🧹“300 Days on the Road: A Spell for the Lonely Witch Hustling Her Ass Off”

 

Let’s get something straight right out of the cauldron: this isn’t your cute, filtered TikTok witchcraft post with aesthetic altar shots and cottage core vibes. This is a hard-won, boots-on-the-ground, incense-in-the-cup-holder, tarot-cards-on-the-motel-nightstand kind of magic. This is for the witch who lives out of a suitcase more often than her own home. For the Gen X sorceress juggling spreadsheets, red-eye flights, and soul contracts, all while trying to hold space for a spiritual life that doesn’t come with PTO.

I’m talking to you, road witch.

Let’s talk about what it really means to be on the road for work 300 damn days a year. Not 30. Not 60. Three. Hundred. That’s over eighty percent of the year gone in a blur of airports, bad coffee, time zone confusion, and text messages left on read because you just can’t with another “sorry we missed you!” invite. You start to feel like a living legend in your own friend group—beloved but elusive, like some kind of glitter-dusted Bigfoot. Trust me, I completely understand this. Sometimes I get entirely the "elusive" and struggle with the "beloved".

The Toll: Friends, the Coven, and the Home You Leave Behind

Let’s break this down like an over-steeped potion.

Friendships? Fragile AF. You start noticing the group chats getting quieter. The invites dry up. You’re the ghost at the Beltane bonfire. You FaceTime from a Marriott while everyone else is casting circles under the full moon together. Your bestie doesn’t say it out loud, but she’s tired of hearing “I wish I could be there” for the millionth time.

Your witchy community? That sacred circle? It becomes a Pinterest board. Your rituals go from candlelit ceremonies with sisters to whispering incantations in airport bathrooms under flickering fluorescent lights while security knocks on the stall door like you're summoning Satan. (Plot twist: you might be.)

But here’s where this story takes a gorgeous, glittering, heart-melting turn...

Let Me Brag on My Man for a Minute

Now I might be out here living that travel-witch hustle life, but let me tell you something: I’m not doing this alone. I’ve got a partner—a real-deal, grounded, magic-adjacent man—who holds it down at home like a damn champion.

While I’m out channeling spirits in strange cities and making spreadsheets in hotel lobbies that smell like stale dreams, he’s keeping our little domestic temple running smooth as obsidian. He cooks. He cleans. He waters the plants with intention. He’s basically a Capricorn with Virgo moon vibes and a divine understanding of which candles are for ambiance and which are for spellwork. Not bad for a Sagittarius. 

And our two cats? Those fluffy, mischievous familiars of mine? They worship him. They lounge in sunbeams while he plays DnD and folds laundry like a domestic wizard. He sends me videos of them and includes them on video chats with me, which—yes—I miss more than I miss some people. He keeps the hearth warm, the altar dust-free, and the energy in our home so sweet it practically hums. That, my friends, is real modern love. A grounded king in a world full of chaos. Blessed. Be.

Modern Magic in Motion: How to Stay Rooted When You’re Never Still

Let’s talk real tools. Because yeah, the grind is real—but so is the power. You’re not powerless. You’re a goddamn witch. You work with the elements, bend time with intention, and know how to alchemize the mess. So here’s how we ride the lightning, broom first:

🕯️1. Create a Portable Altar

Yes, TSA is a buzzkill, but don’t let that stop you. A tiny tin with a travel candle, a small crystal, a miniature tarot deck, and a sigil drawn on a folded piece of paper? That’s your mobile temple. Consecrate that shit. Keep it sacred. Use it like a lifeline when the hotel room feels sterile and soulless.

I have a really cool Keffiyeh that I use as my altar cloth, and that I also take on hikes and site inspections. It smells of sage and incense, and it's like the best metaphysical store you've ever walked into. It just has this Nag Champa and Herb vibe to it. 

📱2. Digitize Your Circle

Witchcraft has always evolved. Your coven doesn’t need to gather around a fire—start monthly Zoom rituals. Light your candles together from across the miles. Bless the tech and use it for more than doom scrolling. There is magic in screens when they’re used with purpose. (Also, group tarot readings over FaceTime? Pure chaotic joy.)

💌3. Spell-Mail

Start sending each other “witch letters.” Snail mail isn’t dead—it’s just sleeping. Write spells, tuck in pressed herbs, anointed bookmarks, or a wax-sealed sigil. Keep the connection alive with tangible magic. Think Hogwarts but with more glitter and adult trauma. Want a snail mail partner? Shoot me a message here. Comment on a post. I'll be in touch.

🧼4. Cleanse as You Go

Hotels hold weird energy. Cleanse the space. I’m not joking. Sweep the room energetically with your hand, a feather, or a whispered chant. Spray some Florida Water in your shoes. Leave a little salt on the windowsill. Yes, housekeeping might think you’re weird. That’s their problem. You’re protecting your spirit.

Do you want to reinvigorate your space in a hotel room? Get one of those cheap coffee pods, open it up, and sprinkle it around the corners of the hotel room. Envision the Goddess Caffeinea opening up the space and removing the stagnant, and reinvigorating it with energy and clarity. 

🌕5. Redefine “Presence”

Maybe you can’t be there in person, but you can send your energy. Light a candle during the group ritual from your room. Say the same chant. Sync your watch to the moonrise in their time zone. The red thread of connection isn’t broken just because you’re physically apart. You’re still part of the web, baby.

---

Being a Witch Isn’t Always Pretty

Let’s not romanticize it too much. Being a working, hustling, always-on-the-move witch is exhausting. You’re in a constant state of both creation and depletion. And the loneliness? It’s real. It creeps in during the quiet elevator rides and 3 a.m. wake-ups in unfamiliar cities.

But then there’s that voice on the phone—your husband, your anchor. There are those sleepy meows in the background. There’s the scent of your altar waiting at home. There’s the sacred knowing that while you’re flying all over this chaotic-ass world, someone is lovingly tending your temple.

You are not broken, you are not behind, and you are not less of a witch because your rituals are messy and mobile.

You are a flame that refuses to go out, even when the wind is howling through your hotel window.

You are the embodiment of adaptation, of resilience, of spellwork in motion.

You are a witch in the wild, finding ways to conjure sacredness in rental cars, airport terminals, and boardrooms where no one knows your secret power.

So hold your head high. Decorate your carry-on with sigils. Charge your laptop under the full moon. Trust your man to hold it down, and your cats to keep the magic alive in your absence. And never, never forget—your path may be winding, but it’s still divine.

Now go out there and enchant the world, one checked bag at a time. Blessed be, road warrior. 🔥✨