Calling All Witches!

I Need Your Shame...

Okay, that subtitle is a little misleading. It isn’t me who needs your shame, but I am inviting you to join me in a group ritual to release it to those who do. But we’ll get to that.

First, it’s Spiritual Strangeness Storytime.

Coming Out of the Broom Closet

I’ve had to come out of a lot of closets over the years, many of which I cover in my book on authentic living, Release Your Masterpiece. But there’s one that isn’t in there because I was still in the process of coming out of it when that book was written, and it’s the hardest one I’ve ever had to come out of.

Ayup. The Broom Closet.

Coming out as a witchy woo-woo weirdo with inexplicable experiences and abilities was utterly terrifying. Acknowledging the truth to myself was scary enough. Sharing it with the people in my life who I already knew wouldn’t get it? That felt impossible.

But as I started to share my truth with the people I knew would get it, I felt myself caring less and less about what those other people thought. It felt so damn good to finally acknowledge that magick is real and start putting my spiritual abilities to good use that others’ opinions on the matter just didn’t weigh in.

Still, there are moments, like this one right now, when I hesitate to share a story. I think: This one is just too much. It’s so freaking weird, and dark, and frankly unbelievable…

But then I remember what it feels like when I come across a story of high strangeness that validates or helps make sense of a similar experience of mine, and I decide: Fuck it. Let’s do this.

The Black Choker

Yesterday, I was at the Metaphysical Fair at Metaphysical Wares in Mount Vernon, casting and reading the bones with my sister, Spike.

This was our first time reading at that venue (which, as a side note, is enormous and utterly gorgeous and if you’re in the area, you should absolutely go check it out), so, to get the ball rolling, we offered to trade readings with the gal at the table next to us.

She introduced herself as Chelsea and told us she is an intuitive aura reader. I wasn’t quite sure what that entailed, but I’m always up for an adventure, and seeing as it was her first bone reading, we were both experiencing something new.

After her reading (which she said was spot-on), she said it was my turn and immediately started to make notes in her notebook. As she wrote, I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, allowing my energy to ground. But then, suddenly, I felt a stabbing pain directly below my left ear, as if it had been poked with something sharp, but from the inside.

I was startled, but didn’t say anything as she was still in the thick of her process.

She started at the crown of my head, which she saw as pearl- or opalescent. My eyes, too, which suggested clairvoyance. My lips come through as red, which she interpreted to mean that I speak with passion. All of which tracked for me. But it was what she said next that floored me.

“I see a black choker around your neck.”

My mind immediately went to the black lace choker my ex-husband had gifted me and insisted I wear for any remotely dressy occasion. I made a mental note to burn that fucker on the full moon.

“It looks like it’s made of something shiny and hard,” Chelsea went on, “like wrought iron or obsidian, but it’s a living creature. It’s designed to control you and limit your self-expression.”

Stab! There went that pain again, as if the creature she was describing was trying to escape from beneath my skin.

Not that such a thing would be outside my realm of experience. I’d already witnessed a three-inch coffin nail exiting my husband’s temple as he shrieked in pain one day at a friend’s house with strong protections.

“That was so weird,” he said afterward, slightly dazed, rubbing the spot with his fingers, “it felt like a nail was being pulled out of my head.”

“What did the nail look like?” I asked him. He described the exact nail I’d just seen being extracted from his head by unseen forces.

So, yeah, I’ve learned to just roll with this stuff.

Chelsea went on to explain that the choker wasn’t just around my neck: it had wound its way down my spine and around my ribcage, which was the color of a bright purple bruise. “It almost looks like a Scorpion, but with the choker where the stinger would be. Oh, yeah! I can see it poking out, right there, behind your left ear.”

I reached up to rub the spot, which was still tender. “Careful,” Chelsea warned, “it’s still alive.”

Stab! Stab! Yeah, no shit.

She recommended a clearing ceremony, and I knew exactly who to contact: Marcus, who had removed a similar block from Spike’s throat just last year.

She also suggested setting the intention to get more information from my dreams, so last night, I did just that.

The dream I had that night was a nightmare. It was extraordinarily vivid, extremely specific, and perfectly designed to push all my shame buttons.

As I was awakening, I had a vision. The shame the dream had stirred up formed a black, sticky ball in my solar plexus. Then, a man’s hand reached into my torso, grabbed hold of that shame-ball, and began to mold it into the creature Chelsea had described.

Suddenly, it all became clear. The creature was my own shame, weaponized against me as suppressive control by a series of abusive partners.

I grabbed my journal and wrote a letter to my shame. I thanked it for its service; for all its attempts, however misguided and ineffective, to protect me from embarrassment, abandonment, and ostracization. Then I put it on notice that its services are no longer required.

“Ya had a good run,” I told the creature wrapped around my midsection, “but, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s just not enough snackage to sustain you here anymore. You must be starved, poor thing! But don’t worry: I’m bringing in an expert to help release you. No need to be anxious or resist. It’s time to move on. Go find someone who needs you. An abusive narcissist, perhaps…”

That’s when it hit me: my shame is desperately needed! Just not here, and not by me.

And so is yours.

The Great Shame Sharing

That gave me an idea, which brings me back to why I’ve called you here today, my wonderful witchez.

Sacrifice doesn’t have to involve giving up what you value most dearly. It simply means trading one energy for another. So, what if we all sacrifice an energy that’s been taking up valuable space in our minds and in our lives (shame) and exchange it for what we most deeply desire?

Better yet, what if we intentionally send our shame to someone who could actually use it? Someone whose out-of-control behavior demonstrates a clear need for suppression…

And what if we all do it in the month of July?

You in?

Fabulous.

Here’s a whatchya gonna do.

Step One: Set the intention to release your shame and send it to “Someone Who Needs It.”

Step Two: Thank your shame for its service and let it know you are releasing it and to whom.

Step Three: Choose an object to represent your shame, and envision every last drop of shame leaving your body and entering the object.

Step Four: Burn the object in a safe space, and envision it traveling to and entering the body of “Someone Who Needs It.”

When you’ve done this, please let me know, and please pass this invitation on to all the magick makers in your life.

The more, the magicker.

Now go make some shame-sharing magic!