Honouring the Seasons of My Craft (Even When It's Hard & I Don’t Want To)
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.
Lately, I’ve been working to honour the subtle rhythms I’ve noticed in my magical life. I have previously written about the cycles of movement and rest, of outward working and inward tending that have come to my attention recently. For a long time, I didn’t recognise the pattern. I expected my practice to always look a certain way: busy, hands-on, productive. And I did my best to hold it to that standard, to keep it in that state; feeling like a failure when I wasn’t able to maintain that energy. But I’ve begun to see that my witchcraft has seasons of its own.
I’ve come to understand that spring and summer are, for me, slower, more inward-facing times. These months invite (or rather command) reflection, healing, divination, and communion with spirit. They’re not necessarily for doing, they’re for listening. And while there’s peace in that realisation, there’s also immense struggle.
I miss the making. I miss the spellcraft and the messy work of charm-building and physical magic. That kind of tactile connection—herbs under my nails and wax on my fingers—feels like home. But lately, the more I’ve resisted that pull and allowed myself to sink into the quieter work of spiritual tending, the more connected I feel to my practice. I’m finding a depth I’ve been aching for.
Loathe as I am to admit it, honouring this inward season has opened space for things I’d often push aside when my craft was more outward-facing. I’ve had the time, and the presence of mind, to truly dive into research projects, to start writing a course, to read more books, and to deepen my study of folklore and magical history. That quieter, thoughtful rhythm has drawn me closer to the spirit world too, which is something I often struggle with this time of year. I’m learning that stillness and study can be a kind of devotion all their own—a way of listening that builds a bridge to the unseen.
So yes, I know I’m on the right path. I can feel it. But it’s still hard.
It’s hard to feel like I’m not “doing” enough. Hard to feel like I’m not producing visible, magical results. But I’m reminding myself that rest is part of the rhythm. That listening, healing, dreaming, and divining are witchcraft too. They are the slow, unseen growth beneath the surface.
Right now, my work is with my own spirit. And while that might not satisfy the part of me that wants to make and build and cast, it’s anchoring me more deeply into the kind of witch I truly am—one who honours the cycles, even when they challenge me.
