Witchcraft was a forbidden fascination for me as a child. It left me marked in ways indelible and invisible until the first leaves sprouted when I got my hands on my Grandmother’s Tarot deck. I can’t tell you how many times my mother took it away from me, it was a lot trust me, and I truly can’t recall, but I always found them. Or maybe they just kept calling my name. . . who is to say.
Nothing in life was ever alive for me until magic touched it. I have always loved to handcraft things, it’s right up there with my other favorite hobbies: reading and writing. I found that the heart always wandered into making the witch happy. I love the satisfaction of knowing that every step in my witchery fits the deed. The more I read, the more I had to take what I learned and make it a physical object. And one day, a childhood story stood in front of me with frightening hag witch, burning torches, and whispering dolls demanding to brought forth. Oddlings took form from that story with Baba Yaga and Vasilissa pointing the way on how to make a proper helper doll.
Like everything else, magic, gods, and divination can be bitter and sweet, but I would not have it any other way because the unseen world has been one of my greatest teachers. The mark may no longer be invisible, but is certainly, even after all these years, indelible. I have many to thank in both the seen and unseen world. Some of them may read this. . . Gods, I hope they are smiling.