Witch Envy: The second most-asked question I get

After clients and students have finished asking me how they can reconnect to or develop their psychic spider-senses, they often follow up with something along the lines of, “Well, you make it look so easy!”

Or maybe someone in a course I’m leading notices that everyone else experiences energetic signatures in a really cool way, and they don’t:

“I must not be psychic. I don’t see [colors] [animals] [spirits] [smoke] [things that go boo in the night],” says a student.

Or “It’s not fair. How come I can’t [insert whatever here],” says another.

Baby Angie back in the day.

Baby Angie back in the day.

Dude. It took me 20 years of Tarot reading, 17 years of trauma, 15 years of therapy, 10 years of repression, 2 years of active witchcraft, and a helluva mother wound to get to where I am today. My six-week course on intuition isn’t gonna get you there—although it can be an important first step.

My mentor, Cyndi Brannon, labels this “The Green-Eyed Monster” in her blog post on Witches Behaving Badly. While she talks about Instagram-worthy crystal grids (drool), I want to address the topic a little deeper. Perhaps I’m speaking more to Witchy Shadow Syndrome.

Either way, join me on a journey to my childhood fantasy land, Narnia.

In the fifth book in the Chronicles of Narnia, The Horse and His Boy, the protagonist, Shasta, is speaking with Aslan. For those of you not super familiar with Narnia, author and theologian C.S. Lewis created the world as a children’s Christian allegory. Aslan appears as a Lion throughout the series, and he is a stand-in for Jesus/God. Shasta and his companion have been chased by lions throughout their journey—and at one point, a lion clawed 10 scratches on his companion’s back. As Aslan reveals that it was him all along, Shasta realizes with horror that this creature was the one who hurt his friend.

But what for?” asked Shasta.

”Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no-one any story but his own.
— C.S. Lewis, A Horse and His Boy

As a kid, I pondered what Aslan meant. Why would Aslan—that is, God, as I was raised evangelical Protestant Christian—only tell us our own stories? This was strange. Shasta never learns why his friend received those 10 scratches. And you know what? It doesn’t matter to Shasta’s story.

As an adult, after probably 10 of those 15 years of therapy, I finally realized two reasons why we need to stay focused on our own stories:

  1. When we start trying to be responsible for other peoples’ stories, we become codependent.

  2. When we focus only on other peoples’ stories, we’ll end up missing out on our own.

Stop comparing yourself to others. Stop looking at the surface of other peoples’ stories and feeling less-than. You don’t know the depth of their story—and honestly? It doesn’t matter. YOUR story is the only one that does.

So pay attention to how YOU perceive the world. Maybe you don't sense energy signatures in the same way a bunch of other folks do—maybe you sense it in a totally new way, a way yet to be discovered. Maybe it’s going to take you a long, circuitous route to find your psychic spidey-senses—and if so, then that means that long and winding route included some really important situations for you to experience to understand yourself and the your world—and yes, your story!—better.

Maybe your story is going to include 10 scratches on your back for whatever reason—it’s not mine to know.

Lace up your boots, throw on your backpack, and take off down YOUR trail. It’s YOUR story—revel in it!