Disruption: A Path to Self-Knowledge

There is a witch in each of us, including men

Last night, my meditation teacher asked everyone present what our opinion was on stealing. When it was my turn, I said: “Stealing is not being willing or daring to own our good qualities. It is self-rejection because we steal our own light.”

For a long time, I resisted "disruptive." This label triggered something deep within me—the feeling of not being welcome. I have come to see how, when men are called disruptive, they are often revered as revolutionaries, while women are still deemed troublesome, too unruly to be controlled. Many people tend to overlook that disruption is not inherently negative; it is the energy of change, of creation. It initiates a new order.

Disruption is, at its core, an act of creation. That sounds better. After all, the spirit of creation is valued—it could even increase my chances of being employed. It certainly looks more positive on my curriculum vitae. But what if it goes deeper than that? What if it is something ancient, something misunderstood? What if, at its heart, it is the work of a witch?

Hold on before you make judgments about witches. I had them too. I once suspected that the concept was a fabricated marketing tool to sell more incense, soap, and sea salt. I frowned upon those who sang songs containing lyrics about "Mother Earth" and "water cleansing the soul." I had no idea why some women spoke about witch hunts as if they had actually happened. Forgive my ignorance. I did my homework after that.

If disruption is the work of a witch, things begin to make more sense. I have a few quotes from two books that substantiate my perspective.

One comes from Witchcraft, a gift from my dear friend Ann. Initially, I was skeptical, judging the book by its cover. I don’t chant mantras, and I certainly don’t use black magic to concoct love potions that will make a knight fall in love with me. But the depth of the book changed my view of witchcraft. Here is the first passage I came across when I opened a random page:

“The work of the witch is to disrupt. To disrupt systems of oppression outside of ourselves, within ourselves, and with our ancestors… Stay silent when our voices won’t further action or empathy, speak up when necessary, and do what is just, kind, and right.” —Ylvadroma Marzanna Radziszewski

Reading this, I felt relieved. Being a witch is not about dark magic; it is about taking responsibility for freeing ourselves and shaping a just society. I sensed a balance of strong and wise feminine and masculine energies in these words.

I explored further. In Dancing in the Flames, Marion Woodman and Elinor Dickson describe how the plague and the advances in science brought about shifts in how women were perceived. Women became associated with death and the erotic, as men projected their fears and guilt about their own sexual impulses onto women. This led to the idealization of the "virginity" and a split between "spiritual femininity" and "carnal femaleness"—a separation of mind and body. ( Disclaimer: just quoting to support my witch argument, not accusing men here as they, according to the book, also became painfully alienated and torn between the need to idealize women and the need to dominate and control them).

It dawns on me that the ideal of the "virgin" still shapes expectations for women, demanding perfection, submission and evoking shame on our bodies. Although our minds recognize these constraints, our bodies operate differently. This expectation has severed us from our physical and spiritual selves, turning our bodies into a place where we bury the pain of judgment, rejection, and even ancestral wounds—all waiting to be acknowledged, felt, and expressed in creative forms. Disruption is a necessary creative expression—one that breaks us free from the prison of patriarchal fears and projections.

Looking back on moments when I did something "disruptive," I realize it was never about seeking chaos. It was my body resisting stagnation, sensing before my mind did that something was wrong. Often, this resistance arose from people’s fear of facing "death"—not in a literal sense, but the death of old ways, the emergence of something new. For generations, our bodies have been numbed by a mindset that idolized the image of the virgin while casting the power of the witch into the shadows.

I closed my eyes and invited the voice within my body to guide me on my inclination to disrupt. In the stillness, I heard loud and clear.

“Your disruption, whatever label it gets, is a natural impulse. It is YOU. Bring it to the world, and show a new way of relating to the body, mind, and soul.”

I would like to quote another passage from Dancing in the Flames:

“We have become alienated from the earth, from others, and from our own deepest feelings. In such a condition, we become narcissistic. In all the mirrors that reflect realities, we see only ourselves. We have become highly self-conscious, but this state is a mere parody of true self-knowledge. Self-knowledge comes through a relationship with and a commitment to something or someone beyond oneself, beyond the gratification of one’s personal needs.”

What about a commitment to the witch in our bodies? With everything happening in the world, it is time for men and women to hold hands to listen to our deepest feelings, how disruptive they may seem sometimes.

Thank you, Ann, for your wonderful present.

I felt your heart so close to mine, and I knew our joy would fill the earth.—Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face”. I saw my face in disruption and I’m glad that I found her.