I hid from Tall Man and played games with the wind.
I spoke to bees.
I could feel flowers crying and I made rocks magic.
I could listen to their soul and add new meaning to ancient histories.
I played games with my sister and cousins we would stand in the middle of the terrace at my grandmothers house and “call the gods”.
They would give us missions because we could see the world differently.
We “followed our destiny” into adventures of imagination and lucidity.
When we were older we played in the empty world of 7 doors.
I opened the black door twice and all of the sudden the world was not empty anymore but instead filled with people that were not people.
We would tell spooky stories and play at being hypnotists.
I could not raise my arms in front of me for a long time without them coming together at the wrists after my sister tied them with astral fishing line one summer afternoon.
There was this one game we played where you had to lie in a storytellers lap while they massaged your temples in soft circles and told you a tale. The story told of a vacuum salesman who tricks you to look in the back of his van. When he opens the doors hundreds of cats jump out and scratch you to death. When the story was finished whoever was lying down would sit up and have hundreds of red lines crisscrossing her body like scratches.
They faded quickly and there was no pain involved.
It was great fun.
We would meet up in dreams because my sister used to have lots of nightmares; I would have to go help her fight the monsters.
We would close our eyes and try to send pictures to each other at night before bed.
We giggled when we got them right.
We would play with saying words over and over again until they weren’t words anymore.
Then we would make the words mean secret things and English became two languages.
Sometimes we would read words backwards and discover new truths.”
The above is from a post I made about three years ago expressing memories of childhood and how I felt they were the true beginnings of magick for me. I think when we are younger we walk more easily between worlds. We have not yet build up the experiences that form the solidity of existence. I remember my childhood being filled with magick which resonated and bounced off that of my siblings and cousins, ever compounding and building off of each other.
As I grew I felt myself slipping further and further from a center of imagination. This is the inevitable effects of aging and quite frankly overall positive and practical. When we are young our place in the world is cut out for us. Our lives are primarily shaped by others and we are quite content to experience. As we age and move through life our station becomes less defined, our sense of self constantly shaken, and our faith in anything tested with each breath. We have to make our own place in the world and that requires that we exist fully within it.
As occultists I feel that we step back through the same gates we have been constructing our whole lives, trying to recapture that sublime state of infinite possibility. The intentional shift is a move more purposeful than childhood imagination however, in that it recognizes the power of the lack of disbelief. For me so much of this is just reawakening to wonder.
I feel that witchcraft in general is a tangible manifestation and organization to the constructs and systems of the mind. The act of physically interacting with objects imbued with symbolism is a manifestation of magick all on its own. The presumption that we can not only infer meaning but also create it. That solid things, each according to its own initial form and purpose, can have stripped away the limitations of physicality and increase in potential by human will is an often overlooked effect.
I study a lot of different things but in each immersion I gravitate back towards hands on practice, regardless of paradigm. I like the aesthetics and the physical process. When it all boils down I guess I’m just a witch baby, because I revel in the crafting of reality.