Through creative and unique journal prompts, introspection, rituals, and spells, Snow achieves this beautifully, and herein lays the perfect guide for the queer witch to stand in their power and stand beside others truly queering our craft with compassion and pride.' Mat Auryn, author of Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick, and Manifestation. I am witch known only by the subtle way I tread the earth, and the maelstrom that unfolds upon my departure.'As evident through the pages of this book, Snow holds a vision for the queer aspirant who hears the call to witchery, to find healing, empowerment, strength, and pride through their craft. My witchcraft is legacy, knows no bounds and needs no markings. It's in my senses, my beliefs, my intuitive hits, how deeply I feel, what I see beyond sight. It's yet one more journal for my collection, the perfect pen and the favourite fork in every abode that I visit. My witchcraft is sinning deliciously against all things that tried to cage me. The eyes that gaze with intensity and turn things in my favour. It is the charm I place on me and my luggage before I set foot into an airport. It is the rock collections that have traveled miles by my side. It is having the exact number of items at my disposal at any given moment for any given craft. It is the lucky way home, and the perfect combination of ingredients that don't make me sick. It is the house on the hill that I live in in my mind, and the animal spirits that visit me in my sleep. It is my common sense, my firm no, and my welcoming yes. It is guttural, in my throat, when I surrender to the medicine and let you stroke the parts of me I kept locked up for so long. My witchcraft is soft touches here, hard shoves there.

The hard work I put in to be reunited with my familiar.

It is the spiders I let hang out in the corners of the bathroom. Makes me more of myself, connects me to deeply to things and places. It uses what I have, reinforces what I am. It is weeping while sweeping the house as part of a release, hiding underneath the covers when the day has been nothing but overwhelm. The sense to stay in when the day is cooking up a storm. It is the steel in my spine when you hurt me and I cut you out of my life. The little things I collect, the patterns I weave in my mind, the whispered blessings under my breath.

Queering Your Craft by Cassandra Snow