The Gifts of Great Aunt Marija
Many who dabble in magic and cartomancy often dream of having witches, sorcerers, magicians, or renowned fortunetellers as ancestors. This yearning is frequently accompanied by unspoken expectations of miraculous inheritances—bloodline-born magical talents or divining familiars passed down through generations.
I could say, with some certainty, that I was fortunate to have such ancestors—on both sides of my family, no less. These are not abstract projections of distant, shadowy figures from centuries past but real individuals whose memory remains alive within me and the generation of my parents. When I was younger, I often lamented that my ancestors had passed either before I was born or before I was old enough to learn directly from them. But as I grew older and matured as both a cartomancer and a witch, I came to understand that no amount of teaching from them could have fully unlocked my potential. They may have inspired me and set me on the path I walk today, but their experiences will always remain uniquely theirs.
I did not live their moments, perform their rituals, conjure their magic, or bear the sting of their failures. Their legacy, though powerful, is not my own—it cannot substitute for my own experiences, risks, and triumphs.
As Camelia Elias aptly put it:
“The magician that relies on tradition alone for her workings is half the magician her master is. A good magician is a magician who, when she snaps her fingers, talks to nothing. She asks ‘nothing’ to assist her in her working, as this working in the ‘nothing’ is unmediated by dogma, influence, or by second-guessing the master… You honor their ‘something’ for you with your own ‘nothing.’” (Elias, 2015)
Their “something” has guided me, but it is my own “nothing” that defines my craft.
Yet, it is their “something” I want to write about—or more precisely, the “something” of one remarkable person who enriched our family’s magical knowledge and shared her talents generously: Great-Aunt Marija.
Aunt Marija entered our family through the marriage of my grandmother’s sister. As my grandmother and her sister were inseparable, their households blended into one large, tightly-knit family, making Aunt Marija’s presence an indelible part of our lives.
She married young but also divorced young. Her husband’s patriarchal, conservative Montenegrin background meant she was cruelly forbidden from ever seeing her child again, a loss that cast a shadow of profound sorrow over her life. Seeking solace, she followed her brother to our hometown, where he had settled with my grandmother’s sister, and she made it her new home.
Marija made her living by reading fortunes with playing cards and performing uncrossing rituals for the struggling citizens of our town. She became a beacon of hope for many, known for her craft and compassion.
To my great regret, I never had the chance to meet her. Yet, her memory lives on vividly through the stories my grandmother, mother, and older cousins have shared with me. Her uncrossing rituals and the recipe for her renowned protective amulet remain cherished parts of our family’s legacy—her “something” still woven into the fabric of our magical being.
When masters and lineages are mentioned, it often prompts the question: How did they become so skillful, so powerful? What made their craft revered, even long after their passing?
In our family, we understood very well what Aunt Marija was capable of: the many people she helped, the countless hexes she removed, the anxieties she banished, and the lost sons she guided home after the war. Yet her reputation extended beyond our circle. Even as a child, I remember visiting the graveyard on the Day of the Dead and witnessing strangers lighting candles at her grave, murmuring their gratitude for the help she had given them.
Curious about the source of her power, I turned to the cards and asked: How did she come into her own?
Jean Noblet Tarot - hand stenciled majors by Jean-Claude Flornoy.
The story they revealed was clear. A person begins as the Fool—walking, stripped of everything, deprived and broken—until they come to a standstill, a moment of reckoning. From there, they rise, forged by misfortune into someone stronger than before. The Fool becomes the Emperor, who fixes their gaze firmly on the Wheel of Fortune, mastering its patterns—the very patterns Aunt Marija read with such skill and precision. Through her struggles, she claimed her power. And in doing so, she not only changed her fate but left a legacy that continues to resonate.
After all was said and done, it was “nothing” that made her powerful—not powerful ancestors or proven traditions. Returning to Camelia’s words, true magical greatness is built from our own “nothing.”
Family traditions are wonderfully sentimental. They offer us a framework to begin with, a spark to ignite our development. But we accomplish very little if we merely replicate what our grandmothers and mothers did. Instead, we take what they have given us, toss it into the air, and confront the “nothing” before us. From that void, we summon “something” uniquely our own.
It is in this process that we define our sovereignty as magicians—shaping our craft not by clinging to the past, but by transforming it into a personal and present power.
Magic, at its core, is not about clinging to what has been but daring to forge what could be. The traditions and stories we inherit are not blueprints to follow blindly—they are seeds meant to grow into something uniquely ours. To stand as a magician is to honor the gifts of the past while meeting the void with courage and creativity. It is in this alchemy of respect and reinvention that we become more than just heirs to magic—we become its living, breathing embodiment.
Thank you, Aunt Marija.
References
Elias C. (2015) The Oracle Travels Light: Principles of Magic with cards. EyeCorner Press: Agger, Denmark.
