The Gods
When I was drafting this section, a friend messaged me out of the blue: “Is it unnatural that no God or Goddess has ever called me? Am I just so wacked no deity wants to touch that?” (I keep interesting friends.) The question is valid, and it’s one we should be asking more often.
A lot of modern takes train new witches to treat deities like a vending machine: scan a Pinterest list of correspondences, pick a name, and command results. That’s not devotion—that’s telemarketing. If you hate being spam-called during dinner, imagine how a sovereign power feels when a stranger rings them up for a quick cash grab. In myth, plenty of gods would smite you for less. But when a friend calls—someone with relationship, history, reciprocity—you pick up.
So let’s talk plainly: not every witch will be “claimed” by a deity. You don’t need a patron to be a potent witch. And if you are called, it’s rarely convenient, never purely aesthetic, and always transformative.
Do You Need a Patron God/dess?
Short answer: no. A lot of witches burn time and sanity trying to “find their God” before they’ve even learned their own psychic language. They want a special story to tell, a dramatic calling narrative that magically solves life. Here’s the truth: even when a deity enters your life, they don’t hand you an answer key. They hand you a blade and a set of keys and point at doors you didn’t know existed. Sometimes you open the wrong one and have to fight your way back.
Being chosen by a deity isn’t the same as choosing to work with one. Both paths are legitimate. When you’re chosen, there’s often a contract, work, oaths, obligations. It’s not a social promotion; it’s a yoke with teeth. In traditional communities, an entire people might honor a god, but only a few serve as priest/ess. Neither role is “higher.” Different roles, different costs.
The Disrespect Problem (and Why It Matters)
I’m going to be blunt: a big slice of what passes for “eclectic witchcraft” today encourages people to do whatever they want without knowing why they’re doing it, or who they’re summoning. Grab a deity off a chart, toss their name into a spell, and expect concierge service. That’s not devotion; that’s ego cosplay.
Witchcraft is relationship work. Plants have spirits. Oils, waters, stones, spirits. If you wouldn’t pour peanut oil down the throat of someone allergic, don’t dump random offerings on a god because you saw it on a list. Learn. Listen. Build reciprocity.
Chosen vs. Choosing (How It’s Shown Up For Me)
Sometimes you choose a deity; sometimes they choose you. And when they do, it may feel less like a nudge and more like being shoved into a river.
Hekate didn’t arrive as a soft-focus “goddess of witches” postcard. She arrived like the Crossroads itself, flint and night air, claiming me before I had language for it. She sharpened me. She did not coddle me.
As a teen, I was bullied relentlessly, trapped in a cycle that ended with an attempt to end my life. In that wound, Hekate spoke: a working was needed, and two other powers would come to do what she would not, or could not, do for me then. The Morrigan came like a war drum in my bones: raw strength, the will to fight, a lesson in real death. Osiris came warm, structured, sovereign, rebirth, form, the art of building a ritual shell so my inner change could root in private before I wore it in public. They told me: “To live, you must die, to die, you must choose to live.” They did not claim me as patron. They were surgical allies. Hekate remained the throughline.
Years later, right as Deviant Witchery was stirring, the Faery King and Queen pulled me from the ordinary world mid-day and dropped me into an older current, ecstatic, electric, uncompromising. They showed me my dead and my making. They have invited deeper vows; I’ve not accepted lightly. Not every arrival is a claim; sometimes it’s a summons to consider.
“How Will I Know If I’m Being Called?”
You’ll know. And also: verify. The mind generates symbols. Spirits mimic. Discernment is part of the craft.
Dreams with weight. Not just vivid—anchored. They leave tags in your day: animals, words, routes you ordinarily wouldn’t take.
Sacred animals and signs. When Hekate stirs, my huskies find ways to the window and howl, and owls turn up where owls shouldn’t. Patterns matter more than one-offs.
Convergences. The name, then the symbol, then the person, then the text, then the timing. The road hums.
Direct contact. If a deity appears, honor the contact—and then test. Ask for further confirmation in ways that are specific and hard to fake.
Remember: gods will keep knocking if it’s them. And you are allowed to say no—respectfully, if you aren’t ready. Boundaries are part of devotion.
Another thing to really note here is being very discerning. A lot of times people want to project humanness onto deities and use deities in a way that coddle them. Deities don’t coddle and the Gods aren’t here to tell us what we WANT to hear.
Approaching the Gods (Without Begging or Bluffing)
If you’re going to ask a deity for help, start like you would with any serious relationship: time, study, offerings, showing up. Cold-calling a stranger for a car, a curse, or a wedding ring is bad form—and sometimes dangerous.
Do your research. Myth, folklore, culture, living traditions. Learn the contexts and the friction points.
Start small. Water, bread, incense, flame. Consistency beats spectacle.
Build the place. A shelf, a corner—colors, symbols, statuary if appropriate. Keep it clean.
Don’t grovel. I don’t cower before my gods. I meet them standing. Respect ≠ self-erasure. I walk beside my gods; I don’t lick their boots.
Keep your word. Don’t vow what you can’t sustain. If you promise an offering, deliver it. If you set a weekly candle, light it. Craft is built on follow-through.
Also: not every message arrives “as a voice.” Sometimes the god answers via a billboard, a TV ad, a lyric you can’t shake. Magic routes through the path of least resistance.
Can I Cocktail the Gods?
Sometimes. Cautiously. Think like a chemist, not a DJ.
I “cocktail” hair products when I’m working, some blends are genius; some curdle into a mess. Deities are no different. With Hekate, the Morrigan, and Osiris, I did the research, listened, and negotiated. Hekate’s presence with the Morrigan felt like two Queens circling—mutual respect with competitive heat. They could collaborate for the work at hand, but that doesn’t mean I’d seat them together long-term on the same altar shelf. Osiris was steady with both, focused on the task, unconcerned with turf.
Guidelines:
Separate altars/lanes when space allows; if not, demarcate clearly by color, icon, and offering type.
Ask first. Don’t assume two gods want to co-work because you want them to.
Know when to keep them apart. Family dynamics apply. Some relatives only function at the same table when there’s a bigger enemy across it.
Offerings
What to Offer
Best answer? Ask them. Sit. Listen. Go to the shop and notice what pulls at you that isn’t your usual. That’s often your god pointing at their plate.
Also: research. Deities often favor items from their cultures, oils, breads, wines, resins, specific flowers or animals. A very general baseline: milk, honey, wine, bread. Add crafted work (art, writing, jewelry), time (service aligned to their domains), and, if you know what you’re pledging and why, blood. Blood creates a link. Don’t throw it around casually.
Where to Offer
At the altar. At a tree. At a crossroads for crossroads powers. By a stream for river deities. Inside for a time, then moved outdoors. If it’s perishable, plan for pets, kids, and bugs. Say what you’re doing: “I’ll leave this here for three hours, then carry it to your place in the yard.”
Why Offer
Because relationship. We say “thank you” in the mundane; we say it in the magical. Some witches give on a cadence (daily/weekly/monthly), some give after workings, some at fruition. Use discernment, and, again, keep your word. Break your promise, and the road can close, sometimes sharply. Spirits, including saints like St. Expedite, are particular. Public thanks, specific colors, specific foods: meet the terms you set.
Boundaries, Consent, and Saying No
You can say no to a deity’s request, or to a calling, respectfully. Maybe you don’t have the capacity. Maybe the path they’re pushing is misaligned with your ethics. Maybe the timing is wrong. A “no for now” given with clarity and offerings is better than a half-hearted “yes” you will inevitably break. Remember: respect for the gods begins with self-respect. I don’t beg. I don’t posture. I stand where I can keep my word.
Signs, Omens, and Ongoing Discernment
Even after years with a deity, I still verify. Spirits test. The mind projects. Keep a devotional journal: dreams, animals, symbols, place, names, numbers. Track clusters of signs, not one-offs. Share your findings, with the deity. Ask for confirmation you can’t confuse for coincidence.
And yes: when Hekate is moving, the world around me howls, literally. My dogs find the window. Owls appear. The air shifts. But even then, I test. The Crossroads doesn’t need me to be gullible; she requires me to be precise.
The Witch does not grovel to their gods. We honor them. We show up. We do the work. We keep our oaths or we simply, don’t make them.
I will not reduce myself to win divine favor, and I will not reduce the gods to aesthetic props to win clout. We walk together, or we don’t walk at all.
Some will be claimed; some will choose; some will remain gloriously godless and work with land, spirits, and dead. All are valid. The only red line here is disrespect, to yourself, to your craft, to the powers you name. Hold your integrity. Hold your edge. And when the gods come, meet them standing.
