It’s been years now since I accepted the offer to help create something new, something that went against the grain of everything I’d been told by the old guard. The plan? To build a mystery school—a society, a place, an experiment. A test to see if we could do what so many seasoned witches swore could never be done: to teach magic openly, to bring the arcane out of the shadows, and to share it with those the elders deemed unworthy.Looking back, I see now that I’ve always had a bit of a rebellious streak in me when it comes to the local practitioners. Don’t get me wrong, they possess power, wisdom, and experience, but there was always something about their secrecy that rubbed me the wrong way. I was never one to stay in the proverbial broom closet. Even in my early days working in construction, I had magical clients calling me for help and advice, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I wore my practice openly, even if the rest of the world kept it under wraps. This might sound odd, given the anonymity I enjoy here in this journal, but it’s true—I’ve never hidden who I am. And maybe that was part of my naïveté in the beginning, trusting that people who said they wanted to learn magic really meant it. I’ve met plenty of great practitioners in my time, the real deal. The fascinating thing about these truly skilled witches and magicians? They don’t write books. They don’t teach openly. They’re not chasing after Instagram followers or writing for that absurd publishing company with the crescent moon logo. No, these people lurk in the shadows, working quietly, occasionally turning up at the odd Pagan moot to scope out talent. More often than not, they’re looking to see if there’s anyone worth assimilating into their private practices—though some, like Mr. Q (yes, I see you), just show up to see which plebs they can manipulate for their own ends.These real practitioners stay hidden, keeping their craft close and inaccessible, and sometimes it’s hard not to feel a bit superior when you know the difference. I get accused of being elitist sometimes, but it’s not because I’m puffed up by my own skill or think I’m better than others. It’s just that I know what it takes—the sheer determination, the grit, and, yes, the metaphorical balls—to really get anywhere with magic at a high level. The quality of modern-day practitioners is… well, let’s just say it’s lacking. The 21st century has become a playground for spiritual dabblers, and if you’re serious about magic, you either have to commit or bow out. There’s no middle ground. That’s what led us—me and another practitioner, someone with the same frustration I felt—to open the doors. To let the profane, the mundane, the wannabes in. We thought, why not?Why not try to teach the unworthy, to show them what real magic looks like, and maybe—just maybe—find the one or two gems among the hundred fools. And for a time, it worked. We found some hungry souls, people who really wanted to learn and progress. We built workshops, created communities, and soon enough, the experiment stretched across the globe. But for every one true student, there were a hundred more who just wanted to play dress-up. Magic is serious work, yes, but it’s also fun. And I never cared much about what someone looked like—after all, glamour magic is a thing. But I do care about their ambition, their hunger to know. And it became clear that most people just didn’t have it.They’d spend thousands of pounds on crystals, without a clue how to use them. They’d collect tarot decks like trophies, but couldn’t pull a single accurate reading if their lives depended on it. Witchcraft has become an industry. And not because there aren’t real practitioners out there—there are—but because that’s what people want. They want the aesthetics, the tools, the trinkets. They don’t want the actual work. It’s frustrating, sure, but it’s also just the way things have gone. The world’s full of people who want the look of magic, not the substance. Now, as this grand experiment I’ve been part of begins to wind down, I find myself reflecting on it all. I started this journey to prove the old witches wrong, to show that it could be done—that magic could be taught to anyone willing to learn. And in some ways, we succeeded. But mostly, I’ve learned that the old ways really are the best. The closed circles, the secrecy, the intense dedication—it’s there for a reason.Magic isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay... ...Welcome to the official YouTube channel of the infamous Cunning Man, known only as Psychic Villain. Here, you'll find videos on folk magic, spellcraft, divination, and the hidden traditions of the occult, all shared anonymously. Join me as I explore the mystical world through rituals, tutorials, and ancient practices—always keeping one foot in the shadows.
