Exploring Energy, the Spring Equinox, and My First Step into Witchcraft

There’s something about this time of year that always gets me.

It’s a quiet pull I can’t ignore. Like everything is waking up a little, stretching toward something new, and gently asking me if I’m ready to do the same.

The spring equinox has always felt meaningful to me, even before I understood why. The balance of light and dark, that exact middle point before the shift into longer days. For the first time, I’m learning the symbolism behind this change in seasons.

It roots back to ancient European spring equinox celebrations that honored the balance of light and dark and the return of fertility to the land. Often linked to the Germanic goddess Eostre (or Ostara), these early observances marked a time of renewal, planting, and the reawakening of life after winter. Symbols like eggs, hares, and blooming flowers emerged as representations of fertility and new beginnings—many of which later influenced modern Easter traditions. Today, Ostara is celebrated primarily within contemporary Pagan and Wiccan communities as part of the Wheel of the Year, with rituals that honor growth, intention-setting, and connection to the natural cycles. Celebrations may include altar decorations with seasonal elements, planting seeds (both literal and symbolic), and gatherings that reflect on balance, transformation, and the quiet but powerful emergence of spring.

I grew up in a traditional, fairly strict Christian home where anything labeled “witchcraft” was automatically seen as dark, dangerous, or wrong—no questions asked. It wasn’t something you explored; it was something you avoided. But as I’ve gotten older, and especially as I’ve started paying closer attention to the rhythms of nature and my own inner life, that definition has softened. What once felt forbidden now feels… curious. Grounded. Even sacred in its own way. My exploration isn’t about rejecting where I came from, but about expanding it—making space for practices and perspectives that honor intuition, connection, and the unseen threads that tie us to the natural world. In this season of balance and renewal, it feels fitting to gently question old narratives and allow something new to take root.

Recently, I picked up a book called Witchcraft Therapy. I was drawn to it because the cover was pretty, but the reason I bought it is it didn’t feel like I was reading a history book or trying to decode something ancient and out of reach. It was approachable in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

Because while I’m intrigued by the tradition behind witchcraft, I don’t feel like I need to fit myself into a specific version of it. I don’t want to get it “right” in someone else’s terms. I just want to explore what feels real to me. I feel like I’m connected to something—energy, intuition, whatever you want to call it—and it’s time to start exploring that in practice.

I tried my first spell.

A Spell to Break Free from Feeling Stuck

From page 49 of Witchcraft Therapy

To complete this spell for getting unsuck, you'll need:

• A white candle

• A match or lighter

• A large bay leaf

• A pen

• A large fireproof bowl

1. Sit down and spend five minutes grounding yourself. Light some incense if it helps you get in the zone. (I chose to use my tuning forks to clear my space and the energy around my body)

2. Cleanse your space and light the candle.

3. On the bay leaf, write down the positive counterpart of one of the "rules" that's making you feel stuck. For example: if the rule is "I can't move because I'm unable to find a place I can afford," write down "I will get new place to live that I am able to afford."

4. Light the bay leaf with the candle (be careful not to burn yourself; bay leaves spark) and drop the leaf into the bowl.

5. Meditate on. the cancle flame while reaffirming to yourself that you are not stuck, doors open for you easily, and you have the power to change your unique circumstances.

It was mindful. Intentional. Healing. It didn’t feel like I was performing something, it felt like I was participating in something. It was cleansing for my space and my mind.

Because of my rheumatoid arthritis, my body is often in some level of pain. I felt a shift. And that is the most powerful affirmation I could receive.

Something I became curious about and researched after was bay leaves. I wondered why bay leaves are used in spells. Apparently, they’ve been used in rituals for a really long time. In ancient Greece and Rome, bay (or laurel) leaves were tied to purification, protection, and even prophecy. They were sacred to Apollo, the god associated with light and knowledge, and people would wear them as crowns or burn them in rituals connected to clarity and insight. That meaning has carried forward, and now they show up in a lot of modern practices as a tool for cleansing or setting intentions.

I love that something so simple has that kind of history behind it. It makes the whole thing feel less like I’m trying something new and more like I’m stepping into something that’s been unfolding for a long time.

There was also a very practical note in the book that stuck with me: bay leaves spark when you burn them.

I learned that bay leaves contain natural oils, and when they dry out those oils become more concentrated. When you light them, the heat builds unevenly and those oils can ignite in tiny bursts, which is what causes that quick crackling spark.

It’s completely scientific, but it still feels a little magical when you see it happen.

And I think that’s something I’m starting to understand more. Maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe science and magic aren’t opposites. Maybe they’re just different ways of explaining the same thing.

I’m very much at the beginning of all of this. I don’t have a clear label for what I’m doing or where it’s going. I’m not trying to become anything specific.

I’m just exploring.

But I do feel something shifting, even in these early steps. A sense that there’s more here than I’ve been paying attention to. That there’s a kind of power in being intentional, in slowing down, in actually tuning in instead of brushing past it.

I don’t know exactly what that will turn into yet.

But I do believe it’s there.

And I think I’m finally ready to see what happens when I start listening to it.