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Website: @iamsarahpotter iamsarahpotter.com Book: Sober Magic Substack: iamsarahpotter
Photos by Blossom Berkofsky
As a psychic medium, tarot practitioner, and visual artist, Sarah Potter finds throughlines between the creative practices through intuition. A fresh take on self-reflection and empowerment rooted in ancient practice, her book Sober Magic reinterprets the tenets of the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous using spiritual practice, witchcraft, and tarot as a new framing for sobriety. Rooted in personal storytelling and years of knowledge and immersion in modern mysticism, Sober Magic proposes a path where ritual replaces the habitual.
I spoke with Sarah to discuss her early exposure to outsider art, energy, embracing the ups and downs on her path to sobriety, and how self-improvement may unlock connections.
Because I don't trust anything on the internet, I'm going to ask for confirmation that you went to the Art Institute in Boston. Does my “research” check out?
Yes. I actually started at Northeastern, and honestly, it was just too big for me. After like a year and a half, I realized it just was not suiting me. My boyfriend went to Montserrat. I remember the first time I went to visit him in Beverly (Massachusetts). Most of the kids were living in these Victorian homes that had been broken up into student housing. I still remember it so vividly… everyone in an old house hanging out in the living room, sharing supplies, and creating together. Everyone just seemed so wildly inspired and communal and creative. I realized that's what I was looking for. I took a leave from school, enrolled in a bunch of summer classes at Mass Art, and applied to AIB.
I’m so happy I transferred because I loved my experience there. Their structure for education really impressed upon the foundations—they were very much “You need to understand the rules, so you can break them,” which I appreciate now. At the time, I was expressing myself through installation work and performance art. I was really inspired by the Fluxus movement, Yoko Ono, and Tracy Emin—all of these women that I deeply admired. I was really exploring being a witch through my artwork, but not connecting it at the time. I was reinterpreting myths in my art and would find myself in these deeply, dramatically emotional places, and consider, “Well, what would animals do to get through this?” I was thinking about how spiders wove webs to live in and thought, “What if humans could weave a web?”
So, I moved into the gallery space and wove a web with string for a week. I can see now that I was really connecting to mythology and animals and nature, which is what I do in my, in my spiritual practice, in my everyday life now. It’s interesting to think about how I was trying to do that back then.
Boston’s an interesting city because it’s very local and a college town. There’s a huge influx of young people in the fall, but there’s a tension between Bostonians and the transplants in a sense.
Totally. There are so many people exploring ideas and maybe they're being more comfortable in their mental space rather than their heart space. So much of this country has this puritanical influence, but I felt it so deeply in Massachusetts. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s tension, but I picked up on students exploring these great places for education, but they have nowhere to go after college. I left Boston immediately after school. I didn't see how I could be a professional there. I saw so many artists and musicians and creatives being visionary, but other than the major museums, there weren’t a lot of spaces to support them. There’s a deep history of alternative spaces in Boston, but there isn’t a lot of financial support for artists in general, so you see a lot of people leave and explore.
I haven’t lived in that city for almost 30 years, but I always felt that a lot of forces in Boston don’t want that kind of experimental underground to exist. Now that every city is so expensive, it’s almost impossible to imagine them ever existing.
Yeah, I don’t know. It's probably still that way, and you’re right: it’s become harder to start and maintain those spaces. It makes me think of someone that I learned so much from when I lived there. Peter Valentine in Cambridge. Did you know Peter?
I’m familiar with him and knew people who were in his orbit.
I mention him in my book. A lot of people diminished him as being unwell, but Peter was very much tapped in—he really understood energy. I love to learn and always want to be my best to stay sharp. Some of the foundations of energetics that I learned from him and perspectives he offered when I was having these psychic existential crises… he knew what he was talking about. Sometimes when you’re on that level, it’s hard to be human. You can be tapped in and doing something genuine and also have mental health problems–it’s not one or the other. I thought he was so brilliant–so creative and expressive.
Because I worked in the art world for a while and worked with a lot of outsider artists, I’d always laugh because Peter would tell me that he “wasn’t an artist.” In my mind, he was, but to him, he was just expressing himself.
I brought him to class with me, and I got in trouble. My professor was like, "What are you doing?” and I was just, "This is my friend Peter. This is my project and my homework. He's gonna explain energy to all of us.”
I still talk about this to this day with my clients. I feel like it's so important to have spiritual hygiene, energetic hygiene, understand the power, the energy, and how to harness it, and that's what he taught me, and like you're not going to find, you might not find that in a metaphysical store. I didn’t even know of any metaphysical stores up there.
You’re taking me back to this very specific moment during my last year at Mass Art in the printmaking program. We had a group review and this one student set up a pedestal with rocks and crystals, then he had the lights turned off and was casting shadows with small flashlights he taped everywhere. All the grad students were furious, “This is not printmaking!” He gave his statement about energy and light. They hated it. But I left the room thinking, “What is printmaking and why does everything creative have to fit into a category?”
I love that. That’s another aspect of tension that I found in Boston. This idea of the traditional versus the bending of vision. I always love to question what art is for me. The idea developed for me in school. Art is whatever the artist says it is, because, to me, the art is coming from their point of view and their mind. Art and music are what really showed me tangible proof of the divine. I really believe that people are channels—we have agency and we have the opportunity to practice and to refine, but there's just something sometimes that just feels like this is coming from somewhere else, coming through people. It makes me kind of laugh, thinking about the anger of people saying “this isn’t a print” or “this isn’t art.” Why shouldn’t we think about what the artist intended and discuss it?
I often think about the sheer volume of art and visuals we see every day. So much of it is connected to commerce that I wonder if we’re losing that relationship between art and the artist.
That’s an excellent question. I’ve been thinking a lot about how overextended and energetically burnt out we all are. I mean, I think it's wonderful how expansive our world can be. One of my dearest friends has lived in Manhattan since the early 90s. I was so curious what it was like being there—living in the East Village in the ‘90s. He’d say, “We just kept it local, but now I’m talking to you from my computer and I talked to an art collector in Singapore earlier, then I’ll speak to someone in Canada. That would have tripped my mind out if I thought about that in the 90s.”
We can't stop the growth and expansion of technology, but I don't believe that we as humans and our brains have caught up to that evolution. It’s this fatigue of decisions and choices we have constantly.
I do think that art is best expressed when it's intentional. People inherently connect to something true—that's from someone's heart. I can always feel it when someone's just trying to do something like someone else or is making something to feel a need. I think making money is important, but it shouldn’t be the intention. If you’re making art based on the concept of money, you’re setting up so many obstacles because it’s not authentic. It’s like the artist is directing the ship and the artist doesn't know where they're going. There’s something very important about doing something that aligns with who you are.
In Sober Magic, you compare the feeling of being newly sober to “walking around with no skin.” I think that translates into art. So many creatives lean into substances and have a fear of losing something if they aren’t using.
I like that you picked up on that. A lot of us can relate to that fear. The thing is, we can remove those obstacles. There are so many different pathways; it's just that alcohol and substances do it without thinking. It's easy. But when you remove that, I found that in being sober, I had to take the longer route to that. It took some shifting in my mindset and calming to regulate my nervous system.
I truly believe that the tortured artist trope is not true. I actually think that people are far more creative when they feel safe and stable and emotionally regulated, but it’s a very different frequency—it's a very different feeling to be in. I remember when I got sober, a dear friend of mine, who I just considered to be so psychedelic, so otherworldly, said, “Substances just throw the brick on the gas pedal to creativity.”
There are other ways to get there. I've had really psychedelic experiences through meditation and breath work, and just finding other channels, and I think it's like pushing past the fear is hard, but I absolutely feel that we can access these spaces without substances. It's just, but I think it can be harder when you're navigating it for the first time, the first dozen times, the first couple times. I know I'm far more creative now. I'm glad I found that other pathway. We can all find those pathways.
Absolutely. When someone says they need a substance to unlock creativity, I think about kids. Kids make some of the most psychedelic art completely sober. And I think that’s because they aren’t yet aware of so much.
I love that. I completely agree. You don't have the weight of the world on you as a kid–at least I hope not. You don’t have adult responsibilities,or that inner voice that's saying, "this is a waste of time, it's not good enough.” Children are remarkable.
And they’re so intuitive and with intuition being a recurring theme in Sober Magic, I wanted to ask how you describe intuition.
Really trusting a feeling. Something that I've really come to understand and train myself to do is that I don't need to understand how it got there or why I'm feeling these things. Don’t push them away or think they’re ridiculous or crazy. Allow yourself to play with it and be curious. A lot of times, I'm picking up on something, but I don’t have the context or understanding for it yet. Just because the context hasn’t been revealed yet doesn’t mean it’s not true. I think of that intuition as that: an inner knowing, that gut instinct, that feeling that you get within your body without truly knowing or even being able to process it.
Did you have an intuitive moment that led to you connecting tarot to the Twelve Steps?
In the introduction, I write about a blackout moment I had in a music venue. It feels so obvious to say it now, but blacking out is blacking out, whether it's from a psychic energetic overwhelm or substances; I still have the sensation of losing consciousness—the vulnerability, the feelings, the experiences—but you got there in a different way. I see the whole world through tarot. I love it so much. I deeply connect with the modality. Because I feel like I’m so steeped in it, I can see it all the time. You know, “that’s an Ace of Cups moment… that’s so King of Wands.” I’m always saying that in my mind or even out loud.
I appreciate the framework of Twelve Steps because I do think it gives a guideline to be a human and be accountable and aware and learn how to apologize—to learn how to just own what's yours and what isn't. None of us are given that adult handbook on a book on how to be a human, but I think there are so many tools that have been created that pass as these handbooks and this is one of them. I just started thinking about the Twelve Steps as a journey, just like tarot. They’re both spirals. You go through the journey and come back and do it again. It’s cyclical. They’re two modalities that have influenced my life. I thought, “Has anyone explored this?” So I started looking around and researching and I didn’t find anything in the way that I was looking for. I think so many of the greatest inventions are creating something that I wish I had at a different time in my life. That can feel divine and I wouldn’t have come to that realization if I hadn’t had the human experiences to put it together. Once I saw it, I saw it everywhere.
One of the biggest challenges of sobriety is that there’s this perception that you’re doing this to “fix” things, but then you have a month, six months… whatever, and you’re still faced with life. Is the aim of the book to not only give someone the inspiration to get sober, but also something to go back to during difficult times?
That's my hope. The thing is, just because you got sober doesn’t mean that your stress goes away. Your problems don’t go away, but for me, I have more tools to access than I did before. My tool was alcohol. I don’t think that’s a good one. The thing I love about being sober is that I can see I’m having a hard time. I hope that people who are getting sober can find more love and acceptance for themselves. I think that if you’re drinking or numbing out in any way, it’s because something is happening and you need an escape. I want this to be a more supportive escape. I would love for my book to be in someone's tool—something that’s kinder and more loving to themselves than what they were doing before.
Do you also see Sober Magic as something larger than a personal journey? Can it be a tool for connection?
I think people are so lonely and people want to connect. Since COVID, I can’t believe how many people come to me to get readings about friendship… about tapping into community and being part of something bigger than themselves. I think that even speaks to what we were talking about earlier, with this advancement of technology and choice and options and the overextension and burnout, and I've just noticed that people are so stressed—their capacities are so diminished. I want to help people by giving them access to something like it's okay to be where you're at, but also, how can you create more support if that’s where you are. I really believe people are doing the best they can; it's just that sometimes there are limitations, and we can stop shaming ourselves and others for that. Collectively, there's just more weight on top of everyone.
Historically, I feel that men are championed for drinking and women are often shamed. You see it in Hollywood, in music, and even in the art world. Do you think there are still different pressures for women when they decide to get sober?
I was actually talking about this last night. The experience I had when I first got sober was wild. At first, people were telling me I wasn’t going to be fun anymore, that I wasn’t going to be enjoyable to be around, that my not drinking was going to make everyone else uncomfortable. One of my boyfriends stopped inviting me to things because he said I was making people uncomfortable. That really broke my heart. I hate to say it, because I’ve had a long history of getting sober and relapsing, but my response was “Then OK, maybe I won't get sober because I can’t lose this trashbag.”
Beyond no one thinking I was “fun,” I just thought I was going to be alone. I felt even weirder than I already felt. When I did get sober, people would say, “I didn’t even know you had a problem,” and try to negate what I knew about myself. I’ve come to accept that in sobriety, you don't need to prove how anything was that led to your choice. I consciously chose—and my editor was very supportive of this—not to have this book be me laying myself open for everyone to read about how bad the rock bottom was. It was horrible, but that wasn’t helping or enhancing the story. It almost feels salacious to include those parts.
I'm not saying no one should drink and do drugs; I'm just saying I can't. I don't care what other people are doing—have fun—but if you're that wrapped up in what someone else is doing with themselves and their body, I think you need to look at that and think about why.
That goes back to connection. It’s easy to walk into a bar and find other people there for the same thing. You could be lonely or you could be a local.
Totally. I would say there’s something very magnetic about someone who can be themselves and own their shortcomings, mistakes, and strengths too. We all need to accept that no one is thinking about you as much as you are. No one is being as hard on you as you are. I like silliness, I like awkward, and I like goofy–life doesn’t have to be serious all the time. People should allow that. We're humans, we're gonna screw up, we're gonna make mistakes. Let yourself be weird.
If I look at the cover of your book, it’s credited to you and there isn’t a co-writer, but do you feel that, in some way, something or someone other than yourself helped you write Sober Magic?
Absolutely. I'm so glad you asked this question, because I definitely get into that–channeling when I’m writing. Sometimes I can be hard on myself and censor myself, but other times I can just write and write and write. I’d step away, come back and read and think, “OK, this is good. Where did this come from?”
About two months before my first draft was due, I was watching Shining Vale. Do you know that show? Courtney Cox plays a writer who had a hit book, gets an advance for her next book and is struggling with the deadline. Her editor encourages her to leave the city, move into a house in Connecticut, and write the book. She basically gets possessed by a demon. [laughs]
Sobriety taught me not to wait until the last minute, I understood how to ask for help, and what I needed. I received everything I asked for, but there were these little moments when I felt like I was getting close. I was watching the show, and I’m like, “possession is a good idea.” So I lay on my bed with my little black cat, closed my eyes, opened the palm of my hand and was like, “Any spirits want to come through me and help write this book? You’re welcome here. I kind of opened my eyes and thought, “OK, I guess I have to write this book.”
Maybe I didn’t invoke any spirits and I know I wrote the book, but I absolutely believe in ancestors and guides and support and energy. That’s very much part of my creative process.
I’m glad that question wasn’t too out of left field.
No, not for a psychic witch. [laughs}