🌸 Metaphysical Tools: It's not that serious.
Alright, witches, weirdos, and weekend warlocks—let’s talk about how not to spend your entire paycheck at some overpriced metaphysical boutique run by Karen Moonbeam, who’s charging $30 for a “blessed” pebble and a whiff of lavender. You don’t need to empty your wallet to work a little magic. Let’s get scrappy, shall we? Buckle up and crack open a Tab because here comes the no-nonsense, side-eye-laced, “do-it-yourself-or-don’t-but-stop-whining” version of your spell craft supply rundown:
First of all, essential oils are not mandatory. Yeah, I said it. Put down the overpriced teeny-tiny bottle of something that smells like a yoga class and calm yourself. You can DIY your own magical oils like a boss. Got herbs? Chili flakes? Maybe a cinnamon stick that’s been in your pantry since 2007? Cool. Throw it in a jar, drown it in some warmed grapeseed or fractionated coconut oil (Trader Joe’s, anyone?), and let it sit like it’s grounded for a day or more. Congratulations, you’ve made infused oil. Use it for spells, anointing, or just to feel like a kitchen witch goddess.
Now, if you insist on getting all fancy and making a spell oil with multiple ingredients—because Pinterest told you to—go ahead. Just follow your recipe. You do, you boo boo. I'm not here to judge. My “Fast Cash” oil? It’s got stones, herbs, the tears of capitalism, and it all marinates in coconut oil for a month. Thirty days, people. No essential oils. Still works like a charm. Literally.
If you do go full essential oil, please do your homework. No shady MLMs (I'm looking at you DoTerra and Young Living...seriously, get bent) or mystery brands. Look for sustainable sourcing, fair labor, and all that ethical jazz. You want magic, not corporate guilt.
Let’s talk witchy swag. Sea glass, ribbons, tiny jars, amethyst, rose quartz—you know, the sparkle-and-shine stuff. Skip the online markup when you can. Hit up your local craft stores or—better yet—support your local witch shop. But listen to your auntie here: check the prices. I snagged a chunk of rose quartz the size of a damn Kleenex box in South Dakota for $3. THREE. DOLLARS. Meanwhile, some crystal peddler in Brooklyn is selling a pebble-sized piece for six bucks. I could start a black market trade with the haul I regularly bring home from my on-the-road adventures.
Jars? Don’t buy them unless you absolutely must. You’ve got them. Jelly jars. Pasta sauce jars. That tiny honey jar you couldn’t throw away because “it’s cute.” Reuse, recycle, and revel in your thriftiness. For small vials, Dollar Tree is your friend. Seriously, five for a buck, and they look cute on a shelf. If you need fancier dropper bottles, hit up the internet but don’t get sucked into "aesthetic witchcraft TikTok" pricing.
Vacation scavenger hunts? Oh baby, now you’re speaking my language. I’m pure crow-core. Beaches, trails, sidewalks—if it glitters, I grab it. Keys, sea glass, random coins, rings, even that shiny candy wrapper that looks vaguely magical. I once found a cauldron for TWO DOLLARS in an Oregon thrift store. Thrifting is a spiritual practice in this house.
Coins with mojo? Let’s go. Mercury dimes? You can find them online for about a buck each. Quarters from before 1964? Pure silver, baby. Dig in those old coffee cans your grandparents left behind. And wheat pennies? They hum with energy. Pre-1980s, high copper content, real vintage vibes. Don’t want to blow your budget on gold? Get Chinese “good luck” coins at your local Asian Market, or go wild with gold wrapped chocolate coins—yes, chocolate. Magic doesn’t care if it melts.
Now for the deep cuts: roots and thorns and creepy crawlies.
Bear root = Osha root. Etsy. Done.
Locust thorns? Etsy again, or go play nature ninja and collect them from a tree (wear gloves, trust me).
Goat heads? Not your cousin’s weird party nickname—real thorns. If they’re not in your region, substitute with blackberry or rose thorns. You’ll survive.
Roots with names that sound like 70s funk bands? High John, Jezebel, Devil’s Shoestring, Rose of Jericho…you’ll find all of them online, usually from other witches who know their stuff.
Asafoetida? Stroll into your nearest Asian market and be amazed by the treasure trove. Same with Mexican mercados. Don’t be afraid to explore the real world beyond same-day delivery. Your neighborhood is probably more magical than you realize.
Now, if you’re the kind of witch who wants rattlesnake teeth, dried fire ants, or lizard tails—first of all, we’re friends now. Second, hit up oddities shops, renaissance fairs, reenactment markets, or “Mountain Man” festivals. Yes, those exist. Yes, they’re weird. Yes, you’ll love them.
Let’s have a little heart-to-heart about sage, shall we? As an Indigenous Person, I feel fully qualified to say: can we please stop the damn dramatics? Sage is not some mystical forbidden fruit plucked from the Tree of Cancel Culture. It's an herb. It grows. It smells nice. You’ve probably already got it shoved in the back of your spice rack, wedged between expired marjoram and that cinnamon you only use in December.
Yes, the stuff from the grocery store? That dusty little tin of ground sage? Burn it on a charcoal and boom—you’re saging. That fresh bundle you snagged from the farmer's market like a Whole Foods warrior? Infuse it in oil—still saging. You don’t need an overpriced white sage bundle blessed by moonlight and marketed like it’s the last dragon egg on Earth. Say it with me now, class: "Saging is not smudging." There. You survived.
Now, if you’re still feeling an existential crisis brewing over sage, here’s a radical idea: plant some. Shocking, I know. Go to your local garden center, pick up some seeds, and become the proud parent of your very own sage bush. It’s not that deep, y’all. If using sage was truly sacrilege, then my Thanksgiving stuffing and roast chicken would be an act of spiritual violence. But guess what? They’re just delicious.
Sage is a seasoning, a purifier, a multi-tasking miracle that doesn’t come with a gatekeeper. Say it louder for the Etsy witches in the back: if you can eat it, it’s not a closed practice. So light it up, cook it down, or infuse it—just do it with respect and maybe a side of common sense.
Use common sense, like not taking plants from indigenous reservations. Also, ask where your store's sage comes from. I've found full displays of it that clearly say on the packaging, "Grown and Harvested in Mexico." So, it's being grown as an agricultural crop. It's not taking sacred plants from a reservation and doing the Princess Fakefeather with them.
Want me to sass up another sacred cow? Because I've got plenty of incense and zero patience all day.
But listen—wild foraging is not for the faint of heart. You need stamina, caution, and a stomach strong enough to handle the occasional dead thing. If you’re not down with that, maybe stick to herbs and Dollar Tree vials.
Hopefully, I’ve yanked back the curtain on some of the spell craft supplies that get talked about like they’re forged in the fires of Mount Doom. Most of it? Totally accessible, often cheap, and sometimes already in your junk drawer.
Happy hunting, witches—and remember: a little sass, a little salt, and a lot of improvisation goes a long way.
🖤🕯️✨
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