Deviant Craft: Making Strong the Foundation of Your Art
““And this is what comes from dabbling; I mean you can’t practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it.””
The Lost Art of Foundation
The craft of the Deviant Witch, the craft of any Witch worth their salt, requires foundation. Real, deliberate, lived foundation. And yet, it seems this is a lost art in our current age.
Too many ‘McWitches’ capes and crystal wands. Too many practitioners with eight years under their belt who can’t muster a protection spell or have never touched divination. Too many voices peddling the idea that Witchcraft can be whatever you want, that you can mix-and-match without consequence, that the sacred is nothing more than a pick-and-choose buffet.
This is not harmless. It is irresponsible. And in some cases, it is downright dangerous.
Let’s be clear: eclecticism itself is not the enemy. The crooked path has always been wide, winding, and stitched from many threads. But what makes a Witch, Deviant or otherwise, is not just what you gather, but why you gather it, how you weave it, and whether you’ve actually tested its weight in fire.
Know What. Know Why.
This is the commandment: Know what you are doing, and know why you are doing it.
I have sat in circles where someone proposed a spell. The group leaned in, eager, and then the Witch confessed they didn’t like one of the requirements. Maybe it made them uncomfortable. Maybe they didn’t have the tool or ingredient at hand. The response? “Throw it out. Do what feels right. Don’t push yourself.”
On the surface, this sounds harmless. Even compassionate. But peel it back and you see the rot:
How can you know something doesn’t belong if you don’t understand why it’s there in the first place?
How can you claim sovereignty if you’ve never wrestled with your own discomfort?
How can you strengthen your craft if you only ever choose the lighter load?
Sometimes that “wrongness” you feel is not intuition. Sometimes it’s ignorance. Sometimes it’s the friction of your own growth pressing against the limits of your comfort.
And that friction is holy. It is the fire that tempers the blade.
Discomfort as Initiation
Witchcraft is not about ease. It is not about convenience.
If every time you encounter a challenge you discard it for something lighter, you rob yourself of the chance to grow teeth. You pass up the rooted path in exchange for shallow soil.
A Witch who only ever does what feels easy is not practicing Witchcraft. They are playing dress-up.
The crooked path demands more. It demands that you confront what unsettles you, study it, test it, learn from it — even if you ultimately set it aside. Because then, when you let it go, you do so with knowledge, not avoidance.
That is what makes you strong. That is what keeps you from breaking when the pressure rises.
The Deviant Stance
Deviant Witchcraft does not hand you shortcuts. It doesn’t promise you power without work. It doesn’t say “skip the hard parts” and it doesn’t let you off the hook when something rattles your comfort.
Our work insists on depth. It insists on knowing your tools, your spirits, your timing, your reasons. It insists that you examine your fear instead of letting it dictate your boundaries.
A foundation is not glamorous. It is not a shiny crystal haul or an aesthetic altar photo. A foundation is sweat, repetition, study, practice, failure, and persistence. It is digging until you understand why you are doing something, not just because it looks good, not because it was trending online, not because it was easy.
So hear this:
+Do not skim the surface of your witchery.
+Do not discard the heavy without first asking why.
+Do not mistake preference for discernment.
If something feels wrong, interrogate it. Wrestle it. Understand it. And then, only then, decide if it belongs or not.
Because the tower that is your craft will not stand on hollow ground.
Build strong. Build rooted. Build knowing.
