A Spell for Witches in the Thick of Things
Today I woke up early to take Ellie for a run at our favorite spot. When there’s no one there, I let her off leash (despite this not technically being permitted by law). It’s not ideal, I know, but I haven’t yet found a good alternative where we can both get the wiggles out. And when I go early enough, the other folks I see often have their dogs off leash too. It’s like an unspoken agreement.
The air still had that cool, damp softness that only exists early in the morning before the world fully wakes up, and Ellie was zig-zagging ahead of me with the pure delight of a creature convinced life is fundamentally good.
Anyway, as we were running, we passed another runner with his dog off leash, and Ellie did not come when I called her. She’s a curious little muffin and wanted to get up close to the other runner and his dog. I apologized profusely, and he was completely unfazed. "I get it," he said. "Have a nice day!"
But it got me thinking — there were only a couple of cars parked at the trailhead, and my license plate is rather conspicuous. What if someone were unhappy about me having Ellie off leash and called the police with my license plate number to report me? Stranger things have happened.
Ellie and I continued on our run, and as we were cooling down, I told her, “Listen, babe, we have to play by the rules at least when people are watching. We’re not the kind of witches who live in a decrepit cottage on the outskirts of town; we’re in the thick of things. We’re part of the community. We’re allowed to have our bit of freedom, but it matters that we respect the rules too.”
She gave me a side-eye.
When we got back to my car, I had to do a double take: my front license plate was gone.
I ran through the list of possible explanations in my mind. Did it fall off? Could someone have stolen it? Is there mischief from the Universe afoot?
Immediately, I Googled “my license plate is missing” and received very helpful instructions about what to do:
Step 1: file a police report.
Step 2: go to city hall to get new plates.
This is not exactly how I envisioned spending the day. See, I was about to start an eight-day stretch working at the hospital, and I had been trying to make this day feel a little magickal. But I figured, heck, perhaps there will be magick in this license plate journey too, so bring it on.
I called the police and offered the nice officer with the southern accent the information I could. “No, I’m not sure the last time I remember seeing the front plate. Gosh, I think I would have noticed within the last week at least?”
At the end of the call, he asked if I had any questions. I asked where his accent was from, and he said, “Down south.” It took everything in me not to ask where specifically, and why did you move up this way, and what do you miss about home? Instead, I left a little mystery.
Then I made my way to city hall. I found a parking spot close by where I didn’t even have to parallel park, and I pulled the little ticket to get a place in line. It wasn’t five minutes before my number was called.
The woman who helped me was kind and reassuring. She told me I wouldn’t actually need brand-new plates — meaning I wouldn’t have to give up my first-ever vanity plates. She could simply replace the missing one.
Since I was already downtown, I wandered over to the Nepali restaurant I had noticed for the first time a couple of days earlier. The restaurant smelled like cardamom, butter, and simmering tomatoes, and I sat there eating paneer tikka masala and coconut naan feeling oddly cared for by strangers all day long.
My waiter, Kapi, had a warm smile and gentle energy.
He gave me free rice pudding.
And then, since the day had somehow become about taking care of my car, I figured it was time to get an oil change (and also address the low tire pressure warning that had come on that morning), so I went to Valvoline.
Jon was the attendant helping me. He was checking the boxes and just trying to get through the day. I get it. I have those days too.
But I had the temporary plate with me and no screws to attach it, which felt like a problem. Since they were already working on my car, I asked Jon if they happened to have screws for purchase.
He said no, but then paused for a moment. I could see the wheels turning. He asked a coworker if he had any ideas. He considered zip ties. He wanted to help.
Ultimately, he landed on a solution: he would remove two screws from the back plate and use them to attach both plates temporarily. It was a perfectly fine practical solution, but the real victory of the moment was getting to watch him melt from simply trying to get through the day into actually caring about solving the problem — and really, about me as a person.
At the end of the day, I was getting ready to do a little writing and settle in before my long stretch of pharmacist work when I got a phone call.
It was the police.
They had found my license plate in the parking lot of the Playa Bowls I’d gone to the day before, and they said they would be at my house in five minutes.
And five minutes later, two beautiful young officers arrived at my door with my license plate. Their cruiser lights flickered softly against the house as they walked up smiling, plate in hand like characters arriving at the exact right moment in a story.
One of them asked cheekily, “Before we give it to you, you have to tell us what it means.”
“I’m curious,” I teased. “What do you think it means?”
“Something about a sandwich?”
I laughed. “Actually, I’m a witch.”
“That’s cool!” she said.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “And apparently the magick brought you both here tonight so we could meet each other.”
It’s funny — I think magick often arrives in ways we could never possibly predict.
I started the day wondering what would happen if someone gave my license plate information to the police, and after a day full of warm interactions and kind people, it ended with the police giving my license plate to me.
Go figure.
A Spell for Witches in the Thick of Things
A spell for staying human inside the systems of ordinary life
Intention
To move through the human world with both freedom and responsibility.
To remember that structure and tenderness are not enemies.
To soften the instinct to harden against systems, strangers, or rules.
To remain open to the possibility that magick may arrive through ordinary people, unexpected kindness, and the quiet web of community that holds us more often than we realize.
To practice being both wild and well-held.
Materials
Your keys
A pair of shoes you wear often in daily life
A candle
Tea or coffee
One small object that represents freedom to you
One small object that represents responsibility to you
Ritual
Prepare your tea or coffee slowly and intentionally. Light the candle and place your keys in front of you.
Place the object representing freedom on one side of the keys and the object representing responsibility on the other.
Sit quietly for a few moments and reflect on the places in your life where you resist structure completely, and the places where you abandon your freedom in order to feel safe, accepted, or good.
Say aloud:
I do not need to disappear from the world to remain myself.
I am allowed to belong to both freedom and responsibility.
I am allowed to participate in the human web with an open heart.Pick up your shoes and hold them in your hands. Thank them for carrying you through grocery stores, parking lots, city halls, waiting rooms, sidewalks, gas stations, and all the ordinary places where life quietly unfolds.
Take a sip of your drink and imagine warmth spreading through your body like trust. Reflect on the people who have helped you recently — even in small ways. A cashier. A friend. A stranger. A mechanic. Someone who smiled at you when you needed it.
When you feel ready, place your keys back into your pocket or bag and say:
May I move through this world with softness intact.
May I remain human while encountering humanity.
May I remember that magick often arrives wearing ordinary clothes.
Closing
The witch is not separate from the village.
She is not outside the human story.
She is standing in line at city hall.
She is laughing with the mechanic.
She is making eye contact with the tired cashier.
She is learning how to remain alive and tender in a world that often asks people to become numb.
Let your magick live not only in rituals, but in participation.
Go forward as someone willing to belong to the world while remaining wholly yourself.
Download this spell to add to your grimoire here: