Decoding my Magic: Why Relying on Translations Wasn’t Enough for My Witchcraft
Author’s Note: The content of this blog reflects my personal experiences and perspectives on magic. Witchcraft is a deeply individual practice, and my approach may not align with everyone’s beliefs or traditions. I encourage readers to explore, question, and adapt what resonates with them. Nothing shared here is meant to serve as absolute truth or professional advice. Trust your intuition, do your own research, and walk your own path.
I have been practicing magic for twenty-five years, starting out within my family’s cunning tradition. About fourteen years ago, while working on a personal genealogy project, I was able to track down the likely cultural and regional roots of that familial tradition. Once I realised what I had stumbled upon, I dedicated myself to stripping my magical practice down it its roots and seeing what grew from them without any outside influence, researching all of the historical magic from my ancestry that I could find and reconnect with it it as a livable magical path for myself.
It didn’t take long walking the path of reconstructed magic to realise how few English-language resources were available on the traditions that informed my familial practice. So, I did what I knew I had to do if this journey was truly important to me—I began the hard work of studying and learning the languages of the regions my ancestors hailed from and from which my magical practice originated.
At first, learning these ancestral languages was simply a practical necessity—expanding my library of sources beyond what was available in English. However, I soon discovered that this decision would become one of the most important and transformative choices I made for my practice.
The Limitations of Translations and Secondary Sources
One of the first things I learned from comparing English and origin-language sources was how much translations can distort meaning, whether through bias, omission, or outright misinterpretation. I quickly became uncomfortable relying on English translations and interpretations of folklore, mythology, and magical practice, as I found discrepancies between how English-speaking scholars and scholars from the source culture understood the same material. It was common for translations to impose a foreign worldview onto texts, sometimes drastically altering their significance.
Even academic sources, which I had assumed to be objective, seemed to frequently present abridged versions of texts that were selected and framed to support a particular argument or thesis. Translators and scholars focused on a single interpretation of a word, practice, or historical element, even when multiple possibilities existed.
By learning the languages myself, I could engage directly with primary texts and folklore, rather than relying on someone else’s selective lens. More than that, I could connect with academic materials in the origin language, which allowed me to better understand background of what I was reading. This not only deepened my understanding of my practice but also allowed me to reconnect with traditions on my own terms, without the filter of external assumptions or academic bias.
The Value of Engaging with Primary Sources
Many folk stories and magical texts rely on wordplay, symbolism, and regional dialects that simply do not translate well into English. When I became fluent enough to start reading directly from primary sources, I was able to grasp subtle layers of meaning that had been flattened or lost in other translations. This deeper understanding gave me not only a richer connection to the traditions I was reconstructing but also a clearer view of the cultural and folkloric context in which they evolved.
Without access to the original language, I would have been at the mercy of secondary interpretations—influenced by the translator’s worldview rather than the beliefs of the people who originally practiced these traditions.
Mistranslations and misunderstandings have long contributed to the distortion of magical and spiritual traditions. Words and concepts have been taken out of context, stripped of their original meaning, and rebranded for modern consumption—often in ways that misrepresent or even disrespect the original culture.
By learning the languages associated with my magical heritage, I felt I was able to approach these traditions with greater respect. Rather than engaging with them on a surface level or relying on secondhand sources that might perpetuate errors, I could interact with the material as it was meant to be understood. This process deepened my connection to my ancestors' practices and reinforced my commitment to engaging with magic in a way that is both informed and ethical.
Conclusion
Learning the origin languages of my practice was one of the most transformative decisions I made as a witch and pagan. It allowed me to bypass the limitations of translation, engage with primary sources, and develop a deeper, more authentic connection to my traditions. It made my practice feel truly my own, based on my own research and understanding rather than being prescribed by someone else. More importantly, it helped me practice in a way that honors and respects the cultures from which my magic originates.
