After working a full day at my shop, I get home smelling of candle smoke and incense. My hair holds the scent of magickal herbs. For days after working in the shop, my clothes will retain the smell of essential oils and amber. It clings to me like a second skin. I don’t smell it, but other people do. Folks in the grocery store will look at me a little funny, with slightly glassy eyes, and tell me that I smell good. I smell like something familiar they can’t quite place. It’s the scent of magick.
Magick smells like the wet earth after the first rain in the fall.
It is the tangy scent of ozone after lightning strikes.
Magick is the scent of vanilla, and slippery elm, and elderberries.
The smell of old books, worn leather, and a crackling fire – these are the scents of magick.
Redwood duff, ocean spray, and even the warmth of whiskey hold the scent of magick.
When you think back on your happiest memories is there a scent you can connect to it? When you smell that scent does it transport you back to that moment? Can you smell it right now? Can you feel that scent in your heart? That’s the scent of magick.
If I were to show you a picture of coffee beans, or fresh cut grass, or a lavender field, or a ripe orange, or an unfurling rose could you call up the memory of that specific scent? I bet you can. That’s the scent of magick.
So much about Witchcraft and Paganism is not tangible or it’s ineffable. There are experiences that are so odd they seem unreal. Sometimes spiritual practice can cause a shake-up of reality or a desire to rationalize away the magick of it. And there are also moments, experiences, rituals, breaths; that summon and stir up the spirit in ways that are undeniable. Moments that get twisted up in the heart and the gut. Moments that whisper to us with soft lips against our necks. Yes, these too are the scent of magick.