Seeking Equilibirum at the Autumn Equinox

I hope you are all safe and well.

Somehow, we are almost in October – 2020 has both dragged and flown past. Just as we thought we were over the worst of it, a second lockdown is looming here in the UK, and everything remains as uncertain as before.

Navigating all of this uncertainty is draining; mental health issues are becoming more prevalent as the pandemic rolls on, and at times it seems as if there is no end in sight.

Today, on the autumn equinox, day and night are of equal lengths; I figured that this was a golden opportunity to relax, reflect, connect with my witchcraft and try to manifest some balance to get me through the rest of this cursed year.

So, I lit some candles, put some nice music on, grabbed some mead and got down to it!

In addition to my usual black and white candles (representing darkness and light, and balance in all things), I lit mini pink and yellow candles – for self-love and joy. I also used some of my 'Witches At Black Sabbaths' wax melt from The First Edition Candle Company – it smells divine and really puts me in a witchy mood.

It would take a whole blog post to explain everything on my altar...

Hmm... That's not a bad idea, actually...

I dedicated one glass of mead to my spirits (ancestors, deities, genius loci, guides), and slowly sipped the other while basking in the warm glow of the candlelight, the scent of jasmine, cannabis flower and rose, and the soft music. It was incredibly soothing to take some quiet time to reconnect with spirit and allow myself to feel the presence of my ancestors – something I haven't done much due to being so low on energy of late. And I felt so invigorated afterwards – enough to write this blog post!

Towards the end, I reached out to Odin for specific guidance, and Freya stepped in too – I'd like to keep the conversation private, but in brief, I received a lot of reassurance (and a gentle kick up the bum).

One thing Odin did talk about was cycles; how times like this have happened before, and will happen again, just as Ragnarök is happening, will happen, and has happened. We will get through it, and will face more challenges in future – but that's just the way the world is.

Applying the myth of Ragnarök to current events is oddly comforting. Even if you do hold the belief that Ragnarök is a linear event, it's important to note that it's not the end of all things – while many gods die, new gods rise, and the world is repopulated by the human survivors Líf and Lífþrasir. Of course, I do hope more than two people survive COVID-19!

Ragnarök may have been a way for the Vikings to reconcile the eventual disappearance of their culture over aeons – inviting us to consider how our culture will change after the major events of 2020. The myth shows that life continues after cataclysmic events, even in a new form – just as humanity will face a 'new normal' following the pandemic. Indeed it's no surprise that many people have questioned their personal relationships and goals as their lives were turned upside down.

We have no idea what the 'new normal' will look like, and for now, all we can do is keep going; be kind to ourselves and to others, hold our loved ones close (social distancing allowing) and to maintain our connections with the world around us. Take time to stop and rest when it all gets too much. Look to the light of Yule – even if we do have to have a roast dinner over Zoom.

(Personally, I'm excited as ever for Samhain – it'll take more than a pandemic to stop that!)

That's all for now, folks; I hope you all find some balance and stability in the months ahead.

Stay safe, wear a mask, and be kind.

Review: The Crooked Path: An Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft by Kelden

I first started exploring Traditional Witchcraft about ten years ago, in my late teens. At that time, it was very hard to find any information on specific practices and rites; not at all helped by the snobby attitude of the moderators of certain Internet forums, who wouldn't let ex-Wiccans such as myself join their special club! Even finding directions to make a Compass-Round was a real chore.

Back then, the only information that was readily available came from authors such as Robin Artisson (known for causing havoc on said Internet forums) and the late, great Peter Paddon. But books and magazines on the subject were not easy for me to obtain as a teen; I got Nigel Jackson's Call of the Horned Piper cheap second-hand, saved up for some of Robin and Peter's early books, and would trawl the internet for hours gleaning bits and bobs of information on the Craft, whether it be from folklore or modern practitioners.

While authors such as Gemma Gary (who provides the foreword for Kelden's book) have become more prominent and added some fantastic texts to the field, it seemed that we were lacking a single, preliminary resource for anyone curious about Traditional Witchcraft – something that offered a general overview of its key concepts, the most famous traditions and general instructions for performing rites such as the Compass-Round and Treading the Mill without being beholden to a specific tradition.

Enter The Crooked Path: An Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft.

This book is both a succinct, meticulously researched overview of the practice of Traditional Witchcraft and a workbook which gently guides the reader to practice key techniques and rituals which gradually increase in complexity.

We start with a summary of the movement's history (which happily acknowledges its symbiotic link with Wicca) and a brief explanation of the more famous traditions, such as the Clan of Tubal Cain and the 1734 Tradition. The author takes the time to highlight key figures in the development of the modern Craft, such as Doreen Valiente and Cecil Williamson. Kelden ultimately encourages the reader to forge their own path, but an extensive bibliography and footnotes ensure that anyone curious about a particular tradition or person can research further.

The remainder of the book is split into themed sections around key concepts of the Craft; Working with Magic (tools and spellcraft), Working With The Otherworld (ancestors, fetches and hedge-riding), and Working With The Natural Landscape (engaging with local spirits and using the natural items around you). This nicely encourages the reader to solidify their basic knowledge before developing their own personal Craft that is attuned to their bioregion and local spirits.

The exercises are clearly marked with headings and are often as simple as taking a pen and paper and taking some time to process what you have just read. But the reader does not have to wait long before they are making a besom, meeting their fetch and faring forth. Now you may think that including hedge-riding in a beginner's book is a bit much; but this is an essential component of Traditional Witchcraft, and Kelden takes great care to include plenty of safety advice and build up the reader's confidence and skill through the preceding exercises. The author has worked hard to recreate the experience of having a skilled mentor guiding you along the path, and I think they have done very well indeed.

Of particular interest are the 'From the Spirits of Lore' headings which enhance understanding of tools and key concepts via examples from historical folklore and mythology. In fact there is a whole chapter dedicated to adapting folkloric material for use in modern spellwork; something that is essential to our practice, yet The Crooked Path is the first book in which I have seen guidance on adapting this material yourself.

Also of note are the extracts from 'The Black Book' – recipes and workings that presumably come from the author's own grimoire. These will be useful for witches at any level. The ingredients are all easy to source and should be easy to substitute, especially after completing the exercises on communing with plant spirits.

Kelden does not shy away from baneful magic and hallucinogenics; there is no pressure to explore either of these yourself, but plenty of safety advice is provided for those who are curious (indeed one of the earliest exercises asks the reader to consider their own moral compass after a discussion on ethics). The author even provides a recipe for a non-toxic flying ointment that is safe for beginners to use.

Overall this book is a brilliant springboard for newcomers, and an inexpensive way to find out if Traditional Witchcraft is for you. Any eclectic witch will find something of use in here, and even the most experienced witches may fill some gaps in their knowledge (I know I did!).

I recommend working through the book from start to finish as the author does, though the recipes and workings can certainly be revisited time and time again.

I wish it had been available ten years ago!

The Crooked Path: An Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft is published by Llewellyn and is consequently available from all good bookshops. RRP £14.99.

Hretha and Eostre

Dear readers, I hope that you are all staying safe in these strange and difficult times. This blog post comes to you a little later than planned seeing as we are past Hexennacht/Beltane, but I would still like to share two spring goddesses who were extremely important to the Anglo-Saxons and wider Germanic peoples – the mysterious Hretha and the radiant Eostre, known nowadays as Ostara.

Both goddesses are solely attested by Bede in his 8^th-century manuscript De Temporum Ratione (The Reckoning of Time), in a chapter describing the English months. Bede states that 'Rhedmonath', now known as March, 'is named for [the Anglo-Saxon's] goddess Rheda, to whom they sacrificed at this time'. Rheda is reconstructed in Old English as Hrēþe, now Hretha in modern English.

But what was Hretha the goddess of? Bede characteristically offers no further information on her. In the absence of any other historical accounts of this goddess, scholars have turned to etymology of her name to gain some clues about her nature. Rudolf Simek, following Jacob Grimm's theories on Hretha and her possible names in other Germanic cultures, proposes that Hretha 'could have a similar meaning to the eponymous Roman god of the same month, Mars' (Dictionary of Northern Mythology, 2007, p. 159).

'Valkyrie Maiden' by Howard David Johnson (2013)

Reinforcing this warlike association, Simek considers Hretha to translate as 'the famous' or 'the victorious'. In Looking For The Lost Gods of England, Kathleen Herbert notes that the common Old English noun hreð means 'glory, fame, triumph, honour', while the adjective hrethe means ‘fierce, cruel, rough, words that can describe the cold March winds as well as warriors'. Herbert asserts that Hretha was a waelcyrie (valkyrie), traditionally warriors and choosers of the slain (1994, p. 20). 

Given that March is the time of the Spring Equinox and blessed with notoriously unpredictable weather, it's reasonable to assume that Hretha was a warrior goddess who battled the forces of winter in order to ensure the arrival of spring. This would explain the need for blōt (sacrifices) to her in this month. Indeed this is the way in which many modern Heathens view Hretha, including myself.

Other Heathens view her as a patron of survivors or a more general goddess of war. Still others see her as more of a goddess of the hearth, one who patiently awaits the return of spring. These variations may well reflect different aspects of the goddess, or even local variants as we see with Thor, Odin and Tyr in the historical record.

I have a particular connection to Hretha, being born in her month – having to fight for life as an emergency Caesarean, no less!

Hrethmonath directly precedes Eostremonath, the titular month of a much more familiar goddess. Bede offers slightly more information on the latter:

'Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated "Paschal month", and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance.' In other words, the goddess was so important/prevalent that the people retained her name when Christian traditions replaced their traditional practices (indeed Eostre is thought to be where the term 'Easter' originates).

Grimm's interpretation of these goddesses in Teutonic Mythology (1882) is particularly interesting. Variants of the term Easter exist in all Germanic languages, yet Greek and Latin adopted the term Paschal for their Easter celebrations. Clearly the term Easter (or its root) had enough cultural significance to be retained. Grimm proposed the reconstructed Old High German word Ostara for the goddess, which has subsequently become the modern term for both her and the festival.

'Ostara' by Johannes Gehrts (1901)

Grimm theorised that the traditional 'Easter-games […] which the church itself had to tolerate' were no less than surviving celebrations of the goddess:

'Bonfires were lighted at Easter and according to popular belief of long standing, the moment the sun rises on Easter Sunday morning, he gives three joyful leaps, he dances for joy ... Water drawn on the Easter morning is, like that at Christmas, holy and healing ... here also heathen notions seems to have grafted themselves on great Christian festivals. Maidens clothed in white, who at Easter, at the season of returning spring, show themselves in clefts of the rock and on mountains, are suggestive of the ancient goddess' (Grimm p. 291).

As modern Pagan beliefs have grown, the festival of Eostre/Ostara has become associated with the more obviously pagan (or at least, not very Christian) elements of Easter – e.g. rabbits, chicks, eggs, and fertility (!). Grimm identified Eostre/Ostara as ' the divinity of the radiant dawn'; subsequent studies in resconstructional linguistics trace the name back to a Proto-Indo-European root, Hausōs, the archetypal goddess of the dawn who dances and rides a chariot or steed. In 1958, the name matronae Austriahenae was found in votive inscriptions discovered in Germany - possibly a regional variant of Eostre.

While historical records on both of these goddess are scarce, there are many tantalising snippets of information that we can use to honour them today (alongside working directly with them, of course). Eostre/Ostara in particular is still very much alive in our collective consciousness. Both she and Hretha symbolise triumph, the arrival of spring, the return of sunny days, and looking ahead to the hazy days of summer - energy that we could all draw from right now.

Stay safe!

Sources & Further Reading:

Bede, De Temporum Ratione

Grimm, Jacob, (1882) Teutonic Mythology

Herbert, Kathleen, (1994) Looking For The Lost Gods of England

Mallory, James P.; Adams, Douglas Q. (2006), The Oxford Introduction to Proto-Indo-European and the Proto-Indo-European World

Shaw, Philip A. (2011). Pagan Goddesses in the Early Germanic World: Eostre, Hreda and the Cult of Matrons
Simek, Rudolf , (2007) Dictionary of Northern MythologyWest, Martin Litchfield, (2007) Indo-European Poetry and Myth

https://earthandstarryheaven.com/2018/05/17/hretha/

Reiterates many of the points I covered here and includes some accounts from modern Heathens on their experiences with Hretha.

The Ethical Cost of Crystals

Crystal healing has experienced a huge boom in recent years, with various celebrity endorsements - who can forget Gwyneth Paltrow's infamous jade eggs??

Regardless of how you may feel about their more mainstream proponents, many people use crystals; they have become a major component of the $4.2 trillion dollar wellness industry.

Image from Pixabay.

But the soothing associations of crystals mask an uncomfortable truth – the global craze for semi-precious stones and minerals drives unethical working practices in impoverished countries such as Brazil, Madagascar and the Democratic Republic of Congo.

The crystal mining industry is unregulated, and mining often occurs in countries with 'relaxed' or virtually nonexistent labour laws – meaning that, as with most other capitalist enterprises, the workers can be paid a pittance while the suppliers rake in profits. People on meagre wages work long hours in the cramped, dusty mines, often without proper safety apparatus and at risk of death from landslides. Many of these workers are children.

Most of the time crystals are sourced as a byproduct of gold, copper or granite mining – this causes some crystal suppliers to claim that crystals don't do much damage, as the main product from the mines is the real culprit. They point to the mineral components used in cellphones as more harmful. However, this makes little difference to those working in the mines in terrible conditions.

Of course, there are many things we do that have an unsavoury impact on the planet – driving our cars, using plastics, disposable sanitary products, etc. But there's something particularly jarring about buying 'healing objects' that come to us through human rights violations and further damage to the planet. If you believe that crystals take on the energies around them, it's no wonder that people have to cleanse new purchases!

Compounding the problem is the fact that many shops, especially smaller businesses, are completely unaware of where their crystals come from. They tend to buy through wholesalers, and not many retailers even think to ask about sourcing or the conditions of the mines.

So, what can we do?

First of all, there are some UK-based crystal shops that claim to source ethical products; two I have used are The Psychic Tree and Little Gems Rock Shop. Both claim to thoroughly research their supply chain and only deal with mines, providers and suppliers who enact good working standards and avoid child labour.

You can also purchase 'home-grown' crystals from UK mines; these are rare and tend to fetch a much higher price than crystals from other countries. Look up the price of amethyst from Devon or Cornwall and you'll see what I mean....

In traditional witchcraft and other folk practices, many practitioners prefer to use found rocks, fossils and shells rather than crystals, as these found objects are imbued with the spirit of the land. I must admit, as much as I love to collect sticks, stones and bones, I do love crystals, especially amethyst. But I will now focus more on utilising my found treasures, unless I receive crystals that gifted or ethically sourced.

Indeed some crystals can be sourced in the wild - quartz, jasper and agate are fairly common on beaches, alongside a number of fossil types. They may not be as conventionally pretty as a polished and carved specimen, but they have their own special power that is unsullied by mining, processing and chemical cleaning. Sea-glass is a particularly attractive alternative, and there are plenty of interesting rocks and stones to be found in woods, caves and other natural areas.

As you can see, there are plenty of options if you wish to avoid the abuses of the wider crystal trade. That said, please don't feel ashamed if you do have some crystals with unclear or murky origins! I have some from my early witchy days that probably (read: almost definitely) came from unethical practices. There's a distinct lack of education and awareness on this matter, and I hope this blog post will help people make more informed, ethical decisions when using and purchasing crystals.

Sources and further reading:

https://newrepublic.com/article/148190/know-healing-crystals-come-from

https://mine.nridigital.com/mine_nov19/the_cost_of_crystal_mining

https://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/02/world/searching-for-burmese-jade-and-finding-misery.html

https://www.countrylife.co.uk/articles/identify-pebbles-find-britains-beaches-183610

https://www.bgs.ac.uk/discoveringGeology/geologyOfBritain/holidayguides/pebbles.htm

http://www.beachstuff.uk/sea_birds_copy.html

https://www.beachstonesinspired.com/beach-stones-identification.html

Review: Cecil Williamson's Book of Witchcraft by Steve Patterson

I had the good fortune to happen upon this book in Treadwell's during a trip to London, a fantastic occult bookshop that has the feel of an 18th-century literary salon.

Let me start by saying that I am a huge fan of the Museum of Witchcraft (although I have never been, it is on my bucket list!). I was always impressed by Cecil Williamson's dedication to his project, having faced many obstacles and moving around the country several times before settling in relative peace in Boscastle, Cornwall. I was excited to examine the magical workings of one who is so often overlooked by the witchcraft community (to the point that some mistakenly believe that it was Gerald Gardner who opened the Museum!).

But this is much more than a simple reproduction of Williamson's own grimoire; the text is comprised of two halves. Book One is the transcribed and heavily annotated manuscript of the small notebook discovered after Williamson handed the Museum over to Graham King in 1996. In Book Two Patterson presents a meticulously researched account of Williamson's life, his relationships with other notable 19th Century occultists (including his tempestuous relationship with Gerald Gardner) and an overview of the Museum's original displays and artefacts, all accompanied by pages of black-and-white photographs and charming illustrations from Museum posters. There are also a number of appendices comprising facsimiles of Williamson's various writings on witchcraft. It's a truly impressive work, given how private and mysterious the man behind the Museum was in life.

Despite his reserved nature, Williamson was well-connected with household names such as Margaret Murray, Dion Fortune, Doreen Valiente, Austin Osman Spare, and Aleister Crowley, many of whom offered items for the Museum. Patterson's detailed consideration of these connections, drawing from Williamson's letters and interviews, offers a new take on the well-known stories of this period - coloured by Williamson's wry observations of the lavish (and often sexually explicit) occult practices of the middle classes as opposed to the 'wayside witchcraft' that was so dear to him. Patterson has also managed to glean some fascinating evidence of Williamson's time at MI6 from the late 1930s to the end of WWII, which involved research on practitioners of the occult and involvement in the famous 'Operation Mistletoe', a magical ritual intended to prevent a Nazi invasion of Britain. All of this firmly situates Williamson as a central figure in the British witchcraft revival, and the Museum of Witchcraft as his life's work and an invaluable resource for modern witches.

The stories of Williamson and Gerald Gardner are a definite highlight and often had me chuckling – though some feathers may be ruffled by Williamson's characterisation of Gardner as 'an awful scaredy pie' who was often more motivated by money than magic! Patterson presents their squabbles delicately, with no malice towards Gardner, although he does outline the differences between Gardner's and Williamson's practices – Williamson being more devoted to spirit work and what is now termed 'Traditional Witchcraft', and the latter's many criticisms of Wicca. Patterson's assessment of the influence of Margaret Murray's work on Egypt on the pair, and their different interpretations of it, are particularly interesting.

A key aim of the book is to challenge claims of Williamson being 'unreliable' by a number of historians and occultists, including Ronald Hutton; Patterson does this by supporting both his own and many of Cecil's opinions with a range of sources and historical context. While Patterson does make great use of the extensive collections at the Museum, it's clear that he also spent a great deal of time painstakingly sourcing and researching whatever he could about Williamson's life and work, including rare interviews and television appearances – even corroborating Williamson's MI6 stories against official records.

My only minor gripe is that there are a few typos – unless, that is, Crowley did try to sell his Baphomet ring in a 'porn shop', which I could believe! Of course this is understandable with a smaller publisher like Troy Books and may well have been rectified in later editions - several of their titles have just been re-released, including this one.

Overall this is a comprehensive overview of the life and work of Cecil Williamson, which gives him long-overdue recognition as a leading figure in the witchcraft revival; his views and writings on traditional witchcraft will be of particular interest to adherents of that path. But I would recommend this book for all witches, as both a fascinating account of the man behind the celebrated Museum of Witchcraft, the evolution of the Museum over the decades, and an essential addition to academic considerations of the history of British witchcraft.

Cecil Williamson's Book of Witchcraft: A Grimoire of the Museum of Witchcraft is available from Troy Books. Originally published in 2013; the edition I reviewed is the 2014 paperback.