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There’s some history behind the word “magick”. This Wikipedia article is actually quite good, and covers what I already knew about the history of the word. My early studies told me that many witches use the word “magick” because it differentiates our work from a stage magician’s sleight of hand, but personally, I find the word to be rather contrived and, dare I say, fluffy. Besides that, the word was made popular by Aleister Crowley, who was not Wiccan. The word was adopted by Wiccans, but its primary use has always been in ceremonial magic.

Magic. There are problems using this term as well. Because it has so many uses, it is easy to confuse it with something other than the highly personal and powerful works witches perform.  I personally do use this term, though I really prefer to say spellwork.

This article really sums up how I feel about magic. Without the k.

No breeze stirred the still air in which I stood, no plant, not even a cactus, struggled to suck moisture from the ravaged soil. I could feel the very air drawing the moisture from me, my body perspiring heavily in the dry heat. I began to walk, not knowing in which direction I was traveling. I knew that to stay in one place would be to wither and die, as the life that was once sustained by this once fertile land had so long ago died.

As my bare feet met with the ground, dust stirred at the contact, covering my skin with a thin film of grit. I continued to walk, in hopes that I would find an oasis somewhere, so that I could cool my parched throat, or perhaps some sign that life could be sustained in this wasted landscape. Even the sight of a beetle or other insect would comfort me, giving me hope that survival was possible in this place.

I walked for hours, the hot sun beating down on me, slowly sinking to my left. From this, I could ascertain that I was traveling Northward. I still had not any signs of life, nor any trace of moisture. My thirst burned in my belly and throat, and the dry air singed my lungs with every breath. I forced my blistered feet to obey me, and I stumbled onward, still faintly clinging to the hope that I would reach the end of this dead place, finding water, and with it, life.

Finally, my body failed me. Too long had I walked through this place without rest or water, and I fell to my hands and knees. I struggled to regain my feet, but my body would no longer obey. My mind screamed at me, telling me that if I did not continue moving, I would soon die. I crawled a few feet, only to collapse again. With a supreme effort, I struggled to my knees again, knowing that I had finally reached my limit; I could go no further.

I did not fear my death. Sure dying of exposure would be a most unpleasant way to end one’s life, but it is but one life; expendable, like a few pennies for the beggar on the street-corner. I would be missed by my loved-ones, but my death would be small in comparison to the death of the land upon which my tattered feet had tread for so many hours. Never had I felt such sorrow as I did at that moment. Slowly, tears came to my eyes. Not tears of self-pity for my impending death, or for the things I would never do, or the people I would leave behind. The tears I shed were entirely selfless. I wept for the ravaged earth, upon which I knelt, limp like a rag-doll. The land was too far gone. My tears fell on the dry earth, only to be sucked immediately into the soil, showing no signs of ever having been there.

Tears of rage, for mankind’s stupidity, in raping the land that sustains us. Tears of frustration, for my inability to repair the damage done. Tears of sorrow for the Earth that I could feel crying out from beneath me.

There I knelt, my tired, sunburned body racked with sobbing, my salty tears streaking my dirty cheeks to fall upon the dead soil beneath me. I cried until I could shed no more tears. Staring at the ground, I watched as a crack in the soil closed before me. Surely I must be hallucinating. I blinked, only to see the same process all around me. All of the fissures in the parched earth had begun to seal, and the ground became less dusty with every passing second. The soil became darker; loamy and fertile, and I watched as the green shoots of new plants uncurled from the soil, growing taller, broader.

I could hear a trickle of water, and I crawled over to the small spring that had appeared out of nowhere. Cupping my hands, I plunged them into the rivulet of water, not expecting to feel the water running over my skin, still convinced that I was imagining all that I was seeing, that it was nothing but an hallucination brought on by dehydration and the intense heat. To my surprise and delight, I felt the cool, clear water flowing lazily over my hands, and in wonderment, I brought them to my lips and drank my fill, feeling the life-giving fluid slide over my swollen tongue and down my dry throat.

When I looked up again, I was amazed to see that I was in the middle of a lush green forest, the pine, cypress, and spruce trees rising majestically to touch the top of the sky. Grass covered the ground upon which I knelt, ferns and low shrubs were scattered amongst the trees. Everything smelled green and fresh, and the earth beneath me felt soft with moss. I curled up on the ground and fell asleep, certain that this must all be a dream.

I awoke to the sound of birdsong. Opening my eyes, I looked through the dappled sunlight at a stag, who watched me quietly from a few yards away. His liquid brown eyes held no fear of me. His majestic rack of antlers gleamed gold in the soft filtered light of the forest, and with a twitch of an ear, he wandered away.

A short time later, I noticed a woman standing among the trees, watching me serenely. Her large green eyes seemed to glow from within. She had a round, soft face, which had a look of strength about it, smooth ivory skin and dewy pink lips parted in a gentle smile. A silver fillet held back her long raven-black hair, and upon her slim body, she wore a hooded robe of shimmering green fabric which blended in with her surroundings.

She stepped out of the trees and into the sunny clearing, her bare feet showing from beneath the hem of her long robe. I approached the woman, looking, wide-eyed, into her peaceful face.

‘Come to me,’ she said, her lilting voice flowing like honey, though I did not see her lips move. She smiled again, gesturing for me to come closer. As I neared, she opened her arms to me and took me in a warm embrace, my face pressed against her full bosom. As she stroked my tangled hair, I breathed in her scent; honeysuckle, jasmine, the sweet smells of spring flowers. I felt all of the hurt and tension lift from my tired, sore body as I rested in her strong, warm embrace.
‘Oh, beautiful child,’ she said, and I looked up into her face, and became absorbed in the silver-flecked green of her almond-shaped, dark-lashed eyes.

‘I know you,’ I said quietly, almost afraid to speak for fear that I would break the spell.

She took a small step away from me, holding my hands, my dry skin feeling rough against the satiny smoothness of her palms. I looked around, at the lush wonder of the forest, where so recently, there had been nothing but a barren waste.

‘You did all this,’ I said, awestruck at all I had witnessed this day.

The woman shook her head. ‘No, child. It was you.’ Upon seeing the look of utter disbelief upon my grimy face, she explained. ‘With your entirely selfless love for the Earth, the tears you shed for the land called me to this place. You brought life-giving love to this dead, dry place, and together, you and I healed the land.’

Her words flowed through me, and I came to realize that I was not as impotent or insignificant as I had thought myself to be.
‘You must understand, Daughter of the Earth, that I cannot work such wonders alone, for what wounds the Earth, wounds me as well.’

I did understand.

‘So you’re saying that my love for the Earth, and in turn, for you, helped to heal the land,’ I said.

She smiled, and looking lovingly at me, said, ‘You, and others like yourself, have the power and ability to change the world. The wounds mankind has afflicted on the Earth can be healed.’

I felt so at peace, in that precious moment, that when she drew away from me, I felt an almost painful sorrow as she backed into the trees. She lifted the hood of the robe over her shining black hair, and began to fade into the trees. ‘Do not lose faith, Daughter of the Earth,’ she said. ‘Remember what you have learned…’

I watched her until she faded from my sight, and walked alongside the stream, at peace with myself and the land, knowing that She would always be with me.

I didn’t mind growing up without any religion. Some of my friends didn’t understand it, but I felt that it left doors open for me. I would never have to worry about what might happen if I decided to pursue a path other than the one my parents brought me up with. I met Jenn when I was 17, and she was the first Pagan I’d ever known. She was very open about it and we’d talk about it from time to time. When I turned 20, after ending a horribly abusive relationship, I turned to her for help. I was emotionally destroyed by that relationship, and needed something. Turns out that connecting to the Earth and worshipping the Goddess was just what the doctor ordered.