Let’s get one thing straight.
Friday the 13th isn’t about the slasher flicks that had every 80s kid terrified to set foot in the woods, or at summer camp.

I’ve never believed Friday the 13th was unlucky.
Sure, it carries a heavy superstition, but that’s exactly what makes it misunderstood.

Now, I’m no historian. I’m sure plenty of things have happened on the 13th day of the month. But let’s be honest, so have a lot of other days.
This one just gets the blame.

And we know what happens to things that get misunderstood.
They get feared.
They get called cursed.
They get burned, exiled, labeled dangerous.

Sound familiar?

Thirteen is sacred. It always has been.
Thirteen moons in a year.
Thirteen cycles in a woman’s menses cycle.
Witches tracked it. Priestesses lived by it.
Life moved with it… ebbed and flowed, by its pull.
It was beautiful. Rhythmic. Feminine.

Which is exactly what made it threatening. Then you add in Friday.
The day of Venus. Freya. Love, sex, fertility, war, and spellcraft.
She rode her chariot with wild hair, embodying all of her power with zero apologies.
So what happens when you combine the number of lunar power with the day of the goddess?
You get a portal of energy so potent it had to be shut down.

And how do you shut it down?
You twist it.
You call it cursed.
You say if it lands on the calendar, stay in bed and pray. And for heaven’s sake do not step on any cracks, walk under any ladders, or be around black cats.

Meanwhile, those of us with cauldrons and candles are like,
“Mmm... sounds like a great night to stir some things up.”

This date carries a charge.
You can feel it.
Even people who claim not to believe in any of it still clutch their steering wheel tighter when Friday the 13th rolls around.

Perfect.

That means there’s all this energy in abundance.
Focused.
Easy to tap into.
It’s a day for candle magick.
For writing bold intentions.
For flipping the script on every story that told you power should be hidden or punished.

It’s a wide-open door for divination, spellwork, ancestral connection, and anything that needs a little heat behind it.
Not in spite of the superstition, but because of it.
The world is already throwing energy at this day.
You might as well scoop it up and make something beautiful.

If you want to anchor your magick today, here's an idea to tap into the vault:

• Light a candle.
• Write something down that you want to call in or call back.
• Set a crystal on top of the paper.
• Imagine the energy of your words being absorbed by the crystal, either for transmutation or to anchor in.
• Sit with it.
• Feel the energy swirling around the space you’ve made.

Now, depending on your intention:
If it’s to release, take that crystal and bury it in the earth so it can be transmuted.
If you’re calling something in, place it on your altar or carry it with you until your energy has melded with it.
Then place it on your nightstand and leave it there until it manifests.

Speak something true. 
It doesn’t have to be poetic. Just something from the heart and the essence of your soul. Make sure you mean the words you’re speaking.
An example would be:
I claim this day. What others call cursed, I proclaim magickal.
I remember.
I reclaim.
Let superstition and fear on this day diminish before my intention.

Friday the 13th is yours to utilize.
Yours to bless.
Yours to bend into a spell.
This day has power.
So do you.

Let the world clutch its pearls.
Let them panic over luck and ladders and mirrors.
You’ve got a magickal life to tend. Dreams to manifest.

You are the living grimoire. Keep writing those exquisite chapters.

Happy Magickal Friday the 13th, Witch.

Magickally,
Shakti Magia

I have a confession to make. I’ve never really enjoyed a true farmers market.
“Why?” you might ask.

Because they used to overwhelm me. I felt like an oddball, unsure how to approach a booth. I’d worry about hurting the seller’s feelings if I didn’t buy something.
Hahaha, I know.

But it had been way too many years since I gave it a real try, so I decided to venture out to a big, popular one here in the city. And you know what? I loved it.

There were the smells: freshly brewed coffee, sun-ripened tomatoes, spicy chiles, and little whiffs of kettle corn floating on the breeze.

As Patrick and I wandered the market, it honestly felt like the universe said, “Here. Take a breath. Enjoy this.”
So I did.

First stop: tomatoes. Rows of them, blushing in the morning light. Deep red, full of flavor. And then, there it was. This golden tomato with a stem curl that gave it serious attitude. It was like, “Yes, I know I’m the only one like me. You’re welcome.”
I respected that energy.

Next up, the flowers. It felt like we’d stumbled into a Fae market. Sunflowers, peonies, deep purple irises that brought such an “otherworldly” vibe, it was impossible to ignore.

Then came the dried chiles. Basket after basket of them, like tiny fire wands waiting to be stirred into something that clears your sinuses and wakes up your soul. 

There was this buzz in the air. People chatting, laughing, tasting honey, squeezing produce, just... living. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t curated for Instagram. But it was real.

And that’s where the magick is. Not in the perfect photo, but in the moment your heart does a soft somersault because someone hands you a flower or smiles like they mean it.

Somewhere between the flower stall and the homemade mosquito repellent lady, I realized this is the kind of life I used to wish for.
And now, I’m living it.

It’s full of color. Full of flavor. Full of those tiny moments that quietly stack into something sacred.

So here’s your reminder. Magick doesn’t always show up with candles or chanting.
Sometimes it looks like tomatoes and sunflowers.
Sometimes it’s just letting the day unfold without rushing it.

And if you’re ever feeling off or disconnected, go to a market.

Let beauty catch you off guard.
Let yourself be that one golden tomato in a sea of red.
The world will notice.

The magick will find you when you look for it,

Shakti
​

This month, I turn 53.

I’ve lived enough years to see entire versions of myself rise, fall, rebuild, transform, and bloom again. Enough years to know that most things don’t stay the same for long, and enough wisdom now to be at peace with that.

I stopped dying my hair. Not because I’ve given up on my appearance. But because I’ve learned to embrace this side of my becoming.

There are silver threads along the frame of my face and around my temples. And threads throughout my entire head. I’m learning to see them as stars. Signs that my stellar being is starting to peek through. They shimmer when the light hits them just right. And maybe that’s the point, some things only show their beauty when the light shifts.

My body has settled into a natural, truer rhythm. Not always predictable, but familiar. Like a drumbeat I used to dance around, and now, finally, I’m learning a few of the steps. It’s a work in progress.
But aren't we all?

The most beautiful mirror I have now are my daughters. In them, I see the best of what I carry and the evolution of everything I still hope for. They are wise and wild in their own ways. Fierce and funny. They are brilliant. Powerful Sovereigns of their lives. 

And now, I’m starting to see myself in my grandchildren also. The older ones, who call me Gammy, are now taller than me. You can see them starting to take on their own uniqueness, ideas, expressions and things outside the realm of their parents. They don’t climb into my lap anymore, but we laugh, we talk, and every now and then, I catch a glimmer in their eyes that reminds me of my children at their age.

The little ones aren’t saying my name just yet, but they know me.
We read books, play games. . . or at least I try. Sometimes they’re off in toddler worlds of their own, and that’s okay.
It’s enough to just be near them and to witness this next wave of their becoming.

This year, as I step into 53, I’m also stepping into a new cycle in numerology, what’s called a Personal Year 1.
Last year was a 9 Year for me, which is all about completions and release. And let me tell you, I felt that.
Some stories ended. Some identities faded. I closed doors I had outgrown, even if I’d once clung to the handles.

But this year, this 1 Year, feels like a wide open field. There’s a sense of possibility again.
A whispered invitation that says,
You can begin here.
And I’m listening.

If you’re curious what your personal year is, here’s how to find it:
Take your birth month + day, and add it to the current year.
Then reduce that number to a single digit.
For example:
Mine is May 23 → 5 + 23 + 2025 = 2053
Then 2 + 0 + 5 + 3 = 1

That’s my number this year.
A year of new beginnings.
New choices.
New chapters.

Happy Solar Return to Me.
May we all see our beauty and recognize the gift of life at every age-
Shakti

I had a dream one night... not too long ago, of a painting. In this painting there stood a woman. She was dressed in what I would call a bohemian look. 
Her hair was in fabulous spunky dreadlocks, she was vibrant, colorful and full of magick. In my dream, I called this woman in the painting, "The Priestess". By the looks of her, you could tell... You could just tell that she danced to the beat of her own handmade drum. She wore the clothes and colors that spoke to her. She held her head in such a way, that she looked directly into the worlds eyes. On her wall, hung several masks. There weren't a lot. Only two. One mask looked like the happy mask... the sort of mask that one would put on to wear "the happy face". The other looked like a face that was reserved, poised and withholding. I noted to myself how she had hung these masks. She wasn't wearing them. They were now part of someplace that she had been, but not where she was going. I was immediately inspired by this "Priestess". She didn't need anyones permission to be her full, authentic self. 

As I too am journeying in intending to always present my most authentic self, this dream came in a time where I was making a decision on what to offer in One Ascension. There is my Priestess side that hardly is represented as much as it should. I am changing this. It is time for me to encompass the fuller version of who Melanie is. I share this with you so that you too may share all of you. Present all of you for the world to be inspired by. 

You are unique and hold your own beat within you to drum. I can't wait to see your dance!!!