How to Become a Witch

Embrace Liminality (even when it's annoying)

One of the awesome things about being a witch is becoming more attuned to the rhythms of nature.

One of the most annoying things about being a witch is becoming more attuned to the rhythms of nature.

Like many witches, I love this time of year. The sky is an impossible blue that makes your heart ache if you look at it for too long.

Leaves reveal their actual colors as they face the inevitable transience of existence.

And the breeze carries the whispers of the spirits’ secrets, if only you can still your being to listen, really listen.

On the other hand, the vagaries of Southeastern U.S. weather plus climate change keep us stretched in the push-pull of seasons, making it impossible to acclimate to either.

The sky may be that elusive autumn blue, but the high temperature is 83 degrees today.

The leaves are starting to turn yellow, but October is still a very green month. Just ask my tomatoes.

And it’s really hard to get still in a season so laden with expectations.

This maple tree is thinking really hard about changing.

I suspect that I’m feeling the astrological weather as well as the meteorological weather, all adding up for a major case of the liminal grumpies.

Yes, that’s a technical term for the irritation that can happen during times of transition. (Not really, but it should be).

Pluto has stationed direct in Aquarius, and while it’s the planet of change, it’s going to take a bit before it really gets going. There’s a compulsion to make progress on all the important things without the momentum to back it.

And isn’t that perfect for this liminal time of year? It feels like god of Death himself is reaching for the snooze button on the Spooky Season alarm.

While others are celebrating with, “the veil is thin… It’s spooky season! Brew your cider, bake your pumpkin pies, and harvest your fields,” I’m thinking:

Of course the veil is thin! It’s a freaking veil. That’s part of the definition. A thick veil would be a scarf or a pashmina or something. And no one wants to bake or drink cider when it’s 80+ degrees outside. Plus, I need my darn tomatoes to get ripe so I can pick them.

I agree there’s something to learn here. Some of us are holding on to one rung and stretching toward the next one on the cosmic monkey bars instead of integrating the lessons of and enjoying the view from where we are.

Because staying where we are feels wrong. What, are you going to just sit and obsess over stuff? We’re bombarded with messages to move on, especially from grief.

Yep, someone had to say it.

One of the things that I have yet to see acknowledgement of in this season is how, while it’s important to honor our ancestors and beloved dead, grief hangs over many of us in the process of doing so.

Sometimes it’s obvious, the paralyzing boot on our chest and ember in our throat. Sometimes it looks and feels like the anxiety that creeps in from under the baseboards of our days, the “what ifs” and “should I have done something different” thoughts that emerge and crawl through our brains in our idle moments, like when we’re trying to sleep.

Grief doesn’t have to be about a death. It can be over any loss including missed opportunities, crushed ideals, or anything else we mourn. And it can compound and get complicated. I’m particularly feeling stress around a family estrangement situation, specifically being the one in the middle (hello! oldest daughter here) with the holidays looming.

Neighborhood cat getting in the spirit of the season. Looks fierce, actually demanding pets.

Is this why we like to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a night or two or four, depending on your Halloween social calendar? Because we can also pretend we don’t have our own fears, that special brand of catastrophizing that fits only our brains?

That was my Halloween 1.0. I loved escaping into a different identity, being someone else for a night.

Last year, Halloween 2.0: as a new-ish witch, I was worrying that I somehow wasn’t doing something right or participating enough. Plagued by a similar restlessness to what I’m currently feeling, I ended up going out into the backyard and doing a brief ritual. An owl hooted when I called upon my ancestors.

Magic settles me. It helps me to step back from this 3D life and connect to something greater, the world beyond. I don’t perceive it as a veil parting as much as a direct energy conduit that opens when I pay attention to it.

Halloween 3.0? I’m not sure yet, but I do know that I’m releasing the pressure to make the most of “spooky season” during this weird, warm, green month when things don’t feel quite right. I’m honoring the grief that comes up along with my beloved dead and the disappointment that happens when things don’t work out like you want them to.

And if my “spooky season” lasts through Yule or beyond, then I’m in line with older times, when the dark of winter was the time for ghost stories.

Because witches do things their own way while honoring the past. It’s our liminal space.