There is a restlessness in the air, a shifting of spiritual tectonic plates that goes far beyond the tourist traps of Massachusetts.
While millions flock to Salem each year—donning the black garb of a dark history—the reality is that the “Witch City” has become more of a commercial spectacle than a true epicenter.
Dark still, yes; and if you go to certain places there (not recommended), you’ll have to purge a spiritual residue.
As we often see, where there is commerce, there is a dilution of essence. But make no mistake: the “craft” is not confined to the cobblestones of New England. It is spreading, quietly and firmly, into the heart of the American landscape.
We often think of the American South as a “Bible Belt” bastion, but a closer look at places like Raleigh, North Carolina, reveals a surprising and complex spiritual battleground. Practitioners there, such as author Thorn Mooney, point out that the region is one of the most religiously diverse in the country. In the shadows of the oaks, there are active covens and “pagan alliances” thriving in a culture of scholars and artists. It is a reminder that the spiritual struggle is not always overt; it often sits at a corner table in a dimly lit bar, watching, waiting, and weaving itself into the fabric of everyday life.
Moving West, the atmosphere changes, but the intensity remains. Portland, Oregon, has become a sanctuary for what many call “intersectional magic,” where the occult is blended with environmentalism and social activism. Large-scale metaphysical shops and “queer-owned apothecaries” are no longer outliers; they are thriving centers of community.
Further south in the California Bay Area, we see the remnants of the “Goddess movement” of the 1970s. This was the birthplace of a radical shift in alternative spirituality, led by figures who sought to redefine the divine in their own image. In San Francisco, the “broom closet” is a thing of the past. There is an openness there—a “let your freak flag fly” mentality—that allows these practices to operate without the veil of secrecy. However, even there, we see the “tech bro” culture of Silicon Valley pushing some practitioners out, proving that even in the spiritual realm, the pressures of the material world are never far behind.
What we are witnessing is a formalization of these practices. Many of the leaders in these movements belong to the Gardnerian tradition—a structured, initiation-only priesthood that traces its roots back to the mid-20th century. These are not just hobbyists; they are people committed to a specific “orthopraxy,” a way of ritual that demands precision.
Interestingly, these practitioners often struggle with the very land they inhabit. In California, they find that their “high holidays,” originally tied to the cold, damp cycles of Northern Europe, do not match the Mediterranean sun of the West Coast. They are forced to “adjust” their magic to the local soil. It is a fascinating, if sobering, look at how the ancient “old ways” are being grafted onto the New World, creating a spiritual map that is becoming increasingly crowded. We must stay alert, keep our lamps lit, and discern the spirits as these hubs continue to grow.