Last Wednesday, I was at the local writers’ group. A recent development for me, but one that’s been positive so far. The people there are cool and quirky – the kind of folks whose eyes light up when you ask what they’re working on. In other words, my kind of people.
Well anyway, a question came up that got me thinking:
What processes do you have to make sure you’re not subconsciously copying other writers?
Others in the group discussed the various checks they perform—the trusted people they check in with as a part of their process. For me though, the question hit very differently. You see, I literally can’t remember a time when I wasn’t hyper-aware of other people’s writing and styles of communication. Every single time I read a book or engage in conversation, there’s a part of my brain that’s working on deconstructing the language/ body language/facial expressions while also trying to figure out what’s expected of me in return.
How and how much do I move my face to express this emotion?
At what point does that smile become too much?
Do I recognize that inference or turn of phrase from previous conversations?
Now, as terrible and fake as that might sound, my intent isn’t actually to trick people. Rather, it’s a survival mechanism born from decades of negative social consequences for not being “normal.” A mask to try and fit in better—to at least be acceptable to those around me. Sometimes it feels like everyone else all got the same instruction manual for How To People, whereas mine got lost in the mail.
Differing Perspectives = Different Struggles
You see, my problem has never been subconsciously copying others, because that was always the goal. I only ever wanted to human the “right” way. That said, I’ve never copied content in that way. The places and beings I write are places and beings that I “see” and “hear” in my souls. My masks only ever come out when communicating their worlds and words. For example, instead of simply telling a story in my own voice, I would fight with my words to make it sound like someone else—someone better—had written them. I’ve spent countless hours trying to figure out how “normal” people describe body language and emotions, and how to censor my prose, removing anything that others might think odd. In one of my journals, I have entire pages of notes detailing gestures and expressions as well as their most common corresponding emotions.
You get the idea.
My writer buddy’s question wasn’t intended to highlight the role of perspective in shaping our struggles, but that’s exactly what it did.
And that (perhaps oddly) now brings me to magic.
Perspective And (Magical) Possibility
I’ve written about perception a fair bit on this blog, but what about perspective? Whether we realize it or not, the way we view the world and our place in it plays a key role in our magic. Perspective not only delineates the boundaries of what we believe possible, it also shapes what we believe ourselves are capable of and deserve. Despite that key role, however, it’s rare for conversations about magical failures to even touch on this aspect. In my experience, people will gladly suggest tweaks to materia and timing, provide performance notes, and throw out alternative methods. But when was the last time you saw or heard someone even mention perspective as a potential factor in those conversations? Because I’m yet to think of any.
I think the closest I’ve seen is the odd bit of discourse around practitioner expectations.
We examine the fruit for its faults without checking the whole tree.
Obligatory image depicting perspective to appease the kakialgodaemones.
And sure, I know there are those who might argue that perspective doesn’t matter as long a practitioner does everything “correctly.” But no amount of ritual technology and anally retentive praxis can make up for a fundamental disconnect between what a practitioner believes possible and what the spirits they’re pestering can actually do. Are you winning for yourselves fair trades at the proverbial goblin market, or are you just getting ripped off instead?
And I don’t say any of this to be judgmental or to suggest that I’ve somehow got this all locked down (because I don’t). Rather, this is a struggle I believe to be common to all of us who were shaped by this particular chunk of consensus. Our perspectives are never wholly our own.
Different Struggles, Many Solutions
When it comes to my writing and masking, the solution is simple: to police my brain whenever it starts policing my brain until it (hopefully) stops doing the thing. Who watches the birds, and all that.
(I swear, it’s like a scene from a Hieronymus Bosch painting. Life be fucking hilarious like that when you really think about it.)
But what about magic?
Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? I can tell you what I’m doing (aside from appointing more brain cops, that is), and I will. However, that’s not the same thing as giving you personally a workable set of solutions. What appears to be working for me may not work for you.
That said, I do think it would be helpful if we began to include more consideration of the practitioner perspective in our troubleshooting conversations. But compassionately, you know? I’m going to be so disappointed if this post somehow kicks off a round of Sith-lord-esque nonsense about being disturbed by other people’s lack of faith.
My Toolbox For This Struggle Bus
So now I’ve got those bits out of the way, what am I personally doing?
I write down my wins and regularly revisit them. I originally got this idea from Lee Morgan’s Standing And Not Falling. It’s a good one. Of course, those wins are a mixed bag in terms of scale, but in a heavily materialist society, it’s still good to remind yourself what’s possible.
This probably comes as no surprise, but I FAFO as much as possible. Forget working magic only as needed, I’m figuring out weird and wonderful new ways to tweak my world. (Which in turn builds on #1.) Don’t know what to do? No problem. I just pull a rune or tarot card, then come up with a spell or working that aligns with that meaning. No matter the flavor of my FAFO though, I always write everything down. Just because I’m working on tweaking my perspective, doesn’t mean I’m ignoring the other variables. I also find this helpful for maintaining my curiosity to FAFO. Nothing quite gets my brainmeats going brrrr like, “What if?”
Another thing I do is interrogate the boundaries of my perspective. This may sound like more brain cop shit, but I swear, these brain cops are different! Where one group patrols the Mind Streets for delinquent thoughts, the other handcuffs their wrists to tables in overly bright rooms and deconstructs their stories.
“Who sent you and who are you really?” “Why are you here?” “How did you get here?”
You can learn a lot from asking questions like that of stories. Do that enough, and in my experience, some of those boundaries start to look pretty shaky.
I’ve also built and maintain a magical persona in much the same way as one might a TTRPG character. This is really more of an experiment I’m running (see #2 above). A mental space to inhabit on the days when I’m struggling with those conceptual boundaries when something like the Stele de Jeu wouldn’t be appropriate. I like to think of this as the mindful and demure counterpart to the green cut crease eyeshadow of deity assumption.
Finally, I’ve been working to identify and implement brain hacks from modalities like NLP and hypnotism (among others). Some of the hacks I’ve found so far help to ease me into different states of consciousness, while others serve as bridges between intellectual and fully internalized knowledge. My Soul Lore work also falls under this category to some degree.
I’ll be honest, I don’t really have a pithy statement to end this with (though I wish I did). So I’m just going to rip off Seneca in his letters to Lucilius and go with “Farewell.”
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.
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.
Reconstructionism vs Gnosis: A (Lame) War Between Two Ideological Camps
Once upon a time (well, back in the mid-2000s) a complete and utter weirdo got involved in a reconstructionist community online. Things were kind of wild back then. I was teaching English in South Korea and had just met the love of my life. Like me, he was a Heathen, and through him, I was increasingly introduced to the US Heathen community.
Nowadays, I know that’s a silly thing to say. The “US Heathen community” sounds like a monolith when there are very clear regional differences. But as an outsider looking in, you tend to notice the broad strokes before the nuances.
One of those broad strokes was the fault line stretching between two seemingly separate ideological camps: the reconstructionists and the gnosis-focused (or “woo”) people.
Straddling Camps
As a neurodivergent person, reconstructionist spaces were much easier for me to inhabit with their clearly defined “rules of engagement.” I couldn’t talk about the stuff that made my soul sing—namely my experiments and experiences in magic. But that was a small price to pay for knowing where I stood. Conversely, the gnosis-centered groups were confusing and the rules far less clear. Sometimes people wanted to hear about my research and read my sources, but other times…well, I may as well have been offering them the option of sitting in a diarrhea-filled spacesuit.
This was a time during which one camp extolled the virtue of keeping gnosis to oneself (like genitals) and the other seemed to consider bookishness a barrier to gnosis.
(Fun fact: I was once told I was too bookish to have gnosis.)
If you were lucky enough to miss the whole thing, it was like Romeo vs Juliet, only with less death and mostly online.
0/10 would not recommend.
And the absolutely wild part of it all? It was completely unnecessary.
Reconstructionism and Gnosis, Sitting In A Tree…
Before continuing, I want to get something straight: there is nothing wrong with either reconstructionism or gnosis.
(Well, reconstructionism the methodology is fine. I’m not so keen on the weird sect-like version of reconstructionism found in online groups.)
They’re also not really at opposing ends of a spectrum either. I would even argue that reconstructionism is one of the most useful methodologies for reviving/creating workable magical practices rooted in accounts of historical Heathen magic.
However, if I have learned anything from my twenty-or-so years of experimenting in this way, it’s that scholarship (regardless of methodology) can only take you so far. At some point, you want gnosis to take over and guide you the rest of the way.
But what do I mean by this?
Seams of Gold and Old-Ass Mineshafts
I would like you to imagine for a moment a seam of gold under the earth. It’s a special seam of gold—let’s say it represents all the ritual and magical knowledge we’re currently missing. Now, you could just try digging for that seam without any instructions. But who in their right mind would do that? Mining comes with hazards, and if you’re not careful, you might miss the seam entirely and happen upon something you don’t want. Moreover, the soil in different places is…well, different. The composition is different, the kinds of rocks are different—these are all factors that affect how you dig.
This is where the sources and reconstructionism come in. Imagine that the sources contain the equivalent of geological data, analysis of the material you’re looking for, and possibly even instructions for how best to dig down.
Sometimes they may even purport to reveal the location of an older mine. A mine that the historical Heathens originally dug (but almost always never works out).
So, what to do?
Enter Gnosis
This is where reconstructionism ideally hands the baton over to gnosis.
Like many, I used to fall into the trap of thinking that historical record was the same as authenticity and/or efficacy. But years of research, experimentation, evaluation, and experience have taught me that gnosis/inspiration/guidance from the Holy Powers can be just as important. More often than not, it’s the latter that makes the difference between practices that work and practices that fall flat.
And regardless of era, the proof is always in the pudding with magic.
You see (and I’m probably going to blog about this in the future), magic has never solely been the product of human hands. As a technology, magic is inherently Other —- something that is passed from Themselves to us. There’s a good example of this exchange in the witch-familiar relationship as recorded in English and Scottish sources from the Early Modern Period. I wrote about it in more depth here, if you’re interested. But the quick version is that the source of the witch’s power and learning was the familiar (who was Otherworldly vs demonic in earlier accounts). It was the familiar who was in charge.
Pro-Tip: This is not your familiar (and neither is your dog/cat/hamster/opossum/fish).
I would argue that this makes interacting with that Other (as well as associated deities and ancestors) an important part of the process for creating workable practices rooted in accounts of Heathen period magic. It’s their tools we work with. And if anyone knows how to work with those tools (or how best to work with them over a thousand years after other humans used them), it’s Themselves.
You just have to get their attention first, and this is where reconstruction and other methodologies can help. Because in my experience, if you reconstruct enough for somebeing to recognize what you’re trying to do, then you might find somebeing who’s inclined to help you out.
(I’m sure that’s like a form of ergi for some folks out there, but whatever.)
Thwarted Words, Insufficient Mechanisms
Unfortunately, all of the above requires something called discernment. And if we’re being honest, the ridiculous war between Reconstructio and Gnosiet stymied a lot of necessary discussion about how to assess and process gnosis in a healthy way. I believe this has been to our detriment.
You see, there will always be people in any religious group who have a drive to go deeper and to experience more. There will always be those of us who need to be in those liminal spaces and working with weird practices.
One of the most curious things about modern US Heathenry is how protestant it can be at times. A number of Heathens are simply uncomfortable with other people having gnosis and even go so far as to refer to it as MUS (or “made up shit”). I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen the assertion that “magic isn’t a part of Heathenry” (despite accounts of magic in every genre of ON literature and probable physical evidence). And there’s a segment of Heathens who would probably be far happier if all of us subscribed to the “gods of limited access” model.
As humans, we all have varying levels of religious/mystical/spiritual needs. True communities (vs the protestant church model many seem to emulate) focus on inclusion instead of shunning. In an actual community, there are always people you don’t like and who believe differently than you. That’s normal; that’s just organic communities for you.
Moreover, when a religious community doesn’t address discernment in a useful way;when a community doesn’t provide tools and space for “woo-inclined” members to mutually support each other; or worse, when a community ostracizes the “weirdos,” then the ground is ripe for bad actors to come in. And when it comes to the magical and mystical, humans are especially vulnerable to exploitation.
This is something I’ve seen play out over and over again.
So, we need to have those conversations, I think. In the meantime though, Jason Miller created this excellent checklist for assessing gnosis. I encourage you to check it out.
Final Word
Thankfully, many Heathens (at least in the communities I’m in) have moved on from such hard divisions between scholarship and gnosis. Discussing gnosis has become less of a fraught proposition, and previously hostile communities have become less so.
If you are curious about the line where reconstruction (or any scholarship) can end and gnosis begin on a practical level, hopefully this post has given you some ideas. This is not the only way in which scholarship and gnosis can enrich, enable, and support each other either. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve given up on a line of research only to be told what to look for next in a dream. Or been told in a dream to look into something seemingly unrelated to my research interests only to find that lead panning out. On occasion, I’ve even had people randomly message me sources they felt they needed to send to me that filled in some research gaps.
In the next post, I’m planning to dig deeper into the gnosis element of my magical experimentation with some examples of things I’ve experienced (story time!). After that, I’m planning a post on the Otherworldly origins of magic and partnership between witches and the Other.
Finally, I’ll be holding a free online class on the 28th of January 2023 at 2pm EST on spinning. Nothing magical (you’d need to develop muscle memory first for that). Just a bunch of people learning to make yarn out of fluff with spindles. If that interests you, save the date. I’ll post an event sign-up later this week and guidance on beginner-friendly fluff and spindles. If you do not have any spinning tools or fluff, you will need to order them. Spots will likely be limited, so please only order after you’ve signed up.
My blog post today is about story. And I’m going to begin it by telling you a story (about story).
I like to write fiction, and I’ve been creating and writing stories for as long as I can remember. There’s something magical about the process of creating characters and allowing them to reveal the next stages in what inevitably becomes their story. For the most part, these characters are my creations, beginning as hastily plotted-out spider diagrams on whatever scrap of paper I can find and growing into themselves as I write.
By Human or Non-Human Hands?
But around this time last year, two characters began to take shape in my mind without conscious plotting on my part. I still made hastily-scribbled diagrams, but instead of being spiderlike sigils of creation, they were more like a record of beings that were already there..
I wrote them almost obsessively, unable to think about anything else. And this entire world began to take shape as I worked, growing up around the characters in a suspiciously organic fashion.
But one day around Beltane, they were suddenly gone. The world and its inhabitants no longer spoke to me. I could no longer see where I next needed to go, and so I let the project fall. Because while I could have simply invented the details and carried on writing, it felt wrong to do so.
For months I missed them like distant friends. I wanted to continue their story and spend more time in their world, and in September I got my wish.
They had returned. I could see their world once more, and their stories began to speak to me again.
But instead of jumping back into their world, I held back. Why?
Because I realized that they had returned at the same time as the acronychal rising of the Pleiades. Moreover, their Beltane disappearance coincided with the yearly disappearance of the Pleiades from the night sky. It seemed a little too coincidental, especially when the characters you’re writing are Gentry who worship the ‘Seven Queens’.
Now you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this instead of simply getting into the CAOS.
I’m telling you this because I wanted to illustrate the point that story doesn’t always come from humans, and that sometimes there are non-human hands in the mix as well.
Otherworldly Media and Narrative
What do a bunch of ‘cave goblins’, Irish fairies, and a long-dead Icelandic völva spirit have in common?
If my sources are correct on this: they have all either historically been interested in modern communications technology and/or media, have already arguably exerted their influence, or have reportedly expressed an interest in doing so.
As outlandish as all of this may seem, this is not so different from the kind of otherworldly interest in creative types recorded in older sources. The storytelling bard has become the TV show writer, artists who may have painted scenes from Fairy while locked up in Bedlam, now create digitally, and famous Fairy-Firkler Morgan Daimler has been pointing out the weird waves of disinformation about Themselves online for a while.
(I mean, come on…plastic is the ‘new iron’?)
Why would humans be the only beings to adapt to an ever-changing world? Why would the otherworldly not continue to interact with and influence creative types as they have done for generations?
Sabrina Goes to Hell(ier)
Which brings me to the point of this post. Yet again, the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina has angered modern Pagans and Witches. This time though, it’s the depiction of the ‘Pagans’ that seems to be the source of the greatest ire.
I have a lot of say about that ire in general. But I’m going to limit myself to making the following two points:
That the ‘Pagans’ are not so much human worshippers of Pagan gods, but beings that were seen as being potentially monstrous (if not outright so) by their own Pagan period peers. Yes, as unjust as a monstrous read is when it comes to figures like Medusa and Circe, that’s probably how many people at the time probably saw them.
That the Greendale coven now worship Hecate. Which means that they’re now technically Pagans too. (Congratulations! You no longer have to get mad that they’re Satanic witches.)
Oh and about that whole thing with Pan and the Green Man: didn’t it feel a little familiar? Kind of like we’ve seen that alliance somewhere before?
Ah right, yes. Hellier season two. Again.
And I’m not the only person to have noticed the similarities either. According to the Twitterverse there was even a tin can moment in CAOS pt 3 (that I missed, probably because I tend to watch things like sewing/knitting/spinning).
A Topsy-Turvy Story
CAOS pt 3 was a story of different factions and battlelines. The Satanic was revealed to be codependent on the Christian for not only its ascent and power, but also help in the form of Mambo Marie (who is at one point described as being Catholic as well as a vodouisante). The ‘Pagans’ were largely actually monstrous beings, ‘Robin Goodfellow’ allies himself with the humans, and the Greendale coven end up (a different kind of) Pagan anyway.
If there’s one thing about the underlying ‘string-pullers’ of Hellier, it’s that the history doesn’t quite add up – at least not in the usual way. Greg is sent a pdf of The Rebirth of Pan: Hidden Faces of the American Earth Spirit, a book by a man called Jim Brandon (pseudonym). It’s a wild ride through archaeology, conspiracy theory, cryptozoology, paranormal phenomena, and Crowley. Rather than the Ancient Greek figure, the ‘Pan’ spoke of in this book (a being which the author argues is actually the conscious, collective identity of the earth/contained within the earth) is an aggregate term, a way of naming what the author believes to be manifestations of this consciousness of/within the earth.
The Green Man (a being associated with this ‘Pan’ by Brandon) of CAOS is also aggregate. The ‘Pagans’ of CAOS are trying to resurrect a supposedly ancient god (that’s apparently actually a bunch of other beings masquerading in a trench coat as ‘our lost connection to nature’). In a sense, he is a manifestation of Brandon’s ‘Pan’ (with a representation of Pan serving as his high priest), set within this uniquely American story that began with colonial era diabolist witches.
And then there’s Hecate – a deity that seems to be becoming more prominent among modern Pagans at the moment, often in a protective/tutelary capacity. Funny how she’s associated with dogs, isn’t it?
The Stories We Tell and the Fucking Zeitgeist
When people on Twitter first began to notice the similarities between Hellier2 and CAOS pt 3, one person remarked that the CAOS producers should have given credit to Greg and Dana Neukirk.
But here is the thing: both series were produced more or less concurrently. Season 2 of Hellier dropped on 11/29/19, and CAOS on 1/24/20. While there are a couple of months between both shows, there wasn’t enough time for anyone to copy anyone else. Moreover, per CAOS showrunner Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, they were filming episode six in August – roughly around the same time as Greg and Dana et al. were still filming Hellier season two.
Good humans, I give you the zeitgeist…maybe.
Or maybe instead we see non-human hands in human stories and hints of narratives yet to be shaped?
I believe the unseen world gained a new faction, and it’s something of a ‘new kid’ on the block. Based on what I’ve seen so far of this new kid, I’m pretty sure the ‘old kids’ aren’t too happy with it. Something – a collection of beings in a trench coat masquerading as something else is trying to come onto their turf. And as humans, the creators and consumers of stories that shape the dominant consensus, we’re faced with a choice (another one).
In CAOS, the Greendale coven is given the (false) choice of joining the ‘Pagans’. But instead they choose Hecate, their ancestors (of blood and of practice), and ultimately each other.
Despite the fact that it’s a TV show, I think there’s a valuable lesson in that for witches. Because regardless of tradition, most of us already have relationships with have gods, ancestors, and other beings. Some of us also have magical siblings of sorts too. These are the relationships that have long sustained us. And even when we don’t have those things, the older beings tend to have track records that we can refer to when making our choices. Cleaving to those that are proven hael (by experience or reputation) is probably the best choice.
Yes, you, my fellow North American Heathens/Pagans/Witches. I’d like a word with you about a few things. You see, I’ve had a lot to think about of late, and I think some of you all really need to hear what I have to say.
As you can see, it was a truly horrible place.
First of all, if you’re not already doing it, you need to be going on pilgrimages. Speaking as someone who’s been in Heathenry for a while (over twenty years, fml), we don’t really have a culture of pilgrimages, but we should. Now I’m admittedly biased about this shit seeing as I recently co-presented the Land, Sea, SkyHiddenfolk, Witches, and Elves tour in Iceland with the incredible Morgan Daimler, but hear me out.
Making the Case for Pilgrimages
When we think of pilgrimages, I think we tend to think of them in terms of
Here’s Johnny!
going to a place that’s considered inherently holy in a way, and trying to gain the favor of some numinous being. And don’t get me wrong, pilgrimages can be that. But I don’t think they have to be that (or at least that’s not where their greatest usefulness lies for us). Sometimes, pilgrimages can be a way to experience things related to your worldview that you wouldn’t otherwise experience in your normal environment.
You know, key things like ‘what it’s like to live in an actually inspirited landscape’.
A Tale of a Few Cultures
Let me tell you a quick story to sort of illustrate the point. The second time I visited the United States, I went to a large East Coast Heathen event where I facilitated the construction of a fire labyrinth. When we first went to the planned site and started to discuss the logistics of construction, we found ourselves being mobbed by mosquitoes.
A common enough occurrence, you say?
True. But none of them were actually biting, and so I took it as a sign that the local spirits of the land required some assurances and payment in order to proceed without us becoming walking clouds of mosquitoes while we worked. So I got some hard cider and addressed my words towards the woods, explaining the entire process for finding the stones we would use to mark out the labyrinth, the contained use of fire that would not burn the land, and how we would put the stones back in the forest when done. Then I poured out the offerings and the bugs left us alone.
To me, that was nothing – that small act of explanation and offering would have been a baseline response in so many other places that I’ve inhabited. However, it simply hadn’t occurred to my American counterparts to do that, or even that the wights would even be a factor to be taken into account. This led to me being introduced as someone who was especially into working with wights for the remainder of the event.
The Whole in the Hole
Now I’m not telling this story in a ‘nur nur I’m better than you stupid
It was just awful…so awful
Americans’ kind of way. (I’m an American citizen now too, so I’m also a stupid American.) I just wanted to illustrate how far they tend to be from the minds of modern American Heathens/Pagans/Witches, despite the fact that the existence of the numinious Other forms a key part of the historical worldviews of each of those groups. Even worse, where people do profess belief, it’s often not in a concrete way. Gods are easy for Americans to grok (as a culture we’ve a long history of god(s)-bothering) – ancestors too to some degree. But the Other is hard.
There are some good reasons for this, but to boil it all down to the most TL;DR explanation ever: Early colonists saw the colonization of America as a kind of religious crusade in which they had to “win” territories from the devil and “cleanse” them of the Heathen. (Don’t believe me? Check out this book, and the rantings of Cotton Mather here.) America was to be a covenant nation, given by god and kept for a long as Christianity held sway. This is the society most of you grew up in, and it is one that not only drove out the spirits in many places, but still lacks nuance when it comes to viewing those beings. If it is not dead or godly/of god, then it is demonic, and here is where we come to the crux of our problem.
There is no cultural framework within mainstream (predominantly white) American culture for interacting with the non-dead and non-godly. So is it any surprise that the Other remains and afterthought for many Heathens/Pagans/Witches here?
Restoring Pieces
Yet I believe it is the missing piece of the bigger picture, and I think many of us feel it or re-enchantment would not be a topic within our community.
We were just tortured by stunning natural beauty and elvish sex vibes.
This is where going somewhere that you know to be inspirited (by reputation) comes in. I appreciate that not everyone can afford to go to places like Iceland, but pilgrimages (or perhaps more accurately ‘retreats’) don’t have to be to places that are considered particularly connected to Pagan or Heathen traditions – they can be far closer to home. (Do we really think all those mysterious National Park disappearances are purely coincidental?) Take some like-minded friends! Take some apotropaics (bells, black salt, iron, wolf bones…you know, the usual)! Make a weekend of it!
Trust me, the rent isn’t worth it.
Go out there and experience the Other that peeks out of rocks, invites you into ‘move-in ready’ holes (don’t accept though), throws disembodied voices, moves your shit around, and just generally makes itself known.
Do that until you have this kind of an experience,*then* let’s continue our conversations about the ‘re-enchantment of the world’, but instead let’s call it ‘restoration’, and ‘finally getting our boots on for a spiritual war that’s worth a crap’. (Because what do you think all that Christian Spiritual Warrior crap has been doing anyway?)
Restoration > Re-Enchantment
The more I think about it, ‘re-enchantment’ as discussed in modern paganism sucks. (You can find a good example of how some modern Pagans interact with the concept here.) I mean, it’s not inherently bad but I think there are some definite issues with the current discourse:
Firstly, the world is viewed along an axis of enchanted vs disenchanted in this discussion. This suggests an endpoint at either extreme of the axis and I don’t
How the fuck did we even handle it?
believe that to be the case (for reasons I will go into).
Secondly, the predominant focus of re-enchantment is on human perceptions. There is no partnership with the Other here in this ‘re-enchantment’. It’s about humans rediscovering the enchanted nature of their local environment.
Thirdly, it’s all well and good to ‘re-enchant’ your perceptions of your local environment, but what if you work on that and there’s fuck all there? You may perceive the Other just fine when away from home, but what about when your local area is just…empty? Or how about pissed?
This is why restoration needs to be the goal as opposed to re-enchantment – that is just a step along the way.
Going Beyond Re-Enchantment
So what should restoration look like? In my opinion, it should involve inviting the Other back from the Outer yards, creating sanctuaries for them on our lands, building relationship, and giving them greater footholds among us. It should involve facing up to our collective shit as a culture and making amends for past sins.
Gryla says “Hi!”
I’m not going to lie, it’s not always going to work out. Some folks are likely to have shittier experiences than others with this. Some of you will have spirits that have absolutely zero interest in working with you, and will likely want to skullfuck you into next week. Those spirits have always existed, the same can be said about humans.
It’s time to stop freaking out when the Other makes itself more known, and it’s time to stop talking in ominous terms about the ‘Otherworld bleeding through’. Because this is, and always has been the fight in this land – the back and forth of Christians driving out the Other (both Human and non-Human) in order to maintain their damned, blood-soaked covenant. Cotton Mather knew it, as do his modern Dominionist counterparts do. We just need to finally get on board and start fighting our corner.
”Wherefore the devil is now making one attempt more upon us; an attempt more difficult, more surprising, more snarled with unintelligible circumstances than any that we have hitherto encountered; an attempt so critical, that if we get well through, we shall soon enjoy halcyon days with all the vultures of hell trodden under our feet. He has wanted his incarnate legions to persecute us, as the people of God have in the other hemisphere been persecuted: he has therefore drawn forth his more spiritual ones to make an attack upon us. We have been advised by some credible Christians yet alive, that a malefactor, accused of witchcraft as well as murder, and executed in this place more than forty years ago, did then give notice of an horrible plot against the country by witchcraft, and a foundation of witchcraft then laid, which if it were not seasonably discovered, would probably blow up, and pull down all the churches in the country. And we have now with horror seen the discovery of such a witchcraft! An army of devils is horribly broke in upon the place which is the center, and after a sort, the first-born of our English settlements: and the houses of the good people there are filled with the doleful shrieks of their children and servants, tormented by invisible hands, with tortures altogether preternatural.” Cotton Mather – The Wonders of the Invisible World
Our side in this was decided long ago.
Love and tea,
Me
P.S Check out Morgan’s open posts on the Pleiades for similar content on opening things up. Part One. Part Two.
P.P.S Morgan is fucking awesome and a pleasure to stalk all over a volcanic land.
I’ve sat on this post for a long time. It’s a post that started with a dream that became a maelstrom of thoughts. And since the morning of the 27th of October (which was when I entered the dream into my journal), I’ve been turning it over in my head. You see, I want to be clear about this, because this topic is important.
But it may also be difficult for those of you who share my melanin-deficiency. I do however, ask you to set aside your initial feelings, read with an open heart, and then turn this topic over in your own mind some before reacting.
Because it is not white skin that is under attack here. I do not deny the realities of white privilege or the different lived experiences of oppressed peoples – those things are as plain to me as the nose on my face. But this is about whiteness, why we must not buy into it, and why we must work to free ourselves of it.
Before continuing though, I should probably define what I mean by “whiteness” in this post. When I speak of “whiteness”, I speak of a construct that sits in our society like a gated community that limits its entry to those who fit certain criteria. To reiterate, this is not a post about the the intrinsic and innate, of melanin and ancestry. It is a post about a social construct which actively excludes, harms, and which I believe to be completely incompatible with Witchcraft.
A Brief History of the Concept of Whiteness
Before the 17th century, “whiteness” as a concept or racial category didn’t exist. Laws both in the early colonies and Barbados instead focused on religion, setting aside freedoms for Christians and relegating non-Christians to servitude and slavery. However, as times changed and more people of color (both free and enslaved) became Christians, that legal language was changed. The goalposts were moved in order to retain power among the white landowning elite. 1697 saw the passage of the first law that restricted voting rights to only the white [Source].
But whiteness then was not the whiteness we know now; the membership requirements for that gated community have changed again and again, and ethnic groups that are now automatically considered white often found themselves on the outside. They were, according to the thinking of the day, varieties of “lesser” white [Source].
The construct of whiteness as it exists today is inherently a modified version of WASPishness.
You must have the right skin. You must have the right tongue. You must have the right faith. You must have the right worldview.
And should you catch a glimpse of another worldview, you must not rock the boat.
In short, it should be considered the very anathema of witchcraft. The gated community of whiteness is not a space in which Witchcraft can truly exist, and any attempt to root it within those manicured lawns is not without its betrayals.
People of color are well acquainted with this tactic. It has, after all, been a matter of survival for them. The more a person of color endeavors to make themselves more “respectable” from the perspective of the whiteness construct, the more “acceptable” he or she is considered to be. POCs routinely report code-switching around white coworkers and friends, dressing more ‘white’, emulating white seeming hairstyles, and a whole host of other behaviors that are ultimately designed to coddle white feelings in the hopes of getting thrown a bone.
“See how harmless I am as I wander whimsically through this field with (probably) tick-laden flowers on my head!”
This is essentially what we Pagans and Witches also do when we reassure the Christians in our lives just how “normal” and “harmless” we are; when we hold up the threefold law as a kind of “See! We’re not really dangerous!”; and when we get into that mindset of seeing it as some kind of “win” to be deemed acceptable enough to be invited to Interfaith meetings.
But what is lost when we do this? What is traded away for the scraps we’re thrown? And what of the value of these scraps? Do we truly believe that these would protect us should the law change tomorrow and allow our active persecution? Gentle people, this is what is known as a “forlorn hope”.
Witches and the Other
It is here though that we come to the real crux of this matter: Witches belong far more to the Other than to any inner, and not only do we belong to it, but we are also driven to interact with it.
Hedge…fence…whatever.
The image of the hedge rider is a powerful one here. We do not belong fully to any one world, instead going between and negotiating many, and we’ll always have far more in common with those without than those within. As my friend Morgan says, “the Other is the soul of witchcraft”. They are absolutely correct in this, and for more than one reason.
We’ve always seated our cults and practices in both the between places, and among those who society fails or allows to fall through the cracks. The ancient groves of Diana with their diverse adherents comprised of those who would traditionally be excluded are an old world example of this (Green 53-54), but as Peter Grey demonstrates in Apocalyptic Witchcraft, witchcraft has ever been the tool of the oppressed. To then exclude others in our modern cults because of sexuality/gender/social status/ethnicity – the values of the gated community of whiteness – rather than what they have shown through their actions, is to betray that heritage.
Moreover, when we subscribe to whiteness, we hinder our own interactions with the Other. When you exist within a paradigm within which other humans are not fully human depending on arbitrary and innate qualities, then you have little chance of forming the kind of relationships with non-human persons that are the fuel and soul of Witchcraft. I have already written a little about how our attitudes towards other humans affect how we interact with the Other, and some of the common assumptions that that has led to. You can read about that here, but hopefully my point is made.
There is no Witchcraft without the Other, because no matter how much Witchcraft is made increasingly safe and removed from its beating core of inspirited dark nights and heart-pounding experiences, that is what Witchcraft has always been and always will be. It will always be about partnerships with the Other, be that Other the elves spoken of Isobel Gowdie, and referred to as far back as the Old English magico-medical manuals, or the Ov of the Witch of Endor. You cannot replace that with whitewashed bullshit that exists to make the practitioner feel good as a form of edgy self-help.
Witchcraft is service. It’s not safe. It’s hard. It takes work. And it sure as shit isn’t compatible with whiteness.
If anything, whiteness and the respectability politics it demands for bare scraps of “acceptance” is a Witchcraft-killer, and that is by design rather than accident.
So please, dear people, think about where you stand and what you espouse. Think about the voices you listen to and the voices you give space to and elevate (here’s a good video by the amazing Benebell Wen about that very thing). Rock that damn boat, use your voice to argue for destroying those gates, make an effort to learn about how things are outside those gates, and make damn sure you don’t erect the same gates in your Pagan and Witch communities. In other words, return to the groves, the Other, and your human siblings.
Bibliography
1. Green, C.M.C Roman Religion and the Cult of Diana at Aricia 2. Grey, Peter Apocalyptic Witchcraft