I am a witch but I don’t belong to a coven. And although I have many Shamanic, professional healers and yoga teacher friends in my orbit, I tend to “work” (if you can call it that) as a witch alone.
Witch is a label more than anything else. It’s an umbrella term for my concentration in the occult, adoration for spells and rituals, harnessing energetic forces and influences and a reminder to use tools that exist in the inner realm and the physical (such as tarot and other divination tools). I don’t use the term Wicca because I’m technically not Wiccan. I’m not committed or dedicated enough to represent this powerful movement. I’m blasphemous in that I cherry pick from religions and ancient knowledge and modern techniques and I hope that I will be forgiven in all realms for this.
I self label as a “red witch” (nothing to do with Game of Thrones, I cannot abide). I’m not a bad witch or a good witch. I’m in between. And predominantly self interested (see, why I’d never make a good Wiccan?)
I will never reveal the extent of my power and abilities (both terms which make me cringe). Not even to a beloved, because there are centuries of persecution etched into my DNA and imagination. And frankly, I would sound like a sufferer of psychosis. Which I may well be.
A witch in real life
In what I determine as my “real life”, I am a writer and dedicate myself to the creative arts. I have strings to the corporate existence, hence my desire for almost anonymity.
If you saw me in real life, you wouldn’t really have any idea of my interest in the occult (which began in childhood or before). Other then, perhaps, the telltale insignia of luminous red hair, cat eyes and a permanent half raise of my eyebrow, set to quiz all the mysteries that abound.
But my inner world- my lunar landscape- rages with the murky mystique of a world (dimension) that hovers around us, untouchable but apparent to those interested enough to seek.