Remember When I Was Really Into Black Magic...?

Witchcraft is easy. Love is hard work.

When I was living in the Colombian jungle, a young indigenous boy of only 13 years old told me that there are no witches in Europe. “Ellos no saben de brujeria,” he said to me. They know nothing of witchcraft. A bold claim for a young man who had never set foot on the European continent.

However, this wasn’t just any boy. He was the son of an extremely powerful ayahuasca shaman. He was the only child out of his thirteen siblings who showed any interest in following his father’s footsteps as a medicine man and guardian of his peoples’ medicine ways. He started drinking ayahuasca at 6 years old and is being educated to take on his father’s political and spiritual leadership when he eventually finishes his training in his early 20s.

This young boy was special.

However, this young boy only knew what he knew which was the world of the jungle. And the jungle, for all of the beauty and mystery that it holds, is just one corner of the globe where the land speaks it’s own language of healing medicine and dark sorcery.

Witchcraft, sorcery, magick—whatever you want to call it—is one of many tools used by oppressed peoples worldwide as a form of self-defense and self-protection. It’s a beautiful and valuable tool. It is a gift from the Creator. And although each culture has it’s own unique and sacred rituals, teachings, and secrets that have been safeguarded for generations, witchcraft does not “belong” to any one culture.

When I tap into my own spiritual lineage of European descent, I can feel, deep in my bones, that my own people’s medicine ways and occult teachings are alive and well in my cells. No matter how hard the world tries to beat the magic out of our blood, our songs and prayers still echo across our tongues, even if we don’t understand the incantations that we are conjuring—the spells that we are casting.

The difference between this young indigenous boy and I is that this boy comes from a intact culture where the science of medicine and sorcery has not been fractured or long-forgotten in the way that it has been in my own. Thus, he is able to traverse the delicate line that delineates between healing and hexing under the guidance and mentorship of elders who can offer serious orientation.

I, unfortunately, did not receive that kind of guidance in the early years of my spiritual studies…

I went through a massive spiritual awakening at age 20 that turned my entire world upside down. I go into great detail about this experience in the introductory episode of my podcast, The Serpentine Path, but—long story short—I started having extremely powerful visions after going into a drumming-induced trance state in the middle of a college lecture hall. In this moment, something broke open inside of me and I heard the song of my ancestors for the first time. I was never the same. Magic was everywhere and I was a witch reborn.

Over the following years, I delved deep into all of the occult literature that I could get my hands on. I taught myself to read tarot at lightning speed. I started casting love and money spells left and right. I went down all the crazy New Age wormholes. I joined weird radical feminist Facebook groups that were dedicated to “hexing the Patriarchy” (LOL). I got super into Goddess worship. One ex even accused me of putting a curse on him. Long story short, I did all the ridiculous and trendy baby witch shit that you see all over Instagram and TikTok without understanding how dangerous and harmful it all actually was.

However, this character arc makes complete and total sense in the grand scheme of my life. I was a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and, unfortunately, come from a lineage of severe sexual trauma that spans back countless generations. I had suffered through a highly toxic and, at times, abusive 5 year long relationship (same ex who said I cursed him). I was living my tragic New York City artist “dream” that was fueled by drugs, alcohol, and “sexual exploration” (read: sexual re-victimization). I was surrounded by lots of dark wizards and witches who were claiming that they had “POWER” and I, too, wanted POWER! I didn’t want to experience anymore abuse. I didn’t want to have my power taken from me. I wanted to feel SAFE and witchcraft was the only accessible tool that was offered to me at that moment in time.

Unfortunately, after 5 years of this misguided attempt at spiritual self-defense, I came face to face with the reality of my choices in the form of a 9 month long womb infection that almost cost me my fertility.

It was in this moment that the Colombian jungle finally called me back. I took a long 22 hour bus ride to the tiny indigenous village where my spiritual elders lived and I stayed with them for a year and half in order to understand what had happened to me. Night after night, week after week, I drank cup after cup of medicine and I healed. And with every cup, my teachers showed me exactly how damaging all of my participation in black magic had actually been to my spirit.

My late and beloved teachers, being the brilliant and wise masters that they were, almost never told me what to do or not to do. Instead, they taught by example and offered counsel when I came to them with questions, confessions, and fears.

Thus, after months of receiving vision after vision about the dangers of brujeria, I humbly approached my teacher and asked him for help.

“Abuelo,” I said guiltily while holding back tears, “I’ve done a lot of witchcraft. I’ve hurt a lot of people, most of all myself. How do I stop?” I was terrified of his judgment. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

“Ayyy, mi querida amiga, yo tambien.”

Translation: Oh, my dear friend, I have too.

“I threw bad medicine at so many people when I was younger. It’s part of the path. And it’s okay that you learned all of this because now you know how to protect yourself from it. But you walk with God now and you came to this earth to heal, not to harm.”

Then his wife, the abuela, lovingly yelled at me from across the porch. Her hands, always busy weaving yet another medicine bag, were eerily still as she firmly reprimanded me. “No mas brujeria, Clarita!” No more witchcraft.

“Hay que pensar bonito.” We must think beautiful thoughts.

For it is our thoughts that can kill us. Our thoughts that can kill others. Our thoughts that can lead us down a path of psychological manipulation and fear-based control. Our thoughts that get wrapped up in anxiety and trauma responses that keep up trapped in the past. Our thoughts that cloud the quiet in our minds. Our thoughts that pull us away from the unshakeable, unbreakable truth that LOVE is the only thing that exists. Love is the most powerful medicine in the world. Love is stronger than any curse, any hex, any spell, any sorcery.

Love is the only thing that is real.

Throughout the hundreds of ceremonies that I’ve sat in and the hundreds of cups of medicine that I’ve drunk, I’ve had to reckon with the thousands of lifetimes where I have experienced all sides of black magic as a perpetrator, a victim, and a bystander. I’ve watched, time and time again, as dark forces were conjured by my own hands out of fear and a need for control. I’ve watched, time and time again, as others threw their fear and need for control onto me. I’ve collected fractured parts of my spirit from dimensions that I did not know existed—forgiving myself for being an abuser, forgiving my abusers for targeting their pain at me.

“Don’t Clip Your Own Wings” by Claire Yaseed. Inspired by a vision from ceremony

And, with each act of forgiveness, my heart softens.

With each prayer of acceptance, I remember that I did not come to this earth to perpetuate outdated stories of fear and manipulation.

With each song of serenity, I ask the Creator to sweeten my words with honey.

With each puff of sacred tobacco, I remember what it means to conjure love in my thoughts.

With each moment of silence, I listen to the symphony of la madre tierra, la gran maestra, la creadora divina—THE GIVER OF LIFE.

For it is LIFE that I am here on this earth to experience. It is beauty. It is fertility. It is joy. It is compassion. It is LOVE that I have been called to this earth in this moment to remember. For love is easy to access when things are good and it is significantly harder to hold onto when times are bad.

There comes a moment on every person’s spiritual path when they have to choose whether they’re going to continue moving from fear or if they are committed to moving with love. It’s entirely understandable for those of us who have experienced abuse (particularly throughout childhood) to turn to sorcery as a means to feel safe. A tool for control. A desire to not lose our power. But in our manipulative attempts to somehow travel back in time to keep our younger selves safe through our present moment actions, we can never find our way towards true peace. For black magic begets more black magic. Fear begets more fear. And when we consistently turn to it as our only means of spiritual “protection” we will never make our way home to the TRUTH that we so deeply crave—that being the TRUTH that we are LOVE.

Love is the opposite of black magic. Love cannot coexist with fear, manipulation, or codependent control. Love cannot be twisted or distorted. Love cannot be forced or coerced. Love simply is. And love is what I’m here to do.

No mas brujeria, that path is too easy.

I choose the hard work of loving and being loved, once more.