We always imagine the witch in the dark.
Moon-soaked. Hooded. Whispering.
But witches need the light, too.
☀️ The Sun is a force of magic.
Not soft, not subtle honest.
It reveals what we’ve outgrown.
It shines on what’s aching to be named.
It sees us becoming.
To a witch, the Sun is not just warmth—
it’s truth.
It doesn’t flatter.
It clarifies.
This is going out across all my circles Instagram, Substack, the coven’s edge of the internet.
Because communal writing isn’t about applause.
It’s about feeling like we’re part of something.
The sacred pulse of life.
Together, even when apart.
Ask yourself:
What does the Sun see in me
that I’m still learning to name?
Write from that place.
From the bold.
From the tender.
From the part of you that wants to live out loud.
🌻 The Sun touches everything.
Even the parts we hide.
🔥 Ritual:
Stand in sunlight.
Ask: What am I ready to see in myself today?
Wait for the flicker.
Then begin.
That flicker is your spell.
🖋 Drop your sentence in the comments, or tag #WriteLikeAWitch.
Just one sentence. One shimmer. That’s enough.
✨ A full spell drops Sunday.
This is the opening. The invitation. The warm edge of the flame.
We write to remember we’re alive.
We write so no one has to become themselves alone.
With clarity + fire,
Dianne ☀️🌻🌞
The Northern Matriarch
The solidity of the earth from which resilience streams up the stem opposite the late afternoon wilt.