How A Former Politician Became A Witch To Help People Find Their Power
We open on a charged idea: reclaiming the word “witch.” Kelli Dunaway traces how language has been used to control power, and why she names herself a witch to flip that history on its head. The conversation moves from identity to application—how magic is grounded in nature, cycles, and choice. Kelli shows how words, intention, and practice create a living framework for connection, not just a label. That framing resonates with listeners who seek meaning beyond trend, rooting witchcraft in ancestry, ethics, and everyday courage. The promise is both spiritual and practical: claim your agency, name your path, and let your craft serve your life.
Daily practice becomes the thread that holds it all together. Kelli’s mornings start with creativity rituals inspired by The Artist’s Way, then a tarot pull, horoscopes, and a check on the moon’s sign and phase. She aligns tasks with lunar energy, using new moons for intention and full moons for release, and closes days with meditation. The value is in intention: choices match the energy at hand, not the noise of the moment. She adapts tools for modern life, typing morning pages and tracking cycles digitally while preserving the core of ritual. The result is a practice that is steady, portable, and honest about limits, making magic viable in a world of kids, bills, and deadlines.
From there, we dive into community and the question of solitude. Some cycles call for depth work done alone, especially intense new moon transits that reward privacy and emotional range. Other times, Kelli convenes group rituals where shared vulnerability becomes the power source—women naming desires, griefs, and thresholds without shame. She emphasizes consent, capacity, and purpose: invite others when the energy is abundant and communal; keep it private when the work asks for quiet. Accessibility shows up as a core ethic, welcoming newcomers, offering clear language, and creating spaces that feel safe for different bodies, beliefs, and experience levels.
Tarot sits at the heart of Kelli’s craft. She treats the deck as a mirror that reflects emotion, pattern, and potential. Rather than chasing yes-or-no answers, she asks, “What is the energy today?” and lets meaning rise as sensation and intuition. Her approach honors the High Priestess archetype—bridging tools and insight, turning symbols into connection. We talk decks, boundaries, and hygiene: separate decks for personal versus client readings, different spreads for moon cycles and milestones, and practices for consent and clarity. Whether you read for guides, ancestors, or the vast field we call the universe, the value is the same: tarot is a conversation with the self you’re becoming.
Then we tackle politics, because witchcraft without power analysis is just aesthetics. Kelli’s candid view from local office is bracing: current systems reward spectacle, not solutions. She argues for letting broken structures fall and cultivating a “spiritual democracy” rooted in care, health, and shared flourishing. That stance isn’t escapist; it’s strategic. Build capacity in the places you live, teach, and gather. Form circles where people practice honesty and repair. Bring craft to city halls, schools, and kitchens. The phoenix metaphor lands—when the old burns, who is ready to build with love and accountability?
A personal story anchors the episode’s theme of dignity. Kelli shares how her daughter reframed disability from shame to truth with one question: why would anyone think less of you because your body works differently? That moment opened a wider lens on ableism, identity, and leadership. It returns us to connection—the motive for her practice and the answer to burnout. Connection to higher self, to land, to ancestors, to neighbors, to people seeking healing. Whether in silence or in song, the work is to choose presence over panic and build structures that hold us. That’s the craft: practical, political, and profoundly human.
