As a young Witchlet, I quickly discovered that even if I just started thinking about doing a spell, I saw almost immediate results. Before the candle was lit, the herbs gathered, the incantation uttered—the change had already been set into motion.

So with sigils and my method of sigilcrafting, the same idea is at play. The moment I sit down to think about the sigil I’d like to craft, the spell has begun. As I work out the problem and solution in my head, I’m basically writing computer code, but for my magick. In the sigil design process, I organize the code into an order that makes sense, remove any unnecessary information, problem-solve, and create a finished product. The moment my brain settles on a design that is pleasing to it, I’ve essentially hit the “enter” button. The program is running. Anything done after that moment simply furthers and refines the protocol I’ve established. The physical form of a sigil may endure or may be fleeting. Either way, it continues to work subliminally behind the scenes—much like your computer or phone’s operating system while you read this. 

These sigils I share here and in my books are, by the heart of their design, public, or shared magick. They thrive in use and repetition, each use a swelling wave of change. Little shifts of position, new inspirations, cracks of light filtering through: nothing too dramatic on the personal level, but still change that you can stand back and see as the mosaic comes together. With every view or sharing, a sigil’s power builds like a rising tide. Shared sigils inspire, enthuse, and invigorate through their cumulative use and presence. As water carves its way through stone, so too may sigils, used collectively, carve out change in the world.