For a long time, I used the term 'Traditional Witchcraft' to describe my practice, but over time, I found it no longer fit. While my craft shares some structural elements with Traditional Witchcraft, its true foundation lies in historical magic—early grimoires, folklore, and the practices of cunning folk. My goal is to honor those who came before me, not through modern interpretations, but by reconstructing my craft from historical sources. That’s why I now call it 'Old-Style Witchcraft'—a term that better reflects my approach, rooted in authenticity and tradition without being bound to contemporary frameworks.

When I set out to reconstruct my family’s magical tradition, I quickly realised that English-language resources were scarce—and often unreliable. Translations carried biases, academic sources simplified complex traditions, and folklore lost its richness when stripped of its original linguistic and cultural context. Learning the languages of my practice wasn’t just about expanding my research; it became essential to preserving the integrity of my craft. By engaging with primary sources directly, I uncovered layers of meaning, symbolism, and nuance that would have otherwise been lost. In doing so, I not only deepened my connection to my ancestors and their magic but also ensured that my practice was built on authenticity rather than assumption.

Writing about witchcraft isn’t difficult because I don’t know enough—it’s difficult because no single post can capture the depth of a magical worldview. Every time I try to put my thoughts into words, I feel the weight of what gets left out: the context, the nuance, the alternative perspectives. Will someone misinterpret a metaphor as literal? Will they assume my personal practice is a universal truth? It’s a narrow and winding path, but one worth walking. Because even if I can’t say everything, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say anything.