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Sometimes people ask me how I can combine science-backed psychology with something as… unconventional as magick and witchcraft. The implication is always the same: you can’t . They expect me to pick a side, to choose logic over intuition, data over ritual. But for me, those two worlds were never mutually exclusive. And it has taken me years to realize that it’s okay if I cannot—and maybe never will—fully explain magick in logical terms. Here’s a personal truth I’ve embraced w

When Creativity Becomes Transformation Art has never been just decoration. It has been protest, prayer, storytelling, and sometimes even survival. Long before social media campaigns and viral hashtags existed, people were already using art to speak truth to power. They carved their fears into stone, painted their beliefs onto cave walls, stitched their resistance into textiles, and turned music, poetry, and images into tools for change. Art has always been a language of trans

Ever notice how when you’re in a good mood, energized, or simply aligned, the world seems to notice? You step into a café, a meeting, or a crowded street, and people—friends, colleagues, strangers—are naturally drawn in. Some leave you inspired, laughing, energized. Others… leave your chest heavy, your thoughts scattered, your energy sapped. This is the paradox of energy: it attracts energy, yes—but it also attracts imbalance seeking regulation. Your calm, your spark, your ve

I was in kindergarten when I first met a nature spirit — though at the time, I didn’t have words for it. Right outside our little school in my hometown, there was a tree. A beautiful, sprawling tree that we children played around, climbed on, and sometimes leaned against as if it were part of our playground. At first, it felt magical — a silent friend, tall and wise. But then something strange began to happen. Every time I passed near it, a heavy, prickly sense of negativity

My loves, even with all the potions and tinctures, the Urban Witch does not grow any younger. Those of you who have been reading my words for many years might even still remember my old online presence, Ard de vivre . Over ten years ago, I already wrote an article there titled Confessions of a earth-based Occultist  – a small snapshot of my thoughts and experiences around occultism and nature spirituality. Even back then, I had been walking this path for about ten years alrea

There’s this idea that sustainable, nature-connected living has to be done on a grand scale — consistently, perfectly, visibly. That you either do it all right … or not at all. Organic. Zero waste. Self-sufficient. Herb garden. Time. Money. Calm. And then there’s everyday life. Alarm clock. Work. Appointments. Grocery shopping between two calls. A balcony that sometimes sees more pigeons than sunlight. An apartment that is lived in — not staged. Urban witchcraft begins exactl

About Urban Witchcraft, Responsibility and a new Symbiosis It’s early evening. You arrive home and close the apartment door behind you, shoes off, bag set down, your body still half in work mode. Outside, traffic roars, somewhere someone speaks loudly into their phone, in the stairwell it smells of dinner—not yours. Your laptop has been open longer than you would have liked, your mind still full of conversations, to-do lists, and unspoken thoughts. You light a candle. Not cer

It’s still early.The city is only half awake.I pad barefoot into the kitchen like into a temple with a kettle, switching it on while yawning so I can prepare my tea. While I wait, I savor this very particular morning quiet — the kind that wraps me in a sense of safety. I light a candle, because before the day really starts moving, I want to use the silence for a gentle invocation. “Brigid,” I say softly, and wait. The flame flickers. I take it as presence. Or as a quiet I’m a

In previous articles, we’ve already explored the idea of new beginnings—and the fact that the “start of the year” does not coincide with January 1st in all cultures (nor for all people today). Time is not experienced the same way everywhere. And change rarely follows a linear calendar. Personally, I have a rather ambivalent relationship with the idea of new beginnings. For me, they are not a clean cut, not a symbolic reset button, but a process unfolding in several stages. My

On Psychology, Breath, Art, and the Thread I Didn’t See Until Now For a long time, my work looked like a collection of threads. Trained in counselling psychology, MBSR, and Pranayama, I had the chance to learn — and share — many concepts that support human wellbeing. Each path offered insight, structure, and depth. And yet, taken on their own, they remained exactly that: threads. Psychology taught me how humans make sense of the world. Counselling taught me how stories shape

The problem isn’t the darkness. It’s that we’ve forgotten how to listen to it. These days, around the Winter Solstice, I hear the same sentence again and again: “I wish it were summer.” Or at least: “If only there were more light.” And I get it. Light feels generous. Light makes many things easier. Summer often asks less of us (at least in some ways) —it stretches the evenings wide, softens our edges, promises movement and possibility. But I also wonder what we lose when w

There are so many stories, myths, and traditions surrounding the winter solstice that it’s hard to know where to begin. We all know the classic Christmas celebration with its lights, scents, and gifts – but how do those who follow nature-spiritual paths celebrate this mysterious threshold between darkness and light? Every family, every community, even every individual, has their own small rituals and magical moments. In our home, it looks like this: we pay attention to the st

The Rauhnächte  are not only a magical transition between the old and the new, they are also an invitation to consciously reflect, let go, and cultivate new energy. While the first article around that topic illuminated the origins, customs, and symbolic meaning, this section is all about practice: how to create your own Between-the-Years journal and use the twelve nights with intention. Why journaling during the 'Rauhnächte' is so powerful During this time, we stand in a

The spiral carries an ancient meaning. As a feminine symbol, it is often associated with Mother Goddesses and with Earth herself. It represents intuition, trust, and our connection to the deepest parts of our being. In past years, I’ve written about the Winter Solstice and its many traditions, but today I want to share one that feels especially sacred to me: the walk of the holy spiral, or the sacred labyrinth. I love walking the spiral—whether purely as a mental, meditative

Here’s a truth I’ve been circling around for years: I’ve been practicing magick for over two decades — witchcraft in the truest sense, ritual work as an act of creation. And yet, I never really allowed art , as our society defines it, to be part of that spellwork. Of course, every ritual is creative: a weaving of intention, symbols, and atmosphere. But art as its own form of witchcraft? That side of me remained untouched, quietly waiting — as if I had kept two worlds neatly s

Christmas is one of those holidays where many act as if the history is clear — when in reality, it’s anything but. Beneath the fairy lights, the scent of pine, and the kitschy commercials lies a much older narrative, one that was celebrated long before anyone in Europe had even heard of Bethlehem. And the deeper you dive into history, the more obvious it becomes: this holiday was already sacred long before it became Christian. I don’t say this to take anyone’s tradition away

I’ve always thought in symbols. Often, long before I had the right words for a situation, I had images. Signs. Patterns. Archetypes that threaded through my life like tiny way finders. Some people see just an old fairy tale, a tarot card, or an astrological glyph — I see a psychological echo, a map of the human experience encoded in imagery older than any language. This fascination has been with me for as long as I can remember. Not necessarily from some esoteric romanticizin

The old gods have many faces. Some people see strength in them, others danger. For me? For me, they are one thing above all else: a calling. Quiet, persistent, unobtrusive. Certainly not political—but deeply personal. I am not an Ásatrú¹. I never have been. But I felt the Nordic world early on: in dreams, in deep forests, in moments when ancestors suddenly seemed to speak. Odin, Freyja, the Norns – they are part of my pantheon, alongside Celtic, Roman, female, queer gods. But

When the fog rolls over the streets and the days grow quieter, a different kind of time begins — not one of loud celebrations, but of honest reflection.November is a threshold month.Between the golden glow of autumn and the deep stillness of winter, it invites us to turn inward.It ’s the time when nature dies in order to renew itself.And perhaps, we too are allowed to release what no longer belongs to us. Shadow work isn’t a dark or gloomy concept. It’s an act of self-care —

There’s something sacred about this time of year ( okay, granted, I do say that about every season, but autumn to be as a person with SPS (Sensory Processing Sensitivity) autumn really is special to me) . As autumn deepens and the veil between worlds thins, nature invites us to slow down, to turn inward, to reflect. Samhain — the ancient festival marking the transition into the dark half of the year — reminds us of cycles, endings, and the quiet wisdom that comes with lettin