The Forgotten Magic

Art by Louise Cox original photo Sandra Stalker


I do not practice magic, I am magic I was born this way, it’s enmeshed in the very fabric of my being. In essence we are all magic it’s only a question of whether you remember your inherent nature or get caught up in the conformity of the world at large and become conditioned to that reality. To a certain extent we all have to conform to society to survive, I have pandered to society norms. I rarely speak of my beliefs and over the years have blocked the intrusions of the Other.

This has is consequences. Firstly as a teenager and well into my thirties I was plagued with Sleep Paralysis attacks. Back when these attacks first started there was no label for my experiences and very little written. Before the invention of the Internet it was a lot harder to research anything without access to a good library. And who do you talk to when you are afraid to go to sleep in case the demons try to drag you away and devour your soul.

Secondly, after NOT learning my lesson of neglecting my magic this first time, I once again became entangled in the snare of conformity. This time it has affected me physically and I was diagnosed with CFS ten years ago. I have done all I can medically and had a refresher course via the NHS at the beginning of this year. I know deep in the recesses of my mind that if I want to truly be well again I need to reconnect with the source, field, universe whatever you want to call it.

Reaching back into my earliest memories I was living a magical life, only, I had to start hiding it, as I realised not everyone was interacting with the world as I did. Now I wish to rekindle the connection I’ve lost and reconstruct the things I did intuitively as a small child, when there where no boundaries between magic and reality. I need to remember the Forgotten Magic.

Part 1 – Black Horizons

My earliest magical memories from childhood started young, around the ages of three to eight. Once I was put to bed at night, I would make contact with the ‘beings’ (for want of another word). Inducing a trance state to communicate with them. This was not a dream, all the time I was conversing with these other beings, I was fully aware that I was a child in a bed at night and after our meetings were over, I would settle down and go to sleep.

Drawing on these memories what were the mechanics of the trance inducement. I would sit calm and still, feel the energy which flows through all of us. This energy always concentrates in the palm of my hands. When the energy felt strong enough, I would place my hands over my eyes so that the base of my palm was covering the socket of my eyes. Eyes closed I would look into the darkness and wait. At some point there would be a shift and my ears would feel like there had been a change in pressure. In the vast darkness there is an horizon. The beings would come towards me from this horizon. Sometimes one or two, sometimes up to five of them. They appeared to me as coloured luminous energy. The conversations happened telepathically, more emotion than words. Some were more friendly than others, some in different towards me and one seemed to dislike me and the feeling was mutual.

I was very fond of one of the beings in particular, he is the one who visited the most. I painted a picture of him at Sunday School (this would be the one and only time I went to Sunday School). I wasn’t very old, pre-school days. Easels where arranged in a circle and we were painting. The lady looking after us asked me what I was painting. I felt panic, I know I can’t tell her who this is.

“It’s a Horse”, I tell her.

“That’s a funny looking Horse”, she declares, “where’s his eyes”?

“I’ve been making the colour for his eyes”, showing her my paint brush which has a lovely shade of pale blue. I’d spent a long time trying to get the right shade of luminous blue, which was highly frustrating with the low grade poster paints at my disposal.

She promptly snatched the paint brush out of my hand and blobbled a dot, where she thought the ‘Horse’ should have an eye.

“There that’s much better” she declares and walks off. I was furious, how dare she, she has no idea about how the world works and she’s supposed to be teaching me about spirituality! That was not where his eye was supposed to be! I refused to go to Sunday School ever again.

Art work by Louise Cox

When I was much older I read ‘The Tibetan book of the Dead’ and felt a connection to the descriptions of experiences you are to encounter when you die, with the visits of the beings I encountered as a small child. Was this some kind of cross over stage? I was alive but interestingly in the memories I have of conversations with these beings are mostly about the fact that I was not happy to be here. Why was I here? I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to go back home. The people I was with, my family had no understanding of what I was.

They were adamant I had to stay. Am I supposed to be here for a reason. Why now in this place with these people. I do remember in one of the last conversations, one of the beings saying I was here because I ‘meddled’. With what or whom, in my last incarnation here or in the Other place, where I longed to back to. I have no idea and if I am to learn a lesson then it would help it I had some inkling to what it was.

Then one night I was told that they would not be visiting me again, I was to have no further contact. I was devastated, lonely and abandoned in a place I felt I did not belong. I was probably about six or seven. I have tried many times over the years to get back to the Black Horizon where the beings can be contacted. Sometimes I can see it but don’t quite make that final shift. I suppose it’s like phone call but the line at the other end is dead or is blocking my calls.

I experimented again over the last month or so at one point I saw something like a door open on the Horizon but it was abruptly closed. I guess I have to wait until I cross over to the Other side again.


STAND STRONG, WITCH: A Lesson on Being Human



Image: Svetlana Belyaeva

“I never thought about it before, but I’m proud to be human. We’re ever so flawed. We’re frail, confused, violent, and we struggle with so many issues.”

Susan Ee

I believe this blog is more for my readership than it is for me; I had to stop working on my Shop to come and write this, that’s how important I feel this message is and no time can be wasted.

I am not on Facebook for personal reasons much anymore and unless it involves NR, I don’t really want to be bothered. But, I do what everyone else does and scroll through my newsfeed checking up on loved ones, being nosey with others; you know the drill.

I have noticed a common trend among everyone (besides crazy dreams); it seems as though everyone is feeling overwhelmed, anxious and like there isn’t enough time.

Some of this is because of the Holiday season, regardless if you celebrate or not it’s a stressful time of year; Empaths like myself are ripped wide open and there is only so much of the chaos that we can shield. It isn’t just how crazy people get to find the best deals, or how they become mindless mass consumers—it is sometimes truly about the emotions. People are remembering loved ones that are no longer here or that they no longer communicate with, people are remembering a time when they were happy, or maybe this time of year conjures up bad feelings because of trauma in the past.

Whatever the reason, the Holiday season is fucking balls to the wall crazy.

Before I get into what inspired me to write this blog, which has nothing to do with the Holidays, btw, let me tell you about my shit.

When we are overwhelmed it is so easy to slip in to a victim mentality and I think it is important to keep perspective always, and remain grateful. With that said, the last 10 days have dosed out enough CRAZY to make me want to cut this human life short. (No I am not suicidal, and I am not making light of suicide; it’s just an expression.)

It was just one thing after another and it wouldn’t let up. Finally, on Thursday when I was at my Eye Doctor appointment there was an issue with my insurance not showing up in their system—I started crying. I don’t mean I was just a little teary, I am talking full on ugly cry—I couldn’t even speak; I just had to walk outside and breathe. It wasn’t just about the insurance, IT WAS EVERYTHING and it all hit me at once, in front of a whole bunch of strangers and it was….mortifying.

As if that was not bad enough, on Friday night my Laptop shattered. Hello, pre-shadow period of Mercury Retrograde.

Having a piece of equipment break such as a computer is enough to make anyone angry but for me, it was a devastating loss. I run my business online, I am writing my second and third books, I am a Social Media figure; I need a computer. I don’t make a ton of money, and I am by no means rich and I don’t use credit. If it was not for my Mother, I would not be sitting here writing this on my new Laptop. The gratitude I feel cannot be expressed.

Let’s talk about my weekend though, shall we?

To be clear I am not talking about ANY of this for pity, in fact I feel really fucking awkward writing this but I know that for the bigger story, all these little details need to be brought up. I am being as real as I can right now because I think a lot of us are in the pits and could use a word or two of encouragement.

Mom and I went in to my hometown (about 2 hours away) so we could see some family and babysit my niece; yes, they have babysitters there but it is a treat for Mom and me to hang out with my little Fae Princess. We jump at the opportunity when asked.

Now, let me remind you that I have agoraphobia amid all my other diagnosis’. Leaving my house is a production and it literally makes me break out in cold sweats; leaving my cats is weird for me, too even if only for 36 hours. I am the crazy cat lady. Whatever.

After bribing my Sister to come spend the night and be with my beasts (I also have reptiles that need to be tended to) and leaving detailed instructions taped to the cupboard door, I left.

Mom and I had tried this back in September and it ended up with us leaving at 1:30am because we just wanted to be in our beds; we are both Cancers, so we are both homebodies.

About 20 minutes away from our destination Mom’s phone rings, and then she says loudly, “WHAT?!”

I am thinking my Brother has called and told us not to come or something like that but no, it’s my Aunt calling to tell my Mom that we need to go to Grandma’s because the dog needs to be put down.

I love animals—I love animals more than I love humans, acutally. Just being honest. So, this already was making my heart race and my inner Empath freak out. All I could think was, “Fuck, did I bring enough crystals? Where can I buy some Sage? And, I need some Weed.”

We arrive at Gram’s and go upstairs; immediately I check on the dog and he was well on his way, the cancer had taken over. He was not really “with it” but was crying in pain, so I used my Vampyric side and I took on his pain, his fear and eased it all for him; as he silenced, his eyes began to close. (He was euthanized an hour later at the Vet, and passed in loving arms.)

Gram was sobbing, and then my Aunt came home (she had to go pick Gramps up, he was at a meeting).

I hadn’t seen my Grandfather in a long time, and when I did see him last it was for a brief dinner. He has always been a strong presence; fierce, protective, stoic. He is one of the Mason’s I often refer to in my writings.

When I turned around to greet him as he walked up the stairs I saw an old, fragile man. It was jolting to my system; I seem to somehow forget what time does to this mortal coil.

He walked in to the kitchen silent, and as he passed us all he started crying so hard he began dry heaving.

It was at this moment that I looked directly at my cousin and told her we had to go downstairs to her house because it was TOO FUCKING MUCH.

I am lucky to have a family who always accepts my Mom and I, and our Witchy belief’s, despite how crazy they are and how much they fight (I stay out of it). They have even started asking for our help.

Mysticism does run in the family blood…

After all the craziness at Gram’s, I ventured on over to my Brother’s house and was met with even more devastating news about my Father. I don’t feel like going in to details about this but to sum it up, my Father gifted me with false hope a few months ago, and there is nothing more horrific to give to someone than that. I should have learned, I should have known from the years of actions he has shown that his words, just like his promises, are empty.

That’s a lot, right? Just shit, shit, shit and a whole bunch of it.

Add in the insomnia, weird dreams (when I do sleep), anxiety from the collective, the buzz in Washington as this transition to our new President happens (all those ridiculous new Laws being talked about; Google it), the devastating fire in Oakland that took the lives of many weirdos, Artists and queers from our community, Standing Rock, etc. and I realized THERE IS A LOT GOING ON; not just in my life, either.

Oh, did I mention it’s the Holiday freaking season? Yeah.

You are not alone in your feelings, you are not alone in this fight to claw your way back to the top; back to normalcy; whatever that is.

2016 has been no joke, and to start off 2017 in the middle of Mercury Retrograde, well sign me the fuck up! Sarcasm loading…

This morning when I hopped on Fb I saw a post from a friend and it broke my heart. Essentially the post was from the depths of her Soul and for that reason I will remain a bit vague as to respect her privacy. The post discussed her hatred for herself, how she feels she is not good at being a human, and then she apologized for being fake to everyone; she apologized for being a healer to other’s when she herself is broken.


First, who is good at being human? You show me somebody, anybody who is “good” in any context at this human experience and I will list to you a million reasons how they have failed. That’s the point, too: failing, falling and getting back up.

The point is to suck at this, that is how we learn, how we evolve (hopefully), how we grow and ascend.

This journey is not going to be smooth, or easy, nor is there one set path. Again I say, no one is good at being human because this world is literally designed for us to fail.

There is this idea, this really fucking common misconception that to be a healer, to have experience and be considered a teacher or “guru” you must be perfect; that you cannot have faults, that you must love yourself and all your parts unconditionally. And, if you are not these things, and then some, then you are a hypocrite.

I call bullshit on ALL OF IT.

I think that those of us who are still working on self-love, and self-acceptance and who have been to the pits of Hell make the best leaders, gurus and teachers. It’s the ones who are not open about their struggles, who try and mask it with “love and light” that are the fakes; they are the hypocrites.

Not those of us who have stumbled in to this role (like my friend and myself have).

I never intended in a million years to have this role of being a teacher, role model or someone others in the Craft look up to but, here we are; I must accept this fate, this path that I am on.

No, I am not perfect. No, I am not balanced and calm, I am not serene and loving; though parts of me are.

I am dark, rigid, full of emotions and pain; I have wounds on the emotional and Soul level that cut DEEP but NONE of those things diminish my power, they enhance my power: THEY ARE MY POWER.

We are all being thrown around like ragdolls by the excess energy right now; we are all feeling it, we are all experiencing changes and shifts that are out of our control. As mentioned above, there is a lot going on.

You are not alone though, you are never alone, and we will all get through this.

The bruises, scars, lessons, joy and pain will all make us better Practitioners but most importantly, they make us better humans.