Creativity and Craft When Chronically Ill
Call Your Coven chats illness and spirituality
Thank you so much for all of the support for Getting Sick as the Empire Falls: 36 Things I Learned About US Healthcare From Spending 36 Days in the Hospital. It’s not knowledge that I sought out myself, but it has been integrated all the same, so I’m hopeful that these insights can assist others along their own adventures in health and healing.
I’ve been home from the hospital for a month now, and fully intend to make Getting Sick into a series. My outpatient experience has been eye-opening so far into the differences between a hospital setting and a medical office, the varying speeds of scheduling and testing, as well as how capitalism, public versus privatized insurance, and cold, hard cash can change one’s access to comfortable and continuous care.
But for today, to honor the release of Call Your Coven’s latest episode, Chronic Coven: Illness and Spirituality, I want to share my latest witchy workings, in hope that it can help you to further honor and accept your capacity when it comes to the craft.
Last weekend, I finally got in my office slash creative laboratory, which had become a dumping ground for all of the stuff we didn’t know what to do with after coming home from the hospital: bags of clothing options and leftover grippy socks, the tarot decks and guidebooks I asked for but never used, the gift box of fuzzy socks, a knitted blanket, loose leaf tea and a mug to drink from, and more from one of my East coast besties, etc. It had also become the catch-all space for packages that arrived while I was “in the wilderness,” stacks of mail that had long been abandoned on the dining room table, and anything else that didn’t have a home, but did have a faint attachment to the girl who left for the ER one night in December and didn’t come home until the following year.
My physical capacity is still a giant question mark. On Tuesday, I went back to the hospital to have x-rays taken of my spine and pelvis. So far, the only result that’s in says my pelvic bones seem relatively unharmed by whatever has taken over the trunk of my skeleton. There are no signs of compression or threats of fracture, and the joints look unremarkable—which is all very good news! The lesions will need more advanced imaging to be seen clearly enough for a progress report, but I already know there’s a repeat PET/CT scan in my future, so I’m trying to stay as patient and unbothered as possible.
Because that really does seem to be the key for staying sane within the healthcare system: You, the one who’s sick or broken or both, must wholly embody the word patient, both as a title you’ve earned but didn’t want, and as a mastered mindset. And you must go forth with an ironic air of detached ease, like you’re waiting for another dirty martini with extra olives instead of information that could change your entire life forever, and ever, amen.
But I digress…
NEW ON CALL YOUR COVEN:
🎧: Chronic Coven: Illness and Spirituality — Sometimes, witches get sick. Or are born sick. Here, we talk about managing and developing our practices while being chronically ill.
We’re also trying out a new conversation format, so if you liked this relaxed, yet exploratory vibe, please let us know in the comments, or by dropping us a note at callyourcoven@gmail.com. Thank you for listening! Share with your witchy bestie!
The cleaning of my creative space was (unofficially) sponsored by Extra Strength Tylenol, my Spotify daylist, and this clawed grabby thingy my wife bought in bulk so I can stay stationary enough to not break in half.
And sheesh, did we do some work together!
But first, I clapped some Florida Water in my palms, lit my Odin’s Daughter Shapeshifter candle (yes, the same one that was playing tricks during the latest Coven episode), grabbed a tjärved wand (a wood from my ancestral practices) and a gorgeous feather I was gifted by a beloved (who found it while wandering the woods), and smoke-cleansed the shit out of the space and all of its inhabitants.
My craft has been so measly for the past couple of years. On pause are the days of full bath rituals—though I was recently cleared to bathe and cannot wait to have a soak—and, like
shares in Chronic Coven, running all over the city gathering magical ingredients. My altars are lucky if they get any kind of regular attention, my spirit relationships even more so (sorry spirits, I love you spirits), and even daily tarot pulls have become tedious as my body has degenerated.But stepping around my space, whispering words of love and tidiness, felt like such a simple and sacred way to bless whatever work is still to come, as well as a hope-filled promise that I will have a future, and that this too shall pass.
After emptying all of the bags, sorting the mail, re-shelving books and card decks, tending to my main altar, and otherwise depleting my physical and energetic stores, I repeated the smudging ritual—lighting the Nordic tjärved wand with Loki’s flame and ushering its pine-scented smoke into every unencumbered nook and cranny with my feather from a friend—giving thanks to my spirits, my tools both mundane and magical, and my beautiful, busted up body for helping me to reclaim and refresh my most cherished corner of my creative craft.
I also left some tasks for another time, a reminder that we are always a work in progress.
All of this is just to say—Your craft must meet you where you are.
There is no prize for pushing yourself past your limits, no trophy to be won for not honoring your capacities, and no gift to make up for what you gave away, when you really didn’t have all that much to begin with.
If you take anything away with you into this weekend, I hope it’s a renewed sense of vigor and trust around making magic in exactly the way that’s accessible to you. Witchcraft, like creativity, can serve many purposes, and yet, I hope that first and foremost, it serves your pleasure, your embodiment, and your connection to all that surrounds you.
It’s not always easy to live in, or love, a chronically ill body, but spiritual practices are always available, even if it looks a little different than what you had planned.
May you find miracles and mystery (the good kind, not the medical kind) today and every day to follow.
So be it, so it is.
Your words reminded me of the meme i saw that said "this too shall fuck off." as a chronically ill pagan/polytheist I really appreciate everything you've been sharing about your experiences, especially this part. I can always use the reminder. Thank you you.
When I'm running on fumes by bedtime I can usually manage to at least light the bedroom altar candle for enough time to drink the water I put out the night before, but last week I just... couldn't. I started to feel bad about it, almost fearful in a what-will-happen-if-I don't way, but then I realized the spirits I choose to work with, the ones call into my home, would never punish me for prioritizing my own needs. That was just leftover xtian shit creeping in, gross! It was such a freeing and lovely moment. May you navigate you and your spirits' shifting communications with the tenderness you deserve.