Month: January 2024

Neodruidry, Plants and Herbs, Witchcraft

Chickweed Folklore and Magical Uses

J.

Recently, we had a tiny burst of warm weather (by which I mean an extremely unseasonable 76° F/24° C). It was nice! Also very concerning, but nice!

This little bit of heat seems to have kicked the yard into overdrive — while the bigger plants haven’t started leafing out yet, we’ve had a lot of spring ephemerals suddenly make an appearance. Following the grassassination, most of our ground covers are various types of chickweed and violet while the moss phlox and other guys establish themselves. Right now, we’ve got lesser chickweed (Stellaria apetala) and regular chickweed (Stellaria media).

Some plucked sprigs of Stellaria media.
Photo of Stellaria media by kokokara on Pexels.com. If you look closely, you can see the row of tiny white hairs.

While neither of these species are native (lesser chickweed is European, while regular chickweed hails from Eurasia), they’re still a valuable herb in early spring. They’re full of minerals and vitamin C, and one of the first edible springtime greens to appear. It isn’t a good idea to eat a ton of them — not raw, anyway — but they provide nutrients that are often in short supply for winter foragers.

So, with that in mind, I figured I’d take a look at the various folklore and magical uses for these humble little groundcover plants.

Chickweed Magical Properties and Folklore

Chickweed has a few poisonous lookalikes, but is also pretty easy to identify. Two of its unique characteristics are the presents of a row of white hairs (like a cock’s comb) and a firm, green stem-inside-a-stem. Pull a chickweed’s stem apart, and you’ll uncover a green “chicken bone!”

When I say that chickweed is high in vitamin C, I really mean it — sailors used chickweed steeped in vinegar to prevent scurvy during times when citrus fruits weren’t available.

Chickweed is associated with love and fidelity. This idea may stem (no pun intended) from its growth habit. Chickweed grows in groups, with spreading tendrils reaching out from the center. It’s a powerful visual metaphor for the importance of community, as each chickweed stem grows out from this connected center in order to reach its full potential.

This plant is also very tenacious. It’s hard to get rid of, and often springs right back up after being cut or pulled out. While chickweed favors moist soil with a good pH and abundant nutrients, you can also find it growing in cracks in sidewalks. This makes it useful for situations that you want to exhibit this same resilience — for example, a long-term relationship.

Some green magic practitioners also associate this plant with abundance. It produces a lot of very long-lived seeds, which connect it to fertility and prosperity.

Tiny white chickweed flowers.
Photo by Imad Clicks on Pexels.com

The name “chickweed” comes from chicken and weed. Since these plants are pretty nutrient-dense and come up in early spring, they’re eagerly fed on by poultry and are particularly good for growing chicks.

Using Chickweed

Chickweed is very easy to find. Look for moist (but not soggy) soil, in early spring, just about anywhere and you can probably pick some. It’s stubborn, it’s prolific, and it’s not super fussy. Use a good plant identification app and research chickweed’s poisonous lookalikes, or, even better, go with a seasoned forager who can show you what to look for.

Once you have your chickweed, you can use it fresh or dried. Dried, it mixes well with jasmine, rose petals, lavender, and other love-drawing ingredients. Blend these dried herbs together with equal parts Epsom and sea salts, add a few drops of patchouli and rose oil, and use the resulting mixture for a love-drawing bath.

To attract a partner, wear a sprig of chickweed. These unassuming greens can be easily tucked into a boutonniere, vase necklace, flower crown, hairclip, or fascinator without too much trouble. As with the bath salt recipe above, combine them with other love-drawing plants for best effect.

To ensure the fidelity of a partner, it’s said that you should feed them chickweed. (If you do this, you should probably ensure that you have their consent, and that you’ve properly identified your chickweed or purchased it from a reputable source. Otherwise, you’re going to end up with an angry and/or poisoned partner.) Caraway seeds are used in a similar fashion.

If you have access to a yard, or even just an open field, you most likely have access to chickweed. This plant is subtle, but powerful. Whether you choose to use it as food, medicine, or a magical ingredient, this tenacious little herb can be a great friend to make.

divination, Neodruidry, Witchcraft

Footprint Folklore & Magical Properties

J.

With so much snow on the ground, it’s been even easier to keep track of all of the visitors to the front and back yards. From the efficient single-track prints of stray cats, to snowshoe prints of rabbits, to the rodent tracks ending in the sudden whump of an owl, they all stand out starkly in fresh snow.

A set of squirrel tracks in snow.
For example, these prints by resident Absolute Unit Frederick de Bonesby, the gray squirrel.

The weather is warming up bit by bit (it’s supposed to be in the 60s F this weekend, go figure), so the snow isn’t long for this world. With that in mind, I thought this might be a good time to look at different folk beliefs and folk magic practices involving animal tracks and footprints.

Footprint Magical Uses and Folklore

Unique footprints and strange feet are a defining characteristic of many cryptids and folk monsters:

  • The Tupi-Guarani people of Brazil have the Curupira (Tupi for “blister-covered”), a kind of demon with fiery red hair and backwards feet.
  • The Scottish have the glaistig or maighdean uaine (“Green maiden”); a gray skinned, blonde-haired woman with a long green skirt to hide her goat legs.
  • In Madagascar, there is the Kalanoro. This is a humanoid cryptid described as a small, hairy person with red eyes and backwards-facing legs and feet. While they are said to have once lived in corporeal forms, habitat destruction has left only their spirit forms behind.
  • In the Himalayas, there are Abarimon (“mountain-dweller”). These are said to be vicious humanoids with backwards feet who lived solely in a single mountain valley. While Abarimon were dangerous, they could only breathe the air of their valley home, and thus were unable to ever leave it.
  • In Trinidad and Tobago, there is the Douen. This entity is another humanoid with backwards facing feet but has the distinction of also lacking any facial features other than a mouth. If they hear a child’s name, they are said to be able to mimic the parents’ voices, calling to the child to lure them into the forest. Douen may be related to the duende, humanoid spirits from Spain and Latin America.
  • In Australia, there’s the Yowie. This is a tall creature covered in dark hair, often said to have backwards-pointing feet.
  • The Dominican Republic has La Ciguapa, a lovely wild woman with long, dark, silken hair, beautiful bronze skin, and backwards feet. While small, she is perfectly proportioned and incredibly agile. She’s said to use her beauty and agility to prey on those who are foolish enough to venture into the woods — her domain — alone.
  • On the Indian subcontinent, there are ghosts known as bhuta. These can shapeshift into any animal, but often appear as perfectly normal humans — save for their backward-facing feet.

To be honest, you’d probably be hard pressed to find a culture that doesn’t have some version of “cryptid whose main thing is having weird feet.” Many of them serve as cautionary tales against wandering dangerous places alone, especially for children. They’re the personification of situations that seem perfectly safe, or even nice (like meeting a beautiful woman on a walk in the woods), and lure you in before you notice the danger that you’re in (like the fact that she’s a cannibalistic cryptid with weird feet). Across cultures, the message here is also pretty consistent: Stay away from strangers, and out of the wilderness at night.

In northeastern Tanzania, there are a series of incredibly ancient footprints set in stone. These point to two small groups of hominids (likely members of Australopithecus afarensis) traveling in the same direction. The Maasai people associate these footprints with Lakalanga, a hero so big that he was said to leave footprints sunk into the ground wherever he walked. He is said to have helped the Maasai win a battle against a neighboring enemy, long, long ago.

In South Devon, England, a heavy snow fell in the winter of 1855. The next day, and for two days after that, mysterious sets of very hooflike marks appeared. They were in single file, roughly 4 inches long by 3 inches wide, and managed to cover a total area of about 40 to 100 miles. Strangely, these hoofprints didn’t seem to care about obstacles — they traveled straight over fences, hedgerows, walls, and even houses. Called the “Devil’s Footprints,” hypotheses for their appearance range from experimental balloons to kangaroos… But there’s still no accepted explanation.

In some magical traditions, footprints are used for sympathetic magic. Any spell benefits from the addition of something belonging to the target — a nail clipping, a lock of hair, or a scrap from their clothing, perhaps. (I once managed to pull something off by getting a target just to touch a grass poppet that I’d made, but that’s neither here nor there.) In the absence of these, footprints often suffice.

Some magical powders, like the hot foot powder used in Hoodoo, are sprinkled into a person’s footprints to control their actions. This derives from the traditional West African practice of foot track magic, brought to the Americas by the transatlantic slave trade.

Reading animal tracks is also a method of divination. While augury was traditionally divination using the flight paths of birds, you can also gather omens from the number, direction, and maker of tracks you come across.

A set of cat tracks through snow.
These belong to a stray cat. Cats conserve effort when walking trough snow by placing their hind feet directly in the prints of their forefeet.

When it comes to divination using a human’s footprints, the practice is called “ichnomancy.” This comes from the Greek “ixnos,” meaning “footstep,” and “manteia,” meaning “method of divination.”

Using Footprints

Divining with footprints can be a little difficult, since you need to be able to read them in a mundane sense first. For example, deep footprints indicate a heavy load. Widely-spaced ones indicate a long stride, perhaps someone running. The different depths of the impression in the heel and ball of the foot areas can also tell you different things.

My first suggestion for working with animal tracks and footprints is to familiarize yourself with what you’re likely to encounter. If a deer walked through your yard, what would it look like? How about a dog, or a bear? What impressions does it leave when a bird of prey scoops up a rat, or a squirrel? Consider your connections and associations to each of these creatures. What would their appearance mean to you?

Next, consider their other qualities. Movement to the left is often considered an ill omen, while the right is considered a positive one. For example, seeing the tracks of a bear or mountain lion moving quickly toward your left could be an omen of danger. Seeing the tracks of an animal you have a positive connection to, moving at a leisurely pace toward your right, could be a very good omen.

Working with footprints in a magical context is a bit different. You can collect the dirt from within a footprint and use it to target a spell toward whoever left the footprint. You can also sprinkle magical powders or crushed herbs in someone’s tracks, or over a place where you expect them to step. (There are far too many magical powders to enumerate all of their uses and qualities here, unfortunately. Since this is a method frequently employed by Hoodoo practitioners, you may wish to consult with one for more information. Many online sellers of Hoodoo supplies offer consultations and can answer your questions on foot track magic.)

As for me, I love seeing fresh tracks in the snow. It’s a reminder that, while the outdoors seems to sleep under its cold, fluffy comforter, there’s still plenty happening. Tracks also give me another way to gauge the way everything’s activity increases as we inch closer to spring. I look forward to seeing tracks in the mud and snow just as much as I look forward to seeing new faces at the feeders and in the fruit trees.

art, life

So, we went to the show!

J.

Last time, I mentioned struggling with imposter syndrome. Yesterday, my Handsome Assistant and I braved the cold (it is bonkers freezing right now, especially considering that it’s going to be like 60° F next weekend) and went to the opening of the art show.

The venue itself was beautiful (it’s history, not so much) and its tall ceilings, many windows, and twists and turns were very conducive to hosting a large art show without everything feeling too cluttered or busy. Sadly, I didn’t really get any pictures of the interior or the show itself (it would’ve been difficult to do without getting some of the possibly-unconsenting public in the shots) but you can see all of the entries here. Interestingly, the majority of them were portraits of people — there were fewer animals than I expected, though I did find one other lovely painting of a corvid.

The volunteers and other artists were all very nice, too. Everyone I spoke to was kind and helpful. We even ran into one of my Handsome Assistant’s friends, whose child had won an award for their work in the juried student exhibit.

While it was a nice outing overall (the artwork was beautiful and moving, the venue was gorgeous, and the rolling hills of the grounds were streaked with kids on brightly colored sleds), it was also pretty mentally exhausting. There’s a COVID surge, so being indoors in a group was a bit tense. I also felt a very acute sense of imposter syndrome. An inner critic kept telling me that I didn’t really belong there, that my work was only chosen to humor me, so I wouldn’t get discouraged and withdraw my membership. Anxiety turned what should have been a relaxing, inspiring day into a bit of an internal mess.

But still, we did the thing! As cold as it was, and as much as my various social anxieties kept urging me to pull out, we went and did it. All that remains now is to figure out how to make it easier on myself in the future and be more confident in my art. It’s something that’s much easier said than done.

art, life

I am not an imposter — I am an unstoppable trickster.

J.

As I write this, JJ is playing with the snow I tracked in on my boots, while I am listening to pan flutes and drinking a smoothie to try to combat a killer bout of agita.

One of my paintings was accepted for a juried show starting later this month (it is this guy). This morning, my Handsome Assistant gave me a ride to drop it off at the gallery… By which I mean he drove me there and he went in to drop it off, while I sat in the car and tried not to throw up.

I’ve been through this before. I’ve entered shows, had my work accepted, and gone through the whole process, but, somehow, it still never seems to fail to launch me into a tiny existential crisis. I end up expending a ton of mental and physical energy to compare myself to other people, compare my work to other artists’, and make a carefully curated mental list of all of the reasons I don’t deserve to be there.

I know a lot of people have imposter syndrome and are probably doing the same thing. However, I am sure that they pale in comparison to my level of utter charlatanry.

But even that is a kind of talent, I guess. Maybe I don’t deserve to be where I am. Unfortunately, there are no shows for chicanery. There are no legitimate places where a skilled imposter can showcase their ability to fake a level of competence. Until there’s a place for the most impostery of imposters, maybe this is where I belong after all.

Neodruidry, Witchcraft

Snow Folklore & Magical Properties

J.

As I write this, it’s snowing. It’s a good snow, too — big, dry, puffy flakes. Kids have a snow day, and the hill in the back yard is covered in a good six inches of fluffy powder.

JJ has never seen snow before, so we tried bringing her outside to explore. She was curious, but also did not seem to enjoy the feeling of cold, wet paws. So, I brought her her own plate of snow, because we’ve got a washable rug and I’m full of bad ideas.

A small, adorable gray tabby cat paws at a pile of snow on a plate.

All of the plants are covered, branches bent under the weight of snow. Even the evergreens and the bright magenta beautyberries are hidden from view. So, I thought today might be a good time to talk about the tales, legends, myths, and magical properties of snow!

Predicting Snow

While not strictly related to snow, one of my favorite weather omens deals with cold winters: “Onion skin very thin, mild winter coming in. Onion skin thick and tough, coming winter long and rough.” The same is said of apple peels. Of course, this works best with local onions and apples — an onion grown in another country probably can’t tell you much about the weather in yours!

No onions? No problem. You can also foretell a cold winter by looking at walnuts and acorns. A heavy crop means a harsh winter. Similarly, thick shells on walnuts also warn of a cold winter.

A pair of acorns.
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

The seeds of American persimmons are also used to predict winter weather. If they’re shaped like spoons, you’ll have lots of snow to shovel!

Leaves that fall early predict a mild winter. Leaves that fall late (or worse — wither on the branch and don’t fall at all) predict a cold one.

Animals can also warn you about a cold, snowy winter. If their fur is thicker than usual, winter is likely to be a doozy. If squirrels stash their nuts up high, then you’re likely to see a lot of snow. If you live in an area with a wild turkey population, watch where they decide to rest. If they perch in trees and won’t come down, snow is coming.

If you see a woolly bear caterpillar, take note of the width of its bands. Caterpillars with especially wide middle bands predict a mild winter.

Mushrooms are yet another way to predict snowfall. If you see abundant mushrooms in autumn, then you’re likely to get a lot of snow. If mushrooms are scarce, your winter will probably be dry. This makes a lot of sense — mushrooms need humidity. If you have a lot of humidity in the cold months, you’re likely to get a lot of precipitation, too.

Supposedly, the date of the first snowfall can help you predict more. Whatever date the first snowfall falls on will tell you how many more snowfalls you’ll get that winter. (For example, following this logic, we’d be looking at fifteen more snows!)
Another variation calculates the number of snowfalls a slightly different way: However many days past Christmas the first snow falls, that’s how many you’ll have that winter. (Using this method, we’d be looking at twenty one.)
Yet another variation calculates the number of snowfalls using the date of the new moon. The date of the first snowfall, plus the number of days since the new moon, will tell you how many snowfalls to expect. (According to this, we’d be looking at twenty.)

Snow’s Magical Uses and Folklore

In Japanese folklore, there’s a snow spirit known as yuki-onna, or some variant thereof. This translates to “snow woman,” but she may also call herself “snow daughter,” “snow granny,” “snow hag, “snow girl,” or even “icicle woman,” depending on the region. There are many stories about the origins of these spirits, ranging from otherworldly princesses trapped on Earth, women born from snow drifts, or the vengeful spirits of murdered women. Yuki-onna is also associated with children, as multiple tales describe one holding a child, accompanied by a child, or stealing children.

Frau Holle, or Old Mother Frost, is a figure from German folktales. She is related to the Germanic goddess Perchta, and it was said that the souls of those who died in infancy went to her. She also causes snowfalls when she shakes out her bedspread and beats her pillows.

A frozen lake, with snow-covered mountains in the distance.
Photo by Riccardo on Pexels.com

Cultures all around the world have personified winter and snow. These include figures like the Cailleach in Ireland, Beira in Scotland, Despoina and Khione in Greece, Itztlacoliuhqui in Mesoamerica, Skadi in Norway, and Tengliu in China.

When it comes to the magical properties of snow, the most important thing to remember is that it’s water. It shares the same magical uses, it’s just in a more convenient, semi-solid format. You can draw runes or sigils. Snow is useful for beauty, purification, and healing, particularly emotional healing. Because of its ephemeral nature, snow is also helpful for banishing.

Using Snow

You can use snow in the same ways that you’d use water. If you like cleaning crystals or ritual objects in rain, collect some snow and use that instead. It works every bit as well!

Snow is also a great vehicle for sympathetic magic. If you’d like to banish something (or someone) from your life, collect some snow in a bowl or on a plate. Draw a representation of this thing (or, if it’s a person, write their name) in the snow. Put it in the sun, let it melt, and pour the water out far from your home.

Snow-covered mountains under a starry sky.
Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

If someone you know is creating problems for you, you can also use snow to get them to knock it off. (Assuming, of course, that pelting them with snowballs and shouting at them isn’t an option.) Write the person’s name on a slip of paper and place it in a jar or other lidded container. Pack the jar with snow, while you demand that this person piss off and stop troubling you. Put the jar in your freezer and leave it there until they go away. If you like, you can also ask the frost giants, spirits of frost, or your tradition’s frost deities to sit on them.

With the (sometimes radical) shifts in this region’s weather, my local area has experienced droughts. This makes an inconvenient amount of snow a very welcome sight, since that’s what’s going to replenish everything and help nurture new life come spring. Here’s hoping for a fruitful, abundant spring and summer this year!

life

And some free Takis.

J.

After the car saga from the other day, the car was found. It was even mostly intact!

From the looks of things, the thief had brought a bat (probably to break a window, if need be). They ended up not using it, opting instead to rip the handle off the door and toss the bat onto the floor. From there, they tore off the ignition cover and used a USB cable to steal the car. It pretty much follows the exploits pointed out on TikTok beat for beat.

The good news is, the car wasn’t severely damaged. Believe it or not, it’s still drivable — as long as you don’t mind having to open the door without a handle and start it up with a USB cable. The bad news is that this kind of theft is so common that it can take a long time to get replacement parts, so the car’s going to be out of commission for a while.

My Handsome Assistant had just gotten the car detailed literally days before this happened, so it was really disheartening to see how grungy it is. There was half a bag of Cheerios on the floor. Empty soda cans. A dirty hoodie. Also, an unopened bag of Takis.

For now, we’ve got a rental via the insurance company. As frustrating and upsetting as this experience has been, in retrospect it’s also really funny. They tried on the sunglasses, and still never found the tracking tile in the case, for crap’s sake. They took the car for a joy ride, smoked a bunch of weed, and apparently ate half a bag of dry Cheerios! There is a comically tiny Little League bat! I can’t not find this hilarious!

A screencap of a messenger app. There's a series of photographs of a dirty car interior, including trash, a jacket, a baseball bat, a pair of sunglasses, and a bag of Takis. Below the photos, there's a brief conversation: "So they didn't break a window to get in." "Yep. And busted into the steering column." "Free Takis, though."

He left everything at the tow lot.

The Takis went uneaten. They weren’t opened or suspicious or anything, but it was the principle of the thing.

life

Fortunately, he also loses his sunglasses a lot.

J.

Someone STOLE the goshfucked CAR.

Okay. I admit. I can get a little lazy when it comes to warding things. I didn’t do anything to protect the car. I’m not even sure I could’ve made that much of a difference, considering my Handsome Assistant apparently owns what could be considered “the most stealable car in America.” Now, there are aftermarket updates to make cars more secure, but we only buy used cars and were unaware that this particular model came with the equivalent of a flashing neon sign that says HI!!! STEAL ME! :)))).

I’ll be honest. I don’t like cars. I never have. I love road trips, but if it was possible to do them entirely by train, I would. There are multiple reasons for this:

  1. My first significant experience was my mother’s Oldsmobile Firenza that used to stall out at every intersection, once got the interior rained on so bad that it smelled like vomit for a decade, and used to make me dizzy and carsick the second I sat in it. Even when it wasn’t moving.
  2. My second was wanting to eat/play with icicles like the big kids could. The only one my tiny little five-year-old hands could reach was a kind of lumpy, grayish one growing on the muffler of my grandma’s car. I snapped it off, licked it, and became violently ill for three days.
  3. My third was the time I thought a car accident had turned my dad into a zombie.
  4. My fourth most significant experience with motor vehicles was being run over by one.
  5. My fifth was dating someone who managed to wreck multiple cars over the course of a two-and-a-half-year relationship.

Cars and I have always had a wary, distant, reluctant alliance, at best. It has never really worried me, though. If anything, it seems appropriate. I’m too blind to drive, and I’m strongly against the idea of car-centric societies. It makes sense that cars’d have it out for me.

A large orange cat lays on his side in a sort of crescent shape, with one paw arching over his head. His tummy looks incredibly soft, and a pair of small, snaggly fangs peek out of his massive dumbass face. There are no thoughts here. Purely vibes.
I don’t know what picture to post with this. Here’s Pye, being a massive arcing chungus in my Handsome Assistant’s office.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I was gently woken up early Wednesday morning by my Handsome Assistant going, “Hey, Jeccas? Do you remember if I… did anything weird with my car yesterday?”

“Buh?” I replied.

(Because I have been mind-poisoned by the internet, I did not initially think “did anything weird” meant “parked it somewhere unusual.” My imagination went somewhere far worse, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Anyway, it turns out someone’d stole it. If there’s a thing I dislike more than cars themselves, it is having to have basically any contact with police ever. Now a car was making me do that thing. Even if all we wanted was for insurance to cover the loss, we needed a police report. Butts.

The same orange cat, photoshopped underwater. He appears to be wearing a snorkel and a pair of swim fins.
Here he is snorkeling.

The whole process pretty much turned my Handsome Assistant into Liam Neeson from Taken. He took his motorcycle out for a ride, half to calm down and half to see if he could find the car himself.

“They say that most stolen cars are found in the same area,” he pointed out.

He was only gone for a minute or two before he came back.

“You know, I just remembered something…”

My Handsome Assistant is both handsome and helpful. He’s very smart, good at his job, and a caring, attentive, equitable contributor to our relationship. He is, however, extremely forgetful. Between that and my own memory deficiencies, it’s amazing we haven’t burned the house down making pancakes yet.

Take his sunglasses. When he started working for his current employer, he had to make a few wardrobe upgrades. Not just suits and ties, but smaller things — a watch. Nicer shoes. Sunglasses. He started with a pair of Ray-Bans, which he constantly lost. Once, they were found in the attic by Pye, who firmly insisted on pointing out these weird, boring objects that very obviously did not belong in his play space. Now, he’s also got a less-fancy-but-paradoxically-much-more-expensive pair of prescription sunglasses.

To avoid losing them, he invested in some trackers. As long as they’re nearby, or at least near other trackers, he can see their location on his phone.

Since he only really uses his sunglasses for driving, he keeps them in his car.

The car that got stolen.

The same cat, now photoshopped into Michelangelo's "The Creation of Adam."
Here is Pye posing for Michelangelo.

Within minutes, he had found an entire location history tracking the car’s journey to an adjacent county. On the highway. Every house it had parked in front of.

After a few more minutes, he was triangulating locations and planning a sneaky drive past some of the places where the car had been.

“Please tell me you’re not going to try to steal it back.”

“No, no,” he assured me, “That’d be a bad idea. Besides, then I’d be driving around in a car that’s reported stolen, which would cause problems.”

He didn’t find the car itself, but he came back with a map of all of the places it could’ve conceivably been hidden overnight. A cluster of bushes. A covered driveway. Under a bridge over a small creek bed.

The same orange cat, now pictured cresting the water with a small whale.
Here he is with a whale.

Anyhow, the car was found yesterday morning. We also still have the (very fancy) rental that the insurance company provided for 50 days, so that’s neat. It’ll be a few days (the police still haven’t processed the original report) before he can fill out the paperwork to get it back, and we don’t know what kind of condition it’s in, but it’s found.

The tracking tag tracked the car all the way to the tow lot.
Thieving jerk never even noticed the sunglasses.

Neodruidry, Plants and Herbs, Uncategorized

Cedar Tree Folklore & Magical Properties

J.

I’m not a fan of fake greenery. While it can definitely amp up a room’s decor when it’s judiciously combined with real plants, I always end up forgetting to maintain it until it’s faded, dusty, and doing the exact opposite of helping things look fresh and natural. Blegh.

Anyway, when it comes to decorating for Yule, my Handsome Assistant and I go for fresh greens. There’s a florist nearby who sells trimmed branches of various evergreens pretty cheaply. Combine a few of them with some wired ribbon, and you can make a very pretty swag or garland without spending much money at all.

A close up of fanlike American cedar branches.
Photo by Abdul Zreika on Pexels.com

This year, we picked up the cutest little potted Alberta spruce tree. We’re keeping it indoors until spring, at which point I’m going to repot it and set it outdoors. Next winter, it’ll probably still be small enough to fit in the living room and be next Yule’s tree, too. Once it’s outgrown its pot, we’ll plant it in the front yard.

We also picked up some trimmed branches from an incense cedar tree (Calocedrus decurrens), which I used to decorate table tops and the top of our curiosity cabinet.

Since we’ve been taking down our Yule decorations and cleaning up the shed bits of greenery, I thought now might be a good time to look into the folk tales and magical associations of cedar trees.

Cedar Magical Uses and Folklore

First things first: “Cedar” isn’t a very exact term. True cedars are chiefly found in the Mediterranean, but there are also quite a few unrelated American species referred to as “cedar.” True cedars have needles, while American species have flat leaves, like scales, that form delicate fernlike or fingerlike structures (as seen in the photo above). There are only four species of “true” cedar: cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani), Atlas cedar (C. atlantica), Cyprus cedar (C. brevifolia), and deodar cedar (C. deodara). American cedar species are actually members of the cypress family, Cupressaceae!

The needles of an Atlas cedar, one of the "true cedars."
Photo by Feyza Dau015ftan on Pexels.com, showing the needles of a “true cedar.”

American cedars are culturally significant to the people indigenous to the trees’ native ranges. Indigenous people used (and continue to use) cedar as a sacred incense and purifying herb. Cedar trunks were used to make boats, the branches were used to filter sand from water and when leaching acorns for acorn flour, and the fibrous roots are still used to make beautiful baskets.

Cedar smoke was also used to prevent illness, which mirrors the old Scottish practice of fumigating one’s home with juniper for the same purpose. This is particularly interesting since the eastern red cedar, Juniperus virginiana, is actually a juniper. Junipers are also members of the cypress family, like other American cedars are.

Many Salish groups had special rituals for the felling of cedar trees. These trees are considered symbols of providence, abundance, and generosity.

A Mi’kmaq tale warns you to be careful what you wish for. A man went to the legendary Glooskap and asked if it was true that Glooskap gave people whatever they asked him for. Glooskap demurred, saying that he couldn’t always answer people’s requests, but he helped however he could. The man asked Glooskap for immortality, but he refused — all things must die. Once everything has died, even Death would probably die. Disappointed, the man asked to live longer than any man has ever lived. In return, Glooskap turned the man into a tall cedar tree.

A Potawatomi tale tells of a group of men who visited the Sun to ask for help. One desired to see the future, two desired immortality, another desired a blessing associated with water, and yet another had gone along just to help the others. The man who wished to see the future was set down in the west, where the Sun goes to end the day. One of the men who wanted to be immortal became a boulder. The man who wanted a water blessing became a half-man, half-fish. The other man who wished for immortality became a cedar tree. This is how people received the stones and cedar used in sweat lodge ceremonies.

In Judeo-Christian stories, cedar represents protection and strength. Its wood was used to build Solomon’s temple. According to Medieval Christian tradition, the cross used during the crucifixion was made of cedar. For this reason, it was considered bad luck to burn cedar wood. Planting a cedar in your yard was also believed to bring misfortune and poverty, but a cedar growing naturally was considered fortunate.

In Irish folklore, cedars were associated with strength and durability. Their wood is extremely rot-resistant, and the trees live for a very long time.

Like a lot of other magical ingredients used for protection and banishing, all types of cedar repel pests. The aromatic compounds in their essential oils are a deterrent for moths and all kinds of biting insects. All around the world, there’s a very strong connection between “plants that keep bugs out” and “plants that keep evil away.”

Depending on your needs, you may or may not be able to substitute juniper-family cedars for “true” cedars. There is quite a bit of overlap, however — no matter which species you’re working with, these trees are connected to purification, protection, longevity, and strength.

Since we’re talking about some very distinct groups of trees that use the same common name, I won’t go into cedar’s medicinal properties here. This underlines the importance of using standardized nomenclature — each of these species has its own bouquet of medicinal compounds (and some potentially dangerous ones, like thujone), so it’s important to know exactly what you’re using. Never go by a plant’s common name when you’re looking for medicinal ingredients, because there’s a ton of common name overlap between completely unrelated species.

Using Cedar

The most important thing to recognize when working with cedar is that this is a plant that should be respected. The famous cedars of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) were highly regarded — the oldest among them were considered sacred, and anyone who harmed them would be overtaken by misfortune. In the Potawatomi tale above, the man who became a cedar says that one should “call the cedar tree your nephew when you speak of it.” Folklore all around the world warns against cutting down a cedar without performing the proper ceremonies.

With that in mind, there are multiple ways to work with cedar. Cedar essential oil is frequently used in magical aromatherapy (though a little bit goes a very long way). Cedar twigs can be burned as incense and used in smoke cleaning. Since the wood and needles are so strongly aromatic, you can also infuse them in oil.

Dried conifers are easy to crumble, so they’re an easy ingredient to include in magical powders or incenses. Grind dried cedar leaves fine and sprinkle the powder in the corner of your rooms or around the border of your property while asking for protection against malevolent forces.

If you or anyone in your household has been sick. use cedar smoke to drive the illness out. Give the sickroom (in modern homes, the sick person’s bedroom and bathroom) a thorough physical cleaning, air it out well, and fumigate it with cedar smoke.

Right now, I have some dried cedar branches waiting to be used. These didn’t require a tree to be felled — instead, they’re trimmings. My plan right now is to grind the leaves fine, mix them with a binder, and form them into incense cones. The branches have blessed and protected my home when they were fresh, and they can continue to do so once they’re processed into incense.

I love the warm, earthy, spicy smell of cedar. In my tradition, it’s connected to the sun and the element of Fire. During these dark, cold months, inviting the power of cedar into your home can bring some much-needed heat, light, cleanliness, and protection.

life

Elvenking is coming to the US! Kind of!

J.

So, I use Spotify a bunch. I tried YouTube Music and wasn’t super into it, and I used to be into Pandora, until I wasn’t. As a result, Spotify likes to send me alerts about nearby events featuring artists that I follow. I have a very generous definition of “nearby,” however.

Anyhow, Elvenking is one of my favorite folk metal bands. I don’t think they have a single CD that I feel like I need to skip any tracks on. Every one’s a banger. Unfortunately, like many of my other favorite bands, they’re not from the US and so opportunities to see them are a bit thin on the ground. From what I gather, the last time they were anywhere in the US was sixteen years ago.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that they’d be playing in Pittsburgh, a mere three and a half hours away! (Like I said. Very generous definition of “nearby.”) Since I have no idea when I’d have the chance to see them again, I was stoked as hell.

And… then I realized that they were one of the opening bands for Alestorm.

Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy Alestorm. I’m not above pirate metal and their songs are genuinely fun. What went on behind the songs wasn’t. While Chris Bowes issued an apology, the article I linked points out a few things that seemed… hinky. Apologizing after the fact, because you got caught, also isn’t the same as shutting down disgusting (and, honestly, creepy) behavior in the moment. It’s also goofy as hell to try to pass that kind of thing off as a joke, also after the fact.
I’ve laughed at jokes in poor taste before. Hell, I’ve told jokes in poor taste before. But what the hell, man. This wasn’t humor, this was a bunch of middle-aged dudes being gross, racist weirdoes. Would the fans they were talking about think it was funny?

This isn’t to suggest that I think that Chris Bowes or the other members of Alestorm and Gloryhammer should publicly flog themselves. If other people are satisfied with the apology, or unbothered by the behavior that warranted it, that’s up to them. It did sour my enjoyment of music I once liked — way too much to be able to go, “eh, screw it,” hold my nose, and buy the tickets.

So now I’m left wondering what else to do. I have no reason to believe Elvenking endorses racism or misogyny. I don’t know if the members of Elvenking even know about what happened, or how much power they have in this situation. I don’t want to pay to see Alestorm, but I want to support Elvenking and show that there’s interest in them coming back to the US on their own.

As things are now, I’m going to give this show a pass, as much as it sucks to do. Bands make more money through merch anyway, so at least there are more efficient ways to support them than going to shows.

If we have our deck redone and the pergola up in time, maybe the Handsome Assistant and I’ll have a listening party when Elvenking’s next album drops. We’ve got the space and plenty of homemade mead. We’ll see.

I’m still feeling pretty salty at the moment, though.

Witchcraft

The Magical Properties of Cat Whiskers

J.

I’ve mentioned before that I share my home with three cats — one gray tabby, and two orange ones. (And yes, the thing people say about orange cats all sharing a single brain cell is absolutely true.) We’ve taken them on a road trip. One of them has a weird obsession with exercise bikes. The second seemed baffled about how a kitten ended up in his house, but absolutely does his best to raise what he appears to assume is his kid. They’re precious, adorable dumbasses, and I love them.

A fangy-toothed cat sleeping upside down.
Pye’s enormous, doofy face.

I also periodically find shed whiskers. I can usually tell who they belong to, too — Pye’s are gigantic, Kiko’s are thin and white, and JJ manages to pull off this natural two-tone ombre that stylists would kill for.

Why to Never Cut or Pull a Whisker

A cat’s whiskers are an extension of their sensory organs. This doesn’t mean that they are sensory organs, however — whiskers themselves are still just hair, and don’t contain any nerve tissue themselves. So, why shouldn’t you ever cut or pull out a cat’s whiskers?

Pulling is definitely more harmful than cutting, but neither are good. Pulling out a cat’s whisker is extremely painful. (Imagine yanking your nose hairs out, one by one. I’m feeling teary just thinking about it.) Cutting a whisker isn’t painful, but it does rob the cat of an important source of information about their environment, leading to stress and anxiety.

It’s perfectly natural for cats to occasionally shed their whiskers. They’re hair, just like any other, and they have a life cycle. Cats routinely lose a whisker here and there to time, roughhousing, and generally silly cat activities. I had a cat growing up who used to sleep on the slanted base of a space heater. When he’d come to cuddle afterward, his eyebrow and whiskers would be all singed and frizzy on one side. Somehow, this never seemed to dissuade him from his favorite nappytime spot.

If you want to use a cat’s whisker as a spell ingredient, just wait until you find one. Trust me, you will eventually.
Unless you don’t have a cat.
You should make sure you have a cat first.

Magical Connections to Cats’ Whiskers

Traditionally, whiskers are associated with luck and protection. Interestingly, whiskers are also associated with the opposite. Since cats depend so heavily on them, a lost or broken whisker is sometimes considered an omen of bad luck.

Since cats use their whiskers to guide themselves and keep themselves safe, whiskers are connected to the concept of spiritual guidance. They may be treated as omens — seeing a cat with lost or damaged whiskers can symbolize misfortune, while finding an intact whisker can represent good luck.

Some people also consider finding a cat’s whisker as a spirit or angel sign. Since they’re connected to the idea of guidance, they may indicate that you’re receiving help from your guardian spirits, ancestors, or other guides.

Cats’ whiskers can vary in color. Some practitioners assign different meanings to each color of whisker, but I haven’t found a consistent set of meanings. Black whiskers are sometimes considered negative omens, and sometimes considered symbols of protection. Brown whiskers represent grounding (though there are certainly easier ways to ground than waiting to find a brown cat’s whisker). Gray represent neutrality, balance, or uncertainty. White whiskers, on the other hand, are generally considered lucky… as long as they aren’t broken or damaged. Some cats have multicolored whiskers, which can give them two or more meanings. In general, I don’t worry about attaching specific meanings to each color — to me, whole whiskers are lucky and broken whiskers are a sign to be cautious.

Cats are strongly associated with the deities Bast and Freya.

Using Cats’ Whiskers

If you find an intact whisker, you might want to save it to use later. I find that old vitamin or medicine jars work well for this — they’re tall enough to keep from bending or breaking the whisker and make it easy to keep track of them. I keep an eye out for whiskers while I’m cleaning, and just deposit any I find into the jar.

The simplest way to use a cat’s whisker is to hold it in your dominant hand, make a wish, and burn it. Scatter any ashes of the whisker on the wind.

You can also include them in charm bags or jar spells for luck and protection. Just avoid bending or breaking them in the process!

I also sometimes leave whiskers as offerings. One of my cats looks quite a bit like the gray cats illustrated pulling Freya’s chariot, so I often place her shed whiskers on my altar.

Overall, cat’s whiskers have more positive associations than negative ones. If you’re fortunate enough to have a feline companion in your house, keep a lookout for any whiskers they leave for you to find!