Diary of a Witch

A collection of love, musing & occasional wisdom from my soul’s Book of Shadows.

An artist, writer, yogi & creatrix, Sydney (Sates) channeled over two decades of experience into The Corvus Circle, a deep movement to rekindle our connection with Mother Earth & ourselves, and its accompanying blog, What the Cat Told the Raven, a loving collection of musing & unspoken words.

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To All the Girls I’ve Been Before

When I visited my blog today, I didn’t intend to write. I scrolled through my old posts, unsure what I was looking for. Then I came across To the Lost Girl Who Started the Fire, written three years ago, and remembered this is the time of year when my life changed, and the seeds of who I was to become were planted. Reading that post for the first time in a long time, it brought me back to that place. And my emotions rose for that Lost Girl, and her long climb out of the dark. It made me so grateful to her, for never giving up, no matter how much she wanted to. It made me reflect on my life now. And then, somehow, I found myself writing.

2025.

Here we are.

Sitting at my desk, Cream playing White Room through my speakers, my coffee sadly empty but greatly enjoyed.

Life is good today, despite its own challenges. There are things I wish were different, big decisions I need to make, that familiar coil of Fear gently making its presence known in my body as I face a new stretch of Unknown before me.

But for once, I smile at this little visit of Fear. I know that it is but a message, from a wise teacher, letting me know that I don’t know what’s ahead. And I know that’s okay. I know it’s alright to not know what’s coming, and for once, I have faith in myself that whatever may appear along my path as I venture into this new part of the forest will be meant for me, guided to me, as much as I am guided to it.

This thought brings me a small peace.

Mmm. Lavender Moon by Haroula Rose. A very different vibe from Cream. But just another part of the forest.

This reminds me of my Lost Girl inside, the moment she stepped free from her well of darkness, breathing starlight for the first time after a long battle.

I hope she can see us now. I keep her in my heart always, and when I have these moments of peace, of doing mundane things she used to imagine being able to do (like writing while listening to music, surrounded by cats), I call her forward, ask her to see through my eyes, See where we are now. See that your fight wasn’t in vain. We made it. We’re here. All is well. Finally, all is well.

I deserve these little moments of gratitude, because she deserves them. And she is me. And I am she. And we are but part of a hologram, a prism, a faceted lustrous jewel of Us, at every age, from dawn to eternity, and the ones we know best, the ones from this life, they get to witness these moments, too.

Ah. Steppenwolf. Magic Carpet Ride. We’re back in the vibe.

I fucking love music. It’s a magical journey of truth, the way it brings waves of honesty through our veins, awakening the authenticity in our cells. Music makes us feel what we cannot call forth on our own. The way my music has put me in my present vibe, allowed me a visit to the past, and then circled back to the present is beautiful.

Music has gotten me through more moments of my life than anything else. More moments than my Craft, than all the healing techniques I’ve ever learned. Music, and Mother Earth, are the steadfast pillars of truth and hope and compassion that have always given me a strong foundation to stand upon, to collapse and shatter and bleed upon, and to pick myself back up and dance upon again.

When I was battling through some of the hardest times of my life, my music reflected the darkness I felt. It validated my pain, something I desperately needed within a suffocating world that refused to let me feel it. Music felt it for me, gave me somewhere to go so I could feel it, too.

Since climbing free of that well, there was more suffering on my path. But I turned to music and the Goddess as often as I needed to, every day, to give me something to hold onto. Whenever I thought about giving up, I thought of the Lost Girl inside, who faced the endless dark and fought her way back to the surface. She did not give up, and because of that decision, I was here. I could not give up on the second chance she had fought for.

So I think of her again this time of year, remembering her weakness, and the strength she didn’t know she had until it was all she had left. I feel my heart swell for her, in gratitude that she held on, in sorrow that she ever found herself down there to begin with, in compassion for the choices she made in an unfair world, surrounded by cold where there should have been love.

I love her. And I make sure she knows that.

She’s at peace now. She has found her quiet place within me, where she no longer has to be afraid. She rests there, with the other girls we’ve healed together. There are more to come, and sacred space for all.

Cat Stevens. Wild World. <3

A wild world, indeed.

Sometimes I look around at the life I’ve built, and remember when it seemed impossible. When I couldn’t see a future I was worthy of. When happiness seemed like a fantasy. When I cried on my 30th birthday, because there was a time I never expected to see it.

I’m a little over two months away from 36 now. And so unbelievably grateful for where I am.

There is so much truth in the power of taking back your own life. Owning your own story. Deciding who you’re going to be. Despite circumstances, despite people, despite beliefs.

You can change your view first. You can change your beliefs over time. And you can choose to accept yourself, instead of suffocating who you are so someone else’s ideal can live in her place.

And over time, your circumstances will change. The people not meant for you will disappear, and you’ll meet new people along your path, other travellers seeking peace and truth and magick, and you’ll walk together, until those places where you must take the path alone.

Your life will change, in a metamorphosis of colour and light, deep sounds and dancing shadows, like you’ve never imagined.

I don’t intend to sit here and tell you, “It gets better. You can decide everything changes.”, as if it’s the magical answer to everything. Because it isn’t.

If there is a magical answer, it may be something like this:

You are worthy because you are. You are deserving because you are. You have desires and dreams and longings because they are a part of your story, written in the pages of your heart, woven in the threads of the tapestry of your life. You dream of a better life because it’s meant for you. You feel lost because you’re missing something inside. There is a world out there of your very own design, and reaching it begins with a journey inside. If you seek love, love yourself. If you fear you are unworthy of love, look again. You are worthy because you are. You are deserving because you are. There is a magick in you that cannot be taken from you. There is a beauty in you that is yours alone. You are not on this earth, you are of it. You were meant for whatever your Soul longs for most.

Radical acceptance. Radical compassion. Radical forgiveness.

These are the keys to the locks on the gate to the Unknown. To the Wild. To You.

And you have held them all along.

Dance of the Druids. Bear McCreary. Raya Yarbrough.

Doesn’t that sound like awakening? Like freedom?

Chase the call of those drums, wildling. You are meant for more.

*Yoga break*

I had a moment before I got on my yoga mat where I felt negatively toward my body. In a way that was unnecessary. In a way she didn’t deserve.

It made me sad to feel that way, and worse that it had come from an innocent moment, twisted by lingering echoes in my mind. I sat through the beginning of my practice, breathing, rubbing my thumbs against my knees, staving off the familiar threshold of emotion that bordered a place in my mind I didn’t want to go.

Eventually, my breathing came easier. My thumbs stopped moving. I moved through my practice, proud of how far my body has come in the years since we were at each other’s throats. My body not only looks better, she feels better. She feels stronger. She feels like she is meant for more than we were taught about her.

I forgave myself my moment of sadness. Forgave that I listened to those old echoes, believing them to be present voices. They weren’t. They aren’t. Instead, I whispered to the girls in me that we’re beautiful because we are, we are strong because we are, and we love the body we are blessed with. She protects us and holds us, and walks every step beside us.

And I felt better.

All the girls in me felt better.

It starts with moments, not movements. It takes time. And time is a series of moments.

Your pace is your own. Don’t try to match anyone else’s.

Eating my apple to the deliciousness of Delta Rae’s Bottom of the River.

In the moments I feel like my life is somehow inadequate, I pull myself from my mind and I look around. I tell the parts of me that are anxious to look around. What’s real in this moment?

I tell them what I see.

We have a home, a real home. We are allowed to play our music whenever we want, as loud or as soft as we like. We’re surrounded by books. Pretty pillows. Adorable, affectionate kitty cats. We have good, healthy food to eat (and we can eat it whenever we want, as much as we like). We are living moments that we once only dreamed could be real, sipping coffee and reading books with no sense of urgency.

We are safe.

And we are so unbelievably, deeply, magically, ecstatically, in love.

Lost Girl, we found love. Girl with the Unbroken Heart, we found love. Burning Girl, we found love.

Collectively, we sigh. And smile.

We listen to The Sweeplings’ My Ach’n Heart as we remember all the pain that came before. When our bodies were used and our minds abused as our hearts broke apart, again and again.

We hold our hands to our hearts, we hold compassion to those girls in us, to their moments and memories.

And we share this love with them.

I took my life back, because it was mine. Because it never should’ve been taken from me. From us.

For little Sydney, afraid to sleep. For young Sydney, angry, so angry. For teen Sydney, so very lost. For woman Sydney, in so much pain.

We made it out.

We found our way home, and took back our throne.

And we’ll never give it up again.

Rest well, we are safe now.

And I’m watching the horizon for us.

Jimi Hendrix. All Along the Watchtower. <3

So.

2025.