I've been back from vacation a week and I’m back in the swing of things.
My content was a little sparse or late last week, and it’s because I’ve been home. Not traveling, just... here. For about a week now, I’ve been letting my brain decompress. No screens for the sake of scrolling, no checking headlines every hour. Just the quiet hum of my own house and enjoying the last warmth of Summer before it's too cold to hang outside.
And honestly? It was necessary.
But here’s the thing about stepping away from the noise: when you come back to it, it hits different. It’s louder. Heavier.
For me, it took almost a whole week before I felt ready to turn the news back on. And even then, it found me more than I found it. But once I started paying attention again, the weight of what’s actually happening in this country settled in my chest.
We are living through some heavy times. The war in Iran is dragging on, with talk of "crushing economic operations" and threats escalating daily. The national debt just crossed $40 trillion, largely driven by tariffs and military spending. Closer to home, we’re seeing DHS surveilling labor unions and climate groups in Minnesota, ICE agents facing felony assault charges for shooting immigrants, and bulldozers tearing up Big Bend National Park for border wall construction.
It’s easy, when you’re tired and healing, to want to keep that bubble sealed shut. To say, "Not today, world. Give me a minute."
And that’s okay. You need rest. You need silence. Your nervous system is allowed to protect itself.
But there is a difference between resting from the world and turning a blind eye to it.
Witchcraft, for me, has never been about escaping reality. It’s about witnessing the undeniable truth of it, even when you don't want to. It’s about acknowledging that the chaos in the headlines is real, that people are suffering, and that power is being abused, and choosing not to let that numb me.
Spirituality without justice is just self-care. And while self-care is vital, it isn’t enough. If our practice only serves to make us feel calm while the world burns, we haven’t done the work.
So, how do we hold this? How do we witness the horror, like the sailors on the USS Abraham Lincoln dealing with mental health crises and moldy showers, without breaking ourselves?
We don’t have to fix it all today. We don’t have to solve the debt or end the war by Friday. But we can refuse to normalize cruelty. We can let the anger rise, not as rage that burns us out, but as fuel. Fuel for a vote. A donation. A conversation. A refusal to look away.
This week, I’m inviting you to sit with the discomfort. Don’t rush to numb it. Let it remind you that you are part of a human community that is struggling, fighting, and surviving.
Your altar doesn’t need to be made of crystals and sage. Sometimes, your altar is just your attention. Where you place your attention determines what you nourish. If you place it on indifference, you nourish apathy. If you place it on truth, even when it hurts, you nourish conscience.
I’m writing this because I needed to say it out loud: I’m back. I see what’s happening. And I’m not going anywhere.
How are you holding space for the world right now? What does "witnessing" look like for you when the news feels too heavy?
With love and a heavy heart,
Cerissa 🖤