Monday, May 18, 2020

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.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

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 8th-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
Reiterates many of the points I covered here and includes some accounts from modern Heathens on their experiences with Hretha.