“A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.”
~terry pratchett, wintersmith
One of my earliest teachers once taught me that magick is like a knife. You can use it to carve wood, to harvest plants, and to cut and prepare your food. Like a knife, however, magick can be used in cases of self-defense, and in the wrong hands, it can become an instrument of harm to others and oneself. The way this has been addressed in the past has tended to be either avoiding anything that’s seen as dark or harmful or the exact opposite, encouraging the use of the knife to harm oneself and others without much consideration of that responsibility.
Early books on witchcraft often divided magick into two categories, “white” and “black” magick. The implication was that light or white magick was good, and dark or black magick was bad. Not only is this a complete oversimplification of magick, but it also reflects an unrealistic view of nature, life, and the human psyche. Nothing can exist within nature without harming something else, but we can be aware of the harm we do cause and choose to be responsible about the degree of harm we inflict upon others.
A more realistic view of the nature of magick appears in a very unlikely place: a scene from the 1996 cult classic film The Craft. In the movie, the protagonist, Sarah, enters an occult shop with her friends. She asks somewhat suspiciously and mockingly if the store owner is hiding black magick behind the curtain leading to a private room. The shop owner, Lirio, responds, “True magick is neither black nor white. It’s both because nature is both. Loving and cruel, all at the same time. The only good or bad lies within the heart of the witch. Life keeps a balance all on its own.”
In books addressing and exploring the taboo, forbidden, challenging, and darker aspects of witchcraft and magick, there’s so much that can be taught incorrectly and irresponsibly and that can cause real danger and harm. Any witch worth her black salt isn’t one to shy away from the darker aspects of magick, whether she chooses to incorporate those aspects into her magickal arsenal or not—a choice that only she can make herself.
Kate Freuler provides an honest, realistic, practical, and thoughtful approach to the aspects of witchery that are often viewed as taboo. From the lens of historical research, she showcases these different aspects of darker practices—many of which may challenge you and make you uncomfortable, as some of them did the author herself. In this book, you will find discussion on not only curses and hexes, but also the history, magickal theories, and purposes of working with different body fluids, using animal and human remains, ritual sacrifice, necromancy, and confronting death. She addresses ethical considerations without ever coming across as preachy and provides suggestions for ensuring that you’re working from a place of respect, reverence, and personal responsibility in the most humane way possible if you choose to engage in them.
What strikes me the most about Of Blood and Bones is that Freuler, unlike many others who have written about these topics before, writes from a place of inner balance and empathy. Many books that have come before on these topics come across as sociopathic, expressing that anything and everything is permitted without any repercussion or thought about others, animals, or nature. This doesn’t mean that there’s necessarily a threefold law but that for every type of magickal act, there is a coin to be paid, and often that coin is the manifestation and unfolding of one’s curse itself. This is shown again in the movie The Craft when Rochelle inadvertently curses her racist bully, only to feel horrible sympathy and guilt while watching the girl sobbing from a place of powerlessness in the school shower as her hair falls out.
Sometimes the coin is paid in other ways throughout the spellcaster’s life. Some may disagree with this, but through close observation, we can see it clearly in those who are too quick and eager to cast malefica upon others. Often, we can see all the accumulating problems occurring within their life from an outside perspective, and the spellcaster seems oblivious to any correlation between the issues and their own magickal actions. This is where the notion of justified workings versus unjustified workings comes into play, and it can often be hard to discern when malefica is justified in terms of self-defense.
Yet Freuler explains that there are places and times for darker magick and helps guide the reader to act from a place of personal accountability and discernment. She uses the metaphor and energy of the moon itself, eternally waxing and waning, to explore how the darker aspects of magick are absolutely real and as such should be treated with the same amount of education, precaution, self-discipline, and self-control as any other weapon of defense or offense. She understands that one shouldn’t be stuck wandering in the darkness endlessly. The dark moon eventually gives way to the new moon, which again begins its wax toward full moon.
This is also evident in the way Freuler addresses the topic of the shadow, a concept and term coined by the alchemist, psychologist, and metaphysical pioneer Carl Jung. Jung proposed that the goal of working with the shadow was to bring those darker aspects back into the light of conscious awareness so that we were not ruled by our darker impulses and desires but rather integrated them into a holistic balance of self-identity. This is impossible without exploring and understanding the darker nature of ourselves. The shadow has become a popular topic in witchcraft communities recently but is sometimes taught incorrectly as an excuse for bad behavior and a refusal of self-growth, serving as somewhat of a permission slip to wallow in one’s darkness. Freuler, like Jung before her, explores the concept of the shadow as an integral part of self-discovery, healing, and self-growth.
Magick is a part of who we are as witches, so it’s important to explore the darker sides of magick in safe manners under the guidance of another who is more experienced in these fields. That’s exactly what this book offers. While the book is full of so many fantastic practical exercises and workings, even if you choose to never perform them, I still think this is a crucial book for any witch to read. A doctor needs a diagnosis of the patient’s ailments before she can assist them, and the same is true for the darker sides of magick, even if it’s the ability to understand and distinguish between the signs and symptoms of when someone is working against you or another and when it’s simply a stroke of bad luck or paranoia. Freuler also invaluably presents a survey of historical practices and concepts that are often ignored entirely by the magickal community or embraced in an extremely unbalanced manner. Most of all, by exploring these topics, we can make some of the most seemingly frightening aspects of magick and ourselves a little bit less terrifying through knowledge.
In Of Blood and Bones: Working with Shadow Magick & the Dark Moon, Kate Freuler tackles some of the most taboo topics within witchery itself, and she does so in a manner that promotes self-growth and personal sovereignty for when those claws do need to come out and less savory practices need to be employed. Most of all, Freuler ends the book with a beautiful optimism often lacking in most other books on the subject. All of this makes the book one of a kind and an invaluable resource for any witch’s bookshelf.
—Mat Auryn
Author of Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick, and Manifestation