Discernment in Modern Witchcraft: A Conservative Witch’s Guide

Learn how conservative witches can read modern Wicca, witchcraft, and neopagan texts with discernment, extract what’s useful, and stay true to faith, family, and tradition.

In a world where witchcraft trends faster than the moon cycles—hashtags, hexes, and crystal influencers everywhere—it’s easy for conservative witches to feel adrift. Modern pagan spaces often tilt progressive, centering activism over ancestry. But witchcraft’s oldest roots are deeply conservative: self-reliance, stewardship, and reverence for natural order.

This post will help you navigate modern resources with discernment, filter ideology from insight, and keep your sacred spaces safe, grounded, and genuinely yours.

---

The Challenge: A Progressive Tilt in Modern Paganism

Much of today’s neo-pagan literature leans left, weaving activism and radical identity politics into ritual life. For many witches, this mix can feel foreign—especially if your values prize order, personal responsibility, and family continuity.

Yet witchcraft itself isn’t solely political—it’s practical. Folk traditions across Europe and the Americas preserved community, faith, and the land through ritual rhythm, not rebellion. The conservative witch’s task is to discern the timeless from the timely.

---

Cultivating Discernment in Your Reading

Discernment is the witch’s sharpest blade—an ability to separate wheat from chaff in spiritual literature.

When you read a modern Wicca or pagan book:

1. Read for practice, not politics. Take note of mechanics—circle casting, correspondences, timing—not ideology.

2. Ask grounding questions:

   • Does this strengthen my sovereignty?

   • Does it align with stewardship and my core values?

3. Translate before rejecting. When you can, take the guidance and reframe what might not fit. Shifting the perspective might help you keep what works and transmute the rest. If what's written doesn't belong in your grimoire, discard it! 

4. Keep a running notes page in your journal to distill usable elements. One simple exercise is, when you come across something you disagree with, take the time to write a note about why you disagree with it. Reaffirming your values for yourself. And if practicable, maybe add a note about how you can guard your craft from things that don't fit within your boundaries!

Discernment isn’t cynicism—it’s craftsmanship of the soul.

---

Exercise: Extract and Translate a Modern Text

What you’ll need: a modern witchcraft or Wicca book that you already have, your journal, and a candle.

1. Read with Intention. Light your candle and affirm:
   “I seek wisdom that strengthens tradition and aligns with my values.”
   Skim chapters; highlight rituals or correspondences worth testing.

2. Identify Core vs. Overlay.
   What’s universal (e.g., grounding meditation)? What’s ideological overlay (e.g., activist framing)?

3. Translate to Traditional Values.

   • “Liberating oppressed energies” → “Protecting sacred order.”

   • “Destroying the patriarchy” → “Honoring balanced hierarchy.”

   • “Feminist goddess ritual” → “Matriarchal ancestral blessing.”

4. Test and Record.
   Perform your adapted version. Note results and emotional tone.

5. Release and Cleanse.
   End with saltwater cleansing, thanking the original text for useful fragments.

This refinement process creates a faithful, values-aligned practice without discarding modern resources entirely.

I had to do this work of discernment and harvesting what I needed from a book recently. It was The Magical Writing Grimoire by Lisa Marie Basile. I would recommend the book to other writers only if it were free on kindle unlimited. I bought the paperback and I give this book 2/5 stars total. 

Some of the writing exercises are really helpful and the writer's style is good. However, the content of the book goes way left into mandatory activism, and in my opinion, hyper-focuses on trauma/shadow work. If you're looking for a book to carry you through self-excavation and trauma processing through writing, then it might be worth the read. However, I didn't feel this book was deeply about the magic of writing. It was very surface level for me. Without debasing the creator's experiences, I can say this book wasn't right for me because I was looking for a book about writing, not a book solely about healing hurt through writing, and yes the two are extricable.

With shadow work, processing trauma and grief comes with the territory, and I think one section about shadow work would have sufficed. What I didn't expect was to find in a book titled, "The Magical Writing Grimoire," almost solely shadow work prompts and minimal "manifestation" writing rituals.  At least, I spent the $22.99 on the paperback so you don't have to!

Cons: The book goes deeply into detail about the author's relationship to writing as a therapeutic/cathartic tool, but then veers left abruptly into mandatory community activism. It also repeatedly uses progressive language, referencing multiple genders and states of personal and political oppression. I didn't feel this was at all relevant to the magic of writing, and it felt more like someone who happens to be a writer talking about her experience and philosophies, and why writing is a tool for healing and self-exploration. Which points, in my opinion, to a larger issue: I think too often "magic" is conflated with general spirituality, and this seems to be a modern mishandling of witchcraft. 

You can have a strong, undeniably spiritual experience while making art through a cathartic medium, like writing, that helps you process trauma and heal wounds. But that isn't necessarily 'magic.' That's just the spirit responding to a spiritual experience or the mind responding to a psychological experience. If you go to therapy and work through issues through conversation with a psychologist and use mental exercises to cope--that isn't the performance of magic. It's psychologic. It can feel intensely spiritual, and people do have spiritual experiences through "shadow work" or psychotherapy. But the definition of magic, in traditional witchcraft, is the use of spells, charms, and rituals to affect change or control events. It is the ability to influence reality through belief, will, and symbolic action which sometimes involves rituals or the invocation of spiritual forces. For me, I expected a book that moved beyond believing writing could be a magical medium to actual rituals, spells, charms, and craft-related practices that were both symbolic and effective. Instead, I got a book about how someone really liked journaling and thought archetypes were interesting tools for self-exploration (which I do agree with).

Some more traditional groups distinguish magic from spirituality, but more modern groups sometimes interconnect or overlay the two. As a traditional witch, this is exactly why it is important to practice discernment and figure out what your values are. If you value a practicable craft that is symbolic and connected to a natural and supernatural spiritual system, steeped in wonder, focused on connection, intentional action, and immersive engagement, then you might align with my stance. But if you are looking for a spiritual craft that offers self-empowerment to accomplish the purpose of personal development, then you might like this book. The two are not mutually exclusive. They can overlap, but I think it's important to make the distinction or to define that for oneself, especially as a trad witch.

The other thing I've thought about while reading this book is that modern society deeply associates their spiritual identity with their political ideology. And devoid of a religious system, many people morph their philosophical or political identities into a type of spiritual system. Which isn't necessarily wrong but it does raise an interesting idea: perhaps, in modern witchcraft/paganism, community becomes that system to connect to, identity becomes a nearly-supernatural driving force to engage, and activism becomes the ritualistic, symbolic action the spirit and mind are craving. It might be a pseudo-spiritual craft. Or it might be very real. Food for thought.

Pros: The book highlights the historical power of the written word through a magical lens, offers some practicable rituals for crafting a sacred writing space and routine, and has some useful prompts that I thought were really thought provoking about creativity. However, there's nothing in this book that I could not find in others that are not as left-leaning.

---

Holding Your Values Close

In fast-moving spiritual spaces, hold your heart steady. You don’t need to debate to stay true—just practice with clarity. Let the loud voices scroll by; your quiet daily devotion speaks louder.

Remember: discernment is itself an act of protection. It shields your sacred hearth from confusion and keeps your magic rooted in your authentic, personal values.

---

Small Workings for a Safer Sacred Space

Build spiritual resilience through small, consistent acts:

• Threshold Salt: sprinkle a pinch daily to bless and protect the home.

• Hearth Candle: light one at dusk and pray for peace within your walls.

• Seasonal Walks: walk your property or garden under moonlight to reaffirm stewardship.

• Family Blessing Bowl: keep water on your altar infused with bay leaf for stability.

Each act reinforces the conservative witch’s essence: quiet power, stable ground, enduring faith.

---

Closing: Keep the Flame

You are not out of place—you are the keeper of a vital lineage. When you practice discernment, adapt with reverence, and hold to tradition, you help restore witchcraft’s original pulse: ordered, humble, sacred.

Light your candle tonight. Journal what feels true. Let your small magics weave safety and strength.

If you're looking for more critique content like this post, follow this blog and be my friend on Pinterest, where I aim to create bite-sized content for conservative witches who value land, love, & liberty!

Read More

Traditional Witchcraft: Returning to the Craft’s True Roots

Discover how conservative witches are reviving traditional, family-centered witchcraft rooted in faith, heritage, and self-reliance — far from online trends.

Witchcraft has always been about connection — to the land beneath our feet, to the wisdom of those who came before, and to the quiet flame of the divine within. For centuries, it offered a hearth of belonging: a way to honor tradition while deepening spiritual discipline.

Yet in today’s polarized climate, many conservative witches seek spaces that honor faith, family, and heritage — without the noise of politics or trends. The truth? Those spaces already exist and are quietly growing.

---

Seeking Spaces Beyond the Noise

For witches who value order, tradition, and stewardship, online communities can feel dominated by activism and modern ideologies. But data tells another story: searches for conservative witchcraft and traditional paganism have risen steadily over the past five years.

Private circles, local groups, and family-centered forums now connect practitioners who share rituals, recipes, and reflections grounded in rooted living. From Appalachian folkways to Norse seidr to Christian mysticism, a movement is forming — not reactionary, but restorative.

If you’re rebuilding your daily rhythm around ancestral or seasonal practices, tools like the Cyclical Magick Journal can help structure rituals, record correspondences, and track spiritual growth.

---

The Craft’s True Origins

Conservative witchcraft isn’t a reinvention — it’s a return. Long before hashtags or social media debates, the craft lived in homes, gardens, and fields. It was mothers brewing herbal tonics, farmers blessing soil, and neighbors exchanging charms and prayers for protection.

Across cultures, folk magic reflected enduring values:
• Ancestral reverence over novelty
• Family and order over chaos
• Stewardship of the land over consumption

To practice conservative witchcraft today is to preserve continuity — a lineage of makers, healers, and keepers who lived their values through daily devotion.

---

Staying True to Your Values

Remaining grounded in traditional values can be challenging in a culture that misreads restraint as rigidity. But discipline is a form of devotion. Every time you bless your home, light a candle for protection, or give thanks for the harvest, you reaffirm your place in an unbroken chain of caretakers.

Consider dedicating a page in your journal to your family’s seasonal rhythm — a tangible act of sacred stewardship.

Affiliate Disclosure: As an affiliate, I may earn from qualifying purchases. I only recommend tools I use or have vetted.

If you're looking for a place to start, I highly recommend the Beginner Witch's Handbook by Leah Middleton. It is a five-star read for beginner witches looking into traditional/folk practice.

Five star recommendation!

Another FAVORITE of mine is the Cunning Folk's Book of Cottage Witchcraft by Danu Forest.  It breaks down traditional, cottage witchery without the political overtone. It promotes common sense and practical craftwork that you can start using in your hearth-centered practice the very first day you pick it up! I have highlighted almost every word of this book because it's that rich with information I hadn't learned anywhere else. 

---

A Circle Waiting for You

If you’ve felt isolated in your practice, take heart. A growing circle of conservative witches honors the hearth, the field, and the quiet power of faith. You don’t have to trade conviction for community — both can thrive together.

So light your candle. Bless your land. Record your rituals. And know that in doing so, you walk beside generations who understood that magic is strongest when it’s rooted in who we are and what we hold sacred.

If you're looking for more content to help you navigate modern witchcraft from a traditional or conservative stance, subscribe to the blog and be my friend on Pinterest. My goal is to create content for witches like us who want nothing more than to connect, feel seen, and do the little work that makes all our sacred spaces a little bit safer.

Read More

Herbal Spells to Strengthen Family Bonds

Herbal Spells for Strengthening Family Bonds

Discover traditional herbal recipes—like rosemary for loyalty and chamomile for peace—to nurture unity, love, and family values at home.

The Hearth as Sacred Ground

Traditions survive because they work. Across centuries, families have gathered at the hearth—sharing warmth, food, and faith. In the quiet practice of herbalism, that same hearth becomes a space for restoration and invisible weaving: the strengthening of bonds through scent, ritual, and care.

Today, we’ll explore three herbal spells—sachets, teas, and simmer pots—that use everyday plants to deepen peace, loyalty, and affection within the home.

Why Herbal Spells Work in the Home

Herbalism is an act of stewardship. Every plant carries both a practical and symbolic role:

• Rosemary – loyalty, remembrance

• Chamomile – peace, reconciliation

• Basil – protection, prosperity

• Lavender – rest, communication

When blended through mindful craft, these herbs reinforce shared rhythms—like saying grace before dinner or keeping a Sunday ritual.

For a deeper look at how symbolism shapes tradition, see Roots of Folk Witchcraft: What Makes a Practice “Traditional”.

📖 Further Reading: Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs — an indispensable guide for correspondences and home herbal magic. This book is one I reference very frequently for all kinds of rituals and spellcraft. It is robust, easy to use, and provides clarity. 

This page contains affiliate links, which may earn a commission at no extra cost to you.

Family Unity Sachet Recipe

You’ll need:

• 1 tbsp dried rosemary

• 1 tbsp dried chamomile

• 1 tsp lavender buds

• Small cotton or muslin bag

• A short family prayer or intention

To make:

1. Blend herbs gently in a bowl while speaking your intention (e.g., “May peace dwell here”).

2. Add to the sachet and tie securely.

3. Hang near the family table or hearth.

Keep your herbs tidy and easy to use in any spice jar of your choosing. I believe crafting an at-home apothecary is highly personal and can't be reproduced. But in case you're looking for spice jar labels that make simple crafts feel ritual-worthy, I'd check out these vintage-style apothecary labels that are perfect for the modern witch's kitchen.
For practical charms, explore my blog post on Cunning Folk Remedies: Amulets, Charms, and Everyday Magic.

Evening Tea for Harmony

A family tea ritual is one of the simplest bonding spells. I grew up in a household of women and some of our most intimate family moments were around "tea time." My mother always had a dream of opening a tea house, but while raising our family, she channeled that energy into tea parties for me and my sisters. From simple, stove top brews in our favorite mugs, to ornate dress-up parties with fine tea sets and dainty snacks. Even as adults today, when my sisters get together, we make tea or coffee and sit together while we chat. Offering tea to my guests, friends and family alike, is one of those home-grown habits I've always done and will always do.

My husband also takes this tea-obsession of mine very seriously, and makes it a daily ritual to make tea for me because he knows how much I love it. The fact that he takes the time to make my tea and bring it to me creates such special little moments of shared joy and love--it truly is such a special act of devotion. I cannot express how important a tea-ritual is to me and my loved ones; I believe you simply have to experience it for yourself! Try the recipe below:

Blend:

• 1 part chamomile

• 1 part lemon balm

• ½ part rosemary

• Steep for 5–7 minutes. Serve while discussing something good that happened that day.

If you're looking for tea sachets/tea bags, any store bought tea will do. But if you're looking to get into crafting your own herbal blends of loose leaf teas, I'd recommend using an herbal encyclopedia like the one mentioned above, and pair it with a tea-starter kit or a witch's guide to crafting tea blends. I'll link some ideas below!

Of course, there's always the option to turn a family tea-time ritual into an opportunity to practice divination. Especially for loved ones who are coming to you for guidance. Tasseomancy is the psychic art of reading tea leaves, and for the hearth-centered witch, it's an excellent skill to develop that provides plenty of opportunity to practice your psychic skills while also fostering bonds with your people.

Check out this loose leaf tea blending DIY kit which includes 6 tins of loose leaf tea, 5 tins of herbal flavoring, & 1 empty mixing tin

Here are a few books on tea magic perfect for beginner witches!

Tea Witchcraft for the Green Witch by Sage Willowbrook

Herbal Tea Magic for the Modern Witch by Elsie Wild

A Tea Witch's Grimoire by S. M. Harlow

Simmer Pot of Gratitude

Warm your kitchen with scent and memory.
Simmer: orange peel, cloves, and a sprig of rosemary.
As the steam rises, name aloud three things you’re grateful for in your family life.
Simple, old-fashioned gratitude works as both spell and habit.

If you're looking for a simmer pot, you don't need to look beyond what's already in your kitchen. I've crafted simmer pots in my normal cooking pots and in my dutch oven which is stove-top friendly. But if you want to raise the ritual feeling, consider consecrating a vessel as one used solely for ritual work like simmer pots and brewing tea blends. This is a great, practical alternative to a cast-iron cauldron which isn't best to use on an electric stove top.

This glass stove top pot is a lovely option if you're shopping for that special vessel.

Closing the Circle

When practiced regularly, these herbal moments become more than craft—they’re an inheritance of peace.
They restore the traditional rhythm: care for the home, care for each other, care for the unseen bonds between.

To expand this rhythm into your daily practice, visit the blog post, The Witch’s Compass: Mapping Your Sacred Directions.

FAQ

1. Can I substitute fresh herbs?
Yes. Use twice the amount when fresh.

2. How long do sachets last?
About three months—refresh with new herbs or a drop of essential oil.

3. Are these spells religious?
No. They’re grounded in symbolism and mindfulness, adaptable to any faith or household.

4. Can I make this a family activity?
Absolutely. Let children help measure or choose scents.

5. What if my home feels tense?
Try the chamomile tea ritual nightly for one week; consistency builds peace.

Bring more calm and unity to your home with Herbal Spells for Strengthening Family Bonds.

Subscribe to the blog for more hearth-centered content!

As an Amazon Associate, I may earn from qualifying purchases. 

Read More

The Witch Watches Series: Fury- Spiritual Resistance in the Face of Dehumanization

Fury: Spiritual Resistance in the Face of Dehumanization

[SPOILER WARNING: This review contains significant plot details and spoilers for the ending of Fury.]

“Ideals are peaceful. History is violent.” – Fury (2014)

Fury is not a comfortable film. It follows a five-man American tank crew in the final months of World War II, fighting their way deeper into Nazi Germany as the war collapses. It is violent, brutal, and relentless in its refusal to soften war into anything heroic or clean.

Watch it if you want to understand what war does to men.

As a witch, watching wasn’t about finding magic in the darkness. It was about witnessing soldiers cling to the shreds of humanity they had left—including spirituality. Granted, the film isn’t about religion or faith on the surface. But in this series, The Witch Watches, I want to look closely at war movies and shows to see the spiritual threads woven through American history. Fury is rich with them.

The Descent

When Norman joins the crew of the tank Fury, he arrives with something the others have long since lost: the belief that there is a clear line between right and wrong, between justice and survival. The crew recognizes it immediately because they no longer have it.

The tank is their world. Inside it, they are soldiers. Outside it, they become something else.

The film shows Norman’s transformation without flinching. The only indicator we get, to warn us of this violent descent, is Bible's haunting one-liner, "wait until you see it."

Norman is forced to kill, and he hardens day by day after that warning. The crew watches it happen—sees their own corruption reflected in his corruption. They cannot stop it. They can only witness it, and hate themselves for it. Hate the enemy, hate the war, and yet revel in their continued survival.

Top and his men have been shaped by relentless violence. They have seen too much. They have done too much. In that hardening, they have become unrecognizable to themselves, reduced to survival, to fury, to the momentum of war.

And yet, beneath the brutality, something else is happening—something the film refuses to name directly but shows constantly.

The Contradiction

The crew beats Norman nearly senseless. It is cruel. It is dehumanizing. And yet, as they march on, they protect him. They nest into each other in the tank—a cigarette passed hand to hand, a grim camaraderie in the, “best job they’ve ever had.” That intimacy is both grotesque and tender: comfort carved from chaos.

In one haunting scene, Norman plays piano for a German civilian. It is impossible beauty carved from horror—a fragile moment of human connection. The crew recognizes its fragility. Then they shatter it. They intrude, they violate—just as war has violated everything. Compassion and cruelty run side by side, and innocence cannot survive.

Here lies the truth of extremity: we can hold contradictory impulses simultaneously. The crew breaks Norman and tries to keep him alive. Both are true. Both coexist in the same men, sometimes in the same moment.

We see it again and again: Gordo shares his story while Bible weeps. The men rage against Top, resent his orders—then obey him, following him into fire. They rage and submit. They hate and serve. None of it resolves. These contradictions layer upon each other until the very end. You don’t watch this movie and eventually reduce the crew to monsters or saints—we see how they are both, sometimes at once. 

The Reaching

What makes Fury spiritually significant is the constant reaching for something larger than themselves. Bible reads scripture. The men pray. They speak of meaning. They invoke God.

And they do this while being reduced to their basest selves, while doing things that contradict everything they claim to believe.

The film shows the gap between claim and reality: Bible preaches while the men mock, while they degrade, while they destroy. They reach for meaning while becoming unrecognizable to themselves. That tension is the point.

But the reaching matters. It is an act of resistance—not resistance that redeems them, not resistance that spares them, but resistance against surrendering completely to brutality. A refusal to believe they are only animals.

They are not striving for clear consciences or perfect faith. They are clinging desperately to a thread of integrity, to the idea that there is still something larger than survival. And in this, spirituality becomes not a shield, but a lifeline. Not a guarantee, but a reaching.

For a witch, this is recognizable: ritual and faith are rarely guarantees. They are acts of alignment, lifelines to meaning when nothing is promised in return.

The Cost

Eventually the tank breaks down at a crossroads—a symbol that in witchcraft represents decision, sacrifice, fate. Here, the machine that carried them through war becomes almost useless. It's almost like their reason for going on and on has also broken down; but when given the option to abandon the fight, they don't. They are surrounded, unarmed, about to die. But the reason isn't something concrete, it's not even something immovable or indomitable. It is abstraction itself that keeps them there, hunkered down and fighting on.

The crossroads as a locus of decision echoes both magical tradition and existential philosophy: we define ourselves in moments of irreversible choice, even when the outcome is annihilation.

The crew does what they have always done: they reach for each other, and they reach for God. They stand their ground—not because they had to, but because surrender was not an option. Even when power is stripped away, they assert their humanity by refusing to scatter.

Norman survives. And he is not okay. He is hardened, torn open. When someone calls him a hero, he cannot bear it. To him, survival is not heroic. It is loss. Survivorship often brings alienation rather than triumph—he embodies the cost of carrying death inside oneself. He leaves the crossroads with the expression that begs the question, what was the point of it all? 

The Truth

The spirituality in Fury does not protect them from death. It does not guarantee victory, redemption, or moral clarity. It simply means they reached for it anyway, knowing it might not be enough.

This is the hardest truth the film offers: calling on something larger than yourself does not promise you will be spared. Standing firm does not mean you will not fall.

What matters is the act itself. The crew’s insistence on reaching, on choosing each other, on carving small moments of kinship out of violence—this matters not because it saves them, but because it tethers them to something beyond survival. It is how they remain men, not beasts. And we know that millions of people found this exact reason to fight on and even die in World War II. Because it was about something bigger than one person, yet boils down to the choice of the individual soldier. The choice of one soldier, to fight, to stand anyway, impacts the choices of the soldiers beside him. And the choices of soldiers fighting together impacts the war in rippling ways. 

They are destroyed anyway. But they are destroyed as men, not as monsters. That distinction is everything—and it is also not enough. Humanity isn’t defined by victory or redemption, but by insisting on human dignity even when annihilation is inevitable. 

I love how this movie highlights the paradoxes of survival, the need for compartmentalization. And yet when the camera zooms out, you see the exact impact of their choices. The hundreds of dead bodies around the tank. 

If you kept zooming the lens out, looking at the war from a grander view, you'd see the "whole" and the "bigger thing" outside of it all. But we don't see that in Fury. We see the zoomed in, the tight angle, and the devastation in one survivor's eyes.

I don't have a perfect spin to make this witchy. It's war. We, today, are not at war. But I guess, in the comforts of today, I can see something distantly parallel. Even in simple, clean, and civil times we cling to ideals. In peace, we forget history. And I don't think any person can afford to forget or neglect the past. 

We can't turn away from what connects us to the past and to the present, what connects us to each other. We can't ignore the nature we carry daily, save ourselves from reckoning with our beliefs and our intentions because the circumstances don't force us to. I think to do so, to neglect the lessons of history, is to incur a totally different type of moral injury. 

I think Fury is existential. At its core, it wrestles with harsh questions: What does it mean to act when nothing guarantees meaning? What is the value of reaching for faith, for humanity, when it does not prevent destruction?

It's important that humans see what happen to each other, that we choose compassion over cruelty. That we lift our kin up rather than tear each other down. And that we value our integrity, our morality, our ability to choose, that we seek willingness to serve greater causes even in smaller, quiet ways. I think spirituality can be a coping mechanism, it's not just a moral compass or even a guarantee of anything.

This is why I’m writing The Witch Watches: not to glamorize war, but to witness its lessons. Because if ideals are peaceful and history is violent, then it’s on us to keep remembering, reckoning, and choosing. If you want to keep exploring these threads with me, subscribe to the blog and get my free grimoire pack following the Fool’s Journey.

Fascinating fact: Shia LaBeouf, who plays Bible, says he found the meaning of life while filming Fury, proudly proclaiming that he found salvation in the making this movie.

---

Watch It

If you are looking for easy answers, this is not the film for you. If you want to witness what happens to the human spirit in extremity—how brutality and compassion coexist, how reaching for meaning functions as resistance, what it costs to hold integrity when everything demands you abandon it—then Fury is waiting for you. Here is the trailer.

Watch it with open eyes. Sit with what you’ve witnessed. Because Fury does not offer comfort. It offers truth about what war does—and what we do to survive it.

---

Fury (2014). Directed by David Ayer. Starring Brad Pitt, Shia LaBeouf, Logan Lerman, Michael Peña, and Jon Bernthal.

A fictional account of the final months of World War II in Europe, following the crew of an American tank.

Read More

The Witch Watches Series: Hacksaw Ridge - A Meditation on Creed, Calling, and Deliverance

 

Hacksaw Ridge: A Meditation on Creed, Calling, and Deliverance

I'm introducing a new series on the blog called The Witch Watches Series; where I'll be reviewing movies and tv shows related to American History & Spirituality. It's my goal to see the spiritual value in American History. That being said, here is my first review!

There are films that entertain. And there are films that demand something of you—that ask you to witness sacrifice so complete, so unflinching, that you cannot watch passively. Mel Gibson's Hacksaw Ridge is the latter. It is the story of Desmond Doss, a Seventh-day Adventist medic who refused to carry a weapon into battle and still became one of the most decorated soldiers in American history. But it is also something more: a spiritual meditation on what it means to answer a calling when the world tells you that calling is impossible.

For conservative witches—those of us rooted in faith, tradition, and personal creed—this film offers a mirror.

Personal Creed as Spiritual Law

Desmond Doss arrives at basic training marked by his refusal: he will not kill, will not touch a weapon. Not out of cowardice, but out of conviction so deep it is indistinguishable from his soul. His creed is not a belief he holds lightly. It is the spiritual law he lives by.

The entire machinery of military power bends toward forcing him to compromise. Officers threaten him. Soldiers beat him. His sergeant (Vince Vaughn, brutal and magnificent) pursues him with relentless cruelty born of incomprehension. But Doss does not break, does not argue his case, does not proselytize. He simply says no, again and again, with a quiet certainty that cannot be shaken.

For conservative witches who craft our own spiritual path and answer to a personal creed, this is sovereignty. We understand that spiritual law is not negotiable. It is not up for debate. Doss's refusal models something essential: the knowledge of what you believe so complete, so rooted, that there is no ambivalence in you, no part that wonders if you should cave.

For those of us who hold unpopular convictions in spaces that demand conformity, this is recognition. We are witnessing someone stand alone without apology.

Land, Kin, Duty, and the War on Death

The soldiers who carried weapons were warriors fighting for their country, defending people who could not defend themselves. Their sacrifice is necessary and holy. But Doss's calling was different. While they engaged the enemy, he engaged the principality that war itself unleashed—the rotten death that consumed good men.

He crawled through that darkness searching for one rising chest. Again. And again. For conservative witches, land, kin, and duty are not abstract concepts. They are the foundation of practice. We are rooted in place. We are bound to family and community. We serve something larger than ourselves. Doss embodies all three: fighting for the land (his country), for his kin (his brothers bleeding out), and answering a duty so clear that it overrode every other demand.

He lifted his brothers because that was his calling. He answered the call to save lives while other men answered the call to defend them. Both were necessary. Both were holy.

Sacred in the Darkness

War in this film is not clean or noble. It is screaming, blood, bodies, senseless death. And yet, the film does not flinch from showing the sacred breaking through that darkness. When Doss stands alone on the ridge calling out to God in the midst of gunfire and explosions, he is clarified by the chaos, not diminished by it.

There is a spiritual dimension to his survival that the film treats seriously. When shells explode around him and he remains untouched. When soldiers he saved later attribute their survival to divine protection. The film does not dismiss these as coincidence. It treats them as omens—moments when the sacred breaks through.

For conservative witches, this is how we practice: in the midst of chaos, in real darkness, in conditions far from ideal. We recognize the numinous when it appears—not as a violation of natural law, but as an alignment of will and grace. Doss's unshakeable faith does not protect him from witnessing horror. But it changes the field around him. His conviction has power. It becomes a beacon in darkness.

His creed is not passive. It is active. It is magic.

The Calling Within the Calling

There is a moment when Doss, broken by the death of a friend, asks God directly: What do you want of me? The answer comes not as a voice from heaven, but as a cry—a wounded soldier calling out to God for help. Desmond answers. He becomes an instrument of the divine. An answer to prayer.

As a nurse who works in corrections, as someone called to heal in a place most people turn away from, I felt that moment in my body. We do not choose our vocations by comfort or approval. We choose them because we hear the calling and cannot not answer. We become instruments of something larger than ourselves.

Doss does not heal soldiers because he is kind. He heals them because that is what he was there to do. He aids his brothers. He even aids an enemy. There is no sentimentality in his calling, only absolute clarity of purpose. And in that clarity, he becomes unstoppable. He carries one more. And then another. Until his body gives out before his spirit does.

A Note on Faith and Mirrors

Desmond Doss reads the Bible. He believes in God. He would likely not agree with witchcraft or understand it as a valid spiritual path. That is not the point of this reflection.

To mirror his unwavering faith with our own spiritual practice is not to disrespect his faith. It is to learn from his example. What matters is not that we believe the same things, but that we understand what it means to believe deeply, to marry faith with lived practice, to refuse to compromise conviction even when the world demands it.

For conservative witches, this is urgent: it is okay to believe. It is okay to believe in God, or in nature, or in some unnamed Force. It is okay to have a sense of duty. It is okay to seek fulfillment in your vocation. It is okay to marry faith with folk beliefs. It is okay to doubt when the world says you shouldn't believe what you do—and it is okay to choose faith anyway.

Belief is powerful. And the Divine is ever present, even at war.

We do not experience what soldiers experience on the battlefield. We cannot claim that knowledge. But we can learn from them. We can learn about our country, about the values upon which our freedoms are founded—including religious freedom. And we can see, in Desmond Doss, what it looks like when someone answers a calling rooted in faith, without compromise and without apology.

That is a lesson every spiritual person needs to witness.

Desmond Doss stood alone and answered what he was called to do. He saved seventy-five men by refusing to become what the world demanded he become.

Watch It

If you are looking for easy entertainment, this is not the film for you. If you are looking for a portrait of unwavering spiritual conviction in the face of darkness, of a man who refused to compromise his creed and became extraordinary anyway—then Hacksaw Ridge is waiting for you. Watch the trailer and then watch the film with someone you trust. And afterward, ask yourself: what am I being called to do? And what am I willing to sacrifice to answer?

---

Hacksaw Ridge (2016). Directed by Mel Gibson. Starring Andrew Garfield, Sam Worthington, Luke Bracey, and Vince Vaughn.

Based on the true story of Desmond Thomas Doss, the only conscientious objector to receive the Medal of Honor during World War II.

Read More

The Witch's Compass: Mapping Your Sacred Directions

Every tradition has ways of orienting itself in the world. Sailors charted stars, farmers marked the seasons, and sacred sites were built in alignment with sun, moon, or wind. For witches, this orientation often takes the form of the witch's compass—a way of mapping directions, elements, and powers that root us in both place and practice.

The compass is not a tool of escape. It is a tool of belonging. It teaches us where we stand and how we move through creation.

What Is the Witch's Compass?

In traditional practice, the compass is both practical and sacred:

• It divides the circle of space into directions (north, east, south, west) and sometimes intercardinals
• It assigns associations—elements, winds, seasons, or guardians
• It provides a framework for working—casting, calling, or traveling

The compass is not a single fixed system. Folk traditions varied widely. What matters is less the "correct" set of correspondences and more the act of orienting yourself: standing in awareness of place, season, and direction.

Why Directions Matter

To map your compass is to claim a steady point in the world. It teaches values we need now more than ever:

• Order: A life arranged with care, not disorder
• Continuity: Practices that echo the wisdom of ancestors who oriented themselves in the same cycles
• Responsibility: Knowing where you stand before you act

In this way, the compass is more than magical theory. It is a framework for living attentively and with intention.

A Simple Compass Practice

1. Mark Your Center

Stand in a clear space (indoors or out). This is your hearth-point—your ground.

2. Face North

Notice what is actually there—landform, structure, weather. Write down your impression. What does north feel like to you?

3. Turn East, South, West

Repeat the process for each direction. Be specific. You're mapping the real world, not an idea of it.

4. Assign Meaning

Decide what each direction represents for you (e.g., north = endurance, east = inspiration). Let your lived experience guide the associations.

5. Return Often

Revisit this compass with the seasons. Let it evolve as your practice deepens. A compass is alive when you tend it.

This compass becomes both personal and rooted in place. It does not replace folk traditions; it honors them by continuing the act of orientation in your own life.

Anchoring the Self

The witch's compass is, at its heart, a way to avoid drifting. In times when life feels scattered, mapping your compass is a quiet act of steadiness. It says: I know where I stand. I know where I am headed.

This act of orientation reflects grounded values: discipline, awareness, and gratitude for the order of creation. Like farmers who turned their eyes to the skies before planting, witches who map their compass remember that human will is strongest when aligned with larger patterns.

---

Recommended Resources

• Nigel Pennick, The Pagan Book of Days—includes traditional associations of seasons and directions
• Gemma Gary, Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways—describes the compass in traditional witchcraft contexts
• Owen Davies, Popular Magic—cultural accounts of directional lore and folk associations
• Claude Lecouteux, The Tradition of Household Spirits—notes how domestic space was mapped by direction and placement
• Local Geography Resources—maps and histories of your region to connect your compass to the land itself

---

Continue the Journey

To keep walking with me, subscribe below and receive a free pack of digital grimoire pages designed to guide you through the Fool's Journey.

Read More

Working with Local Land Spirits

Witchcraft is not separate from place. It doesn't exist only in books or tools but in the ground beneath our feet—in the mood of the woods at dusk, in the way the air shifts before rain, in the steady rhythm of a river. Across many cultures, witches have described these presences as land spirits: the personalities and guardians of place.

To work with them today is not to claim another people's traditions, nor to borrow what is not ours. It is to practice attentiveness and respect, to recognize the character of the places where we live, and to shape a practice that is rooted in belonging.

Who Are Land Spirits?

In folk records, land spirits are described less as individual beings and more as the soul of a place itself:

• A hill that feels protective or ominous
• A grove where silence feels heavier than sound
• A spring that seems to refresh more than the body

These descriptions reflect a lived understanding: places have character. They respond to neglect or reverence. They are not passive settings but participants in human life.

Why Respect Matters

Modern witches must tread carefully. Indigenous cultures and local communities have their own ways of honoring the land. Taking from those systems without context is not only harmful but unnecessary.

Rooted witchcraft teaches us we don't need to borrow—we need to listen. The values at stake are simple but essential:

• Humility reminds us we are not the center of creation
• Gratitude calls us to give back when we take
• Stewardship asks us to protect what shelters us

These are not only magical values. They are traditional values. They shape a life of integrity.

Practices for Meeting the Land

You don't need elaborate ritual to begin. Start small and let the relationship grow:

1. Walk Attentively

Visit a place nearby and notice its mood. What plants grow there? What animals? How does the air feel?

2. Offer Presence

Sit quietly, without distraction, as a gesture of respect. This alone is enough.

3. Give Thanks

A pinch of oats, a bowl of water, or a song is enough. Gratitude is the language of relationship.

4. Ask Before Taking

If you gather herbs or stones, pause and sense if it feels permitted. This keeps you honest.

5. Keep Record

Note impressions, animals, or signs over time. Patterns emerge slowly, and consistency deepens connection. Of course, always remain aware of your surroundings, rely on common sense, and use your discretion when out exploring. Practicality can protect you.

Rooted, Not Borrowed

The strength of this work is not in imitation but in relationship. Rooted witchcraft asks us to grow practices that are faithful to where we stand—not borrowed from elsewhere, but cultivated with care.

To honor the land is to participate in something larger: the continuity of tradition, the responsibility of stewardship, and the humility of knowing we are guests as much as inhabitants.

---

Recommended Resources

• Nigel Pennick, The Pagan Book of Days—seasonal observances tied to natural cycles
• Claude Lecouteux, Phantom Armies of the Night—folklore of spirits and places in European tradition
• David Abram, The Spell of the Sensuous—reflections on animism and perception
• Local Ecology Guides—regional field guides that help you recognize the plants, birds, and weather patterns in your own area
• Sabina Magliocco, Witching Culture—thoughtful context on how modern witches can engage tradition responsibly

---

Continue the Journey

Every lesson here is part of a larger path—one step along the Fool's Journey. If you'd like to walk deeper into it with me, subscribe to the blog. As a welcome gift, you'll receive a free pack of digital grimoire pages that follow the Fool's Journey—practical, symbolic, and ready for your own notes and reflections.

Read More