Elspeth on Burnout: When the Fire Dies, the Magic Shifts
For the ones whose spark has gone quiet.
They come to me with hollow eyes and trembling hands, whispering, “I can’t do it anymore.”
The students, the dreamers, the writers, the witches. All of them thinking they’ve failed.
They speak of burnout like it’s a shameful thing. Like it means the magic is gone.
But let me tell you something: burnout is not the end of the fire. It’s the changing of its shape.
You Are Not Broken—You Are Becoming
You cannot live in constant flame. Even the most sacred hearth must be tended gently, not forced to blaze day after day without rest.
When your spirit dims, it is not failure. It is a clearing.
A signal from the soul:
Not this pace.
Not this pressure.
Not this story anymore.
Burnout often comes when we keep pushing magic through a shape it no longer fits. When the spell was cast years ago, and we’re still trying to live inside it—long after we’ve outgrown it.
What To Do When the Fire Goes Out
First: stop trying to relight it. That will only fill your lungs with smoke.
Instead, do what the earth does after a wildfire: lie still. Listen. Let new things root in ash.
Tend to yourself the way you would tend to a cold cauldron:
Clean the soot.
Refill it with fresh water.
Whisper a new intention over the rim.
Wait.
The fire will return. But it will burn differently. Quieter, perhaps. Or stranger. Or deeper.
A Potion for the Dimly Lit
If you can manage nothing else, make a cup of tea. Make it like a ritual.
Add lemon balm for gentleness.
Add rosemary to remember yourself.
Add a pinch of salt to seal what still matters.
Stir it slowly and say:
“I am not done. I am changing.”
Let the Magic Shift
Magic isn’t just in spells and effort.
It’s in rest. In surrender. In honest silence.
Some of your most powerful magic will happen when you do nothing at all.
So if the words won’t come, if the path is unclear, if you feel like nothing fits anymore… good.
That means you’re on the edge of something true.
Let the old shape fall away. Let the flame become embers. Let the embers become soil.
The fire is not gone.
It’s becoming something wilder.
And so are you.
— Elspeth
There's something magical about ending the cycle of becoming as well. If you think abou it, we're always trying to become something or someone--we forget to live, or are living in the future. It's like a thought-stream endlessly projecting into the future--our lives become a hologram. Imagine what we could accomplish if we learned to turn off the projector!
Words well said by our magic teacher!