Your spell oil doesn't need to cost $20 a bottle.

-

 

A Teaching by the Witch Who’s Tired of Watching You Overspend

Let’s have a little come-to-Cerridwen moment, shall we?


Somewhere along the line, witches started thinking that magic had to come in an amber bottle with a $39.95 price tag and a label that looks like a perfume ad.


Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

If you’re maxing out a credit card to buy “Certified Full Moon Distilled Dragon’s Breath Oil,” you’re not practicing witchcraft — you’re funding somebody’s Etsy vacation.

Let’s talk about making your own, safely, cheaply, and with the kind of grounded magic that doesn’t require a trust fund.

🕯️ 1. The Base Is the Body

Essential oils are concentrates — powerful, volatile, and occasionally dangerous when you treat them like scented glitter. You don’t need much. In fact, half the time, you don’t need any at all.

Your base oil is what carries your intention and protects your skin. My go-to options:

  • Grapeseed oil: cheap, light, and blends beautifully.

  • Olive oil: old-school, sacred, and sitting in your kitchen already.

  • Fractionated coconut oil: long shelf life and absorbs like a dream.

  • Jojoba: for fancy witches who still know what a coupon is.

Start there. One ounce of base oil is enough to make several small bottles of spell oil. Don’t turn your altar into a chemistry lab.

FYI. Grapeseed, Olive and Jojoba WILL go rancid on a shelf WAY before Fractionated Coconut Oil will. 

🌿 2. Herbs Over Hype

Can’t afford frankincense essential oil?


Good. You don’t need it. Grab the resin itself and let it sit in the base oil for a few days.

Magic isn’t about extraction — it’s about relationship. The plant doesn’t care if you distilled it or steeped it. It cares that you honored it.

Use herbs you already cook with: rosemary for clarity, basil for money, cinnamon for passion, clove for protection, and lavender for damn near anything involving peace of mind.

Crush them a little. Warm the oil gently. Whisper to it while you stir. It’s not about scent — it’s about charge.

🧿 3. Color, Not Cost

Want your oil to look like bottled witchfire?

Use shredded money (easy to find on Amazon) or put a piece of gold or silver in your oil. For baneful workings, put in coffin nails.

Just don’t pretend it’s ancient alchemy when it’s really pantry science.

And label everything. A witch who doesn’t label bottles ends up an accidental necromancer.

💸 4. Tools of the Trade

Here’s the basic setup that’ll save you hundreds a year:

  • A thrift-store saucepan or mini slow cooker (never your kitchen one). I use a tiny crockpot that holds only about a cup of liquid. 

  • A fine mesh strainer or coffee filter.

  • Empty bottles from the Dollar Tree or recycled glass dropper bottles. 

  • A tiny metal funnel to fill the bottles. There's an 8 pack on Amazon for about $8. Easy to clean, doesn't hold scent or oil like plastic or silicone ones. 

  • Labels. Always labels. (See necromancer note above.)

Do your blending on the waning moon if you’re making oils for banishing, waxing for growth and attraction. Keep it simple, keep it clean, and for the love of the Old Ones, keep it safe.

Then what?

Make that oil. Here's an example:

Take a tablespoon of basil and put it into a small glass jar. (This is why I recycle my glass jars) 

Warm a 1/4 cup of fractionated coconut oil on the stove, or gasp, in the microwave (Watch that temperature. You want it warm, NOT SCALDING HOT! 

Pour the WARM oil over the herb, cap it tightly and let it cool completely. Put it in a cool dark place and shake once a day for 7 days. Strain it and bottle it. 

With my little crockpot, I let the oil and herbs simmer together on low most of the day, unplug it for a couple of hours to cool, strain it and bottle it. 

I have had fantastic success with fresh yarrow, rosemary, basil, catnip (Yeah, my cats LOVE it) turmeric, cinnamon, garlic, peppers ( be damn good and cautious about peppers) apple peels, orange peels, lemon peels, rose petals, and SO much more. Just be careful and KNOW YOUR HERBS. 

🌕 5. Intention Is the Expensive Ingredient

All the myrrh in the world won’t fix a hollow intention. The best oil you’ll ever make is the one you pour your whole will into. When I craft an oil, I don’t ask, Does this smell good? I ask, Does this know my name?

Magic doesn’t care about luxury. It cares about sincerity.

So quit buying “prosperity oil” from someone who’s never been broke. Go make your own. Stir in your story. Stir in your sweat. That’s where the real magic lives — in the grit, not the gloss.

✦ Final Word

You are the spell.
The oil is just how you remind yourself you’re serious about it.

Make it. Label it. Respect it.
And next time you see a $60 bottle of “Manifestation Blend,” smile sweetly and whisper, Bless her heart.

Then go home and brew something real.

🔥 Burnt Sage & Blunt Truths
If it stings a little, good. That means the lesson took.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

🔥 The Torchbearers: A Call to the Witches Who Stayed

-
Image
  This isn’t for the trend-chasers. This isn’t for the moon-phase influencers, the aesthetic covens, or the ones who skimmed a Llewellyn book and declared themselves a High Priestess on Tuesday. This is for the ones who stayed . The witches who ran public rituals and built community spaces on shoestring budgets. The ones who got their degrees in theology, anthropology, history—anything to understand the bones of what we do. The ones who studied by candlelight, held circles in basements and backyards, and never once filmed themselves doing it for clout. You know who you are. You’ve been looked down on for not dressing the part. For stepping outside in jeans and a t-shirt instead of flowing robes and Instagram filters. For walking through metaphysical shops and not needing to announce your power—because it lives in your bones. You’ve had fifteen-year-olds talk over you on social media, dismissing your decades of practice because they watched a tarot video or learned abo...
Read more
-
Image
  Missing My Circle Under a Distant Moon There’s a certain kind of homesickness that doesn’t have a zip code. I’ve been thinking about my circle back in Kansas City—the women and men who held space with me, cast with me, wept, and laughed under the same sky with me. The ones who passed the salt with the tequila with the exact same reverence as a sacred chalice, who knew the exact moment a spell had landed by the goosebumps on their arms. My witches. My soul family. I miss them more than I expected. It hits me in strange ways. Like when I see the moon at her fullest, glowing behind the evergreens here in Washington, and I instinctively reach for my phone to text someone in the group— "Are you feeling this too?" But we’re scattered now. Different time zones. Different lives. Still tethered, but not in the same room, not around the same altars or fire pits. Back in Kansas City, we’d gather around tables cluttered with gaming decks, tarot decks, bundles of drying herbs, and ...
Read more

Who the Hell Am I?

-
Image
🌿 Who the Hell Am I? I’m a Gen X witch with dirt under my nails, fire in my gut, and a sharp tongue that’s survived decades of bullshit—and isn’t done talking yet. I walk the crooked path with a pocket full of herbs, a heart full of ancestral memory, and a deep, simmering refusal to play nice for the sake of anyone’s comfort. My practice is rooted in earth medicine and rebellion—because I believe healing and resistance are intertwined. I blend old-world magic with modern-day grit, call on the spirits, trust the plants, and speak truth even when my voice shakes (and trust me, sometimes it does—rage and grief both live here). I’m an herbalist by calling, an activist by necessity, and a smart-ass by birthright. I don’t do love-and-light unless it’s flickering over the ruins of outdated systems. I honor the sacred, but I don’t bow to gurus. I honor the ancestors, but I don’t romanticize the past. I honor the plants, the land, the stories—and I try not to take myself too seriously in th...
Read more