Once upon a time, in a dying Indiana town, a group of seven specifically unique individuals lived near to each other. Now in Indiana, “near” means within an hour’s drive. But regardless, we met. We laughed. We bonded. We gathered a minimum of once a week for drinks and storytelling. We hugged long and squeezed tightly. We made mistakes, learned lessons, and became the mistresses of our own fate, empowering each other to overcome whatever obstacles dared face us down. We loved each other fiercely. Now spread across the Midwest of the U.S., we still love each other with that same ferocity, but must put in the extra effort to support and care for one another in meaningful and important ways. Despite distance, work schedules, life events, and even time zones, we have been fortunate and resilient enough to cultivate strength, solace, acceptance, and safe spaces for each other.
In this community, we use “we don’t fuck with soft bitches” to build each other up, not tear each other apart. Even when you are feeling your weakest, or the tasks seem too daunting; when the wind is too strong, and the outside world overwhelming, we remind each other that the fire inside you is hot and bright, burning as only your flame can. “We don’t fuck with soft bitches” does not mean that you can never show weakness. You can be soft. In fact, you have to be soft. You must take care of yourself first. You cannot pour from an empty cup to those you love. But neither can you wallow in your softness, or it will sour to misery. And if you refuse softness, hardening yourself to the world around for too long, your cup will not refill. You must have soft moments, whether a day, a week, or a month, allowing yourself the grace and space to be soft is the most vibrant kind of strength. The strength to remain authentic and gentle. The strength to remain vulnerable. And when your soft moments pass, you’ll stand back up beside your sisters, stronger and wiser for the softness.
These days, we still get together for drinks, storytelling, and the most highly anticipated hugs and cuddles, though it’s more like twice a year instead of every week, and getting us *all* together in the same place at the same time is a rarity. Those times spent in physical company are made more special by their infrequency, and in the interim we have come to refer to each other as our coven. Sisters. Family. Soul ties. Our stardust souls know one another in this lifetime and any that come after. How else could a scientist, a chef, a barber, a master librarian, a massage therapist, an insurance claims representative, and a mortgage processor have maintained more than a decade of friendship begun in the rocky terrain of a college town? We are all so vibrantly different from one other; from even the façade of culture we don to exist harmoniously in the chaos of society. That’s part of the beauty of our coven.
Our scientist is also a homesteader. Her beautiful property has flourished with an abundant bounty guided by her steady hand. She restores furniture that is long past its prime back to its original beauty. She camps in as many new places as she, her husband, and her sweet dog can find. She coaxes life and beauty into existence. Her brilliance, both physical and metaphysical, knows no bounds, and she shines that light on every project she embarks upon.
Our master librarian is also an ambassador to the Fey. Living on remote property surrounded by trees and faery circles, she leaves them offerings and builds them homes, carefully cultivating a balance between the magic and the mundane. When you visit her, you can feel their presence. Her knowledge and intuitive practices foster a deeper connection with the world at large and any others who may inhabit it beyond the sight of humanity.
Our chef is also a kitchen witch. By day, she can have you salivating with the luxurious mix of flavors and textures with which she passionately experiments. By night, she brews the most delectable spells. Pastries infused with rose petals and love, spicy soups for hardiness and endurance, or tender meats for comfort and relaxation. You are what you eat after all. Why not manifest something delicious?
Our massage therapist is also a green witch. No matter the ailment, she will procure a salve, a potion, a concoction to soothe your pains, settle your stomach, calm your headache, or rub out the chronic pain in that shoulder. Hers is the definition of practical magic, and she puts it to the test every day with an aggressive love for those she tends to.
Our insurance claims rep is also a beast mistress. With her own personal zoo of animals to care for, she knows how to communicate with the wilds and will nurture any unfortunate creature back to health. She reads omens in the reactions of primal eyes, and finds solace in the tight embrace of closely grown trees, listening to the skitter of the wind through the leaves whisper secrets of what’s to come.
Our barber is also an interpreter of dreams and symbolism. Her pinpoint intuition is bolstered by the multiple sources she consults to maintain a bias free explanation of the signs that come to you when you are closest to the veil. She’ll lend an empathetic ear and a course of action for those who feel they’re plagued by the same visions and situations. Listen well when she speaks if you wish to grow in your own strength.
Our mortgage processor is also a practiced divination witch. She watches the stars, reads the tarot, and watches where personal paths collide with the cosmic. She won’t sugarcoat your situation. There is no tiptoeing around celestial movements, and she’ll be as blunt as the cards she draws.
It is with this wild variety of interests, intuition, passions, and creativity that we have collectively decided to bring our story, our encouragement, and our knowledge to a wider circle; to you. Welcome, brothers and sisters. There’s a lot to see and do here. Take your time. Trust yourself. Ask questions. Be open to growth and new perspectives and you’ll thrive in the garden we’re starting.
And remember my darlings, we don’t fuck with soft bitches.