mundane magick

There are days in which I find myself feeling as if I have forgotten that I am, indeed, a Witch.
When I walk past the living room, I spare a glance with brown eyes at the small altar my partner Lore and I have crafted together using beautiful objects I have collected over the year of us being together. Our first chalice of red and clear glass, the miniature cast iron cauldron, and the brass lantern I had acquired years ago when I was thirteen. I still had it in my possession, even after over ten years. These objects, as well as many others, sat atop a wooden shelf, alone.

They gathered dust far quicker than the speed in which the days passed.
The daily grind can get to a person. The day passes, and you head to bed. Your head touches the pillows, and underneath the warmth of your secure blankets, you fall asleep. The sun rises. The day comes, and you awaken, pull on your clothes, and head out the door. You work. You eat. You come home. After commencing daily tasks, and wind down, you’re heading back to bed again. You may pass many, many days, allowing them to lapse in the same way over and over again, until you realize……Where have they gone?

On that shelf, the dust is still there.
It’s easy to forgot, amidst the glamour of the media and our own personal fantasies… that being a Witch does not necessarily mean living up that name at every opportunity. All of that is a front. Not all of us can remember to toss a prayer or thanks to the God and Goddess when something pleasant comes our way, or thank the patrons when a spell we may have managed to squeeze in a couple of weeks ago finally comes to fruition. That’s all right. The God and Goddess can forgive us for our thoughtlessness once in awhile. There are Sabbats that we may find ourselves forgetting about, or end up not having the time to celebrate it at all, not with all the other “mundane” holidays we may have to prepare for (cramming Thanksgiving in between Samhain and Yule, for example) . Often times, a full moon passes us, and there is no spell casting, nor celebration.
It just passes us by.…Or does it?



It is during these days in which I sit, my laptop computer warm against my legs as I lean against my floral print couch and stare into my cup of tea that I think… what does it really mean to be a Witch? Or rather… am I really doing all that is needed to call myself a Witch?
Even now, I ask these questions of myself that I thought I had answered years ago.
Doesn’t everybody?

It all boils down to something that magick-users alike perhaps forget. We may hear it often, but there is very little within ourselves that helps to drive it home. No, you do not need to cast spells everyday in order to be called a Witch. No, you’re not required to be in a coven to be a Witch. No, there is no need to throw yourself out into the backyard every full moon and dance under it skyclad in order to call yourself a Witch. That’s just crazy talk.

“But what about the days outlined above?”, you may ask. “The days that pass again and again, and I forget, and forget, and when I look upon my altar, or at my spell books or Book of Shadows, and its not lined with words I have written of my rituals… but with dust?”
I’ve learned, while being a Witch… the days that you are not practicing magick are what truly define you.

Read about the day I had today:

Today, my alarm went off at 9:50am. I had stayed up late the night before, meticulously adjusting the Twitter feed for my blog. I hit the snooze button three times, and cuddled into Lore. I finally rose at 10:05am. I needed to get ready for work. I shuffled out of bed, and checked my email, looking over my bank account. My paycheck had rolled in sometime the previous day. I turned on Loreena McKennitt on iTunes, and slowly got dressed for work in the usual black suit uniform. I skipped on breakfast, and soon, I had to run out the door. I ran back into the bedroom to grab my promise ring—the one I had chosen specifically for the month of November, an orange topaz—and I kissed Lore three times on the cheek. “I love you", then out the door.

I whistled and looked up at the clouds, and I attempted to foresee the rest of the day in them. Cloudy, but calm… a slight breeze. I felt that my air element was at my side. It couldn’t be a bad day, right? When I arrived at work, I was late. I ran into Santa Claus as I sped through Nordstrom to make it to the management office of the large shopping center. He smiled and wished me a “Merry Christmas”; I smiled back and replied, “Have a happy Yule.” I ran up the two escalators to make it to the top floor. I tore through the mall to the other end. I pulled out my keys, smiled to the lone Eye of Horus keychain I kept on it, and escaped into the office.
I clocked in, and ran back downstairs, and the workday began. During the day, three children had become lost in the shopping center. I sat with one girl and asked her how her Halloween went. I told her about the tradition of wearing masks to scare away the bad spirits. Her mother came, and I thanked the God and Goddess she hadn’t been left behind. I looked up the Harry Potter Blu-Ray box set I was planning on buying a friend for Yule.

I thought about what kind of wand I would have if I were in Harry Potter. I was nudged out of my elaborate daydream of running my own metaphysical shop when my shift ended, and it was time to go home. I bought a tin of Godiva hot chocolate for the home, and matching socks for Lore and I, just because I wanted to buy a small gift. As I waited for the bus to come pick me up, I found a heads up penny. I chimed the usual “good luck” phrase as I tucked it into my pocket. When I arrived home after a pleasant day, I entered the keypad code to our apartment—an intricate star-and-number pattern.

It was a day like all days. No spell work. No magick. I passed the altar… and it was still dusty.
But when I looked back over my day… I knew for certain, I was a Witch through and through. How?
I had been tired because I had been working on my blog about being a witch. I hit my alarm three times—I always did. Three is a powerful number, and.. third time is the charm. I turned on Loreena McKennitt to listen to the song “All Souls Night”. My promise ring was the birthstone for November, because I had read that a stone’s magick was strongest when worn during the month it had been assigned to… and I always wanted Lore and I’s love to be at its strongest. While walking to the bus stop for work, I attempted to have a hand at nephomancy: the art of divining clouds. I thought about my element when a wind fluttered by.

When I met Santa in the make-up section as I breezed through, I hadn’t wished him a “Merry Christmas”, but a “Happy Yule” without a passing thought. My keychain is adorned with the Eye of Horus, so they would always be in sight (though I still lose them, ha ha) . I taught a little girl about Gaelic culture. I thanked my patrons when she was returned safely to her mother. Harry Potter; does more need to be said? I dreamed about future aspirations of being surrounded by magick in a new age shop, thinking of what I would sell, what I would wear, and how I would run it. I still believe heads up pennies are magickal and are capable of bringing good fortune. My home’s keycode was thought out using shapes and numerology.

This is how I know.
When you are a Witch… even when living the life of a mundane…
Magick is everywhere.