Feral Feelings: That “Witchy” Feeling

Earthly advice by Amber Autumn Leaves Huntsman

Dear Feral Feelings, 

I am wondering if you have any advice for how to get into non-traditional spiritual practices? I have always been kind of “witchy” but I’ve kept that part of myself hidden because I don’t want to upset my family (they’re Catholic). I just moved to town and I’m far away from my family now and I feel more comfortable letting my freak flag fly. Where does a baby witch begin?

—Possible Pagan 

Dear Possible Pagan,

Thank you for this delicious question! I rarely get questions oriented towards spirituality. A sense of spirituality can be enormously beneficial to your mental health when it is grounded in understanding, authentic emotion and consistent practice. 

It makes sense you hesitated while living with a Catholic family; not all are accepting of non-Christian spirituality. There’s a long history of folks being in the “broom closet” around family for fear of being misunderstood.

But, many pagan traditions share symbols, festivals, and seasonal observances with more traditional religious paths. You can explore your path without denouncing your roots, if you want to keep those roots intact. In fact, many people find that understanding one tradition deeply helps them understand the other with more nuance and compassion.

In terms of how to make this practice happen, you’re already farther along than you think—just noticing that “witchy” spark and wanting to nurture it is the beginning of a lifelong journey towards meaning and connection. 

Before we talk about practice, let’s start with something often overlooked: education. Not “spell book shopping,” but learning about the deep roots of the magical experiences you’re seeking. 

That little tag you’ve been using—“witchy”—is shorthand for something deeper: a connection with folk knowledge, embodied experience, ancestral intuition, and non-dominant ways of knowing. That’s not just a niche aesthetic, it’s a revival of folk practice that has persisted in gardens, hearths, festivals, and oral story traditions even under the weight of institutional religion.

Witchcraft isn’t one thing; it’s an umbrella. Most of what we think of today as “witchcraft” is fairly modern. But, even in its modern form, it has historical context. 

Paganism (in the broadest sense) isn’t a branded product with instructions printed on the side, and it doesn’t look the same for everyone. It’s a family of traditions: some reconstructed from pre-Christian sources, others evolving from the practices of earth-rooted communities everywhere, and still others growing from modern movements to create our own new folk traditions. At its heart, modern paganism is about relationship with land and neighbor, with body and sensation, with seasons, with ancestors (whether you choose to call them spirits or deities), and with the cycles of life, death and rebirth. 

Here are educational entry points you may find inspiring:

• Folk tradition histories: Books that explore how everyday people practiced spirit-aware life—herbs, seasonal festivals, household charms, rites of passage. These anchor you in real human practice, not just pop culture stereotypes. For example, I am drawn to Gaelic Folk Magic so I am currently reading Mill Dust and Dreaming Bread by Scott Richardson Read. 
• Myth & story collections: The myths of Europe, Africa, Asia, the Americas—all of them carry different cosmologies and ways of understanding the sacred in the everyday. Once you understand where your beliefs come from, you’ll have direction to learn more about those cultures. 
• Contemporary reflections on Pagan practice: Essays and memoirs by modern pagan practitioners share how they made sense of these paths in an embodied, ethical way. I recommend Essays in Contemporary Paganism by Trevor Greenfield.

Education isn’t just about intellectualism—it shapes your beliefs. It colors your perspective.  Understanding where these practices come from and how we’ve modernized those practices is also about respect for their origins. What you believe, how you practice, and what you understand when you step into that practice shapes your experience and depth of connection to your spiritual path. 

So ask yourself: What are you drawn to? The cycles of seasons, moon phases, plants and animals? Ritual? Do you want to learn Tarot or other forms of divination? And do you see yourself practicing alone, or are you seeking community? Why does this kind of spiritual experience matter to you? 

Your answers to these questions will help you choose practices that actually resonate, instead of picking things because they look cool on Instagram. 

Here are a few concrete, non-intimidating ways to begin:

• Notice the moon: working with the cycles of the moon is a feature of both modern traditional witchcraft and neo-pagan belief. So, watch the moon for a month. Notice how you feel on the new moon, waxing, the full moon, and waning. This is a mindful, gradual way to connect. I recommend The Moon Book by Sarah Faith Gottesdiener. 
• Sit with nature regularly: If you have a tree you like, sit by it. Notice the texture of its bark, the wind in its leaves. If you’re attracted to the sea, spend time on the shore. These mini pilgrimages build your relationship with the natural world — the true foundation of most earth-rooted paths. I recommend Becoming Animal by David Abram. 
• Learn a plant or two: Not for magic first, but for relationship. What grows where you are? When is it in bloom? What stories have people told about it? I highly recommend The Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham and What a plant knows: A field guide to the sense of your garden by Daniel Chamovitz. 

These aren’t “spells,” they’re practices of attention and presence. And when you’re grounded in that, ritual becomes meaningful instead of performative. Non-traditional spiritual practice doesn’t have to be loud, fashionable, or dramatic. And, you don’t need to share it. It can be quiet—slow as moss growing on stone, gradual as water carving the riverbed. 

So, PP, learn about the traditions you hope to carry on. Many have walked before you and their wisdom illuminates the path. It is a flame we carry. And, while you’re walking that path, imagine how you will contribute to these traditions. Each generation has a new baby witch hungry to learn, and you could someday light their path, too. 

Amber Autumn Leaves Huntsman is a therapist, hedgewitch and silkie mythologist. Do you have a problem that you think Feral Feelings could answer? Send them to feralfeelings@jeffcobeacon.com