I don’t know, sweetheart. It looks like a piece of a sprinkler.
Being the Witch in the family is a peculiar position because people who ordinarily have very little interest in what you do can develop a sudden and enthusiastic appreciation for your expertise when something happens that they cannot explain. They may not want to discuss Pagan theology over Thanksgiving dinner, but let the dog start barking at an empty corner of the living room at three in the morning and suddenly your telephone becomes the paranormal emergency hotline.
Apparently, we are available twenty-four hours a day.
Have You Tried Turning the Ghost Off and Back On Again?
The questions cover an impressive range of subjects. Someone has had a strange dream. Someone else’s house feels uncomfortable. A relative found a feather in an unusual place. An appliance has been malfunctioning, but only when a particular person is nearby. Something fell off a shelf, and nobody was touching it. Could it be a spirit? Is somebody sending bad energy? Does the dream mean anything? Should they be worried?
I don’t mind these questions. Most of the time, I’m rather pleased that people feel comfortable asking me, particularly when the subject is something they might hesitate to discuss with someone else. But there is an interesting assumption buried in the whole arrangement: because I practice magic, I must automatically know what every unexplained occurrence means.
I have more than forty years of experience in the magical arts. That experience has taught me quite a lot, including the fact that I have absolutely no idea why your hallway light flickered last Tuesday.
Have you checked the bulb?
This is sometimes a disappointing response from a Witch. People seem to expect me to immediately identify a wandering ancestor, an irritated house spirit, or a minor demonic infestation. Suggesting that an electrician might be more useful lacks a certain theatrical satisfaction.
Of course, if the electrician finds nothing and the hallway begins speaking Latin, feel free to call me back.
Could You Just Do a Little Something?
The other interesting feature of being the family Witch is that ordinary family requests can acquire an additional magical dimension.
Someone has an important appointment. Could I light a candle? Somebody is looking for a job. Could I send a little energy? A family member is traveling, another is having surgery, someone needs protection, someone needs luck, someone needs a difficult conversation to go well, and somebody else would appreciate a little something for the finances.
Usually, I’m happy to help. This is part of how I love people, and I would rather have them feel comfortable asking than imagine that my spiritual practice is some inaccessible, mysterious business that must be approached with trembling reverence.
Still, I sometimes wonder what families without a Witch do.
Presumably they wish each other luck and get on with their lives.
We, on the other hand, have an additional department.
There is also the matter of people assuming that I will naturally address every problem magically, including my own. If something goes wrong, surely I have a candle for that. Well, yes, there’s a reasonably good chance I do. I have candles for an astonishing number of things. I also have a telephone, a toolbox, a computer, insurance, and the ability to fill out paperwork. Sometimes the most effective magical intervention available is calling the person who knows how to repair the washing machine.
I reserve the right to swear at it while waiting for the repair appointment. That part is traditional.
A side road of this journey is that if I light the candle, write the intention, monitor the ritual, and cast the spells and the outcome is not what my dear one wants or expected, it is clearly my fault, which means I spend part of my day teaching a Witchcraft 101 crash course. Or I send them a link to the Stones music video of, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”
The inverse of this is that if I get angry or irritated with someone, if my feelings get hurt by someone’s thoughtless (or deliberate) actions that affect me, then the immediate assumption is that I will curse them.
I might curse at them, but it is highly unlikely that I will curse them. I could. But I don’t. For the most part.
The Things People Tell the Witch
Underneath the funny questions, though, there is another side to this role that I value enormously.
People tell Witches things.
Not everyone, certainly, but people who know and trust us will sometimes bring us experiences they have carried privately for years. A dream that felt different from an ordinary dream. A sense of connection with someone who has died. An experience during a difficult period that they cannot explain and are afraid someone will ridicule. An intuition they followed without understanding why, or a moment when they felt something larger than themselves was paying attention.
Sometimes they aren’t looking for an interpretation at all. They simply want to tell someone who won’t immediately respond by explaining why the experience couldn’t possibly have happened.
I think that’s an important distinction. Being willing to listen doesn’t obligate me to validate every supernatural conclusion, and being an experienced practitioner doesn’t mean I have to produce an answer on demand. I can say that something sounds interesting. I can ask what it meant to the person who experienced it. I can suggest an ordinary explanation when one seems appropriate, or discuss a spiritual possibility without declaring it established fact.
I can also say, “Well, that’s weird.”
That is a perfectly respectable response. I’ve used it professionally.
There is a kind of trust involved when someone who doesn’t share your beliefs nevertheless chooses you as the person to whom they can tell their strangest stories. They may not understand my relationship with the Gods or have any particular interest in how I construct a ritual, but they know I won’t laugh at them for wondering whether something unusual might have happened.
Well, I might laugh a little if the ghost turns out to be the refrigerator’s ice maker. But only after we’ve established that everyone is all right.
Apparently, I Am Still a Regular Person
One of the less glamorous aspects of being identified as the family Witch is that people can occasionally forget you are also a regular human being.
I still get tired. I still lose things. I still have bills, appointments, irritating technology, household responsibilities, and days when my most ambitious spiritual goal is getting through the afternoon without threatening an appliance. I don’t spend every waking moment in communication with the unseen world, and I am not necessarily receiving divine guidance while deciding what to have for dinner.
Sometimes I am just hungry.
There is also the curious assumption that a person who practices magic should be able to arrange her own life with considerably greater efficiency than everybody else. Surely someone who works with prosperity magic shouldn’t have financial concerns. Someone who performs protection work should never encounter an unpleasant person. Someone who reads Tarot should always know what is coming.
I wish.
Practicing magic has enriched my life in ways I could never adequately describe, but it has not exempted me from being human. I still live in the same complicated world as everybody else, subject to circumstances, other people’s decisions, the limitations of time and resources, and the occasional spectacularly inconvenient Tuesday.
The difference is that I have a magical practice through which I engage with some of those experiences. It is a relationship with life, not an exemption from it.
Every Family Should Have One
For all my amusement about the situation, I rather like being the Witch in the family.
I like that people know they can ask me unusual questions. I like being able to offer a blessing, light a candle, help someone understand an experience, or simply listen when something has unsettled them. I like that the people who have watched me practice for decades understand that magic is not an occasional costume I put on for special events. It is part of who I am, and consequently it has become part of the family landscape.
Every family seems to have someone who occupies a particular niche. There’s the person everybody calls about computers, the one who knows how to fix cars, the relative who remembers every birthday, and the person who can somehow organize a gathering for thirty people without losing the will to live.
In my family, I am one of the people you call when something gets weird.
I can live with that.
I cannot promise to know what your dream means, whether the spirit you think you encountered was really your grandmother, or why you keep finding pennies in strange places. I can listen, offer an informed perspective where I have one, and perhaps help you sort through the possibilities.
I can also light a candle for your job interview, offer a blessing before your surgery, or help you find a way to feel more comfortable in your home.
Just remember that being the family Witch does not mean I automatically know where everything is, what everybody is thinking, or why the television turned itself on.
And if you send me another photograph of a suspicious object you found buried in the yard, please put something beside it for scale.
I am a Witch, not an archaeologist.
Although I probably know one.
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As Editor of the Green Egg Blog, Katrina Rasbold weaves ancient wisdom into the complexities of modern life, fostering a space for deep inquiry and magical growth. Katrina is the editor of Green Egg Magazine, a priestess, author, and co-creator of the CUSP path, working from the crossroads of tradition and transformation. She owns and operates Crossroads Occult with her husband, Eric, offering a sanctuary for those seeking mentorship, quality handmade magical items, and authentic craft. Discover her full body of work at www.katrinarasbold.com.