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.
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.
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 twentyone.) 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.
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.
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!
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!
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.
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:
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.
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.
My third was the time I thought a car accident had turned my dad into a zombie.
My fourth most significant experience with motor vehicles was being run over by one.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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 othermagicalingredients 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.
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 sixteenyears 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.
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!
If you’ve followed me on Instagram, you probably know that I’ve had a shaved head for years at this point. A few months back, I decided to experiment with letting some of my hair regrow. This was mainly a test to see how much of my particular case of trichotillomania is an ingrained habit, versus a deeper issue. Half of my head is currently almost shoulder-length, while the other half is still shaved.
Recently, this all got me thinking — out of all of the things I’ve tried to beat this, which ones actually seemed to help? Trichotillomania is commonly regarded as a kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Believe it or not, pulling out the “right” hairs (usually ones that are of a different texture than the others) can give a dopamine rush, while failing to do so can cause feelings of anxiety and an intense compulsion to find and pull the offending hair. It’s not the kind of thing you can sort out just by switching shampoos.
With that said, here are the things I tried… and how well they measured up against my apparent desire to destroy my own head:
1. Tea tree shampoos and conditioners
These feel nice. They’re supposed to help with itching and give the scalp a cooled, refreshed feeling. This is all very temporary, however. A couple of hours after a wash and condition, the desire to pull is back.
2/10
2. Fidget toys and objects that mimic hair pulling
These might work for some, but they didn’t really do it for me. The problem here is that the feeling of needing to pluck my hair doesn’t really feel like it originates in my hands, so keeping them busy doesn’t get rid of the tickle in my scalp or the feeling that there’s a weird hair I need to get rid of.
A lot of the objects geared toward people with trichotillomania also aren’t refillable. You could end up going through multiple vinyl plucking toys per week, and what do you do with all of them afterward?
Fidget objects that mimic hair pulling or skin picking are also somewhat controversial. For some people, they can help redirect the behavior to an object. For others, they may just reinforce the undesirable picking/plucking.
1/10
3. Smoothing hair products
Ugh, no.
My thought was that, since the desire to pluck starts as a subtle tickling sensation on my scalp, which progresses to me finding a hair that’s grown in with an odd texture, smoothing products would help. This was not the case. In fact, they either didn’t make any difference at all, or made my hair feel oilier and itchier. No. No, thank you.
0/10
4. Essential oils
Like the tea tree oil shampoos and conditioners, these helped for brief periods. The oils I used were chiefly rosemary and cedar, both credited with helping to regrow hair and improve hair and scalp health in general. They smelled nice. They felt nice. They made my scalp feel better, but they didn’t last very long.
4/10
5. Head massagers
These things look a bit like metal spiders with a wooden handle. You hold the handle and use the spidery bit to massage your scalp. They feel nice, they help temporarily increase blood flow to that area, but they don’t really get rid of the urge to pull.
These are often either witch hazel based, or castor oil based. You find castor oil in formulas to moisturize the scalp and promote hair growth and witch hazel in ones for scalp health. Like other topical treatments mentioned here, these serums seemed to fall into one of two camps. They either 1) felt soothing for a couple of minutes, or 2) just made me feel stickier/greasier and itchier. The cooling sensation of some non-oil-based serums did seem to make a difference, but they needed to be reapplied frequently. The oil-based serums did seem to help regrow hair, but they were also a lot heavier. but weren’t soothing.
5/10
7. Gloves
Like a parent trying to keep a kid with chicken pox from scratching, I tried sticking gloves on my hands. “Maybe,” I thought, “if I just make my hands worse at pulling my hair, I’ll eventually stop.”
The trouble is that the things that it harder to pull at my hair also made it harder to do absolutely everything else. There was zero incentive to keep gloves on, and very easy to forget them somewhere after cooking, washing up, etc. While this solution might work for kids, or people who don’t need to perform a lot of hands-on tasks, it didn’t for me.
3/10
8. Self-hypnosis
People have used self-hypnosis to help with all kinds of addictions and bad habits in the past, so why not this? I mean, I have a vivid memory of being a tiny child, sitting on the couch while my mother watched a self-hypnosis video to quit smoking. (It didn’t work and I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode, but I still figured this was worth a shot.)
It didn’t work, and I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode. Other people have used self-hypnosis with success, but it definitely fell short for me here.
1/10
9. Anxiety medication
OCD is connected to anxiety, so anxiety medication is sometimes used to help relieve the negative feelings connected to the obsessive-compulsive behavior. Unfortunately, trichotillomania is notoriously difficult to medicate. While anxiety medication did help tremendously when it came to controlling my panic disorder, it didn’t really do much for the hair pulling.
3/10
10. Cognitive behavioral therapy
I’ve written before about how CBT was less than helpful for me. In this case, it failed at lessening my trichotillomania because it relies on reasoning. You can’t reason yourself out of something you didn’t reason yourself into.
While it might help some people deal with feelings of anxiety and shame surrounding the behavior or the effect that it has on their appearance, it didn’t seem to touch the root cause of trichotillomania itself.
What if the weird hairs and tickly feeling of needing to pull were the symptoms of some kind of weird deficiency? What if I just wasn’t growing healthy hair, and my scalp was irritated because of it? What if I just straight-up ran out of other things to try?
So, I tested out multiple brands of “hair vitamin.” These are multivitamin and mineral supplements that focus primarily on hair and skin health. If you aren’t experiencing a deficiency in any of the vitamins and minerals in them, however, they’re primarily a fast way to give yourself nausea and neon yellow urine. They did not, unfortunately, help suppress the urge to pick at my hair.
1/10
11. Shaving it off and letting it grow back
It takes a while to break a habit. I figured that, if I couldn’t suppress the desire to pull, I could get rid of my hair. Without weird hairs to pull out and reinforce the behavior (and addiction dynamic), maybe my brain could sort itself out.
However, keeping my hair short and unpluckable did give my scalp a chance to recover, and that’s important.
5/10
12. Shaving it off, but strategically
Since shaving it completely and letting it grow back didn’t work the way I wanted to, I hit upon another potential solution: What if I just shaved the areas that I plucked the most? I wouldn’t have to commit to a full buzzcut if I didn’t want to, but I still wouldn’t be able to pull at the areas that I used the most.
Lo and behold, this finally seemed to work. Right now, I’ve got hair down to my shoulder on one side, and a full shave on the other. I make it work.
This might not be a great option for people who chiefly pluck from the crowns of their heads, but can definitely be a useful tool for those who pluck from the sides or bottom. For me, it’s been working very well.
9/10
Trichotillomania sucks, to be blunt. It’s hard to treat and can be a source of deep shame (particularly for women from cultures who highly value hair). It’s also not good for you, since it can damage your scalp and eventually cause your hair to stop growing back. There are a lot of options out there to help with the symptoms, but almost no effective permanent solutions. This is what worked and didn’t work for me, but you may find that your results are different. The important thing to remember here is that your hair doesn’t determine your worth as a person — whatever helps you live without anxiety, shame, and physical pain is worth pursuing, even if it isn’t a perfect solution to trichotillomania.
Hello! I haven’t been around for like two weeks. Originally, I did plan to take a couple of days off for Yule, however one of my household’s Yuletide gifts was a hugely upgraded blender.
(To be fair, our bar for a blender upgrade was not high. The one we were using before cost, I think, six dollars at a thrift store. We used that thing until it flat out refused to be used anymore.)
Anyhow, long story short, fancy blenders do not always fit together the way that I assumed they would. They’re also way sharper than my old one. Yadda yadda yadda, the middle felt out, hit the side of my hand on the way down, and it took so many Steri-Strips to put everything back together. I’m talking a solid half-inch thick flap of hand meat. Enough blood for an axe murder. Half a box of strips. Most of a tube of some kind of fish glue that I’m told is supposed to seal cuts closed.
A reenactment.
Anyhow, typing was problematic, so I took a little bit longer. I don’t generally keep a big bank of posts to drop automatically, hence there being no content for a little bit. C’est la guerre.
This seemed like a good time to talk about healing chants. I find these really interesting — they’re not quite sympathetic magic, since they’re just spoken words, but they do remind me a lot of certain forms of weather magic. In those, you pretty much go outside, pour water on the ground, and tell the sky to get its act together because it’s not like raining is difficult. Healing chants are essentially an instruction, telling bones to knit together, wounds to close, and blood to clot.
You can see this in the following healing chant, excerpted from Joanna van der Hoeven‘s The Book of Hedge Druidry (Spell for healing, page 274-275):
Bone to bone,
Flesh to flesh,
Sinew to sinew,
Vein to vein;
As Brighid healed that
May I heal this
This is far from a modern invention. The second Merseburg charm goes as follows:
Phol ende uuodan uuorun zi holza. du uuart demo balderes uolon sin uuoz birenkit. thu biguol en sinthgunt, sunna era suister; thu biguol en friia, uolla era suister; thu biguol en uuodan, so he uuola conda: sose benrenki, sose bluotrenki, sose lidirenki: ben zi bena, bluot zi bluoda, lid zi geliden, sose gelimida sin
“[B]en zi bena, bluot zi bluoda, lid zi geliden, sose gelimida sin” translates to “Bone to bone, blood to blood, joints to joints, so may they be glued.”
Similar healing spells are used to cast out “worms” (which may be literal parasites or maggots, or a way of conceptualizing infection in general). These use a similar “flesh to flesh, bone to bone, blood to blood” formula as the chants above, with the added step of sending the infection or infestation into an object — perhaps back into the object from which the wound and infection originated.
Interestingly, these chants are often called “horse charms.” Even the Merseburg charm above relates a story of how Uuodan (Odin), Sinthgunt, and Friia (Frigg) healed Phol’s (Balder’s) horse’s sprained foot. Of the surviving examples of these chants and charms, a disproportionate number of them seem to be for healing leg and hoof ailments in horses and sheep. (Charms for fixing blender accidents are conspicuously absent.)
Four of these have to support an animal between 900 to 1400 pounds. It is not super surprising that there are a lot of charms for fixing horse problems. Even wild horses aren’t immune to issues — the life expectancy of a wild horse is, on the high end, about half that of a domestic one.
This form of charm isn’t exclusive to Europe, either. The Wikipedia article above cites an example from the Atharvaveda, hymn IV, that follows a similar construction:
róhaṇy asi róhany asthṇaç chinnásya róhaṇî róháye ‘dám arundhati yát te rishṭáṃ yát te dyuttám ásti péshṭraṃ te âtmáni dhâtấ tád bhadráyâ púnaḥ sáṃ dadhat párushâ páruḥ sáṃ te majjấ majjñấ bhavatu sámu te párushâ páruḥ sáṃ te mâmsásya vísrastaṃ sáṃ ásthy ápi rohatu majjấ majjñấ sáṃ dhîyatâṃ cármaṇâ cárma rohatu ásṛk te ásthi rohatu ṃâṇsáṃ mâṇséna rohatu lóma lómnâ sáṃ kalpayâ tvacấ sáṃ kalpayâ tvácam ásṛk te ásthi rohatu chinnáṃ sáṃ dhehy oshadhe
Here, “majjấ majjñấ sáṃ dhîyatâṃ cármaṇâ cárma rohatu ásṛk te ásthi rohatu ṃâṇsáṃ mâṇséna rohatu” translates to “Let marrow be put together with marrow, let skin grow with skin, let thy blood, bone grow, let flesh grow with flesh.” (Here is a further analysis from Sanskrit-linguistics.org.)
This charm is especially fascinating to me, because it means one of two things are true: Either this and the “horse charms” of Europe have a common, incredibly ancient root, or they’re an example of convergent cultural evolution. I’m inclined to believe it’s the former, but the latter would be really cool. I always get such a wonderful sense of eerie mystery when things like that happen, whether it’s culturally (everyone has some kind of bread) or physically (flight has evolved multiple times in unrelated organisms and nature tries to turn everything into crabs). It’s neat. It’s a little spooky. I love it.
Long story short, after a lot of Steri-Strips, gauze, fish glue, multiple recitations of a chant primarily intended to fix horses, and some healing time, my hand is operational again and normal content should resume next week unless I, I don’t know, get my head caught in the stand mixer or light my pants on fire again.
This is why my Handsome Assistant does the dishes, though. I can’t be trusted.
Ah, oranges. Sweet little globes of deliciousness. They run the gamut from “will basically peel themselves if you look at them hard enough” to “will peel a quarter inch at a time and leave an impenetrable layer of pith.” Some are massive, some are tiny enough to eat in a bite. Some are delightful, some can be potentiallydeadly. They’re good for you, unless they aren’t. They’re convenient to eat, unless they aren’t. In short, oranges are a land of contrasts.
Right now, I’ve got a farmers’ market box of delightful tiny oranges from Georgia. I also have some slices of orange and lemon drying in my dehydrator for making garlands. It seemed like a good time to get into the folklore and magical uses of oranges, so here we go!
Orange Magical Uses and Folklore
In general, oranges are used for attraction and positivity. They’re also a symbol of wealth and status in European art, since oranges don’t naturally grow in cold climates. They either had to be imported or grown in special conservatories called orangeries.
Even before oranges reached the colder parts of the world, they were associated with prosperity and luck. Virgil, the Roman poet, called them “lucky apples.”
A Haitian folktale tells of a girl whose mother passes away. Her father remarries a cruel woman who refuses to feed or care for the girl. One day, weak with hunger, she succumbs to temptation and eats three oranges sitting on the kitchen table. When her stepmother comes home, the girl knows she’ll be beaten. She runs from the house, all the way to her mother’s grave. While kneeling and lamenting her fate, an orange seed falls from her skirt and lands on the soil. In desperation, the girl sings to the orange seed until it becomes a sapling, then a branching tree, then a mature tree laden with fruit. Happy, the girl fills her arms with oranges and carries them home.
Her stepmother greedily eats the delicious oranges before asking the girl where they came from. The girl leads her stepmother to the orange tree. As her stepmother begins to pick and eat the oranges, the girl sings to the tree once again. It grows tall — far taller than the stepmother can climb down from — so the stepmother begs and pleads for the girl to help her down again. The girl does so, but, as soon as the tree lowers, her stepmother begins eating all of the oranges again. Knowing that she’ll be punished once the oranges are gone, the girl sings to the tree to make it grow tall. Finally, she cries out, “Break, orange tree! Break!” The tree shivers into a thousand pieces, and the stepmother with it. The girl saves a single orange seed from that tree, plants it, and goes on to sell the sweet oranges at the market.
Christian mythology from Andalusia says that Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were travelling a long distance, when Mary became hungry and thirsty. The family happened upon an orange tree guarded by an eagle. When Mary asked for some of the oranges, the eagle fell asleep and allowed her to take three — one for each part of the Trinity.
Orange blossoms and oranges are often used interchangeably in magical formulas, but orange blossoms have their own, unique associations and symbolism. They’re generally considered symbols of purity, fertility, and virtue, as well as abundance, luck, and positivity. When it comes to attracting things, orange blossoms are excellent in love formulas.
According to the Victorian language of flowers, orange blossoms represented purity and chastity. They were said to say, “Your purity equals your loveliness.” The flowers were often associated with brides.
The blossoms’ connection to purity likely comes from their white color and sweet scent. They also appear abundantly on orange trees, and are followed by fruit, hence their connection to fertility.
There’s some debate about which came first, orange the fruit or orange the color. The word “orange” comes from the Sanskrit nāranga, which originally referred to the orange tree. This gradually transformed into naranja, pomme d’orenge, and even the Middle English “pume orange.” Interestingly, the word “orange” wouldn’t refer to a color until the early 1500s.
Orange pomanders, made by studding an orange with cloves, are a descendant of the Medieval pomander. This was a small ball or case that held fragrant herbs and resins, which would be held to the nose and sniffed as a protection against bad smells (which were believed to cause disease). These cases originally usually contained ambergris, which led to the name “pomme d’ambre,” or “amber apple.” As these things often go, “pomme d’ambre” became “pomander” in English.
Using Orange
One of the most interesting ways I’ve seen to use oranges involves just two simple ingredients: a bottle of orange seltzer, and a bathtub filled with fresh water. Pour the seltzer into the bath and immerse yourself completely. (You can also stand in the shower and pour the seltzer over yourself). The scent and power of orange, coupled with the effervescence of the seltzer, is said to boost creativity.
A drop of sweet orange oil makes a lovely addition to oil blends for prosperity and luck. You only need a very little bit, though, as it can overpower the scent of other oils.
Orange peels are nice additions to potpourris. They add color, and they soak up essential oils pretty readily. To attract love, mix with cloves (a magical catalyst), cinnamon (another catalyst that draws in love and money), bay leaves (a power herb used for love and money), and orris root (a love herb that focuses the power of the other herbs with which it’s combined).
Oranges make wonderful offerings, particularly if you live in an area with orioles.
Dried or candied orange peel is great in teas. You can also add orange blossom water to other beverages. Consider putting a splash of blossom water in a cocktail for attracting or strengthening love.
If you do choose to use orange peel in food or beverages, opt for organic oranges (or, if you can, grow them yourself). A lot of conventionally raised oranges have their peels treated with colorants and antimicrobials. While the amounts used are tiny and considered safe, oranges are also typically peeled before eating. If you plan to use the peel, shoot for fruits that have as little added to their peels as possible.
Oranges are a perfect little nutrient-packed snack that was once a treat for kings and queens. Tap into their sweet powers to attract more luck, love, and money into your life.
Marble Crow 