April 22, 2026

In October of last year, I was gifted my spirit familiar. I was caught completely off guard, as I wasn't thinking about it, wasn't seeking it, wasn't even in that headspace. It just happened, the way the best things usually do.
My friend Andrea had come over for one of our regular spirit board sessions. We were laughing, chatting, working with different spirits the way you do when you've been at this long enough that it feels like catching up with old friends. Then the energy in the room changed. I felt it drain out of me almost instantly — if you work with spirit boards you'll know what I'm speaking of here — it's that particular kind of drop that I've come to recognize as a really strong connection coming through. When it happens, the words on the board form smooth and fast, with a kind of intention behind them that feels different from ordinary contact. Two things happened in quick succession: The Morrigan came through, and at the time, I wasn't working with Her, but Andrea was. I worked primarily with Odin and Freyja. I won't go into the full account of what She said that night; that's a story for another post. But She came through powerfully, and we both listened. Since that night, I work with the Morrigan as well.
After She stepped back, the familiars came through.
I won't tell you about Andrea's — that's her story to tell. Mine, though…mine was something. I won't tell you what he is, or his name, but I will say that he made himself known clearly: he desires only a bit of honey now and then, and when I see Luna Moths, he is near. That same night, I saw what he truly looks like in my dreams. He appeared to me not as a moth, but carrying the colors of one. I keep honey out for him always. I speak to him every day, I work with him every day. He is, genuinely, remarkable.
One example, because I want you to understand what this kind of relationship actually looks like in practice: my husband couldn't find his credit card. We both searched the room three times over. I asked him for help and then it was simply there, sitting on the edge of the table, in a spot we had both just looked at. We looked at each other, and I thanked him, because I knew.
The spirit familiar is one of the oldest and most consistent features of British folk magic. In the trial records from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, cunning folk and accused witches alike described their familiars in striking, specific terms — not as vague spiritual presences, but as distinct beings with names, personalities, preferences, and particular ways of making contact. Elizabeth Francis of Chelmsford described receiving her familiar from her grandmother. Joan Prentice described hers appearing at her bedside. These weren't symbolic relationships. They were working ones. The familiar was understood as a spirit that assisted the witch in exchange for something: blood, milk, bread, a drop of honey. Small things, and reciprocal things. The relationship was one of mutual obligation and genuine affection. That older understanding — that of the familiar as a specific being with its own nature, its own name, its own desires — is the frame I work in. Not a metaphor, not an aspect of the self. It's a relationship.

This blend is made to burn during the blessing ritual below. Each ingredient is chosen for its traditional associations with spirit work, purification, and the strengthening of bonds.
Grind together and burn on a charcoal disc or in a fireproof vessel.

This is the blend I reach for when I need to actively connect with my familiar — when I'm working rather than honoring. It's heavier, more resinous, built for communication.
Burn on charcoal. Wormwood smoke is strong, so you don't need much.

This ritual is an act of gratitude and reciprocity. It strengthens the bond between you and your familiar by acknowledging them formally, offering your thanks, and asking for their continued presence in your work.
You will need:
Prepare your space and gather your materials. Light the incense. If you work with charged stones, set your intention into the crystal before you begin.
Sit at your altar or working space. Take several slow breaths. Ground yourself — come fully into the room, into your body, into the present moment.
Call your familiar. Speak their name if you know it, or simply open yourself to their presence. When you feel them near — and you will know it when you do — acknowledge them. Thank them, and don't rush this part.
Light your candle or candles, calling the elements in whatever way is natural to your practice. Hold your crystal. Breathe. Let yourself feel their energy.
When you are ready, speak the charm aloud:
I name you friend, I name you kin, By the bond struck without and within. Come to me now as you have before, By crossroads, by threshold, by hearth, and by door. I offer my thanks for the work that is done, For the hand at my back and the race that we've run. Stay near to me, guide me, be known at my side, By the old ways that bind us, whatever betide. So I speak it, so let it be fixed and be fast — The familiar and witch, as long as we last.
After the charm, make your offering. Speak to your familiar directly — tell them what you're grateful for, ask for what you need going forward. Don't be formal about it; the old cunning folk weren't. Thank the elements, and close your working in whatever way is right for your practice. Let yourself feel the connection settle.
One last thing: the most important part of this relationship isn't the ritual — it's the daily contact. Speak your familiar's name, tell them what's happening, leave the honey out. These small acts of acknowledgment are how the bond stays alive between workings, and how they stay close enough to help when you need them.
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