Words and language are indeed pure magic. It is how we share ideas, how we communicate, how we affect change and inspire change in others and in ourselves.

Perhaps it is no wonder then that this time of year brings to mind cooking pots (as I write this I’m reminded I need a new slow cooker). The cauldron is one of those items perhaps most associated with witchcraft, magic and fire.

I feel at home on mornings such as this, want nothing more than to melt into the land, to glide through the woods unseen by human eyes, to breathe in that wood spice scent that only autumn brings. Even as my spirit craves this, instead I must retract my claws, disguise my wildness as I get ready for the day ahead, but for now, in this moment, this is enough.

I like to go to the woods not long after sunrise, when the air is still cool and carries the scent of the night, like faded cologne on a lover's neck. It mingles with the wood spice scent of the dry forest floor, and you catch just a hint of it in the gentle breeze or as your feet kick up dust as you make your way along familiar paths.

Indeed there is something spiritual about working with the land, of running your fingers through dark, fertile soil, of working in sync with the cycles of the season.

And of course, prayer need not always be verbal. It can be as simple as standing barefoot on the grass or listening to the birdsong at sunrise. But even from this must come action to protect those very things that give solace, that cannot protect themselves. In this way, this communion with this other becomes something that is reciprocal.

We are a part of the natural world, though we may have forgotten it. Rewilding has become something of a buzzword in conservation. Rewilding aims to allow nature to recover from what has been done to it. Whereas conservation has measurable aims and is generally geared towards conserving what we have left at the moment, rewilding is more nature driven, and less of a human effort.

“Forests need to be respected as crucial for the vibrant web of life they nurture. Each tree is an individual life connected to other lives.”

[An introduction to anti-capitalist paganism]

As we stand on the precipice, our magicks must become wild once more. They must transform to fit the age, as they ever have. We must transform if we are to fight back against the injustices Capitalism forces on nature and on ourselves. Our magicks must become that of dirt, blood and bone.

Not a lot is known about Obeah and as a mixed race woman with Caribbean ancestry living in the UK I understand the need and the struggle that comes with learning about different aspects of yourself. But what I love about witchcraft in general and more specifically Obeah is the rebel aspect, the fighting against the oppressors and the status quo. Here then I thought I’d share a little bit about the largely unknown and misaligned practice that is Obeah.

When we see ourselves as part of the landscape, only then, I believe we’ll put in the real work to stop the destruction of it.

But how likely is that do you reckon?

There is a magic in nature, one that cannot be described by words alone. It is a soul deep feeling that nourishes and makes us strong. Losing that feeling, disconnecting from that nature is the root of many of today’s problems. It is what makes us use and abuse the planet, the environment, animals and other humans. We forget that all is connected, that there is one whole and whilst we all may be separate, individuals, we are also all connected. Destroy one part and we destroy ourselves.

To accept Empire is to deny the dead, the tortured witches of our past and the tortured rebels dying in Empire’s prisons. To not fight Empire is to defy our own bodies, defile the land and destroy the bodies of others. To accept Empire is to become Empire.

The system is such that life outside of it, at least while it exits, is almost impossible.

Capitalism alienates us from our body, so our liberation must begin with the body. An essay from Silvia Federici