The Great Enemy of Magic

On the temptation to turn in our witch cards when things get overwhelming

I’m writing this post during a time of great strain, both collective and personal. I know I’m not alone in my struggles with overwhelm right now, and I wanted to take a moment to offer my love to my friends and followers who have spent more time on the couch doom-scrolling and grieving than tending their altars over the last few weeks/months. Trust me, I understand. I’ve been stuck in that place myself.

Watching my readership here dwindle instead of grow because I’ve been unable to show up often to offer words of insight and encouragement has been painful, but drowning times have a way of shaking our faith, our voice, and dimming our connection to our magic. People flock toward beacons of hope rather than commiseration, especially when they are struggling themselves. As much as I would like to be that indomitable lighthouse, I’m not one who can churn out content that does not match what’s going on inside me. It feels inauthentic. I have two choices during hard times, I can complain or I can go silent. More and more lately I’ve been choosing silence.

I want to apologize to you all for that.

My apology comes not because there is not good reason for me to be fighting collapse, but because showing up anyway is important. Knowing that we aren’t alone in the struggles that too often morph into feelings of personal failure is of great importance in any community. My own empowerment has been shaken many times by teachers and influencers who curated an image of being superhuman in their faith and the no-matter-what vibrancy of their magic. I cannot judge them for that. Success and influence most frequently comes to those who manage to appear to be “on” all the time.