thedevotedmystic.com

“To the One Who Built with Love”

You, whom I never met—
and yet, you hold me.
You carved not just wood,
but a vessel of memory,
a hearth for healing,
a shrine for the unseen.

In this sacred space, I feel you.
In the hush before the spell, I sense you.
In every jar I lift with reverence,
your blessing lingers.

Though you crossed the veil before our meeting,
you did not miss me.
You made a place for me.
And I now make one for you.

May your spirit rest with pride.
Your hands are still at work—
through mine.

Sometimes, the souls we were meant to know in this life meet us instead in the liminal space—through presence, through objects, through the resonance of what they left behind. Don’t doubt what you feel, it is real.

I did not meet his face, but I met his devotion—in wood, in hinge, in heart-shaped carvings.
I did not hear his voice, but I hear his spirit—in the creak of a cabinet door, in the silent nod of approval as I blend my medicines.

In this life, I am honored to be the keeper of what he built. And I believe he knows that.
He visits not with words, but with warmth at my shoulder.
Not with visions, but with a certain stillness that settles as I work at what is now my beloved apothecary.

In a way, it feels as though he chose me, in a way—before we ever met. To tend this sacred apothecary shrine where the Witch, the Healer, and the Ancestor converge. This is no ordinary cabinet—this is a living altar of earth’s wisdom and ancestral memory, a temple of plant, bone, and sacred function.

🌿 Cabinet of Living Memory

This wooden hutch, carved with hearts and sealed with keys, is like a chest of living spells. Every jar and label holds a whisper. It’s a repository of lineage—not just of herbs and tinctures, but of experiences, stories, and silent agreements between healer and plant. The keys hanging on the doors are symbolic gatekeepers. This is not just storage—it is ritual containment.

🌞 Garland of Dried Citrus – Protection and Preservation

Strung across the top, the dried citrus slices form a protective sun-chain. Each slice is a small solar disc, dried into memory. It radiates abundance, warding, and continuity. They speak of care, time, and intention—a spell of preservation cast into air and light.

🪶 Feathers and Bones – Spirit Tools

Adorning the top are feathers bundled and bound—from birds called upon in my craft. Their presence evokes sky-magic, messages from the Otherworld, and soul-flight. Paired with skulls and antlers, this is a place where animistic reverence breathes.

🔮 The Apothecary Shelves – A Witch’s Grimoire in Glass

My jars are arranged like verses in a song: chamomile, elderberry, rose hips, star anise… Each one a chapter of healing. This cabinet is my book of mirrors in physical form—no pages, but jars, handwritten labels, petals and bark.

🕯️ The Ritual Workbench – Crafting Between the Worlds

Below, the surface is my working altar. Mortar and pestle, the skeleton board, the shears, salt lamps, a chalice. This is the space where sacred action occurs. Here I don’t just remember—I transform. Blend, cutting, pouring, burning, offering. This is the forge of my magick.

🔐 The Keys

There are keys tucked into nearly every section of this cabinet: on the drawers, the hutch doors, even in the details. These are not just decorative. They are ritual objects, dream symbols, guardians. They echo the iron key on my working space, deepening the spell of threshold work, initiation, and hidden knowledge.

🦂 Archetypal Echoes

The Crone-Witch-Guardian archetype, not in the sense of age—it is about depth and gravity. This space says: “I keep the memory of the land. I know how to tend what is lost. I remember the names no one else speaks.”

It is also a Phoenix cabinet, holding decay, memory, and healing into regeneration. This is the sacred workshop of someone who transmutes pain into potion, who works with shadow and bloom alike.

This hutch is not just a vessel for my craft—it is a living reliquary of love, memory, and lineage. Handmade by my partner’s grandfather, it carries not only the fingerprints of an ancestor, but also his devotion, skill, and legacy woven into wood.

And the fact that he passed five years ago on Memorial Day weekend—when the veil between the remembered and the living grows thin in a collective way—imbues this altar with ancestral gravity. I am not just tending herbs… I am tending the memory of a man who built this with his hands, who passed through the veil at a threshold moment of remembrance. It is a great honor.

And so I offer this inspiration today…

🪵 “The Maker’s Hands” – An Ancestral Blessing Ritual

Ingredients:

• A candle (earth-toned, beeswax, or hand-dipped if possible)
• A small offering (their favorite drink, tool, herb, or symbol of craft)
• A cloth to lay your tools on—perhaps one stitched or passed down
• A spoken or written memory

Ritual:

1. Cleanse the altar surface gently, speaking to the object of your ancestors belonging, or to their memory, as the beloved elder:
   “You were made with care. You hold the sacred. I see the hands that shaped you.”
2. Place your candle near the object, photo or near you if you only have a memory. Light it, saying:
   “I light this flame in honor of the hands that crafted, tended, etc… the heart that offered, the soul that now watches.”
3. Lay your offering before the candle. Pour a few drops, whisper a memory, or place a token.
   “[Name], your work endures. Your love holds space for healing still.”
4. Touch the item or your own heart space, with gratitude. Place both hands flat against it. Feel the pulse of memory and the magick it now holds. Say:
   “This altar is a bridge. Through it, your spirit blesses, every rite, every soul I tend.”
5. Blow the candle out or let it burn fully. Leave the offering overnight.

I have used this in a similar way for other ancestors that I only have a photo or memory of. You can modify it to fit your need. The point is connection and healing. Honor the Beloved Dead.

Until next time,

The Inspired Imaginative

© 2025 The Devoted Mystic.
All rights reserved. This content is the original work of the author and may not be copied or reproduced without explicit permission.