I Cast A Love Spell To Find A Relationship & It Worked In The Most Unexpected Way
In all my 28 years as a witch, I’ve never targeted a specific person with love magick. However, I did put my romantic intentions out into the universe by casting a love spell to find a relationship. Chaos witches like me don’t follow a specific religion like Wicca or adhere to any spiritual doctrines. Every spell you cast, you cast on yourself, at least in some way; whatever change you create has to start with you.
I cast the spell after a breakup last year. I had just broken up over the phone with a guy I’d been casually dating. In similar situations in the past, I had always been able to walk away from the breakup with few regrets and nothing to dwell on. But this time, I could see how my behavior had been toxic. I had chosen a person I was fundamentally ill-suited for and projected my past baggage onto him. Watching our split unfold was like an out-of-body experience. I saw how I was acting, and I didn't like it. I knew this wasn't the state I wanted to be found in when I met the person who was actually right for me. Something needed to change.
Clearing a space for love to live is easier said than done. I already had a 12-ounce spell candle programmed for attracting love and healing relationship wounds waiting for me on my bedroom shelf. It was made of pink, red, and white wax with a pearlescent sheen. I had been saving it until it called to me, and heck, did it call to me now. I began the ritual from my bed.
Ritual is merely action plus intention. It can be created anywhere. I placed the candle in a porcelain dish on the bedside table that I use as an altar (or a magickal working station). I let the candle burn continuously for about three days, and during this time, I sat in front of it as often as I could. Sometimes, for hours at a time, I cried and talked to the flame about the kind of love I wanted. I had years of stored tears to cry. I gathered them up with my fingers and scraped them into the candle jar so they could be put to good use.
Envisioning a desire or objective is crucial to performing magick successfully. Unsure what gender a better love for me would be, or what my new partner would look like, I pictured my own face instead, smiling, unself-conscious, wearing my ugliest square-framed glasses. I imagined us celebrating witch’s festivals together, which helped me realize that a partner who didn't understand magick was actually a deal-breaker for me. All along I’d been choosing partners I couldn’t talk to about witchcraft, and so they never got the authentic me. This time, I wanted a relationship that was magickal from the start.
On the fourth morning, I woke up and found the candle had burnt itself out. Three smooth crystals poked through the remains of the wax. I wiped them clean and put them in a tiny drawstring pouch. Everywhere I went, I carried them with me. In the days that followed, I would reach into my jacket and hold them in secret, to remember the ritual.
A couple of months later, I got really sick — the kind of sick that makes people a bit scared you’re going to keel over dead every time you cough. I believe that the universe always knows what’s best for you, even if the mode of delivery is gross and unexpected. As everyone else partied and celebrated New Year's Eve, I was stuck in bed, recovering. Even as people began the new year and went back to work, I could barely speak out loud. My social Gemini moon was not happy. I kept myself happy by texting my group chat of besties and by striking up conversations on Tinder. One day, I swiped right on a photographer whose photos made me want to be in front of his camera. We got to talking about revenge movies, the band Kaleida, and astrology. Speaking to him made me feel like maybe I wasn’t on the wrong planet, after all. There was no lightning crack of two worlds colliding; it was solid and comfortable from the start. Our chemistry was easy to recognize.
When we met up for our first date — my first date since I had done the spell — I carried the pouch of crystals with me in the folds of my favorite pink coat. I kissed his cheek, and he kissed my forehead. He had booked us a table at a local cat cafe, and brought along an offering of perfume for me. He was another Gemini moon who spoke my language. When people ask how we got together, sometimes I say it was Tinder, and sometimes I say it was magick. Both are equally true. I didn’t abracadabra him into existence, but I am a different kind of girlfriend than I was before I did that ritual. Really, that is the purpose of all ceremony — to transform, to make ready, to mark a turning point. If anyone is bewitched, it is me.
