A Spell to Midwife the Creation -Trust What Moves Through You
Last Friday, I met a woman with a sign that simply said: Magic. Naturally, I walked toward her. There are certain words that don’t just catch your attention—they feel like recognition. Magic is one of those for me. So when I found out she was a writing coach, I felt something in my body soften… and then, unexpectedly, I started to tear up. I’ve been asking for a mentor. Not someone to tell me what to do or fix what’s broken, but someone who could meet me the way I meet my own clients—with curiosity, presence, and the kind of listening that helps you hear yourself more clearly.
When we sat down together, she didn’t start by asking what I needed. She said, “I clear ancestral blockages,” and asked me to close my eyes. What followed was less like a coaching session and more like a remembering. She guided me back to the first moments I felt joy in writing—8th grade poetry, discovering metaphors, delighting in what I could do with language. And then further back, to a moment I hadn’t thought about in years: me as a child, lying in bed, making up a song on the spot—singing whatever came through me. I didn’t know what I was saying, and I wasn’t trying to. But I remember my dad and stepmom rushing into the room, alarmed. Something about what I had said scared them. And I remember feeling, in that moment, that my imagination—this thing that felt so natural, so alive—was… dangerous.
It’s interesting how quickly a child learns to translate an experience into a belief. Not consciously, not in words, but in the body. Somewhere along the way, that moment became: be careful what comes through you. Make it safe. Make it acceptable. Make it make sense. Years later, that same thread showed up in a more sophisticated form: “I don’t always trust myself to mother what I’ve created.” I’ve felt this with my writing, with my work, and even, at times, with my dog. A quiet, persistent question underneath it all: can I take care of this well enough?
But what I’m starting to see is this: maybe the issue isn’t my ability to mother. Maybe it’s my relationship to aliveness. Because when something truly alive moves through you—a piece of writing, an idea, a body of work—it doesn’t just sit there politely. It moves people. It creates reaction. It takes on a life of its own. And that can feel unpredictable.
We’re often taught that creating something is the hard part, but no one really talks about what comes next: being in relationship with the thing you’ve created. Letting it be seen. Letting it affect others. Letting it exist outside of your control.
I’ve also been noticing this pattern in a more literal way. My dog, Ellie, is deeply loved—and not just by me. My mom has stepped in to help care for her in a big way. She has more time, more capacity, and she’s formed a meaningful bond with her. And if I’m honest, there’s been guilt in that, a sense that I should be doing more, that I should be the one holding it all. But lately I’ve been wondering: what if this is just another way of caring? What if “mothering” doesn’t have to mean doing everything yourself? What if it can look like building a web of support, allowing others to participate in the care of what you love?
Because when I zoom out, I see something different. I don’t abandon what I create. I connect it. I support it. I find the people who can help it grow. I don’t do it alone. And maybe it was never meant to be done alone.
So instead of asking, can I mother this well enough? I’m starting to ask, what does this need to be held well—by me, and by others?
Maybe your version of care doesn’t look like control. Maybe it looks like collaboration, like community, like trust. Maybe it looks like letting something live without gripping it so tightly that it can’t breathe. And maybe the real shift isn’t becoming better at holding everything. Maybe it’s learning to trust that what moves through you is allowed to live—even if you’re not the only one holding it.
The Midwife the Creation Spell
A spell for trusting what moves through you—and allowing it to live
When to Cast This Spell
When something is asking to be created through you—but you feel hesitation, pressure, or doubt.
When you’re afraid you won’t be able to “hold it all.”
When you sense that what you’re bringing into the world has a life of its own… and that both excites and unsettles you.
Materials
A candle (white or soft pink)
A small object to represent your creation (a journal, a page, a stone, a symbol, or something unfinished)
A second object to represent support (a photo, a crystal, a name written on paper, or a meaningful token)
A comfortable place to sit
Optional: tea, soft music, or something that helps you feel held
The Ritual
Light the candle.
Let this be the signal: something is about to be witnessed into being.Place your creation in front of you.
Take a moment to really look at it—not as something you need to finish or perfect, but as something that already carries life. Notice any sensations in your body as you sit with it.Close your eyes and come to your breath.
Let your inhales deepen and your exhales soften. Gently scan your body and notice where you feel any tension around this creation. There’s nothing to fix—just notice.Return to the origin of the creation.
Imagine the moment this began—not the plan, but the spark. The idea, the feeling, the impulse that said this wants to exist. Let yourself feel that moment again.Place a hand over your heart and speak:
Something alive is moving through me.
I do not need to control it to care for it.Pause and notice what shifts.
Invite support into the space.
Bring your attention to the second object—the one representing support—and place it beside your creation. Let your body register this: you are not alone in holding this.Ask the question:
What does this creation need to be held well?
Don’t rush to answer. Let whatever arises be enough—whether it’s a person, a resource, a boundary, or simply more time.
Name the support aloud.
If it feels right, speak what you hear:This creation is supported by…
(name what comes)Place your hands around your creation and declare:
I release the belief that I must do this alone.
I trust myself to stay in relationship with what I create.
I allow this to live, to breathe, and to become what it is meant to be.Close the ritual.
Take a deep breath in, and a slow breath out. When you feel complete, gently blow out the candle—not as an ending, but as a transition. The spell has been cast. The relationship has begun.
Integration
After this ritual, take one small, tangible step in support of your creation.
Not a leap. Not a plan for the whole future.
Just one act of midwifery:
Send the message
Write the paragraph
Ask for help
Share a piece
Create a container
Let it be enough.
Closing Blessing
May you trust the life that moves through you.
May you remember that creation is not possession, but relationship.
May you release the need to hold everything alone,
and allow yourself to be part of a living web of care.
May what you bring into this world be supported,
be witnessed,
and be free to become.