I believe the spirit of my Nonna was reaching out to me recently as I was decluttering in my efforts to spark change in the new year. I went through some boxes in my basement and came across her old chaplet rosary and several holy medals she kept and immediately felt a sense of immense comfort after a stressful week. Her rosary, though beautiful, is a precious and fragile heirloom and while I would love to use it in my day to day practice, I fear it’s too delicate to carry around. So for now, I will put her rosary on my altar and give it a special place.

The chaplet rosary did give me inspiration though. I’ve found in moments of intense anxiety and dysregulation I need an external means of grounding. In college I used to carry around prayer beads and say meditative chants when I was overwhelmed to keep me in the present. I’ve since lost those beads and have reconnected to my folk practice, finding that praying the rosary has a similar effect for me. After rediscovering my Nonna’s chaplet I decided to craft my own 2 decade rosary I could cary with me. Granted, I’m not really Catholic anymore and consider myself mostly secular (though I heavily resonate with animism and ancestor veneration), the rosary feels like more of an emotionally and culturally significant tool for me as opposed to a religious one.

I used sodalite beads for my rosary to help promote emotional balance. As I crafted my rosary I thought about my Nonna and my memories of her, as well as my intention of inner peace, protection, and blessing. As I worked I burned loose rose and mugwort incense to invite out the divine energy of the Madonna as well as increase the power of my intention. It was a very meaningful and personal process, but one I would recommend if you’re so inclined. Since creating this chaplet rosary I’ve carried it with me to work in case I need that external grounding. It’s given me a sense of ease and a deeper connection to my Nonna ( who I miss very much).

I try to remember to post about my reconnecting journey and folk practice every once in a while— though my last post on the topic was 6 months ago. I’ve come across more resources recently that I would highly recommend for others interested in learning about Italian folk magic that were not included in an older post I made. These are more recent publications and are more accessible than some of the academic sources I shared. These first is an academic text but it’s one I thoroughly enjoyed. Italian Witchcraft and Shamanism: The Tradition of Segnature, Indigenous and Trans-Cultural Shamanic Traditions in Italy by Dr. Angela Puca. It’s an enlightening and incredibly well researched read. She also has a YouTube channel where she discusses her work. I highly recommend checking it out.

Hi. My name's Star, and I am a Sicilian Catholic and Italian folk practitioner.

I often see the book Italian Folk Magic by Mary Grace-Fahrun circulated as the one source for Italian folk magic. It was a good beginner resource for me just because I could point and say "oh hey my grandparents do that!", but I wouldn't really recommend it beyond that-- mainly because it just... made up a lot of shit? But I digress.

There is a section of Italian Folk Magic that addresses the few reading who are not Italian. It says that they are welcome to practice. Grace-Fahrun compares non-Italians practicing to Westerners liking anime. And... I don't think those two are quite comparable?

First off, Italian folk magic is inseparable from Catholicism. Catholicism is a closed religion. Unlike Protestant denominations, you can't just switch to being Catholic at any time. There is a very specific conversion process-- you must be baptized, take your first Communion/Eucharist, and eventually, be confirmed as a Catholic under supervision of a priest.

Secondly, it does depend on what practice you're talking about. There are three main practices in IFM-- Stregheria, Stregoneria, and Benedicaria.

Stregheria is just some shit someone made up. In "Italian Witchcraft", published 1995, Raven Grimassi claims to be part of an ancient Italian tradition that quickly falls apart if you do any further research. With that being said, I don't see why you couldn't practice it? I just don't understand why you would.

Stregoneria is a modern term. In Catholic Italy, nobody would ever call themselves strege, or witches, as the word has demonic connotations in Italy-- but it is used to describe a very specific hereditary practice. Stregoneria is a tradition passed down very specifically from one practitioner, a maga/mago, to the next. This specific practice is closed, as it's typically passed down through generations.

Benedicaria is closed. It's a very regional combination of herbalism, folk healing, and prayer that you need to be a devout Catholic to practice.

That being said, there are plenty of herb correspondences and superstitions from Italian tradition that you could incorporate into your practice! But that's a post for later.

learn more! [1] [2]

Like the title says, this is a little step-by-step on how I like to approach enchanting jewelry!

1. Decide on the piece you're using and cleanse if necessary (probably recommended). I like to bury it in salt for a while or use holy/moon water.

2. If you're asking for a specific entity's help, I like to light a candle in their honor and possibly leave an additional offering (especially if asking for a big effect). If not, just light a candle for some additional assistance from the fire's energy!

3. Create a designated space to place the jewelry on. I think of it as offering the jewelry for a small amount of time (like leaving it overnight) in order to ask for help enchanting it.

4. Adorn the jewelry with corresponding dressings or pieces of the offering (ex.: herb/flower petals, oils, put crystals on it). If not offering to a specific entity, use corresponding materials with the effect you'd like to achieve (ex.: lavender for tranquility, rose for glamor, etc)

5. You can also leave written intentions with the jewelry along with your offerings! This will help focus your mind on the goal as you wear it, as well as strengthen the intention of the working.

6. Leave it! Let it sit as you reflect and allow time for your offering to be accepted. I like to do overnight so I can feel ready to tackle the day with the newly enchanted jewelry.

7. Wear it! ✨

Peter Schibetta in…

Unholy Magick

Peter had gone to church since he was a little boy. He’d memorized enough scripture to get him through it. He knew he’d never be a priest, so what was the point?

He’d had two experiences with the Church that left him speechless. Two experiences that held him to Catholicism forever. Both were fairly blasphemous.

The first had been at around seventeen. He and this girl Marie he’d been seeing snuck into St. Giovanni’s and got freaky in the pews. He remembered all of it, touching her all over, suckling at her breasts like the duomi on top of the churches he’d visited in Italy growing up. He remembered feeling guilty; making love to her in a place like this. God was watching. He remembered seeing this painting of Jesus in the corner of the hall; his hands outstretched and pointing, eyes wide and brown and gorgeous. He remembered thinking that it looked as if Jesus was giving him the ‘ok-son-go-get-em’ finger guns. Peter laughed against his better judgement. If he’d had the son of God’s permission, he might as well do it, right?

The second experience was his first time at the Vatican. He never usually visited central or northern Italy, as his whole family and their associates were from the south. He’d finally made it though. And as his family was weeping over the spirit of the Lord, Peter found himself staring at the duomo overhead. It was painted to look like angels looking down on you; the bottoms of their feet visible from the floor. In fact, it wouldn’t look right if you were staring at it head on, painted in that perspective. He’d smiled. He knew then that he wanted to look at them head on and see the difference; that he wanted to be higher than God.

Only he never made it that far. Christ, he’d never even made it higher than his old man. He’d never even made it higher than himself.

He remembers his first great experience with Stregheria, Italian American magick. It had been at his in law’s place. His mother in law was called La Strega, or The Witch. She had an herbal remedy for everything. If Peter had joint pain, olive oil on the foot. If he’d had a cut, raw garlic on the wound. If he had oily skin, a little lemon juice. He’d used her for pretty much fucking everything. He loved his mother in law possibly more than his own wife.

He knew his whole birth chart. He also knew people didn’t think guys should be into that, but as long as he kept it secret, then this was all just for himself, right? Just a little secret that made him feel he had a little more control in his world. He looked to his big three for inspiration in life. Peter was a Capricorn Sun, an Aquarius Moon, and a Gemini rising. Take that as what you will. He knew he was a bit moody and a bit feminine. He hated both. In his business, you had to do what you had to do, no emotions involved. Peter wasn’t good at that. His father never thought so. He’d always wanted to be something bigger. Something better. He never could seem to do it though.

Peter looked out at the sea, shelling peas right next to his mother in law. He felt guilty. He loved his mother in law more than his own wife. Christ, that’s probably why he married her. Galilea was always there for him. She’d had his back always, and was the only person he cried in front of when his Ma passed. Galilea was going on about the pasta piselli they’d be making that night, the importance of the stir and the freshness of the ingredients. He was barely listening, thinking about his role in the family and how he’d let everyone down. She must have noticed, because she stopped taking.

“Pietro?” She always called him that. Reminded her of the old country. “Pietro, che pensi? What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t think I can run the family, Mamma.” He called her Mamma like she asked him to do so many years ago. “I just don’t know if I have it in me. I’m not like Pop. Not stoic or smart like him.” He threw the pea husk at the ground, dejected. Galilea smiled, and kept shucking her peas.

“Tesoro, of course you’re not.” She said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. His eyes shot to her not in anger but rather confusion and regret at having said anything. “I’ve always liked you Pietro. You’ve been good for my Rosie. You’re not like the other vitelloni in the family. You never have been. You may not be as brutish as Dino or as strategic as your father…”

She leaned forward and touched his knee with her free hand.

“…But caro mio, you don’t have to be.” She shrugged and made the eh gesture with her hand. “So they’ve got the muscle or the mind. You’ve got something else.”

“Besides muscle or mind, what else is there?”

She made an ah face, glad that he asked.

“The spirit.” she continued with her work. “Remember, you don’t have a soul. You are a soul with a temporary body. Everything else is temporary, but the soul is forever, Pietro.”

She gestured at him to wait, getting up and going to get something from the chest outside. Her bones creaked and ached but she persisted for Peter. She took something out of the chest. A red cornicello on a chain, the Italian protection horn. A small, deep blue malocchio, or evil eye, was hooked to it, as well as a mano cornuto, or horned hand. She gave it to him, and he took it to admire the craftsmanship.

“It’s for protection, against the mali. The evils.” She said, still going through the chest. “One day, I’ll teach you how to use it. The evils. But you’re much too young, much to volatile as you are now. You must know, you cannot practice black magick without offering something in return. Whenever you ask something from a God or Force, you must give something back, lest it comes to take you tenfold the power of what you took.”

She shook her head, as if she’d lost many an apprentice to the dark forces of the world.

“I’m ready now.” Pleased a Peter who most certainly did not understand the powers with which he was meddling. Galilea knew this, and so smiled at him, as the Madonna might have at Gesù, with all the patience and love of a mother duck.

“I’d like for that to be true. As it stands today, you’ve a ways to go. In the meantime, these charms should offer you the protection of the powers that be. The chrysalis is made to protect the farfalla, until it’s ready to fly away.”

Peter smiled against his first instinct. He liked the way his mother in law spoke; like some character in a Dante epic. He always liked that about her. Her regality. He wished he had some of that in himself. The lyricism with which she spoke was something of legend, and as the saying goes, what are legends but tales of ordinary people who do extraordinary things. He wished still that he had a touch of the miraculous as did Galilea.

“Fa lu Santuccio, Benedetto.” She nearly sang, making the sacred cross across her chest. “Do a little holy thing, blessed one. You are blessed, Pietro. Well and truly.”

“I don’t feel it, Mamma.” He answered, honestly. She tutted and turned around, a small vial in hand. She handed it over.

“A’ruta, rosmarina, ambra, uova, e la cimaruta.” She said with a confidence, and Peter translated in his head to mean; rue, rosemary, amber, egg, and la cimaruta, the rue branches of fortune. “For protection as well as fortune. Bury it in your garden, just outside your home. We Benedetti di Benedicaria, know from our indigenous Italian ancestors how to utilize the genii, the soul of plants and crystals.”

“And if I plant this I’ll be a good capo?” He asked, genuinely, and she chuckled to herself.

“No, Tesoro, but you’ll have the eye of the saints upon you. It will be enough to protect you during your transition.”

“And if I wanted to have the eye of the mali on me, the eye of the black magick spirits?” He asked, knowing what her probable answer would be. She made the cross over her body and spat on the ground.

“You’d be opening yourself to forces beyond your comprehension.” She sat down next to him, stroking his hair gently. “Pietro, you mustn’t force things. Take it as it comes.”

But Peter didn’t listen, did he. As soon as his father had been arrested, and him named active boss on the outside, it was as much of anything that he could do at once. It was as much racketeering and gambling and whoring and drugging. Anything he saw as fair game became as such. He burned the Saint, and thereby negated the protection Mamma Galilea had put on him. He pretended to be a devout Catholic, while doing these shows of unholy magick behind the scenes.

He’d still visited his Mamma Galilea, but it became interspersed with meeting of the family and muscle and consiglieri and soldati and capi that he became power mad. Still he could never fill the shoes of his oh-so-illustrious father. Every conversation was about comparing them. Every loss was considered twice as lost as if Peter’s father had done it. Every misstep was counted twice.

So one night, Peter called upon those dark powers that be. Those frightening powers that always had him cowering in his room as a young boy. One night, a mere two months before he’d been arrested, on Samhain night while the veil between this life and the next was thin, he called upon the powers of Bia, Goddess of Anger, Force, and Raw Power, as well as Enyo, Goddess of Bloodshed, and Keres, Goddess of Violent Death, in a ritual he was ashamed to say he did without the knowledge of his Mamma Galilea. He’d stirred together some unholy concoction of herbs; Teeth of Hades (nettle), Toad (sage), Heart of Jupiter (cloves), Bride of the Sun (calendula), Genitals of Jupiter (anise). He’d set up his altar and crafted sigils into his candles, everything he’d been taught to do. He sat in prayer for an hour and forty five minutes, calling on those dark spirits to show his enemies that he was not a force to be reckoned with. That he was a man as revered and feared as his father. That he was a man not to be trifled with. He begged the other side to alleviate him of those merciful traits that held him back so, wishing harder than anything that he would become a serious man. When he’d gotten out of his trance later that night, he dismantled the altar, hid the evidence, and ate his weight in pasta, having been left ravenous from the venture. For the next three months he lived in his successes, becoming as known throughout the neighborhood as his father had been, as he was meant to be. He tore through the town in a blind rage, swiping down all of his enemies and devouring his competition. It was a massacre highlighted by cocktail parties and dinner reservations. He and his wife, Rosalie, were unstoppable.

Mamma Galilea took notice. She went to Peter one day, having cut the line, as it were, to see him as Peter would drop everything for that woman at a moment’s notice. He embraced her and showed her around his new office.

“Beautiful, huh?” He reveled in his success.

“Pietro, I’m so proud of you.” She hesitated for a moment, so Peter asked her what was wrong. “I hope to be proud of the way you came about this transformation.”

At Peter’s instant paling, Mamma Galilea knew exactly what Peter had done.

“To whom did you call?”

Peter told her, and she nearly fainted to the ground. Peter caught her in time and guided her to a seat.

“Pietro… what did you offer in return?” She asked, having already known the answer. Peter turned bright red. He’d not offered a single, solitary thing. “Figlio mio, what have you done? Pagan Gods don’t work the same as the Catholic one. They are every bit as flawed as we humans are. Every peccato.”

She moaned out these words and started saying Our Fathers over and over again, clenching his hands until her knuckles turned white.

“Mamma, it’s okay. They gave me what I asked and they haven’t taken. They know I’m grateful. They’re all knowing.” He stroked her hands and kissed the tops. “Mamma, it’s all going to be fine. I have a better life for Rosalie and me. We’re finally moving up. This is a good thing.”

He was more trying to assure himself than her at this point, and even someone with half the perception of Mamma Galilea could have told you that. She touched the side of his face softly, trying to impart on him with just her eyes how badly things would turn. But all she saw was a young man, violent and angry at the world, clawing his way up the ladder of success not for money or fame but to surpass his father’s shadow. She shook her head and made the cross over her heart.

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

Only Peter wasn’t right. It happed thirteen days after his thirty fifth birthday. He’d gotten busted for money laundering. It was a disguised charge, of course, he was really being charged for the drugging and the whoring and the murders. It’s just they had no proof of those. Thirty five years in prison he was sentenced to. His life done a second time. His mother in law had been there, crying her eyes out. Her heart broke for Peter that day, more so because she knew how it had come to be.

In prison, he tried to get some of his jizz back, but he still could only measure up to half his father’s prowess. Half of what he should have been. So, having learned nothing from his first experiences and in a moment of desperation, called upon those dark spirits again. This time, he’d called upon Hecate, Goddess of Necromancy, Nyx, Goddess of Darkness, and Medusa, Goddess of Inner Power. He’s made a makeshift altar and starved himself for a few days as penance. He’d gotten together some items, sources front eh kitchen, trying to make something that would give him the power to know what comes next. He’d poured out the other half of the concoction, hoping this would reconcile the Gods to his favor. He thought he did everything right this time. But his reasons weren’t righteous. His motives were corrupt, filled with human greed and desire. Desire. It’s the source of all suffering.

Adebisi saw to that.

Broken. Desolate. Every time Peter tried to become something, he was shot down.

Schillinger and Robson.

Peter was cursed. Cursed by his own doing. Cursed by his hubris. By his desire to be someone.

It was only when he saw his wife that he spoke to his mother in law again. He couldn’t stand to look at either one, couldn’t stand to be pitied after everything he’d tried to do for them. Rosalie saw him and wept the whole way home. Peter was thin, gaunt, and hollow. He looked like a shell of the cocky boy that was sent to prison. She called on her mom to go visit him, which is what Peter wanted. He didn’t mention what had happened to him to Rosalie, but when Mamma Galilea came, he spilled everything, holding back tears so much that it physically hurt his face. He grabbed her hand quick enough so the CO yelled at him.

“Mamma, what do I do? I know who killed Pop. I know who raped me. I know who let it happen. How? How is it fair that I should suffer and they should go walkin’ around like they own the joint.” He squeezed her arthritic hand. “Help me, Mamma. Help me.

Her heart broke for the second time that day. She thought for a moment, pensively mulling over the pros and cons in her head, until, despite her better judgement, she’d said;

“Yes, Pietro. Of course.” She laid it out for him; get an item from each of the people who had wronged him. She’d do the rest, and keep Peter’s hands clean. All Peter had to do was collect items from the people who wronged him.

Only he didn’t do that. See, what he didn’t tell her, was that his plan was to make those that wronged him suffer beyond comprehension, the way he had. So he didn’t collect items from those that wronged him. He collected items from the innocent, in order to indirectly punish the guilty. Mamma Galilea didn’t know that. But the spirits did.

I don't necessarily have the video that this came from, but my mom told me about this exorcist who forced demons to tell him what their purpose was when they were angels. They would say the trees, virgins, etc.

Hearing this got me thinking well isnt that just like deities who control elements and objects?

So in essence, we can pray to specific angels for things like trees or oceans or unborn babies. Now me saying this doesn't mean you can't pray to other gods, this is more for me trying to find the magic in catholicism. Maybe this will help others.

Vatican 2 really messed with catholicism and took out the supernatural, which is why I found benedicaria and folk catholicism. These old ways that haven't been touched by the puritifiying of catholicism. [ nothing wrong with the puritan way of viewing faith. I just gel with catholicism]

I hope this was interesting to someone.

Sorry for rambling have a good day

You have to be very careful. Under my Benedicaria tag, I mention that Vito Quattrocchi and his friend Fr Agostino Taumaturgo (aka, Jason Spadafore - he and Vito send their book drafts back and forth to one another, and are close friends) are like... beyond racist. They're openly-posting-swastika's racist, or at least Vito is. Gail Faith Edwards, while a separate vein of writing, is also racist, but even more strongly transphobic, though the bar is so low on resources that honestly the fact that she doesn't want back Mussolini and his friend the mustache man is an improvement over the first two.

Rue Roselli is friends with Fr Agostino but seems to not be racist, and tries to talk sense into the both of them on a variety of topics, including the lack of a sharp line between Strega and Benedicaria in practice, as opposed to in heart, so of the larger names Rue is who I would recommend. (Benedicaria being pretty solidly Catholic.)

As such...

Well, there's an adorable essay by someone who mostly writes what I'd call "pop witchcraft" (albeit with good messaging sometimes)- but this article shows something more of what she doesn't say in her books.

Mostly though, the answer is "find someone willing to teach you." And "read as many books on pre-Vatican II sacramentals as you can stand."

This website and book -

There's also some who are more Pagan / Strega leaning because of issues with Christianity, but mostly leave the practices and prayers and saints intact. Chaotic Witch Aunt falls under this category, including Diana as the main Pagan deity that shows up in their personal practice. (Note, they're non-binary, the "Aunt" title notwithstanding.)

Hello all. Very new and currently reaserching. Looking for guidance and reading materials. I will give some backround info, the reason I'm reaserching, and what I have consumed already.

Backround on me. I am an Italian American, mostly southern Italian, primarily Sicily. (As far as I know, i will be takeing an ancestory DNA test soon) My family was running from organized crime and wanted to "americanize" fast so I did not really grow up culturally scicilian. I grew up catholic. I generally consider myself an architypical theist. I am not opposed to others views and practices like some people that use a similar identity. I have been passively practicing various traditions at my leisure for a few years now. Some inspiration from Wicca, the Heathen Reconstruction Movement, and more modern eclectic writers like Mat Auryn's "Psychic Witch." With all that being said I am a casual practioner of witchcraft at best but am very much convinced of a creator diety.

Recently I have came across itallian folk traditions and found striking similarities with my family and "what we did in Sicily" as my grandpa would say. About 2 years ago there was a lot of random shitty things happening in the family. My grandpa instructed my sister to gift me a cornicello neclace because he thought this is the work of the Mal'occhio. (he pernounced it ma-luk-e-a) Ever since I've worn it everyday. After a recent death in the family I decided to research this further and came across a YouTube video by Chaotic Witch Aunt that was a kind of "beginners guide," from here is where my general research has taken off from. I noticed, in my family, a focus on saint veneration, saint punishing, Mal'occhio, and stories of my great Grandfather describing a kind of shamanism in his "pinwheel village". My guess is that my recent family partook in a type of Benidictaria. And yes I know they would not have called themselves that as far as I know everyone has been Devote catholics, even though they don't really act like devote catholics. I COULD BE WRONG OFC.

Some of the stuff I consumed so far is various blog posts and reddit threads relating to symbolism, charms, icons.., the previously mentioned YouTube video, a interview with Angela Buca from Chaotic Witch Aunt, I started reading "itallian witchcraft" by Raven Gramassi (taking it with a grain of salt), and I will occasionally crack into the 13 part paper "Spells, Saints, and Strege." By Sabina Magliocco, not much yet though.

My to read list is this right now.

Finishing Sabinas paper.

The things we do, Augustino Taumaturgo.

Aradia, Charles Leland. Stregheria, Leland.

Etruscan magic and occult remedies, Leland.

Pre prints that Angela Buca has made available.

My goal here is more so in the realm of reconstruction, history, and gathering more info. I have made the decision to experiment with saint veneration since it is somthing I have done in the past and somthing that feels natural to me. I do not want to jump into a new practice all willy nilly without the proper reaserch.

Looking for more reading materials, guidance on prioritizing the materials I already have listed, general advice to newcomers into the community, personal stories of your practice or relationship with italian folk traditions, and a reason why everyone seems to hate Gramassi haha.

Sorry this post is so long I felt it necessary to explain my intentions and where the come from. I understand that this is a diverse and nuanced community and subject to research.