How I Became A Witch - It's not what you think...

One of my favorite movies of all time is Practical Magic with Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock. The herbs, the old house, the family history, and the witches. I could especially watch the first 30 minutes over and over again. It wasn’t the story that enchanted me, it was the flavor of the movie. It reminded me of how things looked and felt when I was a child. When unknown things lurked in the dark, old homes and trees had spirits and potions and pies could be fashioned from mud, sticks and leaves. During this time in my life everything brimmed with mystery, and magic was most definitely real.

I never lost my interest in mud, leaves, old homes and stories about witches. For a long time I felt embarrassed by my attraction to these folklore type stories. I was worried in particular how I would be perceived by the men in my life. Would I lose credibility in my Father’s eyes? Would my husband think I had gone off of the deep end? I wanted to retain my image of a “sensible” person and kept my interests about magic, energy, and the unseen realms relegated to a tiny corner of my consciousness. 

Life however, was going to have me face my inner skeptic head on. My first son was an emergency cesarean delivery. It was traumatic and I kept my eyes closed tight as I felt only the force of my body shaking back and forth and side to side as they took my son out. One of the nurses asked me if I wanted to see my baby. My eyes were still sealed shut in an attempt to deny what was happening to my body. I opened my eyes and gasped. I could have never in a million lifetimes prepared myself for how beautiful my sons face was. Tears sprung to my eyes in shock and awe as I whispered “Oh my God, he is beautiful”. My biggest fear (being conscious during surgery) and the realization of the greatest love of my life were happening at the same time. It was through fleeting and powerful moments like this that I began to awaken to the notion that there is more happening than my mind can grasp. Falling asleep during the spring listening to a symphony of frogs that lived in my neighbors pool. Grief gripping my heart so hard after the sudden loss of our dog Maple that I could only wordlessly watch the leaves that were falling, floating and circling to the earth on a sunny and cold November day. Singing to Moana with my boys at the top of our lungs on the freeway. Steam drifting and lifting above my coffee in the early morning hours. Feeling the sun rest on my back like a caress and knowing that it was the spirit of my dear friend Laura who was visiting me in that moment. The sky lifting from dark with hues of pink, orange, yellow and purple through my kitchen window. The warm iridescent grayish scaled feet of my chicken curling around my hand as I lift her into her coop. The intersection of the sacred, the mundane and the mysterious were getting harder to ignore.

Year after year the denier, the cynic, the doubter, the seeker of approval from those around me began to fade as I made room for the conjurer, the wonderer, and the alchemist. Finally I began to admit to myself that I could never fully understand what was happening but I had magic in my hands. I could feel it when I touched my sons feverish neck, when I pressed a students shoulders softly to the earth in a resting posture. When I touched my Mother in Law’s hair the night before her surgery. That wasn’t the extent of my powers either, my voice was bewitching. I could create harmony and calm or conjure a storm of fury based on the words and tone I chose to use. I could talk to plants and feel the power of a tree by touching her bark. I could hear layer upon layer of sounds and some sounds have no language to describe them. Being a Witch is not a thing that happens in a rational mind, instead it is a state of being.

Over the years the label of Witch has been twisted into images of hags, wands, cauldrons, warts, brooms, and black cats. Clarissa Pinkola Estes explains:

“Like the word wild, the word witch has come to be understood as a pejorative. But long ago it was an appellation given to both old and young women healers, the word witch deriving from the word wit, meaning wise. This was before cultures carrying the one-God-only religious image began to overwhelm the older pantheistic cultures which understood the Deity through multiple religious images of the universe and all its phenomena.”

Clearly our understanding of the word Witch has been distorted from its original meaning over the years. It took most of my adulthood to uncover my relationship to The Universe/God/Nature/Cosmic Intelligence/ Mother of all beings. Now I can see that I understand Her through everything inside of and around me.

Names and labels can be deceiving obstacles. As children we are taught the names of things. We see a fluffy vibrating creature with gold eyes and long wiry hairs around its mouth and are taught that it is a cat. Once we have a name for something our mind stops inquiring. Onto the next thing…what is that? Its a snail, a road, a flower, a wasp, a rock, mud, water and so on. When I slip out of my thinking/rational mind I can start to see past the facade of the names and labels we have placed on the world around us. This place of wonder and fascination is where wisdom lies. As Socrates said “ The only true wisdom is knowing that you know nothing.” The more time I spend unlearning the names around me the more I begin to tap into the magic inside of me and all around me. A smile crosses my lips and a small flame lights in my chest when I reclaim the term Witch. In this place I honor the wisdom and healer that lies within my skin, bones and mind. Unlearning the fear and the repression from patriarchal patterns of thinking is taking me to a new place of discovery. It’s ok to think outside the lines of my upbringing. It’s ok to question what I’ve been told is real. And most importantly, its ok to believe in a force unexplainable by any ideology.

There is a place to stand with my feet firmly planted on the precipice of both reality and imagination. This is where I listen and listen and listen to the whispers of the creatures around me. The leaves rattling, the chirp of a squirrel, the wind running across the wings of birds. My cats paws padding across the floor. The clatter of the gate. I listen to the stirrings of my home and my growing boys. I also listen carefully to the subtle emotions running though my body whether its contentment, nervousness, or a touch of irritation. I don’t always know what to do with what I hear, but I do know that it all matters. In this place between reality and imagination I can feel vibrations of things both seen and unseen. I can tap into the reminder that I am here now, and only now. I can cast my spell for the day with deliberate thoughts like - thank you, I am grateful, I welcome the unfolding of this day (regardless of whether I like everything that is happening), may I be open, may I learn who I am today.

Through the process of allowing myself to believe again in things unseen I uncovered a memory from when I was five years old. I was at Stanley Park with my Mother in Vancouver, British Colombia. We were standing in a small clearing surrounded by giant Red Cedar and Douglas Fir trees. In the middle of the clearing were these mossy tree stumps that were arranged in a circle. I knew in my little five year old heart that I was truly in a magical place. I could feel the weight of the ancient spirits around me. I was standing in a gathering place where important conversations took place. I realize now that I saw past the veil that day in the park. As children we are more in tune with “reality” our perception hasn’t been clouded by layer upon layer of experience bias. Instead we see the big yellow slug with its slimy trail on the sidewalk is just as important as the bush full of delicious berries. We see that even though that lady is smiling she doesn’t feel happy. We reach out and touch our Mother’s face because it is amazing. We cry when we feel pain and laugh hysterically when something surprises and delights us. We move with life instead of pitting our will against its current.

In a letter to a dear friend Albert Einstein wrote “ People like you and me never grow old. We never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery into which we were born.” Wisdom and healing come from listening with curiosity, and opening our minds back up to a childlike wonder. It is in this wondrous state where we can tap into our ability to connect with the fabric of our very breath. Life feels infinitely interesting and full of magic. We can see terms like placebo effect for what they truly are; the mind’s power to heal the body. Technology is also helping us understand that there are waves of energy that we can’t see, touch, smell or taste but they exist; microwaves, radio waves, and wifi to name a few. Microscopes show us that nothing is completely solid there are spaces between everything. Even our cell phone cameras can show us spectrums of light invisible to our human eyes. We are surrounded by mystery and interact with it everyday! 

I won’t pretend that I no longer care what people think or that my cynicism is completely gone. Instead it feels like these aspects are learning to coexist with my inner alchemist. I view the part of me that is willing to question my own beliefs (even about magic) and perception as important to keeping a balanced perspective. Again and again I am reminded that I exist and that I did not come here on this earth to make a bunch of money, buy a bunch of stuff and then die. No! I came here to explore, to love, to learn from every emotion I can possibly feel. I came here to dance with the elements, to draw, to listen, to heal, to play. I came here to co-create my life . In order to do this I have to drop my self-conscious robes whenever I can and lean into the discomfort and excitement of the unknown. 

So here I stand before you with pretenses aside, out of the broom closet so to speak.

You are Nature.

I love you.

Nicole