Of Familiars, Allies, and Teachers

Some teachers leave threads, not footprints.

As witches, we all know how important our connection to animals can be. We have familiars (the ones who work magic with us), totems (the ones who reflect us), spirit allies (the ones who come to help during certain transitions), and even those who work with us interdimensionally—during our sleep and in other realms.

Not all animals come to stay. Not all animals are pets. But all of them hold significance in our lives.

I’ve been doing a little reflection on my own connections. I won’t list them all, but for curiosity’s sake, I’ll name a few.

The crow has been with me for as long as I can remember. I haven’t lived or worked anywhere they didn’t follow—they are my eyes and ears. Dragonflies arrived during my spiritual awakening. The black panther walks the astral realms with me. Hounds are my companions and protectors. And the spider is my teacher.

I wrote a poem for spider, which I’ll share here. For subscribers, a copy will also be available on your page.

I hope you enjoy this, and I hope it inspires you to take a deeper look at your own connections. If you listen, they will teach. If you ask, the right one will appear.

Please be mindful, and don’t rush out to acquire an animal simply because you feel connected. Be ethical—not all animals are meant to be pets.

Now, here she is.

This poem was written for Regie, my regal jumping spider. She lived with me for over two years and now works the astral realms with me.

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I am the Weaver of Fate,

moving through the dark with silk on my fingers.

I do not rush you.

I let anticipation do the work.

I teach you connection the way skin learns skin—

by nearness,

by listening,

by the charged pause before surrender becomes choice.

I see what others never dare to linger on.

I tend your thresholds softly, deliberately—not to bar the way,

but to decide who is worthy

of crossing.

I move beside you like a secret.

Felt before I am seen.

My many eyes give you sight

that tastes opportunity,

that recognizes desire disguised as fate.

My web does not bind—it draws in what already wants you.

I am the slow ache of creation,

the quiet undoing that feels like relief.

I am birth beneath the breath,

and death that loosens its grip

only when you are ready.

I open space—

not emptiness,

but the kind that hums,

waiting to be entered.

I jump with you between folds of time,

into timelines already yearning for your touch.

Not to escape what is written,

but to press fully

into what has always been yours.

I teach safety that rises from inside your body,

and the pleasure of shaping reality

with intention and appetite.

Together, we weave a destiny of love—

slow-spun,

irrevocable,

and trembling with choice.

~Betta