Bhakti Yoga & the Cancer Witch: A Cancer Season Sacred Study.
- Jul 9
- 7 min read
Explore devotional living through Bhakti Yoga and emotional grounding rituals for Cancer Season
Why Bhakti for Cancer Season?
Cancer season invites us home—home to the body, the heart, and the sanctuary of emotion. It’s a season that softens the edges and reminds us that true strength comes not from pushing through, but from holding steady.
In this Sacred Study, we turn toward Bhakti Yoga, the yoga of devotion.
Did you know there are many classical paths of yoga? While most of us think of yoga as moving through poses on a mat, the ancient Vedic texts describe four primary paths:
Jnana Yoga: the path of knowledge and study
Karma Yoga: the path of action and service
Dhyana Yoga: the path of meditation and inner stillness
Bhakti Yoga: the path of devotion and love
This season, we explore Bhakti—not as dogma, but as a posture of the heart. A quiet, inner practice that invites us to see the divine in the ordinary. A way to lace our daily rhythms with meaning, reverence, and care.
What Is Bhakti Yoga?
Bhakti Yoga is one of the classical paths of yoga described in the ancient scriptures like the Bhagavad Gita, where it’s presented as a path of pure-hearted devotion to the divine.
In the Gita, a great warrior named Arjuna receives spiritual counsel from his friend and charioteer, Lord Krishna, who is revealed to be the embodiment of divine love and wisdom. As Arjuna faces despair and moral uncertainty, Krishna reminds him that devotion—not accomplishment or perfection—is the truest path. He says:
“Even if one offers Me with love and devotion a leaf, a flower, a fruit, or water, I will accept it.” — Bhagavad Gita 9.26
This simple offering, given with sincerity, is enough.
What matters is not the what, but the how. The heart behind the act.
Bhakti Yoga is most widely practiced today by those in the Hare Krishna tradition, where Krishna is revered as a loving, playful divine companion. But this path isn’t only for religious practitioners.
Bhakti can be practiced by anyone, regardless of spiritual belief. You don’t need to chant Sanskrit or wear beads. You simply need to approach life with love and reverence—to bring a sense of sacredness to the way you care, create, serve, and show up.
Bhakti in Practice: Devotion, Not Just Service
While Bhakti often looks like service, the real practice is devotion. It’s the intention that makes it Bhakti.
Washing dishes for your family can be an act of service—or it can be Bhakti, if you do it with gratitude for the home you live in and the people you love. Sweeping your porch can be a chore—or it can be a devotional practice if you do it with the intention of welcoming only good energy into your home.
It’s not about the action itself. It’s about the posture of the heart.
Everyday Bhakti Practices
Here are a few soulful ways to begin walking the path of Bhakti in your own life. These are not rules—just invitations. Use what resonates and adapt to your own rhythm.
Lighting a Candle with Intention
Instead of just lighting a candle and moving on, pause. Close your eyes. Hold a wish, a prayer, or a name in your heart. Let the flame be an offering.
Cooking with Care
As you stir the pot or set the table, infuse your actions with love. Think of the person who will eat the meal. Offer it to them as a blessing, even if that person is you.
Tears as Offerings
Our tears carry stories. If you’ve cried during Cancer season, consider placing a hand over your heart and whispering: This, too, is sacred. You may even imagine placing your tears symbolically in a little bowl on your altar and offering them to the Moon.
Bhakti Bathing
Pour the water with love. Bless your body as you wash it. Whisper words of thanks. Feel yourself cleansed not just physically but emotionally. Let this be devotion, not just hygiene.
Gratitude as a Practice
Say thank you—to the kettle, to the cat, to your breath, to the hands that hang the washing. This simple act of gratitude is Bhakti in motion.
Rest as Bhakti
Rest is not laziness. When you offer yourself rest with reverence—when you draw a warm bath, massage your tired feet, or lie down with gratitude for all you’ve done—you are practicing Bhakti.
Devotion begins with you.
Bhakti Isn’t Self-Serving—But It Heals the Self
Sometimes we shy away from service because we’re afraid it means self-sacrifice. But true Bhakti doesn’t ask you to pour from an empty cup.
Instead, it asks you to pour from love—and let that love include yourself.
In witchcraft, we often speak of the Threefold Law—the idea that whatever energy you put into the world returns to you threefold. When you move through life with reverence and love, those qualities ripple outward—and inward.
Practicing Bhakti can bring peace, clarity, and meaning. It reminds us that we are connected, purposeful, and held by something greater than ourselves.
You don’t need to serve endlessly or burn out to live devotionally. Sometimes, Bhakti looks like doing the thing you’ve been avoiding—not because you “should,” but because it restores harmony. Other times, it looks like taking a nap.
A Personal Reflection
I’ve practiced yoga on and off since I was 18, but my relationship with spirit began even earlier. As a child, I went to Sunday school at the Church of England, followed by years at a Catholic high school. The idea of “living beside God” was always present, though I never connected with the traditional concept of God—at least not in the way he or she was presented in religion.
But I did believe in something. I always felt that there was magic in the world. A sacred presence that shimmered in the trees, purred in my cat’s chest, or stirred in the wind. That quiet, enchanted pulse beneath life—that was what I wanted to stay close to.
When I discovered yoga and witchcraft, I found new ways to name and nurture that presence. But it wasn’t until I spent time with the Hare Krishna community that I met Bhakti in a deeper, more tangible way.
I loved the story of Krishna—this idea that a deity could be a friend. Playful, loyal, cheeky, kind. There was something so warm and approachable about it. And in the people who followed Krishna’s path, I saw joy, laughter, singing, and service—not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
I didn’t begin to hold Bhakti as an inner posture then, but I began to learn how. To carry myself with love, intention, and presence. It’s something I’m still learning today—not always perfectly, but always with sincerity.
One of my Bhakti practices is in how I welcome my husband home. He works hard to support our family, and when he’s away in the city, I take care to create a soft landing for him. I light candles, tidy the house, put on some oils, maybe prepare dinner.
It’s not about impressing him—I’m not tying a ribbon in my hair like some old-fashioned housewife guide might suggest—but I am saying, through small actions: You matter. I’m glad you’re home.
I do the same for myself. Fold my pyjamas carefully. Light incense just for me. Bhakti flows both ways.
When my dad was alive, he used to talk—endlessly. He was a chatterbox, a Leo Moon with a Capricorn Sun and a mind that never stopped. So many people would sigh when he called. But I never rushed him off the phone. I knew our time was limited, and listening was my devotion.
He passed in 2005, and now it’s been 20 years since I’ve heard his booming voice. I miss him every single day. And I’m so grateful that I gave him that time.
Bhakti shows up in the ordinary, too. Like when I sweep the veranda. I might be clearing dust. I might be blessing the threshold with herbs and intentions. But beneath both, there’s love. That’s Bhakti.
It’s not just about setting intentions—it’s about why we do it.
Because we care. Because we love. Because we are grateful to be here, in this beautiful, messy life.
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Ritual: A Bhakti Candle Vow
This practice invites Bhakti gently into your everyday life—not through obligation or sacrifice, but through presence, love, and intention.
You will need:
One small candle (white, rose, or any colour that feels devotional)
A quiet space
A few minutes to connect inward
To begin:
Place the candle in front of you. Sit comfortably. Close your eyes, and bring to mind something or someone you feel deeply connected to—this might be a person, a place, a memory, or a sacred presence in your life. Let yourself soften into that feeling.
When you’re ready, whisper softly:
“Let this light reflect my devotion. May I move through life with love, grace, and care.”
Light the candle and speak your Bhakti vow aloud. It might sound like:
I prepare my meals with loving awareness.
I greet those I live with or meet with warmth and presence.
I tend my altar as a devotional act, not a chore.
I speak to myself with kindness and care.
I honour rest as an act of devotion to my body and spirit.
Let the candle burn for as long as feels good. If you blow it out, do so gently and with reverence. You can return to this practice anytime—especially when life feels rushed or disconnected. This is your reminder: even the smallest act, done with love, is enough.
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Journaling Prompts: The Inner Posture of Bhakti
Let your pen become the magic. Let your words be an offering.
Where is Bhakti already alive in your life?
Look closely. In what small, unseen ways are you already practicing devotion—through care, love, presence, or sacred intention?
Where could more Bhakti gently bloom?
Are there routines or relationships in your life that feel stale, rushed, or duty-bound? How could they be softened with a little sacredness? What might change if you approached them with love?
What does devotion mean to you—outside of dogma or religion?
Explore your personal relationship to devotion. Is it connection to nature? Service to others? Kindness to yourself? What or who do you offer your heart to?
If you follow a spiritual path, how might Bhakti complement or deepen it?
Whether you honour the Goddess, the Moon, a deity, your ancestors, or a sense of universal energy—how could this idea of loving awareness be woven into your existing beliefs or practices?
What is your Bhakti vow for this season?
If you could whisper one simple promise to your heart for this Cancer season—one devotional act you’re willing to commit to—what would it be? Make it small, sacred, and sustainable.
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