The Night I Became a Mystical Bitch

On a train from NYC to Portland, under a glowing moon and the sound of Hounds of Love, I felt something awaken in me — a forgotten magick.

In high school, a teacher introduced me to Kate Bush.
Her music felt unlike anything I had heard before — strange, emotional, untamed. It spoke to a part of me I didn’t yet have language for.

Years later, I found myself on a train traveling from New York City to Portland, Oregon. I carried a Walkman and a cassette tape of Hounds of Love. As night fell, the train moved through the Snake River Canyon beneath a full moon, snowy mountains glowing in silver light.

Alone in that moving darkness, listening to her voice, something shifted inside me.

The landscape, the music, the rhythm of the train — it all merged into a single feeling of connection. Nature felt alive. I felt alive. Not performing, not fitting in, not explaining myself.

Just existing in pure presence.

That night I realized I wasn’t searching for magick.

I was magick.

I felt aligned with the elements, with creativity, with an ancient feminine energy that moves quietly through art, intuition, and imagination.

That night I understood — I was a mystical bitch.

Mystical Bitch was never just a brand.
It was a remembering.

~ Mystical Bitch