The Forbidden Feast of the Soul: Embracing the Witch’s Birthright. Live Deliciously.

"Live Deliciously" is more than a whispered temptation in film; it is a philosophy, a call to embrace life with unapologetic fullness. The phrase found its way into the cultural consciousness through Robert Eggers’ film The Witch (2015), where the enigmatic figure of Black Phillip, a horned, shadowed entity, asks the young protagonist if she wishes to “live deliciously.” It is an offer of liberation, of indulgence, of stepping beyond imposed boundaries into a life of self-governance and unrestrained experience. The line has since rippled through modern media, finding echoes in music, art, and even contemporary witchcraft. Yet its roots extend deeper, beyond cinema, into the heart of what it means to live with intent, power, and unshackled will.

To live deliciously is to exist with purpose, to revel in sensory experience, and to break free from oppressive structures that seek to limit the soul. In historical context, the idea of indulgence was often framed as sin, a departure from piety into excess. The fear of pleasure—whether intellectual, physical, or spiritual—was a tool of control, designed to keep individuals bound within the confines of rigid societal and religious expectation. But the witch, archetypal or real, has always stood at the threshold of defiance. She is the one who tastes the forbidden, who understands that desire and knowledge are not chains but keys.

For a modern witch, living deliciously is not about reckless hedonism or excess for the sake of indulgence. It is about mindful decadence, the sacred appreciation of all that life offers. It means drinking in the night air under the moon, feeling the warmth of candlelight against the skin, crafting spells with intention, and savouring every sensation that heightens the connection to the world. It is a refusal to live half-alive, to deny one’s own nature in fear of judgment. It is an embrace of the self in its entirety—the light, the shadow, the hunger, the serenity.

Many practitioners find power in this phrase because it encapsulates the heart of spiritual autonomy. It reminds witches that magic is not just in grand rituals but in the everyday acts of pleasure and intent. It is found in the scent of herbal incense curling through the air, in the rich texture of ink on parchment, in the deep satisfaction of preparing food with enchantment woven into each ingredient. It is the conscious act of choosing to experience life fully, with reverence and wildness in equal measure.

Beyond the personal, to live deliciously is also a reclamation of space. The witch has always been an outsider, demonized for wisdom, feared for knowledge, punished for embracing what others were taught to reject. To take pleasure in one’s own existence, to craft one’s own narrative, to step outside of imposed boundaries—this is power. It is a quiet rebellion, one that does not seek approval, one that does not ask permission.

In music, art, and pop culture, the phrase has been adopted as an emblem of gothic allure, of decadence draped in shadow. Artists evoke it in lyrics, weaving it into melodies that call for release, for passion, for self-acceptance in its rawest form. The phrase resonates because it carries within it the promise of something more—a life lived beyond fear, beyond restriction, a life truly tasted.

For those who walk the path of witchcraft, to live deliciously is to honor the divine within and without. It is to cast spells not just with words and ritual, but with the way one moves through the world. It is to let the senses be a conduit for magic, to find enchantment in the act of living. It is to embrace pleasure without shame, power without guilt, and wisdom without fear. It is not a question of whether one should live deliciously, but how fully one dares to.

To live deliciously is to surrender to life’s richness without fear, to embrace the fullness of being with both hands, and to claim one’s existence as sacred. It is the rejection of deprivation, of dull complacency, of walking through life with a caged soul. It is a path of intent, a spell cast through the very act of living—where every breath is a ritual, every sensation a devotion, and every moment an opportunity to revel in the magic woven into the fabric of reality.

The phrase carries an echo of rebellion, for witches have long been those who refuse to submit to the imposed hunger of the world. Where others are taught to deny themselves, to fear pleasure, to diminish their desires in the name of virtue, the witch walks another path—one where indulgence is not sin, but sacrament. To live deliciously is not to exist in reckless abandon, but in deep awareness, in reverence for the gifts of the earth and the wisdom of experience. It is the sharp tang of berries on the tongue, the silk of dark wine swirling in a glass, the raw pulse of music beneath the skin. It is the alchemy of sensation turned into power.

The fear of living fully is a fear that has been ingrained for centuries. The tales of witches, of those who dared to drink deeply from the well of life, are often accompanied by cautionary whispers. In medieval Europe, women who embraced their desires—whether for knowledge, pleasure, or autonomy—were often accused of sorcery, of making pacts with the devil. The witch hunts were not just about magic; they were about control. To want was dangerous, to seek was forbidden, to claim pleasure outside of prescribed bounds was heresy. The phrase live deliciously would have been a whispered threat, a temptation meant to lead the wayward astray. But for the witch, it is a call to freedom, to self-possession, to the understanding that true power lies in rejecting the chains of imposed suffering.

To live deliciously is also to walk the threshold between worlds—to see beyond the veils, to taste the marrow of existence. It is the embrace of shadow, the acceptance of the self in its entirety. It is dancing beneath the storm instead of cowering from it, speaking words of power instead of whispering apologies, forging one’s fate instead of waiting for it to be dictated by unseen hands. The act of creation itself is a form of this philosophy, whether through spellwork, art, storytelling, or the simple, sacred act of crafting beauty in a world that seeks to dull the senses.

There is no singular way to live deliciously, for it is not a doctrine but an essence, a pulse within the heart that beats in defiance of austerity. For some, it is found in the deep solitude of the woods, in the scent of rain on leaves and the hush of dusk settling like a whispered spell. For others, it is in the heat of the hearth, in the rich spices of a meal prepared with love, in the soft flicker of candlelight against a worn book of ancient knowledge. It is in the ink upon the page, the fire in the cauldron, the salt upon the lips after a night spent beneath the stars.

Even beyond witchcraft, the phrase resonates because it speaks to something primal, something long suppressed but never extinguished. It is an invocation to live fully, without apology, to seek beauty not just in grand moments, but in the smallest details—the curl of smoke from incense, the feel of silk against skin, the sigh of wind through open windows on a summer night. It is to reject suffering as a virtue and instead seek wisdom in joy, in decadence, in experience.

To live deliciously is to awaken. To claim one’s place in the world not as a bystander, but as a force, a presence, a being of hunger and wonder, of desire and knowledge. It is not merely a phrase from a film, nor just a sentiment whispered in darkened rooms—it is a spell, a mantra, a declaration. It is a promise to oneself: that this life will not be wasted, that this existence will not be dulled, that every breath will be taken with purpose.

And for the witch who walks this path, it is not merely a choice. It is an inevitability.

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