There’s a kind of strength that doesn’t roar. It doesn’t stomp its feet or shatter glass ceilings in a blaze of thunder. It whispers. It steadies. It holds. It’s a gentle magic.
Eron Vito Mazza
In a culture obsessed with dominance, productivity, and spectacle, softness is often dismissed as weakness. But in magical and spiritual traditions, gentleness can be a sacred act of rebellion. To soften in a world that tries to harden you—that’s power.
As a queer person, a trans person, a spiritual person—whatever you are—there is holy medicine in choosing tenderness. Choosing to be soft when the world tells you to armor up its not about surrendering, It’s about reclaiming your humanity, It’s about refusing to let cruelty control you.
In witchcraft, we talk a lot about intention, energy, and power. But we forget that power doesn’t have to mean force. Power can mean presence, stillness, listening, and holding space. Softness is what lets us feel, and feeling is the gateway to magic.
There is a kind of magic that only opens when we allow ourselves to be open. To cry. To grieve. To touch the petals instead of plucking the flower. Some spells require a quiet contemplation, not a shouted incantation. Some spirits only respond when we stop screaming and start listening.
In my practice, softness has become an altar. Not just a mood. I light candles with care. I anoint my chest with oils not to change it, but to thank it. I speak to myself in kind tones—even when I’m mad. Especially when I’m mad! These are not acts of laziness or indulgence. They are elements of survival.
The world tells us to toughen up. That softness makes us prey. But I believe softness makes us human. And when we allow that humanity to flourish—in our rituals, our relationships, our politics—we remember that care is not a luxury. It is a spell in itself.
To be soft is not to be passive. It is to be awake. Awake to suffering. Awake to joy. Awake to beauty. And awake to the quiet, radical truth that healing doesn’t always scream, it often sings in lullabies.
So this is your permission slip to cry during a ritual. To take naps as spellwork. To offer honey and not just fire. The world has enough sharp edges. Let your gentleness be a sacred tool. Let your softness be holy. Let the cruelty of this world be sacrificed on the altar of self-love.
Eron Vito Mazza is the author of The Living Lenormand, and is the host of the podcast The Witching hour with Eron Mazza.
