Meet Me at the Crossroads
“Those who read much folklore know that a crossroads is one of the most powerful places for witchcraft and sorcery— it is a place to meet ghosts or devils and work spells and gather strange magical ingredients.” - Cory Thomas Hutcheson (New World Witchery, pg 5)
Hutcheson’s new book New World Witchery: A Trove of North American Folk Magic was my gift to myself for my 29th birthday. I purchased it because I, like many I assume, have been radically disrupted, uprooted, and sent out on a journey by all that 2020 had to offer.
For myself, 2020 felt like one large “choose your own adventure” book, where each day I was offered two paths to choose from, each choice turning the page, only to be met with more questions, more responses, and more to hold. From moving with my partner to my parents house for the summer to adopting a dog. From leaving my five year career in the coffee industry to starting my journey as a spiritual care provider. 2020 pushed me to make choices.
So it caught me by surprise when Hutcheson’s book arrived and by page 5 I was caught by something I didn’t expect. Crossroads are not about the choices we make. For Hutcheson, crossroads are those places where we meet the other, where we do work, and where we gather our resources. It is not necessarily about the path at all, but rather those moments of pause. You don’t need to be a witch to pause at the crossroad.
When I look back in reflection of my 28th year of life, and how I had framed 2020-2021 as a series of “choose your own adventure” choices, Hutcheson interjects and asks me three questions:
What ghosts or devils did you meet?
What work did you do?
What ingredients did you gather?
And as I paused to reflect, I surprised myself with actual answers.
I spent my summer reading and rereading two books. The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell and Gyn/Ecology by Mary Daly. I spent my summer meditating in the waters of the late 70s queer liberation and radical feminist movements. In Mitchell’s work, I listened to the ghosts of my forbearers witnessing the beauty of transness in queer and feminist liberation. Conversely, I sat in pain and agony with the traumatic of the genesis of transphobic feminism, found in Mary Daly’s Gyn/Ecology wondering how this crone, this witch, could manifest such a violent ideology. In both works I saw the ways in which homophobia, misogyny, racism, and ableism traumatizes and destroys revolutions. I also witnessed the spectral imaginations of resistance and resiliency.
I read a lot of tarot, and I sat with a lot of people. When I look back at the “spells” of 2020, my voice is silent because my spell work was a lesson on listening, on witnessing, to the reality and pain of those at the front lines of the COVID pandemic, of the Movement for Black Lives, and the mundane and painful reality of surviving amidst it all. Between each path I chose, I waited and held space to witness a story that was not my own. I witnessed the healing presence of listening work its magic through grief, anger, sadness, joy, laughter, tears, and disgust. The magic of listening is that it does not negate, diminish, nor dismiss the reality of emotions, but rather transmutes those emotions into clarity that can be held and used to understand the world.
I planted an herb garden. I, like so many, started a sourdough starter. Ingredients held me, blessed me, and nourished me by giving me time and structure to my days. Gathering ingredients meant gathering time to spend with my partner and my family. Gathering meant not stepping forward until I had all that I needed to to make the step.
Crossroads are more than the choices they offer us. They are an offering, no matter what thread of the Spiritual Tapestry you hold on to. The liminal spaces are mystical realms that invite us into the mystery of the divine. For Hutcheson, and for myself on most days, that thread could be called “Folk Magic.” Though I invite you to name that thread (or threads) for yourself. I invite you, as you reflect and make meaning of this past year, to ask yourself those questions.
