I Am Consistently So Proud And Thankful For My Cards And How They Share Their Power. I Love How Genuine

I am consistently so proud and thankful for my cards and how they share their power. I love how genuine and caring each entity is and how willing they are to offer advice, even to new friends. That’s not to say they aren’t mischievous and can even be dangerous at times if summoned incorrectly. (I have a story of how a combination of cards inadvertently brought several well-established magicians to their knees, but that’s perhaps for another time.)

For context, this is my personal deck that I created several years back drawing inspiration from the various decks Sakura Kinomoto wielded throughout Cardcaptor Sakura and Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card and applied attributes from those cards to a system I have been helping my partner develop. While I also own a facsimile deck of Sakura Cards, I find my personal deck to be much more honest and in tune with the intentions of each entity.

I generally only do readings for myself (with this particular deck or by utilizing other methods) but I am involved with a small community of practitioners and we occasionally do readings for each other. Last night I received an amazingly quick and auspicious geomancy reading from my partner and I had the opportunity to read for one of my friends. I wasn’t provided a question to tailor my responses to so I used one of my ‘avatars of divination’ (read: magicaly charged fortune telling toy) for the novelty of a ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘inconclusive’ response before doing a single card pull. For my friend, Watery, the Agent of Process made themselves known. She is one of four reflections of the self, or the querent, present in my deck. While they have the ability to be tempestuous and destructive, she is arguably most powerful when fully cooperative. She offered that people would be more willing to open up and work with my friend if they were gentle and understanding. Apparently this, in addition to the ‘inconclusive’ response from the chosen avatar, was just what my friend needed to hear. (It was great hearing that another friend, who was privy to the situation, agreed with this sentiment!)

This is all to say that I love my cards. I love their gentle natures when they are called upon earnestly and I love them when they surprise me with their great power.

My most earnest piece of advice for all magical heroes and practitioners in general will always be to remain critical of those who take up a title of ‘leader’ or ‘mentor’ in magical spaces.

While I find it so important in life and in magic to be soft and trusting, too many times has that kindness been seen as weakness to those who tout a position of power (whether that position is of an elder or teacher, by someone who claims ownership of a movement or idea, or is bureaucratically instated).

Respect should be something that is inherent in all directions, not something that needs to be earned. Never feel like you are less worthy to practice or take up space in a community because you do not have the same knowledge or tools at your disposal. If you are ever made to feel that way, or if you suspect others are being made to feel that way, the best thing you can do is distance yourself from it and perhaps start something new.

However, too often I’ve seen an earnest project turn into a cult of personality and I caution anyone who feels the need to start an intentional community, magical or otherwise, without the proper emotional maturity and experience with working with a diverse group of individuals.

What got you into the pursuit of practicing magia?

For me, I think it was love.

Not a romantic love or a love for a specific person (though I was surely experiencing that as well), but a deep, sad love for the world and those that inhabit it. Through my mahō shōjo work I’ve come to be able to hold and make space that gut-wrenching sadness and aching love for the world while also actively putting energy towards a brighter, softer future.

My first intentional spells were focused on healing and taking physical and emotional pain away from others, often redirecting it to myself. I know now that that kind of self-sacrifice for magic is unnecessary and often counterproductive but I remember feeling so strongly that my existence was only good for relieving the discomfort of others and I became obsessed with that notion for a long time. This kind of magical thinking put me in a dark place, especially in middle and high school, and often made me susceptible to abuse. Even now I sometimes catch myself starting to think along those lines and have to work to not let it overwhelm me.

I think this is why CLAMP’s works and Puella Magi Madoka Magica struck such a chord with me in particular. Many of these characters similarly felt overcome with immense feelings of deep, and sometimes painful, love and struggled with fears of inadequacy which pushed them towards self-sacrifice or even martyrdom. That being said, I also see in them profound hope and optimism for a better world, which is something I always seek to emulate in my magia.

I never liked the term ‘pop culture magic’.

As someone who grew up during the dot com boom, I used what I could to stitch together an understanding and practice of magic and that often included fantasy media. Even after my family switched from dial-up, our computer and television use was heavily monitored and scrutinized until we were in high school and college so I relied heavily on what books, games, and comics I could get my hands on. More often than not, fantasy books and comics were met with less questioning than texts on magic and the occult. This is not to say my parents were not trying to be understanding of my interests but they definitely voiced their opinion that my imagination was too active for my own good and they feared I would slip into delusions of fantasy. Even my friends became disinterested with what explorations of magic we were able to have and I was left to keep my thoughts and questions to myself while I found what esoteric wisdom I could by attending shul and talking with my rabbi.

When I moved cross-country for college, I felt free to finally try to tap into what magical community I could. I was lucky enough to stumble upon an occult bookstore where not only I was able to start having all sorts of conversations with lots of different practitioners, I also found my incredible partner. But even in this web of magical experiences I found myself in—working with chaos magick, folks from Thelemic and ceremonial magick backgrounds, traditional witchcraft, Zen Buddhism, and even Haitian Voudu initiates and rootworkers—there seemed to be a universal disdain for pop culture-inspired magics. (It didn’t help that one of the bookstore regulars, who is admittedly a powerful magician, was an avid pop-culture magician and otaku who lacked social maturity and consistently needed to be reminded not to dominate discussion circles with tales of his astral adventures with Goku and Bigfoot.) Everything and everyone was telling me, whether subtly or directly, that pop culture magic was inauthentic and, at worst, cringey and as a feminine-passing person, I felt like I needed to work extra hard to be seen as a legitimate magician amongst studied practitioners even though I could not shake the urge to explore more of what compelled me to study magic in the first place.

This is all to say that it took a lot of time and internal work to get to a place where I felt comfortable enough to talk about my mahō shōjo practice, start to share it with my peers, and even use the tag ‘pop culture magic’ for visibility. There are reasons why this kind of media is so compelling and it is a joy to explore the feelings and techniques it offers especially in the context of a broader magical discussion. There is absolutely no reason to purport that powerful magic cannot also be soft, girly, or dreamy. And while it makes me a little sad to see people engaging with these ideas continue to put down pop culture magics as somehow watered down or less-than other approaches, I think I understand why they do.