animism Archives - Seo Helrune

August 1, 2025

Apolitical = Shit

Apolitical Poison And Feral Disaster Groundhog Dirt-Witches

There hasn’t been much good to come out of 2025 so far. Whether you call it Tower Time or a Wolf Age, we’re well and truly in it, and neither The World nor Apple Age are guaranteed.

One thing that doesn’t suck, however, is that Aidan Wachter has begun showing up on podcasts again like some kind of feral disaster groundhog. That’s right, he’s back to coming in everyone’s ears again! Hooray!

I happened to catch one the other day while preparing dinner. (This one, if you’re curious.) The episode was about animism and chaos magic, and as always with Aidan, it was an excellent discussion. But then I made the mistake of going to the comments, where I saw something along the lines of “This was great until you started talking about politics.” And well, I have something to say about that. Truth be told, I’ve been pondering a post on this since the beginning of the year. But for whatever reason, I seem to be running into this sentiment more of late.

“Ugh, I’m here to discuss magic/animism/(insert subject here, not politics.“

(Cue dramatic gasp and clutch pearls.)

And coming from Heathenism, I’m intensely aware of how far-right individuals benefit when groups adopt apolitical stances. I mean, it’s a handy-dandy way to stifle opposing views while quietly expanding their own influence. (It’s called “entryism.” Look it up!)

Apolitical veneers are dangerous. Red flags, always. But that’s not the reason why I decided to tip-tap out this ikkle screed of a post.

You see, here’s the thing: you can’t talk about animism as an aspiring animist without that animism also informing and shaping your politics. Contrary to what seems like popular belief, animism is much more than some Disney princess scenario where a group of forest peoples do you the solid of tidying your hovel (though that would be nice).

Some day, my bird-friends. Some day…

Life goal: convince a group of tits to tidy my home.

Before I get into it though, let’s begin with a couple of definitions so we’re at least all starting out on the same page.

Defining Animisms

Believe it or not, the word “animism” didn’t exist before the 19th century. This is why you will never see medieval texts labeling pre-Christian cultures “animist.” That was actually the product of an anthropologist called Edward Tylor, who coined the term in 1871 as a way to describe all belief in phenomena that cannot be empirically proven, like gods, fairies, ghosts, spirits, and souls (Harvey, 5-6).

So. Congratulations, Christians! According to Tylor you’re all a bunch of animists (even though you’ve been working to stamp out actually animistic beliefs since the get-go).

But I digress…

The thing about Tylor is that he was an ardent materialist. Where his contemporaries considered society to be degenerate because of the decline of traditional religion, he saw that as a good thing. For him, animism (and ergo all religion) was a category error common to all humans that would hopefully eventually be eradicated through science and reason (Harvey, 5-6).

Among anthropologists, Tylor’s definition of animism is known as the “old animism.” And unfortunately, Tylor’s views continue to shape our ideas of animism, and especially the prejudices surrounding it, even today.

The “new animism,” however, is very different, largely because instead of simply labeling groups of people without trying to understand how they understood their own cultures, anthropologists actually began to learn from groups whose worldviews they perceived to be animist.

What has emerged is a definition of the animistic worldview that’s rooted in an expanded conception of personhood. In short: we humans are but one kind of people inhabiting Earth, and personhood is both revealed by and defined by interaction with others. Basically, people communicate (in whichever way is natural for them); people learn from each other; people are relational; and people are willful and have agency (Harvey, 17-24).

People are not defined by having a human shape.

Unlike the old animism, the new animism doesn’t struggle to figure out whether everything in the world is sentient, or which of the many, many phenomena is. Conversely, the new animist simply asks whether the object in question has communicated yet and, in doing so, made it known that they’re a person (Harvey, 18, 33). And as for everything else who may also be a person? Well, who knows?

As an aside, Tylor considered the recognition of seemingly inanimate objects as being sentient akin to that stage in childhood where children personify objects (Harvey, 8). And now you know where much of the mockery leveled at animism comes from…Congrats!

Anyway, back to the politics…

Animism and the World

Like many other societies, modern US society is rooted in a worldview that holds humans to be separate from the rest of the world. You see, apparently we’re the only beings special enough to have souls. Everybeing else is just basically a resource, lacking in any real sentience (a view we are seeing increasingly challenged in scientific research).

A more “enchanted” version of this – or at least one that is presented as being so – is that the omnipresent Christian god fills and maintains the world. Those who have eyes to see can find manifest wonders all around them. Signs. Revelations. How special, each and every wonder a little love note left by deity daddy!

This, by the way, is pretty much the “reenchantment” currently being pushed by the right wing Christian writer Rod Dreher to entice people from Paganism and Heathenry, and back to the church. Throw in some paranoia about demons and some exorcism narratives to really sell it, and you’re good to go! Ironically, this is also the same basic strategy used by the 10th/11th century homilist Ælfric of Eynsham to achieve the same goal (Jolly, 95). Don’t fall for it, yo!

Because here’s the thing about that worldview: it got us to where we are now. When it’s the default to see us humans as divorced from the rest of the world and every other being as a resource to exploit (a statement which also all too often also extends to humans), what incentives do our politicians have to take the trees, the waters, the birds, fish, or lightning bugs into consideration in their policy making? What are those “resources” next to accumulating pieces of green-colored paper or big numbers on a screen?

None. They have none. At best, they may have a basic awareness of the foolishness of shitting where you eat. But aside from that? Well, that paper with its green patterns sure does make life comfy!

Now here’s where animistic worldviews differ.

Because it’s not just humans who are people, not just humans with souls or spirits. This world isn’t something given to us by a single deity to use and manage as we wish. We’re not the main characters in this web of life, with everybeing else our support cast. Herbs do not heal because of some deity filling them or storing “virtues” in them like Easter eggs; they have their own power, their own indwelling spirits. We are a part of this mighty Middle-Earth, our homes the nests of our kind. We are no more separate from everybeing else here than we are our limbs, organs, or blood.

Frankly, as an aspiring animist (i.e., someone who is working to transition to an animistic worldview), the current direction of modern politics runs counter to pretty much every single belief I have. That fascism that’s resurgent in so many places right now? It’s completely fucking anathema to animism. A worldview of separation instead of connection, both an escalation and predictable end result of ideologies reliant on “us” vs “them” dichotomies. Man vs nature, body vs soul, good vs evil, angels vs demons, I could go on…It’s all the Lie of Separation playing out, just different heads of the same beast.

I guess my question at this point is how the fuck do you discuss animism without also discussing politics?

The truth is that you can’t.

The thing about worldview is that it isn’t just something you perform with coreligionists once a week or month, everyone returning to their own homes at the end after some polite conversation by the coffee table. It is, as the word suggests, the way you perceive and understand the whole world, and as such, shapes your choices and opinions – the way you move in the world. If you consider yourself an animist and take issue with others bringing up politics, I would question how deeply committed you are to aligning with this worldview.

Final Words

The vast majority of the time, calls for apoliticism are either a demand for comfort or a way to silence opposing viewpoints for whatever ends. It should go without saying that the personal is political. Well, the same is true for magic and religion as well. Contrary to what some would prefer to think, political discussion doesn’t sully the sacred. If anything, forwarding politics with the aim of seeding and spreading what you believe to be good in the world is holy work. Necessary. At times, a kind of jailbreaking for minds.

Look, we’re well and truly in the Wolf Age; our choices and words are extra weighty now. We all need to make like wolves and howl out our truths regardless. Fuck being apolitical. No one ever won a world by keeping their tongue behind their teeth.

Sources Cited

Harvey, Graham, Animism: Respecting the Living World.

Jolly, Karen. Popular Religion in Late Saxon England: Elf Charms in Context.

June 12, 2025

Tweens And The Unseen

Not Your Typical Tween Drama

It’s been a common occurrence here of late. A small voice with a note of panic echoing down the stairs at night.

“Mum, can you come upstairs?”

When I get there, I find a terrified preteen. Sometimes she’s hiding under her covers with only her eyes peeping out. Other times, she’s outside her room on the landing hugging a stuffie she’s had since she was literally a baby tight to her chest.

It’s a scene I recognize all too well from my own childhood.

Most of the time when we talk about childhood development, we speak in terms of physical, mental, and emotional changes. We discuss hormones, acne, BO, and tempestuous behavior. Only very rarely do we see discussion of *other* changes – if at all.

Liminality and Discernment

The transition from child to teenager is a liminal time, and in my experience, one of intense spiritual development. There’s a ramping up of activity and expanding of senses that is often scary, and sometimes even deeply traumatic.

As a child, I was yet to develop the ability to discern between helpful and harmful, and because of this, even the slightest hint of uncanniness scared me. I’ve always seen the world as being somewhat “pixelated,” even while wearing glasses. If you’ve ever sat so close to the TV you can switch between seeing the full picture and the pixels, it’s similar to that. The only exceptions for me – the only solidity – are ensouled beings.

As a child, I learned to notice the “pixels” getting “buzzy” as a precursor to the temperature drop preceding a ghost. I also learned to leave the room when my dog did – that he tended to pick up the coming uncanniness even before the change in pixels.

I suspect it’s similar for my child. Helpful or harmful, it doesn’t matter. At the first signs of uncanniness, she’s now afraid.

A Blast From The Past

In many ways, I was lucky as a child growing up with that kind of sight. My dad’s family have been Spiritualists for generations – pretty much since the movement landed on their shores – and family lore suggests they were involved in similar practices before that era as well. Now, I’m not claiming to have learned “ye olde craft” unbroken here. But I did grow up with a dad who healed people and who got taken over by his spirit guide from time to time. Unlike so many others, I had the benefit of someone to talk to about my experiences, someone to learn from.

More importantly though, I had someone to help when things got bad.

For example, once when I was 17, I made a rag doll. That’s not much of a story on its own, but it got possessed by something deeply malevolent – the most malevolent being I’ve felt to date. Long story short, my dad got possessed by his guide and took care of it, and I never want to see a doll’s facial features move again.

Sidenote #1: people could have saved themselves so much of that Annabelle nonsense had they just done what my dad did with the ragdoll I made and tossed it in the wheelie bin.

Sidenote #2: this is also why I don’t make dolls anymore. Not unless they’re to be consecrated as a “house” for someone specific. And I do that consecrating as soon as I’m finished.

So, that was a good thing. Having my dad to go to was incredibly helpful. He was also the first to get me practicing sensing and manipulating energy.

The Ups And The Downs

However, it’s important to realize that there are pros and cons to every situation.

Here in the States, Spiritualism is largely practiced in churches and communities like Lilly Dale. But in Northern England, Spiritualism largely became a family-based practice passed on from parents to children. My dad learned from his parents, both of whom were practitioners. I’m not sure who his mum learned it from (though her siblings were also Spiritualists), but his dad also learned it from his parents in turn (both of whom also came from families of practitioners).

What I’m saying, is that there’s no tidy and standardized tradition here. The practices of my family are one of many expressions of that form of Spiritualism.

Initially, Spiritualism began with the initial premise that we continue to exist after death and that communication beyond the “veil” is possible (i.e., necromancy). That was how it began in 1850s upstate New York. But over the years, elements of Theosophy and Hermeticism also made their way into the movement as well.

Nowadays, ideas spread like wildfire online. However, prior to the internet, ideas largely spread between family groups within this specifically northern English context via random encounters with other Spiritualists while out and about in the world.

(Spiritualists, like Witches, have a tendency to “sniff” each other out, you see.)

Imagine a giant game of “Telephone” where no one knows who is playing or how many players there even are, and then the information from that game being used in necromancy and healing. That’s kinda close to what it was like. Sometimes the other player you knew was “Greg who works in the fruit and veg section at the supermarket on Thursdays.”

A Brief Interlude

For what it’s worth, I consider that influx of outside influences detrimental to Spiritualism. Kardec was absolutely right to guard against them by building out the doctrine of Spiritism. Among other issues, the Theosophical elements reduced the feorin (fairies) of my local area to “lower level elementals,” helping to erode traditional understandings of those peoples, and introduced hierachies among spiritual paths (e.g Dion Fortune’s formulation of the “green ray” path being lesser than others).

And Back To The Story…

In addition to this rampant eclecticism, many Spiritualists in the area where I grew up also placed a great deal of value on being taught “by Spirit” (as opposed to by other humans). As far as they were concerned, that is where the most power lies. Aside from his parents, my dad’s main teacher is “Spirit.” And even a few years shy of 80 and despite some serious health issues, the man is still a presence. Sit next to my dad when he’s even slightly in that mode, and the hairs on your arms stand up on end. Ouija boards used to stop working around him just because he told them he had no intention of talking to them.

But do you see what I mean about none of this being tidy? Despite what people may imagine about growing up in a family tradition like that, there is no set anything. Even unbroken for a few generations, there is nothing pristine being handed down. Just a whole lot of magic magpies doing the best with what they have (while calling up the dead, dealing with hauntings, and casually getting possessed by spirits – as you do).

One of my dad’s biggest challenges in getting me through these developmental stages was our different experiences of the dead and otherworldly. Where I see, hear, and otherwise sense the dead and other, he can sense when somebeing is there, but little else. He relies on his guide for discernment and doing what needs to be done from there. Clearly at a loss and desperate to help me, my dad often asked the other Spiritualists he encountered for their advice, and this is where the pitfall I now hope to avoid with my kid emerged.

Welcome To Rando SpirtualismLand (Flag Probably Not Coming Any Time Soon)

As a parent, I now know what it’s like to see my child too terrified to go into her room. The child I was has never forgotten what lies beneath the requests to bring the cat with her to bed at night (regardless of the cat’s thoughts on the matter). I don’t blame my dad one bit for any of this. If anything, I admire his willingness to seek outside help when so many others would have simply pretended they weren’t out of their depth. The only thing I wish he’d done differently was trust in himself and his own wisdom more.

Because unfortunately, the advice my dad returned with was poison.

Nowadays, we can ask an entire world of people for advice thanks to the Internet. Before then though, you had library books and the word of others. The other that time was someone he’d initially met while at the supermarket, chatted with, then found that both he and the guy he was conversing with were each stood off to the side of their bodies.

“Shall we get back to our bodies then?”

“Aye, we’d better had.”

And honestly, that’s just another day in rando SpiritualismLand.

Welcome to Rando SpiritualismLand! Sometimes, it looks suspiciously like your local supermarket.

My dad had absolutely no idea that the advice he was conveying was the Law of Attraction or that it would prove harmful. From his perspective (as someone who didn’t see and hear these beings), it must have seemed an easy solution for me to stop being a magnet for spirits.

“Just raise your vibration. Like attracts like. Raise your vibration, and then only the good beings will bother you. A home full of love is the only protection we need.”

Well, that went about as well as you’d imagine. I had no idea what on earth these “vibrations” were or how to “raise them.” Worse still, I felt as though I was at fault for my experiences. And even worse than that, I felt as though I had nowhere to turn to feel safe – a core need for a child.

Sometimes, folks, bad advice is better than none at all.

A Better Story?

Nowadays, I tell my kid that children like her who see and hear as she does are like beacons. I ask her to remember what it was like to look out of the plane window at night the last time we flew, and to imagine those sparse lights over the rural areas children just like her. She is bright to the dead and Other through no fault of her own.

Why yes, I do realize this is the moth/lamp theory of why some children get haunted.

Ironically, this was the same thing my dad used to tell me *before* going to his friend for advice. It’s really a pity how often our desperation to do right by our children drives us to the bad counsel of others over the wisdom of our own souls. As I said earlier, I wish my dad had trusted himself more.

At the age of 13, I took my first steps in Witchcraft. A simple circle – nothing too taxing. But that circle was life-changing. Now, I could write about how I felt like I was right where I was meant to be – that I was stepping into alignment with fate(because I absolutely did) – but the most striking thing for me at that moment was actually the feeling of finally having a barrier – of having tools.

Suddenly, I was no longer relying on a love-filled home for protection. I mean, don’t get me wrong: love is powerful. And my parents’ home was and is indeed filled with love. However, there are situations where love just simply isn’t enough, and this happened to be one of them.

My Dad’s Shoes

Now, I find myself fully in my dad’s shoes. It’s my turn to pass on what I know while hoping I’m doing the right thing. Family lore aside, I can’t claim to come from a lineage of Witches or cunning folk, but my own walk along the crooked path has brought Witchcraft to that line of Spiritualists regardless. Whether my daughter makes her own way down that same path is entirely up to her. I can only teach her what I know, give her tools she needs, and hope she comes through this empowered and cunning, ready to dance with the numinous, breathe blessings into teas, and hurl hexes as needed. With luck, she’ll avoid the years of struggle and eventual desensitization I went through.

When I first sat down to write this post, I intended to write a discussion of practical measures for parents going through the same thing. Instead, I wound up telling you my experiences, my dad’s efforts to help me, and how I now find myself in his shoes. Hopefully, this serves as a warning against the Law of Attraction when supporting kids through this stage and a reminder of the importance of good barriers. I also hope that my story makes it clear that none of us have this down – that even the most loving parents can and do make mistakes, and that not even a childhood with necromancers and healers guarantees greater knowledge or success.

At the end of the day, all we can do as parents is our best by our children. Such has been the way of parenthood since the very beginning, and despite the many, many “secret sauce” solutions offered by experts of various stripes, I doubt that’s going to change.

My dad may not have known how to keep these beings from our home, but he was right about love being important. It isn’t a barrier, but it is sustaining. So, make sure your kids know they’re loved – that you’re always there for them no matter how weird or scary it gets, and be that barrier as needed. You may not get it right, but as someone who’s come through that particular fire with burned feet, believe me when I say that love can be the difference between broken and whole.

Be well, lovely people. Until the next time!

May 9, 2025May 9, 2025

What is a Witch?

Which Witch is Witch

What is a witch, and who gets to call themselves one? If ever there were two more controversial or ire-provoking questions than these, I am yet to find them. Nowadays, those of us who live in the post-Industrial nations of the world treat the word “witch” as a title to claim and squabble over. Which is ironic really, when you consider that for many centuries, the witch was a person to fear, a bane on cattle and crops; and for those who were accused of being one, a path to prosecution and possibly either the gallows or pyre.
I’ve already blogged about the origins of the word “witch,” or more specifically, the first attestations of its Old English ancestor: wicce (f)/wicca (m)/wiccan (pl). As I argued then, given the contexts in which those attestations appear and their clear parallels in Old Norse narratives of Heathen magic and magical practitioners, the first Witches were most likely a kind of Heathen ritual or magical specialist.

Now, that’s all well and good. But what about practitioners today? After all, not everyone claiming or squabbling over the title of “witch” is a Heathen. If anything, most seem to consider Heathenry and Witchcraft two completely separate paths—paths that are, for the most part, largely in opposition to each other. Additionally, for many within the Traditional or Folkloric Witchcraft communities, the “real” witches were Christians, and it’s the Pagans and Heathens who are the latecomers to the Craft. (Another irony given those aforementioned origins!)

Perception and Meanings

So, with all that said, where do we go as modern practitioners? Because believe it or not, this isn’t about telling everyone they have to be Heathen or GTFO of the Craft!

The thing about words is that their meanings change over time. People have literally spent centuries altering the definition of witchcraft to fit their social, political, and religious agendas. “Witch” and “witchcraft,” simply put, were labels of exclusion used to delineate and enforce the boundaries of society while identifying those people, practices, and beliefs perceived to be harmful to that order to eradicate them (see Kieckhefer cha. 8 for further discussion). Given the central role of perception here—which is itself incredibly malleable and largely shaped by belief—it’s little wonder those definitions have shifted so much over the centuries. That perception of harm is why it was entirely possible for the same person to be considered a “cunning person” or “charmer” by some, and a “witch” by others. To quote Kirsteen Macpherson Bardell in her paper, Beyond Pendle: the ‘lost’ Lancashire Witches:

“Again, the evidence indicates that healers had a widespread reputation in the community but that this ambiguous connection with magic could turn into suspicion of something more malevolent.”

“Pendle, old Pendle, thou standest alone.”

The witch who could heal could also hex, and all that. A precarious position for any practitioner.

Moreover (and to further complicate matters), “witch” has become the go-to gloss for any word used to describe ritual specialists in other cultures as well, its application largely dependent on how those practitioners were perceived by cultural outsiders. This not only expanded the definitions of “witch” even further, it also obscured, shifted, or even outright erased the original understandings those cultures had of those practitioners. (An accusation we can also lay at the feet of the appropriated version of the term “shamanism” as well, if we’re being honest.)

Either way, it’s little wonder we have so much to argue over now.

Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that outside of its original cultural and religious context, the word “Witch” doesn’t really have a fixed meaning. Both now and in the past, it’s been used as a box of sorts. For some, that box was a place to toss the people and things they wanted to get rid of, while for others, that box holds something treasured to be gatekept. In one box, lives one kind of person’s nightmares, whereas the other box holds another kind of person’s ideals and dreams.

Again and again, it’s perception that shapes those walls.

The Familiar Thread

Nebulous though the meanings of “witch” can be, however, there is something more solid to be found in that cloud. A way to sort through the mist, if you will. As unlikely as it may seem, there is a core there that exists regardless of religious belief, socio-political goals, or mystical aspirations. We see this core in a theme that is repeated over and over from the eleventh century writings of the early English homilist Ælfric (and likely earlier) to the early modern English and Scottish trial accounts.

This surprised you, didn’t it? Come on, admit it!

It’s the presence of “devils” or familiar spirits, be those familiar spirits Otherworldly or Dead. A thread that predates the development of the continental witchcraft narrative by centuries.

“Now some deceiver will state that witches (wiccan) often say truly how things will turn out. Now we will say truly that the invisible devil who flies around the world and sees many things makes known to the witch what she may say to men so that those who seek out that wizardry may be destroyed.”

From De Auguriis by Ælfric of Eynsham

In my blog talking about those earliest attestations of wicce/wicca/wiccan, I discussed the strong parallel between King Alfred’s 9th century renegotiation of Exodus 22:18 and the image of the Old Norse seeress or völva in the Poetic Edda poem Völuspá. To summarize for those of you who are yet to read that post, both the wiccan of Alfred and the völva of the Edda were portrayed traveling between homes, exchanging magic and seership for the hospitality of their (predominantly female) hosts—a theme we see repeated a number of times in the Old Norse sources.

Given the common root of the early English and Norse cultures and their history of exchange and interaction, shared themes or patterns can hardly be surprising. Yet despite this long relationship, even the suggestion that early English witches might have been analogous to the Norse völur in some ways is still somewhat controversial.

Perhaps it hits too many of the same buttons indiscriminately smashed by Margaret Murray for comfort? Or maybe anti-Wiccan sentiment among modern Heathens is to blame? I suspect both may be a part of it. However, it’s also important to point out here that the völva (much like the shaman) isn’t nearly so tarnished by those centuries of negative PR. This is especially the case among Anglophones, but it likely extends into other cultures too given the outsized influence of Anglophone media on the rest of the world. In short, völva has a certain cachet that “witch” simply doesn’t have and perhaps offers a way to be “witchy” without inviting the same degree of hostility from others. Any comparison between the two then must feel like a sullying of something dearly held.

You see, even as Pagans and Heathens we are shaped by those Christian perceptions; some of us still borrow our prejudices instead of setting them aside.

Devils? Nah. Let’s Talk Elves and Witches!

However, to return to my point, that partnership between witches and so-called “devils” also appears in Old Norse sources. Over and over, we find female magical practitioners in league with other-than-human people.

For example, in Ynglinga saga, Freyja (a goddess associated with magic referred to as seiðr) is described as a blótgyðja or “sacrificial priestess” and appears to lead the cult centered around her brother’s burial mound. Her brother, of course, is Freyr, a god described as the ruler of Álfheimr or “Elf Home” (cognate to the Scots word Elfhame) in the poem Grímnismál. Another place we see this partnership between a “witch-coded” priestess and elf-coded male is in chapter 28 of Örvar-odds saga, where we find a king by the name of Álfr (literally “elf”) and his wife Gyðja (“priestess”), who appears connected to Freyr. Gyðja is also depicted shooting magical projectiles from her fingernails, an ability we also see demonstrated in Jómsvíkinga saga by the goddess Þorgerðr Hölgabrúðr, who Hilda Ellis Davidson identifies with Freyja (Davidson, Roles of the Northern Goddess pp. 177-178).

And while we’re on the subject of magical projectiles (also known as “elfshot”), allow me to mention a couple more sources that feature this theme as additional illustrations of this partnership. The first source I want to mention is the 10th century metrical charm Wið Færstice (“Against a Stitch”), which features a narrative set at a burial mound that likely describes witches shooting projectiles made by elven smiths. The second source I want to mention is the confession of the 17th century witch, Isobel Gowdie, in which she claimed to obtain her magical projectiles from elves (and the Devil), who made their houses in mounds (Alaric Hall, Elves in Anglo-Saxon England pp. 112-115).

Despite the centuries between them, the narrative of Wið Færstice and themes of Isobel Gowdie’s confession align in that both involve witches shooting elf-made magical projectiles and mounds. Quite remarkable when you think about it! Clearly, those things go together like PB&J!

(Can confirm.)

I could go on (no really, I could; this is my special interest). I’ll spare you all for now, though. We’ll be here all day otherwise.

Moving Forward

The partnership between witch and familiar is perhaps one of the oldest and most consistent threads of the witchcraft story regardless of era, at least as it has played out among English and Scots-speaking groups in mainland Britain, or in other words: those groups who once would have likely used the words wicce/wicca/wiccan in their daily speech. While this pattern can also be seen in other cultural groups within the British and Irish Isles as well as continental witchcraft narratives, those are beyond the scope of this post.

Now does that mean that everyone has to have a familiar spirit in order to be a “real” witch?

Not necessarily. What I will say, however, is that one does have to be somewhat other. Some of us come by that otherness via ancestry i.e. someone way back when made some connections that subtly changed them and those who came after them, while some of us become other through encounters with the Dead and/or Otherworldly, eventually founding relationships. It may not be popular to say this, but that’s the thread.

Some Personal Theorizing

My personal theory is that the witch originally began as an analog of the Old Norse gyðja, who, as Terry Gunnell points out in his paper Blótgyðjur, Goðar, Mimi, Incest, and Wagons: Oral Memories of the Religion(s) of the Vanir, was mostly associated with the cult of Freyr in the sources. This interpretation would accord well with the etymology put forth by the linguist Guus Kroonen, which traces the word’s derivation from the same linguistic roots as the Proto-Germanic *wiha-1 and *wiha-2 (“holy” and “sanctuary”). A second etymology that also accords well with this interpretation considering the centrality of burial mounds in some of these narratives is that given by the American Heritage Dictionary of Indo-European Roots, which traces wicce/wicca to the Germanic *wikkjaz or “necromancer.” An association that also appears in the later Aldhelm glosses as well.

“This is my church. This is where I heal my hurts.
For tonight, god is an (elf) DJ.”

Final Words

Still, that thread doesn’t erase those centuries of loose meanings and adaptations. If the word “witch” inspires you, then I encourage you to respectfully take on that mantle. I am not here to police or gatekeep you or your practice. That’s just tiring and pointless. As I’ve said before (many times), the Craft protects itself. Just know that the witch-mantle is weighty and can get you into trouble. Be mindful of its history, both the good and the bad, and remember on whose side you stand.

And whatever you do, never, ever forget the possibility that it all began with devotion and service.

Now, wear that mantle accordingly.

Sources

Davidson, Hilda E., and Hilda R. Davidson. Roles of the Northern Goddess. London: Psychology Press, 1998.

Hall, Alaric. Elves in Anglo-Saxon England: Matters of Belief, Health, Gender and Identity. 2007.

HarperCollins Publishers. “Appendix I – Indo-European Roots.” American Heritage Dictionary – Search. Accessed May 9, 2025. https://ahdictionary.com/word/indoeurop.html.

Kieckhefer, Richard. Magic in the Middle Ages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021.

Kroonen, Guus. Etymological Dictionary of Proto-Germanic. Brill Academic Publishers, 2013.

Poole, Robert, and Kirsteen Macpherson Bardell. “Beyond Pendle: the ‘lost’ Lancashire Witches.” In The Lancashire Witches: Histories and Stories. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002.

Seven Viking Romances. London: Penguin UK, 2005.

Sturluson, Snorri. Heimskringla: History of the Kings of Norway. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010.

Terry Gunnell. “Blótgyðjur, Goðar, Mimi, Incest, and Wagons: Oral Memories of the Religion(s) of the Vanir.” The Center for Hellenic Studies. Last modified March 30, 2021. https://chs.harvard.edu/chapter/part-ii-local-and-neighboring-traditionsterry-gunnell-blotgydjur-godar-mimi-incest-and-wagons-oral-memories-of-the-religions-of-the-vanir/.

“Örvar-Odds Saga.” Snerpa.is / Heim. Accessed May 9, 2025. https://www.snerpa.is/net/forn/orvar.htm

November 21, 2024

Reenchantment? Not so fast!

Living In Wonder (At The Audacity)

Earlier this morning, I read the most recent post by John Beckett. It’s a review of Rod Dreher’s book Living in Wonder: Finding Mystery and Meaning in a Secular Age, a book he read after encountering this video by the YouTube creator, The Antibot. For those of you who hate the video format and prefer to read, the TL;DR is that Dreher is advocating for a Christian reenchantment in order to pull people who are searching for meaning (in our allegedly disenchanted world) away from “the occult.”

And well, prepare thyself! I have a lot to say, and many of my words are sharp – as subtle as an air raid, you might say.

Misplaced Blame?

To be completely transparent, I haven’t read Dreher’s book myself. Considering what I’ve read of him, his virulently racist positions, and his admiration for the autocrat, Victor Orban in the past, I don’t intend to throw any of my money his way if I can help it.

To be clear: this is not me saying that John shouldn’t have done this. If anything, I’m grateful he spent the money and time to bring us this review. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that we need at least some of us throwing money in the direction of horrible people. This is about intelligence gathering, a necessary thing if we’re going to keep up-to-date with and counter their ideology and aspirations within our communities. With older publications, often there are used copies out on the market. However, Living in Wonder has been out for less than a month, making it toss-up between dropping some coin for potentially useful intelligence or waiting for used copies to enter the market.

So, as John has already taken that particular hit for the team, I’m going to stick to quoting him on Dreher.

The first passage I wanted to discuss was the following regarding the role of the Reformation and capitalism in disenchanting the world.

In his blog, John writes:

“He says ‘it is impossible to discount the role that the Reformation played in exiling the numinous from the collective consciousness of Western Christianity.’ And unlike almost every political conservative I’ve ever read, he blames capitalism as much as Protestantism, because capitalism reduces a world infused with the divine to a thing to be monetized. His argument isn’t quite animism, but it’s certainly on the right track.”

While I don’t disagree that the Reformation played a role in “exiling the numinous from the collective consciousness of Western Christianity,” I do think we need to be careful when considering these Christianities, their views of the numinous, and any relationship to capitalism. Christianity – I would argue – contained the necessary ingredients to enable the growth of capitalism from the start.

From my perspective as an aspiring animist, capitalism is both an economic system and ideology that ultimately reduces the life of Earth and her peoples (both human and other-than-human) to exploitable resources. Terrible for the continuation of an enchanted worldview – yes. However, is that position really all that different from what we find in the Bible? Take Genesis 1:26 and Genesis 1:28 for example:

“26. Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[a] and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

“28. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

NIV

So, in other words, humans are to dominate and subdue every other kind of person in the world by divine decree.

A final point I’d like to note before moving on: The shift to capitalism in Europe, though commonly thought to have begun with the Enclosure Acts in 16th century England, actually began a couple of centuries prior in Italy (Holler, The Birth of Capitalism, p. 55). Similar tactics, but different time and place. This is probably good to bear in mind while discussing disenchantment. Some might try to connect the birth of capitalism with the Reformation (also the 16th century) otherwise.

Reenchantment, But Make it Christian

Here is where we get to the meat of the Christian “reenchantment” Dreher would like to see.

The second quote from Dreher that stood out to me was as follows:

‘He says “there is a world outside our heads, but how we attend to it determines how real it becomes to us. And the manner of our attending is the way to become aware of the divine presence saturating the material world.”’

Although a member of the Eastern Orthodox church, what Dreher proposes here is essentially drawn from Augustinian theology. The relevance of this will hopefully become clear shortly.

“But it is the one true God who is active and operative in all those things, but always acting as God, that is, present everywhere in his totality, free from all spacial confinement, completely untrammeled, absolutely indivisible, utterly unchangeable, and filling heaven and earth with his ubiquitous power which is independent of anything in the natural order.”

Augustine, City of God Against the Pagans. Book VII, Chapter 30.

(Side note: any day that involves going through Augustine’s City of God can get in the fucking bin.)

Leveraging Reenchantment And Bad Metaphysics

For Dreher, this becoming “aware of the divine presence saturating the material world” constitutes reenchantment. Well, I disagree. Instead, I would argue that this is no true reenchantment, but simply a way of reconquering the world outside of church walls.

Why do I say this?

Consider the following passages from Dreher as quoted by John. It’s clear his primary concern is winning what he sees as the spiritual war between his god and all else. His version of reenchantment – such as it is – is simply the tool he hopes to leverage in that fight.

‘The critical problem with this book is summarized in this quote: “people today aren’t wrong to seek enchantment – but if they do it outside a clearly and uniquely Christian path, they will inevitably be drawn into the demonic.”

‘The danger of that line of thinking is shown here: “as the old Christian faith framework breaks down, more and more Americans … are opening themselves to dark enchantment, a real phenomenon, one that kills the soul. In the spiritual warfare raging around us, both visibly and invisibly, there is no neutral ground. You must take a side and commit.”’

For the lovely Mr Beckett, Dreher’s labeling of the non-Christian as “demonic” is “bad metaphysics.” I, however, would argue that there is no single, correct metaphysics, and that Dreher’s positions are entirely consistent with the metaphysics of his own religion. Moreover, I think it’s important that we recognize that no amount of well-constructed arguments from religious scholars and anthropologists will change the views of zealots like Dreher. And that even when they appear to consider our arguments, such consideration is almost always strategic. Their end goal always remains the same: conversion – their fucking religious war.

Brad (24), currently giving Asmodeus a “prayer-by-four.”

Pagans And The Demonic

Returning more directly to those metaphysics now, the tradition of labeling the non-Christian “demonic” goes back to the earliest days of the church. As far as early Roman Christians were concerned, the Paganism of the time was grounded in necromancy and magical arts, and the Roman deities nothing but (evil) demons pretending to be gods (Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages. pp 36-37).

Now, we can argue until we’re blue in the face that our Gods aren’t demons. But this narrative is over 1500 years old; it’s pervasive and well rooted. In all likelihood, we’re just wasting our breath.

As an aspiring animist, part of my “reenchantment process” has been to shift my worldview to one with an expanded conception of personhood. So, instead of limiting personhood to humans, I try to understand myself as inhabiting a world full of people, only some of whom happen to be human. As people have agency, are capable of communication, and exist in relationship with other people, I try to bring this approach to my magic as well.

For me (or at least the worldview I’m working on inhabiting), plants and trees (just to give you an example) are a kind of people with their own abilities, needs, relationships, and forms of communication. Modern science has made some of these ideas less controversial. For example, we now have evidence that trees live in communities and communicate with each other via mycorrhizal networks. This understanding is an aspect of reenchantment for me. The existence of scientific evidence for something does not remove the possibility of enchantment, and what is greater and more wondrous than that realization of personhood and interconnectedness – more people to get to know and learn from? After centuries of materialism and resources, such discoveries are reminders of the holiness and magic of our world.

However, that view would have been completely anathema to some early Christians. For example, the 2nd century writer, Tatian, saw herbs (along with amulets and other magical objects) as being a way for practitioners to “signal” to demons. Like a BeelzeBat signal, I guess. According to him, herbs had no powers of their own. Any benefits or results gained from working with them were simply the work of demons all along. Others, like Tertullian, argued instead that the herbs themselves contained magical powers, the knowledge of which was taught to women by demons (Kieckhefer. Magic. pp. 38 – 39).

Witch sending up the BeelzeBat Signal (witch not actual size)

Magic became the battleground upon which the war between Christianity and Paganism was fought. However, as Christianity’s hold on Europe grew stronger then eventually dominated, the combatants on the field shifted. Around the 13th century, the fight over magic became focused on the question of whether a form of magic could be considered “natural” or “demonic” (Kieckhefer. Magic. p. 12).

It was also around this period that the (papal) inquisition arrived on the scene

The Real Disenchantment?

Over the past year or so, I’ve seen two advocates for a Christian “reenchantment.” Both, I would argue, have “radical traditionalist” tendencies, one far more overtly than the other. (“Christianity is YOUR ancestral religion.”) And both ignore or downplay the centuries of church authorities working to root out actually enchanted worldviews under the guise of excising “demons” and heretics from among the faithful.

The first papal inquisitors were appointed by Pope Gregory IX in the early thirteenth century. They were to seek out heretics – a task initially left to bishops. According to one inquisitorial guide of the era, they were to question their suspects about everything from divination and invocation of demons to singing charms over herbs and using baptismal water in magic.

And unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before they encountered reports of sorcery. However, this was before they got slick with the accusation game. In one case, a woman managed to escape prosecution by arguing that she hadn’t committed heresy. Her reason? She hadn’t actually believed in the magic she was selling. She’d found the loophole. Eventually, Pope Alexander IV directed his inquisitors to only prosecute magic that “savored of heresy.”

As you might expect, this prompted some inquisitors to develop arguments that all magic was heretical. Yes, they were bringing back that old conversion period line that magic was all about the demons. One area where this was particularly clear were the arguments concerning necromancy forwarded by inquisitors and theologians like Nicholas Eymericus. According to Eymericus and his peers, necromancy was inherently heretical because it involved the belief that “demons” were worthy of veneration. Another thing they argued for was the existence of “practical heresy,” or in other words: a form of heresy that was also implicit in one’s actions regardless of belief.

And this was basically how a bunch of (probably sexually frustrated) theobros convinced Pope John XXII to direct the inquisition to target necromancers and magicians directly (Kieckhefer. Magic. pp. 190-191).

Lovely.

Yet again, the battleground that was magic had become a fight against “demons.” The shitty old arguments were returning; nature wasn’t healing. Inquisitors were coming for everything from the benign charms spoken over herbs for healing to the foulest necromancy, and pretty much everything in-between that could be considered evidence of deviation from dogma. In one place, inquisitors even accused a physician of having a book of “necromancy,” when really it was a book of herbal remedies (Kieckhefer. Magic. p. 192).

By the 15th century, judges and prosecutors in mainland Europe began to forward narratives of anti-Christian conspiracies featuring magicians and witches in league with demons and/or the Devil. It was also in this period that the demonic pact narrative rose to prominence as well (Kieckhefer. Magic. pp. 194-197).

But was any of this truly a disenchantment of the world?

I would argue that it was. The world before the spread and rise of Christianity was a busy one. One inhabited by all manner of peoples both living and dead. Gods, the beings we now refer to as “Otherworldly,” the unseen peoples of our Holy Middle Earth—all became “devils” or “demons” under the new order. Their very existence was/is a challenge to the notion of a world made, maintained, and wholly directed by a single god found.

We can see the rise of the papal inquisition and the witch trials as a campaign against the daemonic, spirit-filled world. A way of making such beliefs fearful to the masses, that fear enforced by spectacles of horrific public torture and execution.

(And that’s not even getting into the fact that the church actively campaigned to limit the dreams of adherents out of fear of them encountering the Dead, Deities, and Otherworldly. Because, yes, that happened!)

The Actual State Of Play

When I read the words of people like Rod Dreher, I hear in them a call to resurrect an old, bloody, and frankly evil story. True reenchantment is an expansion of our world, an act of restoration, and a recognition of our place in that wider web of relationships and life. What he advocates, however, is a return to that same old worldview that has caused so much harm and ultimately left so many feeling disconnected and an emptiness within.

(Total utopia they’re selling here, lads!)

In my opinion, the enchantment that survived did so despite the efforts of Dreher’s religious forebears. I believe we forget that at our peril, especially in our current era.

This isn’t the end of it, just one of the opening (?) volleys we just happened to catch. Dreher likely isn’t the only one working this angle, and nor will it be the only strategy he and his fellow-travelers try to employ. We need to guard against well-used tactics such as content produced to manufacture an illusion of consensus or create a foundation to co-opt elements of our practices with allegedly Christian symbolism. We need to also consider the possibility of entryist tactics within our communities.

Last but not least, Dreher is a friend of JD Vance, our Vice-President elect. We face an incoming administration that has been shaped by Christian nationalist ambitions. Needless to say, we need to tread carefully. Dreher is not alone in believing he’s fighting a spiritual war. Posts and comments about spiritual warfare and the battle of good over evil have become worryingly common online over the past few months, and especially before the election. For some, the past election was the great showdown between Christianity and evil, with Michael the Archangel one of the main recipients of their prayers.

The rules we’ve been playing by for the past few decades are likely to go the way of the dodo.

We need to recognize the fight we’re in and be smart about it. Frankly, I don’t even think we have the luxury of believing in common ground anymore. We in the US are, at least theoretically, a nation of laws. We’re supposed to have the freedom of religion, to believe whatever the fuck we want. That is where we must direct our fight. And failing that?

Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

August 22, 2019August 22, 2019

The Land as Witchcraft Teacher

For today’s blog, I’d like to tell you the story of how I learned witchcraft, and some of the best lessons I learned from my first teacher.

Like many people who end up getting into witchcraft, I felt a draw to all things witchy. Most importantly though, the weird and otherworldly was also drawn to me. Which is good, because witchcraft without the dead and/or Other is just a party for one.

I grew up in a town on the edge of the West Pennine Moors in Lancashire, England, and I was the weird kid everyone else came to ask about getting the “power of Manon” when the movie The Craft came out.

When I was first starting out at the (stereotypical) age of thirteen, our local library boasted only a couple of books on witchcraft. One was The Witches’ Bible and absolutely out of bounds because I knew the librarians would call your parents for taking it out on account of all the photos of naked Janet Farrar. The other was Z Budapest’s The Holy Book of Women’s Mysteries, and as it had no photos of naked people or overtly witchy imagery (at least on the cover), this made it the perfect candidate for withdrawal.

Now, I realize that Z Budapest is a TERFY dumpster fire, and I’m not promoting her in any way. Even then, her work wasn’t to my taste and there wasn’t really any discussion about transfolx to even have the language to describe a TERF. In my backwards hometown in the 90s, dumpster fire or not, she was about the only game in town.

But while Z Budapest’s book may have taught me how to cast my first circle, the moors were my real teacher.

My First Teacher in the Craft: The Moors

teacher - moorland — Wild, heather-covered moorland with clouds dropping to kiss the earth

The moors where I grew up are a wild place, windswept and barren with rocks littered across the heather and grass like broken bones. It’s a place where the clouds meet the land and modern people walk on ancient ruins. And it’s as dangerous as it is beautiful.

When the mists drop and you can’t see further than a couple of feet, it’s easy to get lost. The landscape is treacherous, and the weather can go from snowy to warm sunshine within the space of a half hour. Like Gullveig, the moors of my home county have burned and been reborn. Unlike Gullveig though, she’s performed this trick more than just the three times that Gullveig did.

“Gullveig” being reborn after yet another fire.

Then there are the bogs – the reason why a lot of people tend to stick to the paths.

But for all the danger and creepy stories, I loved them and would spend hours in the wild places up on the tops away from the paths with my little dog.

Some of my first rituals were worked up on those moors, and I’ve seen things up there that few would believe.

There I learned to map the hidden dimensions of a landscape, committing to memory all the places where the Good Folk lived when I found them, and building up relationships as I went. teacher - burial mound

There I learned to sit out on burial mounds.

There I learned to enjoy my own company and be happy observing the shadows of the clouds moving over the valleys below.

There I learned that no matter how badass you think yourself, some places are still best avoided after dark.

Teacher, Counselor, Friend

I haven’t had many teachers during my time, but the best teachers I’ve known happen to also have been friends who give good counsel.

When times were hard, I would take my pain and pound it into the earth through the bottom of my boots. Then (usually at the top of a hill), I would fall to the ground to thank the hills when the knots around my heart lifted.

Other times I’d bring her my magical problems, and I’d think about them as I walked until I happened upon the perfect piece of materia magica to work into a spell. Soon I was bringing back things like sheep skulls and working the teeth into amulets. It didn’t matter what she threw me either. When I got the sense that I was supposed to use a thing, I instinctively knew what to do with it.

From there, I began to think about questions I needed an answer to, and I would pick up nine straight (ish) sticks at random as I walked. Then when I had

my nine, I’d hold them between my hands to whisper my question before casting them to be read as runes.

At some point though, I began to think about the ‘why’. Why did she throw me those things and why did they work for what I needed to do? Why did I work in that way when working those spells and why did that work?

This is how one of my greatest magical interests was born – deconstructing magical workings in order to discover the underlying “mechanics”. And that kids, is how I got started taking historical accounts of magical workings and trying them out.

The Four Main Lessons my Moorland Teacher Taught

When you learn witchcraft from a land, much of it is going to be heavily localized and possibly even useless outside of that land. But the moors taught me four main transferable lessons that have stood me in good stead no matter where I’ve been.

1. Take a Place as You Find It

The first lesson is one that embraces impermanence. Places change, as do the beings that inhabit them. And a place and its inhabitants may be one way on one day, and completely different on another day. Even if you’ve been somewhere before, never assume that a place is going to be or feel the same when you go back there. Keep on top of your basic witchy skills, and always have your apotropaics and best manners to hand.

2. Avoid a Feeling of Ownership

This is a big one, and it’s something we humans (at least in Anglophone culture) generally suck at anyway. This idea of ownership of land (and all the non-human people on it) goes to the animism thing all the cool kids are talking about. And if we’re being real, as a group we’re still pretty crap at that there animism. I mean, how many of us actually respect the agency of non-human persons? How many people still see them as basically being some twee little vending machines for favors (in exchange for some pretty subpar offerings)?

(Clearly I’m using “us” in the macro sense here. I’m referring to the modern Pagan movement as a whole, so hold your knickers, Beryl!)

The truth is, we all come from a culture obsessed with individualism. A culture in which selfishness and cruelty are lauded as a twisted form of morality – and that kind of fucks us when it comes to the animism thing. Because when everything is already about you and you getting yours, that puts you on a terrible footing for interacting with the not-you. But when you bring a sense of ownership into the equation (of both the land and by extension the sentient beings who also live there)?

I mean hell, we can’t even get it right with other humans. Feeling a sense of ownership over anyone or anyland is one of the first paving stones on the road to hell.

And this is not me saying ‘don’t buy property’ or that I’m coming to take your toothbrushes and make you use some communal, opossum-managed toothbrush (holy shit but I love opossums). No. Own on paper if you need to, but recognize that it’s just a formality for the stupid humans. Instead work to become a part of your land and grow the understanding of belonging to in your heart.

3. Try to Figure out Your Place in the Big Picture

Speaking of belonging to – this mindset sets you up to contextualize yourself within the bigger picture of the place you inhabit. You’re no longer an individual over but cohabiting with. Where are you in your “neighborhood”? Who do you need to avoid pissing off and who do you need to give a little more care and attention to?

If you consider yourself an animist, try putting yourself in the shoes (or roots) of a tree or plant in your community of lives. What do they experience on a daily basis? Who do they interact with the most? What problems do they have with their nearest neighbors? How do you help them (or harm them)?

An interesting thought exercise, no?

Every Land has its Stories and You Should Learn Them

When we were kids, we passed stories like schoolkids pass nits. Stories about

“Yes officer, I believe it was Granny Greenteeth, in the tarn, with some kind of eldritch magic.”

Granny Greenteeth, “Bannister Dolls” (don’t ask), black dogs, ghosts, and the occasional boggart tale all ran round our groups. Especially on the dark nights when we couldn’t find anything really to do but lurk on the streets and tell each other creepy stories (in winter it’s usually getting dark by four in the afternoon where I’m from).

But these stories are important because they’re what help you to fill out the hidden dimensions of a land when you first arrive. This is how you build your witchy map of a place and figure out where to start attempting to build relationships. Not only that, but they can also give you clues as to how to survive should you encounter some of the nastier parts of the local unseen.

For example, I now live in Maryland. There is an alleged cryptid here called the Snallygaster who is apparently the mortal enemy of the Dwayyo – a kind of huge, monstrous, wolf-like being. I’ve also noticed some interesting parallels between some of the circumstances surrounding the mysterious National Park disappearances and Jinn lore, and I know that wolves are also associated with causing Jinn to vanish. So now I include ground down (legally obtained) wolf bones in the black salt I make to carry in my bag of tricks.
See what I mean?

March 28, 2019March 29, 2019

A Magical Go-Bag Tour

In my last blog I talked about the process of putting together a magical go-bag, and some of the reasons why a witch might want to. In this post, I’m going to give you all a tour around my main magical go-bag to give you an idea of some of the options that are out there when putting these bags together.

My Magical Go-Bag: A Backstory

Call me paranoid, but I’ve always carried some kind of magical supplies on me. I’ve just had that kind of life. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been the proverbial poop pile to the supernatural flies, and so always having some supplies on hand just makes sense. However, the impetus to create a dedicated bag for going out on the battlefield (or whatever else I’m up to) only came last year. Before then, my bags were all repurposed, or small bags that I’d just shoved into other, bigger bags. Last year though, things changed

To cut a long story short, working more intensely with the dead led to other spirits showing up. One of those spirits was a crane-dancing woman who told me to create a what was essentially a magical go-bag. Jokingly, I called it a “crane bag” (because it was a crane-dancing woman who told me to make it). However, the connection between the crane bag of Irish lore, and the Irish analog of the Welsh god who has played a pivotal role in my battlefield work also did not go unnoticed.

So off to the internet I went to scroll through endless pictures of “crane bags”. But none of them worked for me, and soon became clear that the best option was to make my own. So I did.

I knew from the outset that it had to be grey and hardwearing. The inner fabric – which could be softer – was a chance find that I chose for the deer in the pattern (an animal that’s long held significance for me). I came across the giant crane-patch by chance while searching for fabric, and well, the idea of a “crane bag” with a giant crane on it gave me a chuckle, so naturally I slapped the ‘purchase’ button.

Making the Bag

I’ve never been a good (or even competent seamstress). I don’t know what happens but I can start off with a perfectly good sewing machine, and then it all goes wrong. The tension decides to do its own thing, then the thingie in the bottom is also like “fuck you”, and in the end, it’s raining, the earth is falling in, and I’m about ready to pitch the machine out of a window. So the prospect of creating a go-bag was daunting to say the least.

I used this tutorial at the recommendation of my mum (thanks mum!), and although it didn’t quite work out (because: me), I came away with a serviceable bag with the custom pockets that you can see here.

magical go-bag - pockets — Custom knife pockets ftw.

Once made, I consecrated it in a small ritual to Manannán Mac Lir as it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And in the end, I think it was the right decision as it triggered the dream experience that you can read about here.

So that’s how, and the why of creating my go-bag.

My Essential Items

Now here is where I finally get to the things I consider essential for how I work, But as I mentioned in my last blog on this topic, your mileage may vary.

Hag Stone

Function: Apotropaic and tool.

First on the list (but not necessarily in order of importance) is the hag stone or holey stone. These are stones that have naturally occurring holes through the middle of them, and although I haven’t really found good scholarship on them, my experience has been that these are both effective tools and apotropaics. They’re protective against the Unseen, and allow you – again, in my experience – to see through glamours and things that are normally unseen if you look through them.

You can sometimes find them along rivers, but they are also readily available to purchase online. I would advise caution when purchasing these online though as some unscrupulous vendors try to pass off drilled stones as genuine hag stones.

Black Salt

Function: Hardcore apotropaic.

Next up is black salt. Salt is a great addition to any magical go-bag in general because it has so many uses. You can use it to salt boundaries, protect, and banish. But black salt is just taking regular old salt and leveling it the fuck up! The addition of iron, ash, and (in my case) ground wolf bone, makes black salt an excellent addition to a go-bag. It’s like an apotropaic powerhouse!

Even better, if you make your own black salt, you can build in extra layers of apotropaic magic into the creation process! Why just scrape some iron from your pan when you can use your pan to burn prayers asking for divine favor with some protective herbs, then add that to your fire ash before scraping the pan for iron? I have a dutch oven that I use specifically for ritual work so that I don’t have to wreck my cast iron cookware; it was $10 from a thrift store – bargain!

Spindle and Fiber

Function: Tool and offering.

I use a lot of spinning in my magic, and especially when it comes to working with spirits. Spinning in a space can trap both dead and leftover remnants of energy that might “grow up” to get its own ideas and start its own trouble. Spun fiber can provide a bridge, delineate space, and serve as an offering in its own right. I have two spindles that I typically use in ritual work: one is a collapsible spindle that fits in my bag; and the other, my large one, was a gift to thank me for help given. I adore my large one because it feels weighty and authoritative – like a wand. It’s something I’ve wielded in ritual before now when opening portals and working my will. The collapsible one lives in my purse (yes, it’s that small) along with the sheep knuckle I use for yes/no divination.

Railroad Spike

Function: Apotropaic and tool.

This is something I tend to swap out with my black-handled knife. There’s a resonance to this item that just works. I’ve engraved it with words of power (which I won’t show here), and it’s one of my favorite spirit weapons for subduing, setting up some hardcore protective space, or for when things go bad. I don’t know whether it’s wholly iron or steel (which is mostly iron anyway), but it’s kickass anyway.

Red Yarn

Function: Apotropaic, tool, McGyver goodness.

This is one of my more McGyver-type items. Red thread can be used to bind and protect, or create new items (like a crossroads effigy or protective rowan cross). It can also be used for knot spells, marking off space, and much more. The yarn I use is hand spun with intent and then ritually consecrated.

Offerings of some kind

Function: Offerings, because being a magical murderhobo is bad.

And finally, because being the magical equivalent of a D&D murderhobo is not something that any of us should aspire to, I carry offerings. So many situations can be avoided or calmed by just communicating and making propitiatory offerings. Easy offerings to carry on the regular are cornmeal, tobacco, water, cedar, and small sealed butter or cream packets. Just please, take any trash home with you so you don’t ruin any of your good work by doing anyone the disrespect of leaving trash in their space.

April 24, 2018May 30, 2018

PSA: Make Your Oaths Well!

There’s something of a theme du jour in my spookier friend circles right now. It’s complex – there’s a lot of background strangeness here – but the TL;DR version is that people (myself included) either feel the need to make oaths of fealty to numinous powers, or are witnessing others making similar oaths in either dream or trance. Now that strikes me as being pretty odd, and makes me wonder whether this is something which is confined to my various friend circles, or if it’s more widespread. (Answers on a postcard, please!) It also makes me wonder what on earth is going on at the moment. Because as I mentioned above, there is a background of strangeness here. This is not something that I’m prepared to write about it yet, but some of what John Beckett touches on here is eerily similar.

Either way, regardless of whatever the hell is going on, and whether or not this is a localized or more widespread phenomenon, it’s never a bad time to address the matter of oaths of fealty. After all, oathing to numinous powers is a serious business with potentially serious consequences. Friends don’t let friends oath to massively powerful entities without first giving them some tools.

And by “tools”, I mean this handy five-point list.

(Why a five-point list? Because this is the fucking internet, and everything seems to be a five-point list nowadays.)

1. You Can Refuse

This might seem like a no-brainer. However (as a few skeletons that won’t stay in their cupboards can attest), we seem to have consent issues in modern Paganism. We see this in a number of ways, and thankfully there are movements to work on all of that. But one of the ways in which those problematic ideas of consent

oaths - chris pratt — Kinda like this creepy ass movie, only with gods and ungods – yay!

surface (at least in my opinion), is in how oathing to numinous powers is presented in some quarters. There’s this creepy narrative that oathing is like a kind of pursuit by the numinous that the human doesn’t really have any say in, and quite frankly, that’s just plain fucked up.

It’s also wrong to boot, because that’s not how actual reciprocal relationships work. You have a choice, these are reciprocal relationships (read up on those here if you don’t know what that means), you can say no. So if it seems like a bad idea to get in cahoots with whoever, and your gut is twisting with the thought (there’s a clue right there), you can decline – politely.

If you do find yourself in a situation in which you believe you are being pursued by the numinous equivalent of Chris Pratt, then go and get a second opinion from someone you trust. Narrative can frame experience just as much as experience can frame narrative. Just a word to the wise though: not everything is what it claims to be either, so again, it’s good to get a fresh perspective.

2. The Devil is in the Detail

As mentioned above, these are relationships that are reciprocal by nature. In other words, they an exchange of sorts, which means you’re effectively entering into a contract. Now, if you’ve watched that episode of South Park where Kyle clicks the iTunes user agreement without reading it first, you’ll know that blind agreement with a greater power is not a good idea.

Well, it’s the same principle here. You need to be honest about, and lay out what you are prepared to do, and how long for. This is key – you don’t have to oath to a power for life, and you don’t have to give yourself to them after death

oaths - devil — “Hi, I’m goat-devil and I like to hang out in the details!”

either. Temporary alliances for a set period of time or until the completion of certain criteria are a thing, oaths that are renewed on a yearly basis are also a thing. NOTHING SAYS YOU HAVE TO OATH FOR LIFE.

So make a list of your conditions, and pay special attention to any potential loopholes you find. Because some beings out there (naming no names) are *experts* at finding ways to creatively screw humans over while adhering to the letter of any oaths made. So get good at thinking twenty steps ahead and doing thought experiments with potential outcomes. Also, remember that any oaths will also by extension affect your families, so factor your loved ones into those thought experiments too.

Additionally, it’s a good idea to try and figure out what they actually want from you, and assume that has value even if you cannot see it. And that might sound like the most hubristic shit ever until you remember that some beings quite enjoy consuming humans. It’s good to not become food, it’s like a rule for life.

But before you do *any* of that….

3. Do Your Research, Dammit!

If some sparkly and awesome (or dark and scary, or BOTH) shows up trying to entice you into some kind of oath, your first move is always research. Go find out everything you can about them, and if it’s not available in physical sources, go pester allies for more information. Because there are a whole bunch of things you need to know here. For example, you need to know their MO; if they’re presenting themselves as they actually are; how others have fared dealing with them; and if they have a GSOH and enjoy long walks on the beach at sunset. Because all of that will not only help you figure out *who* you’re dealing with, but also help you better word any oaths you make so that you can do stuff like insert more protective clauses (which is #winning, trust me).

4. Consult Ye the Ye Olde Book of Oaths!

There’s a lot to be said for those old school handwritten pacts. On the one hand, they were utter shit for getting you convicted and burned (poor Father Grandier). But on the other hand, they also helped you remember just who you had pacts with, and exactly what was entailed. So if you’re in the business of holding oaths with numinous beings, it’s a damn good idea to have somewhere safe where you can write down all the details as precisely as you can (if you don’t already). It’s also good to read those oaths regularly – after all, you want to make sure you’re not fucking up your end of the bargain. However, it’s especially important to re-read your prior oaths when in the process of considering and creating oathed relationships with whatever new beings on the block because you need to know what you can agree to without violating the conditions of your other oaths. Sometimes those prior oaths can turn out to be pretty protective in the long run.

5. Phone a Friend

Finally, when you have all your research, and have tweaked the wording for
your oath as much as you can, run it all by a friend or trusted clergy. For some of you, this would have likely been a continuous thing anyway throughout this entire process, and that’s fine. Just don’t formalize anything until you’ve had that feedback from someone you trust and who has a good head on their

oaths - friends — “I asked my friend and got accused of dogging her for information!”

shoulders. Sometimes it’s all too easy to get caught up in things and hurtle towards a thing at breakneck speed, so it’s good to have someone prepared to remind you that there are such a thing as brakes.

But whether you do say yes to the oath-dress or not, you should record everything in as much detail as you possibly can. Because even if you don’t end up oathing, it’s just always good to keep a record.

If you do formally oath though, consider the creation of a pact-style document that both parties agree to before the oath is formally sworn. This document should contain the exact wording of your oath and clearly outline the conditions of the oath.

Lastly, if you are in this situation, I wish you smooth negotiations. May the odds be ever in your favor.

March 12, 2018May 30, 2018

Witchcraft, Magic, Religion, and Holy Powers

It would seem that there is something of a “zeitgeist” moving a number of bloggers right now. I have been blogging about the matter of Spiritual Authority and Hierarchies for the past two weeks. John Beckett dropped a post yesterday entitled “Get Over Your Fear of Religion!” which basically exhorted people to address their religious baggage. (Yay! Glad to have you on board, Mr Beckett!) And Laura Tempest Zakroff dropped her own take (“One Order of Witchcraft Medium-Rare, Hold the Gods please”), which seemed to come at the same matter from the opposite end of the spectrum.

Like I said, it feels like a number of us are poking at the same nebulous mass (albeit from different angles). I was going to post the third part of my series on authority and hierarchies today, but after reading these posts, I have things to say, and say them I shall.

Religion and Baggage

I’m going to begin with John Beckett’s post, as that is the post I came across first. On the one hand, I couldn’t agree more with his points that Pagans need to get over previous religious baggage, and that there are very definite benefits to religion. However, I have real issues with looking to the framework of other (typically monotheistic) religions for a model of how Pagan religion should look now. Granted, this may not have been Beckett’s intention here, however, I don’t think you can extol the virtues of religion for Pagans without also going into what Pagan religion could look

religion - holy book — Religions have holy books, right?

like.

To my mind, this is an important distinction to make too, because when you use a word like “religion” – like any word – it comes with certain expectations of what that thing looks like. And after something like 1500-2000 years of predominantly Judeo-Christian religion, we really need to ask what that looks like for a good chunk of us. In other words, how does the shape of Abramic religion affect the shape we give to Pagan religion?

Let’s take Christianity, for example. Christianity is universalist, in fact, new adherents are actively sought. It’s also orthodoxic in nature, meaning that having the “correct” belief is of the utmost importance. Relationships with deity require submission, and the end reward for good behavior comes after death.

Now compare this with what we (think we) know of Heathen period religion. Here “religion” goes hand in hand with

religion - orans — The orans posture, common to both Pagans and Jewish people in the ancient world.

community, and is made up of the reciprocal relationships held by that community and the customs by which they are maintained (orthopraxy). Religion is not universal, and though there are common threads between groups that are culturally similar enough, it differs by tribe. There are no active attempts to seek out new adherents either, as it is handed down from parent to child. Joining the religion in these cases, is more of a case of tribal enculturation. Afterlife beliefs vary from group to group.

See what I mean? That’s quite a difference! However instead of exploring that, as a group we tend to throw the baby out with the bathwater and make weak arguments about “being spiritual instead of religious”.

Along similar lines are the following statements:

“I don’t pray, I chat with my gods.”

“I don’t kneel, that’s a Christian thing.”

“I don’t worship, I honor my gods.”

And it doesn’t matter that the acts of prayer and kneeling is well attested among multiple pagan cultures, or that worship (meaning “to give worth to/acknowledge the worth of”) is the perfect word for what we do, we just keep running.

So I see this issue as twofold: on the one hand, we avoid anything that looks a little too much like the religions we ran from; and on the other, we allow those religions to continue defining our worlds for us.

Don’t believe me on the last one? Consider the Devil for a moment. How do you feel about him? If you’re getting an icky feeling, where do you think that’s coming from? And yet from the probable perspective of someone from the Pagan period, he’d be another animistic power to trade the troll market with (as always, terms and conditions may apply).

Hold the Gods!

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Laura Tempest Zakroff’s post argued for the validity of witchcraft without deities – or at least, devotional relationships with those deities.

I’m not going to lie, I think that’s also a problematic approach to take. As I discussed in my last post on Authority and Hierarchies, having reciprocal relationships with higher powers was a part of having spiritual authority. Hell, even the virtue of piety itself was something that could be held up as a form of authority when trucking with the dead.

This is not to completely slate Ms Zakroff’s post (apologies if that is the wrong honorific, I’m happy to amend accordingly, as I do respect her). I do think she makes an excellent point about the duotheisms held dear by the earlier Pagan revivalists, and their incompatibility with both modern and ancient ideas on deity. But does that mean that we should once more throw out yet another baby with the water it was bathing in? (Which per this account was a dirty dirty water, possibly filled with spunk and other sexual fluids.) Does that mean that we let (this time) Wiccan ideas on deities in witchcraft define the matter of deities for all witches? Because witch or not, you don’t have to have a god and a goddess. And while it’s true that witchcraft can be practiced without deities, in the old accounts and old charms, there was always the matter of the witch requiring the authority to work her craft (be that authority the Devil or Fairies, or Yahweh).

I shall go into a hare,
With sorrow and sych and meickle care;
And I shall go in the Devil’s name,
Ay while I come home again
Isobel Gowdie, of course.

The most striking thing for someone who spends a lot of time reading both old grimoires and ancient texts about magic though, is how much our expectations of magic have lowered over the years. There was a time when it was perfectly reasonable to have spells for getting your animated divinatory skull back under control. But now what do we have? To quote Ms Zakroff, “magic as an every day practice to change you, your living space, and the world around you. There’s no chapter on “how to choose your patron deities” – but there may be one on finding your inner goddess.”

So were those earlier spells just delusional?

I’m not so sure; let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, I was perusing the vendors at a Pagan convention. One vendor was selling (among other things), little sequined books that she was calling “wish books”, the idea being that you write wishes in them and they would come true. Nice novelty, but no one who is magically operant is going to take that seriously. However, as I was looking through her wares, an African gentleman came up and honed in on these “wish books”, wanting to know if they really worked. You see, as someone who had grown up in a place in which witchcraft is a very real prospect that is routinely thought capable of things we might think fantastical, he was as serious as a heart attack. The vendor

religion - enchantment — This came up on pixabay for “enchantment”. IDK…

when faced with this, recognized her conundrum: she could either admit that her products were bunk, or she could lie to the gentleman and potentially face his wrath down the line. Because in his culture, you can bet that bought magic is considered the same as any other product that doesn’t work when it doesn’t work!

So were those older spells delusional? I doubt that gentleman would think so – or any number of people around the world actually. As a community, we talk a lot about “reenchanting the world”, as though the whole world is missing its enchantment, but maybe it’s just our bits of it?

Final Words

I’ve covered a lot of ground here (that’s happening a lot at the moment), but if I were to boil down my points, they would be as follows:

1. Religion itself isn’t a bad thing, but we need to stop running and start figuring out what that can look like for us.
2. We also need to stop throwing out bathwater babies because of how others define things (seriously, we’re creating an army of Útburðir). Don’t like Wicca-esque duotheisms? You don’t need to dump all ideas of forming relationships with animistic powers.
3. It’s about reciprocal relationships, and no matter how awesome your inner goddess is, she probably is going to still be useless if you ever find yourself up shit creek without a paddle with things going sideways faster than the fools at my gym who try to use the treadmills sideways. Plus side though, you can always try shitting yourself, so there is that.
4. It’s also about expectations, and we cannot reenchant the world if we’re not only removing the animistic powers, but also simultaneously lowering our expectations of what magic can do.

So there you go! My Monday ramblings about all the things. I’m still aiming to get the third part of my series out this week (probably on Thursday), but the posts by Mr Beckett and Ms Zakroff were too relevant to ignore.

Have a good week, everyone!

February 27, 2018May 30, 2018

Authority and Hierarchies I

Last year, I took the Rune Soup grimoire course.

I’d recommend Rune Soup premium memberships to anyone, because they really are worth the $10 per month. They’re all are well-presented, the content is killer, and the grimoire course was no exception.

One phrase from that course has been going round my head on repeat this week:

hierarchies - lobster — Look at this magnificent bastard! He’s gonna lobster. He’s gonna lobster *hard*.

“Lobsters are just gonna lobster.”

You’re probably wondering what I mean by that. After all, it is a pretty weird (yet self-evident) statement when presented without context. (Because what else are lobsters going to do but lobster as hard as their little crustacean selves can lobster?)

I would hazard a guess that no one has any issues with that concept, and would think anyone strange who expected dog or human behavior from lobsters. Yet when it comes to the world of the Unseen, we seem to lose the ability to understand that, and our expectations become entirely contemporary and human.

In the first part of this mini-series of posts on authority and hierarchies, I’m going to take a look at the way modern human ideas about numinous beings run counter to more traditional ideas. I’ll move more explicitly into discussing the implications for practice in the following posts.

Perceptions of Spirits, Fairies, and Other Non-Human Persons

We humans engage in anthropomorphism often. We do it with our pets, with senators, and even with numinous beings. However, this is a deeply problematic approach, because when you try to ascribe a certain set of characteristics to something, then you miss what they actually are.

Unfortunately, we humans are often not content with simple anthropomorphism; our perceptions of these beings must also match our very human politics too. We see this bias the clearest in the consideration of spirit and otherworldly hierarchies.

Otherworldly/Spirit Hierarchies

“Whether or not there are two set courts of Fairy, one thing that is clear is that the social structure does seem to operate as a hierarchy ruled ultimately by kings and queens. When we look at the bulk of the folklore it is usually a Fairy Queen who holds power, often with an unnamed King at her side or else ruling alone. In only a few Irish examples do we see solitary Fairy Kings. In the later folklore and ballads the Fairy Queens and Kings are often unnamed, going simply by their titles, but in older mythology and some local folklore we do have examples of named Fairy Queens and Kings, often beings who we know were once Gods.”
Morgan Daimler, ‘Fairies’, p61

“The Kinds of Spirits.
In regard to spirits, there are the superior and the inferior. Names of the superiors are: Lucifer, Beelzebuth, Astaroth. The inferiors of Lucifer are in Europe and Asia, and obey him. Beelzebuth lives in Africa, and Astaroth inhabits America.

Of these, each of them has two who order their subjects all that which the Emperor has
resolved to do in all the world, and vice-versa.”

Grimoirium Verum, from here.

Hierarchies are a feature among both the spirits of the grimoires and traditional fairy lore. As we see from the examples above, the Fairies have their courts and royalty, and superior spirits reign above the legions of inferior spirits of the Grimoirium Verum (and others).

However, an adherence to hierarchical social structure is not the only common trait shared by both Fairies and grimoire spirits. There is also the matter of power, and where that being lies on the scale of power in relation to its position within the hierarchy; these are dominance hierarchies after all. For example, in the above quote Morgan ties the older Fairy royalty with previous godhood. This is also a factor with the superior grimoire spirits cited above. Beelzebuth, as Jake Stratton-Kent reveals, is none other than one of the Ba’als of the ancient near East, and Asteroth none other than the goddess Astarte/Ishtar/Inanna (depending on time period and culture) (Stratton Kent “The True Grimoire” Pp. 136, 185-189 ).

So we kind of have to assume that the reason why those who sit at the top of their respective hierarchies do so because they are the most powerful. Power is a universal passport to authority other others, and it doesn’t matter if a spirit or fairy belongs to a particular court or hierarchy, inherent power is always recognized. Especially by those who appreciate the ability to size up and not antagonize those who are stronger as an excellent means of ensuring continued existence.

It can be hard for a modern person to get their head around the concept of these kinds of hierarchies, and I believe this to be especially the case with modern Pagans (who tend to lean more towards the liberal end of the political spectrum). A lot of us tend towards ideas of equality, and some of us may even find the very concept of hierarchy distasteful. However, we cannot just simply decide that we somehow know better despite the literally thousands of years of precedent in multiple cultures. Because like the lobsters (who also interestingly form dominance hierarchies), those spirits are going to do what they’re gonna do despite our silly human feelings.

Centering the Silly Human Feelings

While we’re talking about those silly human feelings, we may as well address another key issue here: anthropocentrism. As a culture, we have a horrible tendency to center human feelings and human experience in all interactions with the Other, and it’s laughable. We act as though everything non-human out there is there for us in some way, when that is simply not the case. This is a large part of what it means to have agency. A being with agency doesn’t exist for others, they are not the means to another’s ends, but ends unto themselves.
Moreover, I can all but guarantee that they don’t see us as the special snowflakes some of us seem to think we are, and if any of them seem to, it’s generally best to assume they probably believe you to be delicious in the culinary sense. (Oh yes, some of them are known to eat people.)

Like I said earlier, “Lobsters are just gonna lobster”.

Birds of a Feather

hierarchies - alien breakdancer — Breakdancing alien, clearly.

Lastly, you know how humans tend to all stick together in alien encounter movies? It seems like a natural response to something so different from ourselves, right? And that’s not even taking into account the many ways in which we privilege our own species over others on this earth. Again and again, we put the needs of humans over those of the flora and fauna of this place, and we generally see nothing wrong with it.

Now think about that, and ask yourself why any spirits or race of otherworldly beings should feel any differently? Perhaps it is also anthropomorphism to ascribe this human trait also to fairies? However, that is not what we see in the centuries of fairy lore involving interactions between Fairies and mortals. If anything, the implication that there is a loyalty between Fairies that is not extended to humans (Daimler “Fairies” Pp 34-38).

Avoiding the Perils of Perception

Hopefully if there’s anything this post has made clear, it’s the importance of questioning our perceptions of the Other. Because not doing so, can lead to some very dangerous (if not deadly) situations depending on who you’re dealing with.

However, there is also a greater lesson here that can be applied to our human-to-human interactions in everyday life. You see, much of the way in which many of us consider the Otherworldly, is a reflection of how we consider other humans who are different from us (albeit on a different level). And I don’t believe it to be any coincidence that we mostly belong to cultures that were and/or are still colonialist powers. The cultural backgrounds within which most of us originate, are steeped in taking from and commodifying the “other” among our fellow humans. This is an important point to recognize and think upon, especially if you find it hard to get away from this mindset. Because if you still carry that baggage, you are not fully considering the “Other” (be it humans who are “other” to your cultural or racial group, or otherworldly beings/spirits) as persons with agency and worthy of genuine respect.

And of course, it has to be said that there is something very fitting about a discussion on the agency of the Fair Folk – who are known for their glamours – pulling the sins of humans towards each other into sharp focus. Sometimes the greatest horror is in the revealing.

In the next post, I’m going to look at the importance of authority when dealing with spirits and the otherworldly. This is quite a large topic, and so it will be sub-divided to save you from slogging through a 3000 – 5000 word post (including an excerpt from my upcoming book). Then finally, I’m going to look at how matters of authority and hierarchy play into the process of acquiring a familiar. So watch this space, and in the meantime repeat after me:

“I am not king shit.”
“Favors may be gained through relationship or reciprocity.”
“Others have agency too.”

Why Circles are Awesome (and Other Sundry Musings)

I think it was some time in the 2000s when I first noticed this kind of ‘anti-circle sentiment’ in the Pagan community. I was at an event, and someone who was clearly much smarter than I am had devolved into mocking me for still casting circles. It was a classic case of someone trying to score social capital at the expense of another, and as I was still new to interacting with other Pagans on a regular basis, I was far more timid in response than what I would be now.

Casting a circle had been declared both “Wiccan” and “fluffy”, and if John Beckett’s anecdote from his recent blog is anything to go by, circle-casting still suffers somewhat from this reputation. All the cool kids seem to find other ways to create sacred space within which to work. Moreover, even when a circle is cast, some will still refer to it by any other name.

But there’s a huge problem with this kind of mentality – well actually, there are two:

1. You’re basing your practice around trying to avoid being something as opposed to trying to figure out where that practice needs to go, and just going there.

2. You’re more focused on ideological purity and the opinion of others rather than what you’re actually doing.

Both of these issues can lead to some severe casting out of the proverbial baby with the bathwater, and that is what I believe has happened to the circle to some extent. Or at least, we don’t appreciate circles as much as we maybe should.

The History of the Circle

The magic circle is mostly associated with Wicca in modern Paganism, however, the use of magic circles predates Wicca by millennia. Scholar and practicing occultist, Professor Stephen Skinner, traces the earliest mention of protective floor circles to Classical Indian magic. The Ramayama (dating from 4th to 5th century BCE) describes the drawing of a circle on the ground to protect a person from a demon. When that person is persuaded to cross the circle, they are then taken by that demon (Skinner 79).

The circle could also be found among the Assyrians. Referred to as an u?urtu (“ring”), the Assyrian circle seems to have either been made with the intention of containment or protection. This is important to note, because although modern practitioners may give many different reasons for casting circles, and explanations of their function/s, in the ancient world the primary functions were that of containment and protection (Skinner 79).

Sometimes lime was used for marking out the Assyrian circle, and sometimes a mixture of water and flour (substances sacred to relevant Assyrian deities); both types of circle may be found in the sources. Once created though, it was then important that the circle was then consecrated with a charm such as this:

”Ban! Ban! [O] Barrier that none can pass,

Barrier of the gods, that none may break,

Barrier of heaven and earth that none can change,
Which no god may annul,

Nor god nor man can loose,

A snare without escape, set for evil,
A net whence none can issue forth,
spread for [against] evil.

Whether it be evil spirit, or evil demon, or evil ghost,
Or evil devil, or evil god, or evil fiend,
Or hag-demon, or ghoul, or robber-sprite,
Or phantom, or night-wraith, or handmaid of the phantom
Or evil plague, or fever sickness, or unclean disease
which have attacked the shining waters of Ea (the water from the water/flour mix),
May the snare of Ea catch it;

Or which hath assailed the meal of Nisaba (the flour from the water/flour mix),

May the net of Nisaba entrap it…” (Skinner 80)

I also include a Mesopotamian consecration charm here for its eminent usefulness and interest:

”We, therefore, in the names aforesaid, consecrate this piece of ground for our defence, so that no spirit whatsoever shall be able to break the boundaries, neither be able to cause injury nor detriment to any of us here assembled, but that they may be compelled to stand before this circle and answer truly our demands.” (Skinner 80)

Both consecration charms make it clear that at its core, the circle is a form of boundary or barrier through which nothing may pass if created correctly. By its very nature, it both contains and protects, this is the core function of a magic circle in the earliest sources – everything else is just gravy.

(Btw, if you do not already own Stephen Skinner’s Techniques of Graeco-Egyptian Magic, I cannot recommend it enough.)

Circles, often in the form of an ouroboros, also feature in Egyptian depictions of magic – again as

this kind of impermeable barrier (Skinner 82-83). Skinner posits that although the ouroboros circle is only specifically mentioned twice in the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM), the creation of a circle was probably taken for granted and covered by phrases such as “do the usual”. It is no coincidence that the ouroboros features in later grimoires such as the 18th century Clavis Inferni. Indeed, it’s likely that the use of a protective circle in the form of an ouroboros and directions marked out (and associated with elemental entities) were inherited magical tech from those old-school Graeco-Egyptian magicians (Skinner 87).

The Core Purpose and its Gravy

However, even the most cursory study of the ‘how’ of casting magic circles shows that there is no one way to cast a circle. Instead, there is variation and adaptation depending on any number of factors, including (but not limited to) the tradition of the practitioner, and the spirits being worked with. For example, in the Book of Oberon, different circles are given for different spirits. Unlike most modern circles, these circles were – like the Assyrian and Indian circles – meant to be drawn out on the ground usually using substances considered to have apotropaic properties either by virtue of the substance itself or by association with a deity/deities.

It would seem that a simple impermeable barrier is not enough though, and much may be included in either the design (when drawn physically) or circumambulation portion of circle casting (also important in the ancient sources).

However, variation is typically reflective of differing ideas about how the cosmos looks and/or the worldviews of the practitioners involved. Here we must not only consider the idea of the circle as barrier, but also the circle as and Eliade-esque “sacred center” and map of macrocosmic creation recreated in the microcosm.

To give you an example of this, take a look at this goetic circle.

You have three circles, a triangle, some candles, and a censer. That doesn’t look like there’s much else going on there, right?

Well now take a look at this circle for the Luridan conjuration.

Just to give you some backstory here – Luridan was one of the spirits associated with the Icelandic volcano, Hekla (Stratton-Kent, Pp 68-71). But here we see a volcano placed in the usual spot for the censer. Now, your average magician isn’t going to manage to get a volcano in his or her circle (not unless you’re working on a scale that’s just completely unfeasible), so it’s logical to assume that within this circle the volcano is represented by the censer. In my opinion, this is a clear recreation of the part of the cosmos inhabited by the spirits the magician wishes to summon (and is a whole lot easier than going to Hekla for the same).

I mean, there’s also some local adaptation to old school chthonic Greek religion and Hephaestus stuff in there, but nifty, huh?

This is why circles are as long lived as they are. Because not only do they work, but they are customizable, meaning you can optimize to get better results if you understand enough of the underlying mechanics.

Pimping Your Circles

So, this is me proposing a more flexible view of creating sacred space. A view in which customization and optimization in order to get better results is a thing. For those of you who only work with the same spirits and within the same system, this is perhaps less useful to you. But for those of you who are like myself, total fucking magpies who straddle multiple systems like a fat cat spilling out into multiple boxes, read on.

If you are looking at ways to pimp your circles, or indeed create new ways of casting circles, then it’s a good idea to consider the following:

1. The Purpose of the Rite

The circle for a celebratory rite is not going to be the same as the circle for a rite summoning something potentially dangerous. For example, you’re going to be want to really focus on building that kickass barrier for the summoning, but the circle for a celebratory rite might see the circle mostly envisioned as a representation of the cycle of the year (just to give an example).

2. The Gods/Spirits Summoned

When summoning gods or spirits, you may like the Luridan conjuration, want to recreate the part of the cosmos associated with that god or spirit within the cosmology of the circle. Moreover, depending on *which* gods or spirits you summon, you may also have to incorporate things like spirit hierarchies and thwarting angels into the design of your circle. To return to the image from the Clavis Inferni above for a quick example of this, the symbols of the four directional demon kings sit outside the circle, and the thwarting angels for those kings sit within.

3. The Cosmos they Inhabit

This idea of going to “play” with a different cosmos can be hard to get your head round. After all, everyone thinks their worldview and idea of how things are in the cosmos is right, right? Relativism can be hard, especially when it comes to deeply held beliefs that are often also tied up in personal experience.

Try imagining it like this – a huge endless space filled with countless temples. In and around each temple, the view of the cosmos inherent to the religion and gods/spirits of the temple not only holds sway but is reality. So if you’re going to go and interact with those gods/spirits, you need to “go to their temples”.

Naturally though, there are a lot of common threads between the “temples” and a *whole* lot of shared history. Lots of people (not to mention those dratted grimoires) did a lot of traveling, spreading ideas and magical tech like magical clap to everyone they came across. So some of those temples aren’t exactly autochthonous in what they display.

But that doesn’t mean that we can start engaging in fuckery like going to a Pagan “temple” where we feel more comfortable and essentially placing a collect call to a more Judeo-Christian “temple” where we might think some of the spirits are cool but not the head honcho. That’s kind of rude. Sort of like calling up someone you don’t know at an unsociable hour, and not only asking them to help you out but to do it entirely on your terms.

Some might even argue that they all really share the same basement too anyway, you know…if you go to the *right* sub-level. Even worse, there are some rumors that some of those grimoires even made it down to the basement a few centuries before the current crop of magic users started their sneaking expeditions down there. So you know, that’s a whole lot to take into consideration.

But it’s also a lot of possibilities and scope for improvement. Because magic isn’t something that is static and relegated to what is passed down in books – they can only help us put our feet on the path. No, magic is a living thing that evolves in concert with our interactions with the Other (once we have gained our proper introductions, of course). That, to my mind, is the greatest thing of all about magic, and of course, it all starts with the circle.

Sources
Dr Stephen Skinner – Techniques of Graeco-Egyptian Magic
Jake Stratton-Kent – Geosophia: The Argo of Magic (Vol II)

Apolitical Poison And Feral Disaster Groundhog Dirt-Witches

Defining Animisms

Animism and the World

Final Words

Sources Cited

Not Your Typical Tween Drama

Liminality and Discernment

A Blast From The Past

The Ups And The Downs

A Brief Interlude

And Back To The Story…

Welcome To Rando SpirtualismLand (Flag Probably Not Coming Any Time Soon)

A Better Story?

My Dad’s Shoes

Which Witch is Witch

Perception and Meanings

The Familiar Thread

Devils? Nah. Let’s Talk Elves and Witches!

Moving Forward

Some Personal Theorizing

Final Words

Sources

Living In Wonder (At The Audacity)

Misplaced Blame?

Reenchantment, But Make it Christian

Leveraging Reenchantment And Bad Metaphysics

Pagans And The Demonic

The Real Disenchantment?

The Actual State Of Play

My First Teacher in the Craft: The Moors

Teacher, Counselor, Friend

The Four Main Lessons my Moorland Teacher Taught

1. Take a Place as You Find It

2. Avoid a Feeling of Ownership

3. Try to Figure out Your Place in the Big Picture

Every Land has its Stories and You Should Learn Them

My Magical Go-Bag: A Backstory

Making the Bag

My Essential Items

Hag Stone

Black Salt

Spindle and Fiber

Railroad Spike

Red Yarn

Offerings of some kind

1. You Can Refuse

2. The Devil is in the Detail

3. Do Your Research, Dammit!

4. Consult Ye the Ye Olde Book of Oaths!

5. Phone a Friend

Religion and Baggage

Hold the Gods!

Final Words

Perceptions of Spirits, Fairies, and Other Non-Human Persons

Otherworldly/Spirit Hierarchies

Centering the Silly Human Feelings

Birds of a Feather

Avoiding the Perils of Perception

Further Reading

The History of the Circle

The Core Purpose and its Gravy

Pimping Your Circles

1. The Purpose of the Rite

2. The Gods/Spirits Summoned

3. The Cosmos they Inhabit