by Erica Sittler
Storms are rolling through our neck of the woods these days. Full of mighty strength unleashed.
It was during such a storm that our neurotic, elderly dog escaped while my husband slept and while I slowly, yet doggedly, made my way home via delayed flight after delayed flight. When I finally arrived at my doorstep at 1 am, the other pets cheerily came to greet me. No Molly dog. A slight alarm bell in my head, so I cast a shield around her, thinking she was close by and perhaps simply sulking.
4:44 am. Sirens blaring. Strong storms. Winds up to 80 mph expected. Checked on pets. All tucked in safe, except Molly. Now, I was concerned, so began a more thorough search before another storm wracked my town once again. I threw a quick protective shield around my house, a broader one around the neighborhood and a little one, more protective, around Molly. But let’s get really honest here: there was not much energy in me to spare, so it was more the equivalent of glittering gossamer “non stick” surface to help diffuse the situation rather than stop from happening what was about to happen.
I didn’t even have the presence of mind to post on our local community page to ask for help. My first post was to work, letting them know that I wouldn’t be coming in and that my dog was missing. They know Molly, as she has come up to the office multiple times. The next place was the neighbor community page with pictures. The local shelter.
If you’ve ever lost a pet, you know this gut wrenching checking-off of every box while trying to maintain calm versus panic. Molly is tied to my middle son who is 18 years-old and just starting college. I let him know what was transpiring, as the bond that boy and dog share is profound. “We must, above all else, son, maintain the focus that Molly is fine.” I told him, “She is a very smart dog. I am certain she has found an old woman to take her in and now it is just a matter of reconnecting. Focus on that. Or, she is with another young child: a child that needs her comfort now also. Concentrate on that. Know that she too has a job as comforter and she is exactly where she needs to be at this specific moment in time.”
When our priestess later that morning posted a check-in on our local Mississippi Temple page, I posted about our missing dog.
Energy shifted.
Dots began to get connected. Whether it was words of hope or emojis of care, all around me people’s intentions, pagan or otherwise, shifted into a caring and hopeful mode for that little lost dog. Some people were praying. Some were asking their favorite saints or animal guides. Some folks were “merely” sending good vibes and good intentions. One friend, who is rather prone to gloominess, contained himself to telling the dog via the universe, “Dog, please do not be dead.”
And suddenly, the pattern locked into placed and I talked to the woman who had given our dog shelter and I knew beyond a doubt that our dog had been loved and well cared for in our stead.
As a society, we sometimes discount the power of thought in the form of good intentions. Those half wisps of spells or prayers or vibes sent on behalf of another or for another. We might be told sometimes (or tell ourselves sometimes), that good intentions or thoughts is “not enough to matter.” That it is wasted energy.
The truth rather is: it is far from wasteful.
Instead, think of those simplest of thoughts, intentions, and wishes rather like nascent clouds, those wisps of energy that build into an activating force far more powerful than what that singular wisp of energy (thought) was when floating in solitude. Now, it is able to gather with other similar intentions, guided on the winds of focus and now that collective energy is more fully energized and can cover time and space far more quickly than our feet, our cars, and even the internet.
As we are taught in our classes, we are more powerful than we realize and far more powerful as a unit. This applies even when combined with other non-pagan groups who are also joining in that focused intention. This truth was demonstrated to me today. And to my son. And to those in my communities, both neighborhood and Temple.
It’s an old dog. Not a being of deep importance to the world at large. And yet, so much of our life is simply these little moments that pass out of memory both as an individual and a collective, like the wisps of a cloud. We tend to forget these small workings of magick when “what could have been” does not have a tragic ending.
Recognizing and crediting and being grateful to the power of these simple, daily, random acts of mundane magick gives it strength. Adds that simple working to the colllection of stories we can share with each other and build upon as a community. These minor workings help remind us that magick not only is real, but also that it works: here is another example of how. We come to treasure these small acts. When we have our doubts, as happens from time to time, we can look at these collected personal experiences (UPG), and also to the ones, like this one, where we’ve worked our magick as a community as well. And it helps keep us connected to our magick: wisps and all.
Blessed be!
Erica Sittler is a Witch practicing her craft in Mississippi where she is a local, active member of the Temple of Witchcraft. Her magick is in the mundane and in bringing honor and attention to those small things that build a sustainable and adventurous life. She is a Witchcraft I Mystery School student under the instruction of High Priestess Sellena Dear.