What Witchcraft Really Teaches You (After Years of Practice)

I’ve been a witch for decades. Not someone who lit three candles and claimed enlightenment. I’ve lived this. I’ve practiced in silence, in secret, in community, in heartbreak, and in strength. I’ve cast spells when I was shattered, I’ve cried under the moon, and I’ve rebuilt myself with nothing but herbs, willpower, and fire in my gut. And I’m still learning. Because being a witch isn’t something you master, it’s something you live. You don’t graduate from it. You grow with it.

And yet… I still hear stuff like: “Oh, you’re an expert on being a witch.”
Let me be clear – that’s not a compliment. That’s a backhanded comment dressed up as admiration, and it’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and it probably won’t be the last.

It’s like saying, “Oh, you’re an expert at being a Muslim,” or “You’re an expert on being Christian.” No one says that because it sounds ridiculous. Why? Because belief isn’t a performance. It’s not a thing you get scored on or ranked in. And witchcraft is no different.

Calling it “expertise” turns my lived spiritual path into a parlor trick. Like I’m a magician doing party tricks with crystals and herbs instead of someone practicing a real, sacred tradition that spans centuries.

You think it’s silly? Then explain the “magic” behind half the healing remedies modern medicine stole from ancient herbalists. Explain how women were burned for knowledge that we now bottle and sell in pharmacies.
Explain how witches were hunted, tortured, and killed throughout history – but sure, tell me more about how it’s all “pretend.”

Witchcraft is much older than most people realize. It existed long before organized religion took shape or sacred texts were written. It lived in the hands of herbalists, midwives, and healers who worked quietly to help their communities. These were people who understood the land, the seasons, the plants, the weather, and how energy moves through all things.

Witchcraft wasn’t something unusual. It was simply part of life.
It was healing with plants when doctors didn’t exist.
It was protection spoken over newborns.
It was intuition and lived wisdom.
It was prayer before prayer had a name.

Knowledge that passed from one generation to the next. It survived through stories, small rituals, and practical magic woven into everyday tasks. It lived in kitchens, gardens, and forests. It was carried through lullabies, remedies, whispered blessings, and old traditions that didn’t need to be written down.

History shows us another side, too. Many who practiced healing, midwifery, and folk magic were targeted. Books were burned. People were persecuted. Some died simply for knowing what plants could help a fever or how to ease a troubled mind. Most who were punished were not “witches” the way people imagine. They were ordinary people with knowledge that frightened those in power.

So much was lost. But not everything.
Witchcraft continued quietly in the background. It hid in families, in old beliefs, in small customs that survived through time. Even when society tried to erase it, the teachings were never fully gone.

Witchcraft has never been a trend. It was survival. Community care. Ancestral memory.
And today, it is reclamation. Many of us are reconnecting with what our ancestors knew. We are honoring the wisdom that was once suppressed. We are learning again to listen to the earth, to our intuition, and to the unseen.

If someone doesn’t understand this path, that’s okay. It isn’t meant for everyone, and it doesn’t need to be.
All I ask is that people speak about it with respect, the same way they would speak about any faith or spiritual practice with deep historical roots.

I’m not here to educate every “ignorant” person who wants to mock it like it’s nothing. And by ignorant, I mean someone who hasn’t learned about a subject and yet speaks on it without understanding what it actually is. That’s not an insult. It’s simply a lack of knowledge. I don’t expect everyone to know what I know, and it isn’t my job to teach those who approach it with dismissiveness instead of curiosity.
So no, don’t call me an expert. I’m not trying to be the best witch on the planet. I’m trying to be the most authentic one in my own skin. I know it probably wasn’t meant that way (never is right), but I can recognize mockery when it’s there.
So again, respect the path, even if it’s not yours. If you don’t understand it, that’s okay – but maybe take a moment to listen before you try to label something that was never meant for your judgment.

Alright, back to the lessons every witch should know.. Here’s what I’ve learned through the years.

Witchcraft is a practice, not a performance. You don’t need to prove your magic to anyone. You live it, breathe it, walk it daily.

You’re never done learning. No matter how long you’ve been on the path, there’s always more to discover, within and without.

Respect your craft, even when others don’t. People may mock what they don’t understand. You don’t need to explain yourself to be valid.

Nature is your teacher. The cycles, the seasons, the wind, and the soil, this is where the real wisdom is.

Energy doesn’t lie. You can fake words and smiles, but energy always tells the truth. Pay attention.

The moon is a mirror. Work with her and you’ll learn so much about your own cycles, emotions, and growth.

Your body is sacred. It carries you through every ritual, every heartbreak, every joy. Listen to it.

Not all magic needs tools. Your intention, your energy, your willpower – those are your most powerful ingredients.

Ancestral work is real. You carry stories in your blood. Talk to your roots. Heal what they couldn’t.

Spells don’t fix your life, you do. Magic supports your actions. It won’t carry what you refuse to face.

Solitude is sacred. You’re allowed to step away and recharge. That’s part of the work too.

Protect your energy. Not everyone deserves access to your space, your spirit, or your spells.

Don’t chase aesthetics. Witchcraft isn’t about how it looks. It’s about how it feels and how it works for you.

Not everything should be shared. Some rituals are meant to be private. Keep them close. Protect your power.

The hard way teaches best. Pain shapes power. The lessons that break you also build you.

Intuition is your compass. When something feels off, it is. Trust your gut.

You don’t need a coven to be powerful. Solitary witches hold just as much magic as anyone else. (I’m a solitary witch)

Magic is personal. What works for one witch might not work for another. Make it your own.

Your path is valid, even if no one understands it. You’re not here to be understood. You’re here to live your truth.

You can outgrow mentors. Learn what you can, then move on. Growth requires change.

Discernment is key. Not everyone who calls themselves a witch walks with integrity.

Don’t romanticize pain. Healing isn’t always pretty, but you don’t have to suffer to be powerful.

Words are spells. Speak carefully. Speak with purpose. Your voice is a wand.

Cleansing isn’t optional. Clean your tools. Clean your space. Clean your energy.

Magic doesn’t replace therapy. Mental health matters. Seek help when you need it.

There’s power in rest. Rest is not laziness. It’s a necessary part of the cycle.

Know your herbs. Study them. Respect them. Don’t use them carelessly.

Not all spirits/entities are friendly. Protect yourself. Use wards. Stay grounded.

Don’t compare your path to others. Your journey is uniquely yours. Honor it.

The best spells are honest. Be real with yourself. Don’t cast to manipulate, cast to grow.

Keep a journal. Your growth, your spells, your cycles – write them down. Track your journey.

Your home is your altar. Infuse your space with intention. Every corner can hold magic.

Celebrate the small wins. Not every breakthrough is big. Progress is still progress.

You are allowed to evolve. Don’t trap yourself in an old version of you. Let your magic grow with you.

Magic is mundane too. Cooking, cleaning, caring for yourself – these are rituals too.

You are enough. You don’t need more books, more tools, or more validation to be a witch.

Let people underestimate you. You don’t need to be loud to be powerful.

Honor your boundaries. Saying no is a spell in itself. Protect your peace.

Witchcraft is sacred. It’s not a trend. It’s not a costume. It’s your truth. Walk it fully, proudly, and in your own way.

And one of the most important: The Rule of Three is real.

Whatever you send out – energy, intention, harm, or healing – comes back to you threefold. You don’t get to play with energy and pretend there are no ripples. Every spell, every word, every thought has weight. So cast with care. Speak with intention. And never use your craft to hurt unless you’re prepared to live with what bounces back. Magic doesn’t forget. The universe keeps track.

This list isn’t finished. It probably never will be.
Because witchcraft isn’t something you ever truly “complete.”
You grow with it. You change. You unlearn, relearn, mess up, figure it out, and then mess up again. That’s the beauty of it. It moves with you.

So these lessons?
They’re just where I am right now.
Ask me again in ten years, and I’ll probably have a few more items to add.