That is what had been missing the whole time! Suddenly, it felt like magic/energy/creation (call it what you will) was flowing through my veins. I felt peaceful and invigorated at once. I realized things I had been doing for some time were, in fact, magical in nature. Nature is magic, is it not? The medicine I make my family, the food that I make with love, even the hugs and kisses and deeply felt thoughts of devotion for them…this is my magic. I have even begun to light a candle on my stove top while I cook, in honor of the hearths that burned with life in the past.
Now, in truth, I do not know much about the pomp and circumstance that I have previously seen & experienced in witchy type things.They, for me, do not ring true. I am sure they do to those who practice them; just not for me (at least not yet). Am I a little nervous that people might balk at my new ideas (including my cynical husband), or even shun me for them? A little, but I have to live my truth.