I have related to and enjoyed many witches in books or movies, but, by far, the most real and affirming of them isn’t Sabrina Spellman (even though Kiernan Shipka’s take is legendary).
Nope, not Hermione Granger (sorry Emma Watson, and sorry not sorry J.K.)
It’s Kiki.
If you know, you know. But for the sake of exploration and openness here, let’s get into it.
If you’re anything like me, neglecting the spiritual part of yourself for any span of time can feel like a personal failing or that we’ve lost the plot in some way. But I’m here to reassure you that you didn’t lose the plot at all and this, in fact, is the plot.
This can often happen because other things at play are rendering it harder to connect spiritually. And this domino effect of one thing after another takes my juice for magic down with it. This kind of spiral is hardly specific to magic but is something of the way of the chronic worrier.
Along these lines, I’ve related to Kiki’s Delivery Service from the very beginning when I saw it in the 90s and the affinity has only grown since becoming a professional witch and monetizing my magic. I mean, we have a young woman off on her own in the world…being told that she needs to find her magical niche, be useful…be a stronger flyer, be better at potions, have more money, do more, oh dear God now crows are attacking me?!
Hayao Miyazaki must have had a vision about me personally when he conceived of such a character who would fall into such a state of burnout. Beat by beat, Kiki is me and she’s a lot of us even if we’re not talking specifically about witchcraft.
This is why I want to take a moment to underscore how it is completely normal to fall out of touch with your practice for any period.
I dare say, it might be the healthiest thing you could do.
In my practice, falling out of touch in the past has boiled down to a few things. Here are some of the instances that stick out to me the most when I think of my magical flop eras:
An emotionally abusive partner belittled me and my passions to no end. This wearing-down process included burrowing a hole through my confidence as a witch and making me feel like a fool for keeping up my practice.
While dabbling with magic in my teens, I would craft spell after spell and grow disillusioned with it all. Also, at the time, my mom found my books on Paganism. She never admitted it, but the pointed conversations about inviting the devil into the home said it all.
Being raised Roman Catholic and having attended catechism, I would get that prickle of fear creep along my spine on occasion. That hard-to-ditch guilt was always there to remind me that I was being a sinful deviant for daring to desire something more.
I’m chronically ill which includes being prone to burnout. And the last time I succumbed to the burnout, that all-consuming exhaustion sapped my energy for even doing as little as cleansing my space or giving my ancestors their shot of Puerto Rican white rum. My Tarot and Oracle cards collected dust and it felt like the space between me and my magic was an ever-widening chasm.
My most recent bout was when I was comparing myself far too much to other practitioners who I perceived to be more magical or successful. And it made me revert to that scared, insecure 20-something dating a not-so-closeted narcissist.
I’m not proud of letting my impatience and frustration get the better of me. And I have certainly been better about shrugging off the Catholic guilt that says I need to do x in order to be y kind of good girl.
Falling out and rebuilding my relationship with my spiritual practice is a gift in many ways, but the biggest gift is how it enables me to practice radical self-honesty. This is notion transcends spiritual and belief systems as you need to have a clear sense of your why when investigating your relationship to spirit, God, Flying Spaghetti Monster (a true elder millennial am I), and gods and deities.
Speaking from the well of my experience, here are three instances wherein taking a witch break, planned or otherwise, might be the best thing:
1. You were doing too much magic.
Did you buy all the crystals? Did you use all the crystals at once? Did you light all the incense you got too? Does the mere mention of the one time you burned five different incense cones at once fill you with anxiety (and a headache from that much perfume)?
Eagerness is common with budding practitioners.
What you miss when you’re busy getting swept up is remembering that components of spell work are not unlike making flavor pairings. Some ingredients blend beautifully together and all of their good qualities shine. The sum is bigger than their parts. And then there are the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink spells. An effective spell is about the intention of bringing herbs and oils together. But bringing in a grounding stone and an energizing one and one that will help with ancestral messaging, oh, and this candle too, and how about this incense…it’s all too much.
Too. Much. Magic.
Pulling away for a while allows you to get clear about what you were actually trying to achieve when you were so busy making a magic stew instead of a fine-tuned potion. In this scenario, the break allows you to see the desperate attempts to get the magical elements to work in your favor fast for exactly what it was: desperation.
2. You were dabbling in a closed-practice system (or didn’t do enough research period).
My foray into closed-practice systems was less about experimenting with forces that weren’t tied to my cultural heritage. Frankly, I waited until I had my 23 and Me results before I went anywhere near Santería. It was all more a matter of the shoe never quite breaking in right.
It was all going alright for a while…until it wasn’t.
I won’t go into the details, but I’m pretty sure it’s what led to me getting a concussion while I was packing up my old apartment in the summer of 2021.
My situation was less a matter of research and more the energies and elements of practice never agreed with me. Additionally, I am someone who does enjoy occasionally making magic with a coven, but I only found more discord when I tried to form some new connections in this system.
After that, I backed away for a long while and made an intentional commitment to pause (again, head injuries put a lot into perspective for you). I needed to hit reset, I needed to go inward and reflect on what facets of the magical world were compatible with me. This meant more research and intentionality before going all-in on spellwork once again.
The decision to step back means I am much better at acknowledging difficult truths because I was brave enough to see things for what they were and are. One of these truths is how, sometimes, you have to learn the hard way that something wasn’t for you. This big ole no from the universe is a bigger gift that stops us from making more of the same mistakes.
I am grateful for the big ole no because the work I do is more aligned, and I never would’ve gotten here otherwise.
3. Magic was never the problem (or the solution).
The reality of being a practitioner with neurodivergence means that while I love my practice when I’m well-regulated, everything feels innate and intuitive. And when I’m not, I feel like I’m fumbling the whole way through.
Physically, I’m there. Spiritually? All thumbs.
I’m forgetting steps that I otherwise always remember, it’s maddening and takes me out of it and the magic feels like it suffers… so it ends up being easier not to do it.
My craft can help me hone certain aspects or call in what I’d love to draw in more of, but it can’t balance the firing of my brain or be the sole healer of my interest-based nervous system. My craft can help me draw in money when I’m in between abundances, but it can’t be the force that moves my money or helps me pay down my debts.
I need to work with a neurodiversity-friendly therapist, get on the right diet, fitness, and supplement regimen, and work with licensed, seasoned professionals who will help me manage what I’ve manifested.
Pulling away from my craft when I was in the thick of a comparison loop meant I could finally realize that I was only practicing certain forms of magic because it’s what I perceived as an expectation of me. If I want to serve my community and be a better witch, then I should beef up these other skills, I used to think.
After much physical and emotional healing, self-reflection, and growth later, I can see that my urgency, scarcity, and insecurity were pulling me further away from the real source of my magic. All of these expectations can kindly find some witchy dame to haunt.
I’ve come back home to myself over the past few years, but especially the past year and I only continue to feel more in synchronicity with my craft.
Much like Kiki, sometimes you need to embrace letting your magic slip away for a minute so you can understand why it’s so important for you to connect with in the first place.
Without even thinking about it, I used to be able to fly. Now I'm trying to look inside myself and find out how I did it, said Kiki.
Sometimes you need that pause to help you embrace your magic with some newly forged intentionality.
And when it happens, you’re more formidable than ever.
Not even a pack of crows you crashed your broom into could stop you.