Soap Folklore and Magical Properties

December 11, 2024August 20, 2025 1 Comment

I came across a rather strange argument the other day. One person mentioned “solid body wash,” which prompted another to go “so, soap?” This was followed by several people who either a) vehemently swore up and down that it was a marketing gimmick and there was no difference, or b) vehemently swore up and down that there was an enormous difference, but both c) could not explain why.

Focus photography of a bubble. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I didn’t want to Kool-Aid Man in, all, “HELLO YES LET ME TELL YOU SOAP,” so I didn’t. Nonetheless, it gave me the idea to write this post — soap is a very important part of many magical traditions, and something most readers of this blog probably come in contact with every day. Sacred bathing, magical housekeeping, magical soap-making, herb craft, it all ties in together to create a vibrant, powerful, and useful set of magical techniques.

Soap Magical Uses and Folklore

Okay, so. Just to get this out of the way — there’s an enormous difference between “soap” and “body wash.” Soap is specifically made of saponified fat. This is oil (or another fat) that has reacted with lye to produce salts that act to reduce the surface tension of water or reduce the tension where two substances interface. Like, for example, dirt or oil on your skin. Its molecules have a polar end that binds to water, and a non-polar end binds to other stuff.
Body wash is a detergent. Detergents are also made of surfactant salts, but their chemistry is very different. Detergents may be made of petroleum byproducts but are also often plant-based. While the polar end of soap is usually tipped with a carboxyl group, the polar end of detergent molecules is tipped with sulfonates.
Ultimately, as the end user, the biggest difference is this: If you have hard water, soap sucks. It reacts with the minerals in your water to produce soap scum (stearates) a waxy residue that sits on your tiles, your clothes, and your skin.
Detergents don’t produce soap scum the way soap does because they don’t react as readily with hard water minerals and have a higher pH than soap, so they tend to work better and have fewer issues in water that has a high mineral content.
Body wash isn’t really a chemical term — a body wash can be soap based but is usually a detergent because soap tends to strip and dry out skin. They also often contain ingredients designed to benefit the skin beyond cleansing, like moisturizers or exfoliants.
Does this make a difference in a magical sense? Not really, though the ingredients that make up a soap or detergent can be invoked for their own properties. Olive trees, sunflowers, and so forth all have their own energy to contribute.

A close-up of rows of wrapped bars of soap. — Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com

(Also, it should be noted that you can make soap less reactive in hard water. The addition of chelating agents or various forms of vitamin C can help prevent some of the formation of soap scum. It just requires some recipe tinkering.)

One bit of folklore surrounds the origins of the word “soap.” “Soap” is said to come from Mount Sapo, in Italy. In ancient Rome, there was a bend in a river at the base of the mountain. People would gather to do their laundry there because their clothes got cleaner than they did elsewhere.
Interestingly, this mountain is also where people conducted animal sacrifices. The liquefied fat, combined with the pyre ashes, reacted and ran/was washed by the rain down into the Tiber River. This fresh water, combined with unintentional soap, led to much cleaner togas.

This wasn’t the first soap, however. There are recorded mentions of using soap to wash wool going back as far as 2800-2500 BCE. Some Sumerian cylinders from 2200 BCE specifically mentions “fats boiled with ashes” — an old recipe for soap.

Bath with lemon slices in water and lit pillar candles on the floor. — Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

Magically, bathing is used to both banish and attract. There are magical bath recipes for everything from breaking curses to getting a raise. They usually involve making a decoction of herbs in water, straining out the herbs, and adding the liquid to the bathwater.
Magical soaps are formulated with herbs and oils that align with specific intentions. They provide a somewhat more portable and less labor-intensive way to take a magical bath. A shop owner or salesperson, for example, may carry a bar of soap formulated to attract prosperity so they can wash their hands with it throughout the day.

This idea carries through to housekeeping. Floor, window, and door washes work the same way — by using a decoction of herbs or dilution of oils to either bring something into or get something out of a home. Back in the day, people in various cultures had other ways of achieving this goal. For example, smoke cleansing a house with juniper in order to banish sickness, or bringing in fresh sweet-smelling strewing herbs to cover a floor. Now, there are hard floors and glass windows that get washed.

Soap isn’t always associated with positive things, though. Soap Sally, an Appalachian and Southern villain figure, is said to wait with her basket for children who try to slack off when doing chores. She shapeshifts and convinces the children to follow her back to her cottage, where they gorge on candy and fall asleep.
Once asleep, Soap Sally would render the children in her stewpot. Their melted fat would be formed into hand-shaped candles or soaps, which she’d send back to their families. The families would end up burning or washing up with the remains of their own children.
Soap Sally appears to have roots in stories like Baba Yaga or Hansel and Gretel, as well as being a kind of “morality villain” to put the fear in children who’d rather play and goof off than do household chores.

Using Soap

Yes, yes, I know.
“Who needs to be told how to use soap?“
But this isn’t about just washing up — it’s about using soap for a specific purpose.

In the section above, I mention sacred bathing to attract or banish things. The process usually goes something like this:

Take a regular bath or shower to physically clean yourself.
Drain the tub or basin, and refill with fresh water.
Add a decoction of herbs that match your intention.
Declare your intention as you add the strained decoction. (Some traditions add that you should stir it into the bathwater in a clockwise direction, using your dominant hand.)
Get into the bath and fully immerse yourself.
Remain in the bath until you feel it’s had the intended effects.
Get out of the bath. In some cases, you may be instructed to allow yourself to air dry so you don’t “wipe off” the effects.
Dispose of the bathwater. In some traditions, this means taking a basin outside and throwing it over your left shoulder, toward the rising sun.

Whether the washing is “attracting” or “banishing” depends on your intention and the ingredients you add. Want to attract a lover? Rose petals, vanilla, basil, and jasmine are nice. As you bathe, you’ll be absorbing the sweet scents and loving energies from these plants. Want to banish unwanted things? Salt, rosemary, rue, and hyssop. As you bathe, you’ll be washing away whatever you don’t want.

Small bars of natural soap on linen dishcloths — Photo by Vie Studio on Pexels.com

Having a specially formulated magical soap can make this process easier. You still take a regular bath first, in order to clean yourself, but from there you just have to get into a fresh tub of water, soap yourself thoroughly with the magical soap, then rinse off.

Add a bit of magical soap to a bucket of mop water, then wash your doors, windowsills (maybe not the glass, if you’re hoping for a streak-free shine), and floors. Go from front to back to bring things into your home, and back to front to banish or push things out.
Specially compounded magical floor washes and soaps are largely found in the Hoodoo tradition, but just adding decoctions of herbs (or acids, like vinegar or lemon) is a bit more widespread.

The most basic “washing up” recipe I know of involves adding salt and lemon juice to a bucket of water, then mopping/washing walls, doors, and windows with it to help clear out old, unwanted, or stagnant energy. Pretty simple.

Whether soap originated from the accidental combination of animal sacrifices and a river, or the work of ancient Sumerian scientists, the idea of washing with soap or detergent has become ubiquitous in modern societies. When you couple the act of washing with herb lore and magical techniques, it can become much more than the sum of its parts.

(Also! I’ve gotten a few messages through the site’s Contact form lately, but they don’t include valid email addresses. If you’d like a reply, please, please double-check and make sure that your email address is correct. I’m not going to save it or sell it or put you on an email list or anything, it’s just important if you’d like me to email you back. Thank you!)

Plants and Herbs

Needle and Pin (and Other Sharp Object) Folklore and Magical Properties

December 4, 2024August 20, 2025 1 Comment

The desire to do things correctly, by the letter, is something that I think plagues everyone who’s new to witchcraft (or, really, any type of magical work). I’ve seen it said that there’s no one way to do magic, but there are infinite ways to do it ineffectively, and I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment. That said, it’s not always that important to have the exact ingredients that a spell, charm, or formula calls for. As long as you know what they’re doing in there, you can usually figure out workable substitutions.

That’s why I wanted to write a post about sharp stuff. Not any sharp stuff in particular. Just… you know. Sharp things. Pokey bits.

Pokey Thing Folklore

Where do I even begin?

Think of every story you’ve ever heard about a sword, or a needle, or a thorn. Think about idioms like “to needle someone.”

closeup photo of cactus plants — Photo by Madison Inouye on Pexels.com

Arthur receives Excalibur, and it confers kingship upon him. Swords are a symbol of sovereignty here because they represent force: both the force needed to maintain one’s position as ruler, and the force needed to defend a country.

A lion receives the business end of a thorn in his paw, and it weakens him to the point where he needs a mouse’s help. Here, the lion — a strong, symbolically dominant figure — is brought down by the pain of something as small as a thorn. A mouse pulls it free, and the lion is in his debt.

It can be as large as a scythe, or as tiny as the hairs on a spider’s belly. Regardless of the pokey thing in question, the message is clear: As long as you’re on the right end of it, you’re at an advantage.

Roses, holly leaves, hawthorns, and blackthorns are pokey to discourage herbivores. (Interestingly, holly leaves don’t really start out all spiney-looking. They re-grow that way as a response to browsing animals, in order to keep from losing any more leaves than strictly necessary.)

Even the thin, needlelike leaves of conifers and cacti are a defensive mechanism, albeit one that protects them against the elements. Cacti leaves are needles to keep them from losing precious moisture to the dry desert air. Conifer needles keep them from losing moisture, holding on to too much heavy snow, or being blown over in harsh winter winds.

Needles and pins are used in magic to “pinpoint” the effect of a spell or charm. Jab them in a poppet, and you can send healing into an arthritic joint, or inflict pain and debility instead.

Sharp tacks in brown round container — Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Athames and swords are used in some traditions as a way to direct energy from their points. This is in contrast to ritual knives, which are generally working tools used for mundane tasks like harvesting herbs, cutting offerings, and bloodletting. Even though they’re not strictly “magical,” these working tools still have the same symbolism — these tools are what allows the user to obtain what they need, whether it’s a leaf, a slice of cake, or blood.

Blackthorn spines, porcupine quills, sewing needles, and old nails are all used in defensive and offensive magic alike, generally in various forms of sympathetic magic. Jab a representation of your target, and the idea is that the target themselves will feel the effects. Fill a jar with sharp things, hair, and urine, and the idea is that your hair and urine will attract malevolent energy sent your way, while the sharp things ensnare and poke at it.

When sharp things are involved, it usually doesn’t matter exactly what that thing is — the important aspects are a) the size, and b) that they’re sharp. A protection jar spell that calls for straight pins can use sewing needles, rose thorns, or even the itchy hairs from rosehips instead. A spell that calls for a pin with which to inscribe a candle will work just as well with a knife, or even the tip of a sharp stone. A poppet spell that needs pins and needles will work just as well with porcupine quills.

Pokey Thing Symbolism

As I mentioned above, the symbolism of sharp objects is pretty straightforward. Ideally the pointy end should (symbolically) go in the other guy, for good or ill.

When it comes to directing energy, they are an aid to visualization — an extension of the index finger, commanding and pointing and saying, “This is my will, so it will be done.”

When it comes to apotropaic magic, they are a trap. Like the quills on a hedgehog, the stinger of a hornet, or the studs on a leather jacket. They represent the fate of someone (or something) that decides to cross you. This is why they’re employed in various magical decoys, like witches’ bottles.

When it comes to offensive magic, they are weapons. Not in a literal sense, but they represent a sharp, decisive action, or even a physical or emotional pain. They’re the needles poked into a poppet, or the shaken spell jar filled with hot peppers, broken glass, and a photo of an enemy.

Broken glass bottle in a gutter — Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

In various online magical circles, people joke that we’re all hoarders. We save jars, lids, corks, scraps of fabric, old nails, ribbons, and assorted junk, because there’s immense potential in everything and you never know when it’ll make itself useful. I might dispute the “hoarder” label myself, but I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t have a drawer full of junk-that-I-might-need-for-a-spell-some-day.

Sharp things are symbolic of polarity. The safe and the unsafe. The sharp and the dull. The defensive and the offensive. The sword that cuts, and the scalpel that heals. They’re a pretty simple symbol, but it’s this simplicity that makes them versatile, powerful tools.

animals

The Magical Meaning and Symbolism of Turkeys

November 27, 2024November 26, 2024 Leave a comment

In the US, this coming Thursday is Thanksgiving. This holiday has a fair amount of folklore and mythology itself — much of which doesn’t actually come anywhere near explaining the truth of the first Thanksgiving. Rather than recount this (especially when so many historians, Indigenous and non, have already done so) I figured I’d look into the creature that is symbolic of Thanksgiving for so many Americans.

The turkey.

I like turkeys (Meleagris species). I think they’re beautiful, for the most part, and I love the noises they make.

wild turkey — Photo by ASHISH SHARMA on Pexels.com

(Once, as a tiny child at a Powwow at Queens County Farm, I found a turkey egg. It was unfertilized, of course, but I didn’t know that. I made a small bed for it out of a sweatshirt because I thought sacrificing my hoodie would be enough to keep it warm until it hatched. What I was going to do with a turkey chick after that, nobody knows.)

Turkey Folklore

Turkeys came by their name via a very circuitous route. Originally, colonists thought that they were a kind of guineafowl, an African bird imported through Türkiye. Hence, the turkey.

An Akawaio story speaks of a terrible flood and explains how several animals got their unique traits — turkey included. Makunaima created a single tree that bore food. He also made all of the animals and placed Sigu, his son, in charge of them. While Makunaima was away, Sigu thought it best to cut the tree down and spread the seeds and cuttings so food would be more abundant. Unfortunately, upon felling the tree, Sigu and the animals discovered that the stump was hollow and filled with water and all kinds of freshwater fish. The water began to rise, and Sigu contained it under a magic basket.
Unfortunately, Monkey lifted the basket and release the water again, so Sigu led the birds and climbing animals to tall trees for safety, and all of the terrestrial animals into a cave sealed up with wax to keep the water out. Sigu remained in the trees with the birds and climbing animals and, one day, he tried to make a fire. He rubbed two pieces of wood together until a spark appeared, but Bush-Turkey was so hungry that he mistook the spark for a firefly, tried to eat it, and burned himself. This is why turkeys have red throats to this day.

two black turkeys — Photo by Kranthi Remala on Pexels.com

Many old tales portray turkeys as foolish or gullible figures, from some Indigenous American legends to children’s stories like Chicken Little. In fact, a lot of people still believe that turkeys are so unintelligent, they drown in the rain because they stare up at it. They do sometimes look up at the sky for no reason, but this is because of tetanic torticollar spasms — a genetic problem exacerbated by breeding for sizeee and rapid growth, not fitness.

Fortunately, not all stories depict turkeys as foolish. In one Zuni tale, a girl who tends turkeys longs to go to a dance with everyone else. The turkeys, knowing she’s taken such good care of them, promise to help her by dressing her so beautifully that nobody else would recognize her. They only have one condition: She must enjoy the dance but not forget the turkeys who helped her go.
The turkeys keep their word, and the girl is able to enjoy the dance. She enjoys it so much, in fact, that she forgets about the turkeys. Annoyed to find that she clearly doesn’t care enough about them, the turkeys leave captivity and run off.
The girl chases and chases them, to no avail. Not only can she not catch up to the turkeys, all of the dust and sweat from running has turned her beautiful clothes to rags again.
This is why, when you look at Shoya-k’oskwi (Cañon Mesa), you can still see the tracks of the turkeys embedded in the stone.
This story highlights the importance of remaining in balance with the animals that give so much to humanity. In it, the turkeys aren’t foolish or gullible — they’re grateful to the girl and trust her to do the right thing. She takes their gifts and forgets to return to care for them, so they leave.
One version ends with, “if the poor be poor in heart and spirit as well as in appearance, how will they be aught but poor to the end of their days?”

The Aztec deity Chalchiuhtotolin (Nahuatl for ‘Jade Turkey,” also known as The Jeweled Fowl) is a disease and plague deity. Unfortunately, researchers don’t seem to have much more information about this figure.

In Hopi kachina ceremonies, there’s the Koyona (turkey) kachina. This figure is unique in that it only dances either at night, in the kiva with other birds, or during the Mixed Dances in the springtime.

wild turkey bird — Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

A common bit of modern lore says that eating turkey makes you sleepy. While turkey does contain tryptophan (which the body converts to serotonin and melatonin) so do a ton of other foods. The urge to take a nap after eating turkey comes from eating a lot of food, not the turkey itself.

Ben Franklin also didn’t push to have the turkey made the United States bird. He wasn’t even part of the 1782 committee that finalized the design of the US seal. In 1784, he wrote a letter to his daughter in which he complained about the Society of the Cincinnati, a military fraternity. Part of his criticism was of the Society’s badge, which included an eagle.

As a birds from North America, turkeys aren’t represented in European, Asian, African, or Middle Eastern mythology. They don’t appear in the Bible, Greek or Roman legends, Celtic oral traditions, nada.
(That said, people in Europe did start farming turkeys pretty much as soon as they got their hands on them in the mid-1500s. Ironically, turkey probably wasn’t present at the first Thanksgiving.)

Turkey Symbolism

Since turkeys don’t have a whole lot of representation in world mythology, they’ve been kind of shafted. Colonists, in general, didn’t really care about their place in Indigenous traditions or legends. They were big, dumb birds and it made economic sense to make them bigger and dumber because you get more meat that way. Enter: The Broad Breasted White, America’s most popular commercial turkey.

Turkeys are often symbolic of gullibility and a lack of intelligence.

It’s said that dreaming of a turkey means that you’re acting foolish. If you dream of a turkey flying, then it may represent a rise from obscurity to fame. Dreaming of a dead turkey may symbolize a bruised ego or attack on your pride.

Turkey feathers appear in various magical traditions as representations of birds, animals, and the element of Air. When you buy “imitation eagle feathers,” for example, these are usually actually dyed board breasted white turkey feathers.

Thanksgiving is celebrated as a day for feasting and gratitude, but it isn’t like that for everyone. This year, remember the Mashpee Wampanoag and Wampanoag Tribe of Gay Head who not only suffered the effects of colonization, but the continuing insult of having a false, sanitized version of their own history forced on them and their children. If you are able, please donate to help them continue to preserve their language and culture, as well as provide necessary services to their members.

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Wormwood Folklore and Magical Properties

October 23, 2024August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

Wormwood (Artemisia absinthum) is an African/Eurasian herb and relative of mugwort that’s widely grown in Canada and the US for its ornamental, medicinal, and even magical uses. It’s also a key ingredient in genuine absinthe, and is purportedly why the drink was rumored to cause hallucinations (but more on that in a bit). While the medicinal properties of A. absinthum have since been superseded by other herbs and pharmaceuticals, it’s still a powerful magical ingredient and a beautiful ornamental plant.

Wormwood Magical Uses and Folklore

Wormwood is a very bitter herb, so much so that it’s been used over and over again in literature as a metaphor for bitterness. Shakespeare mentioned it. The Bible mentioned it.
This bitterness may, in part, be a source of its hepatoprotective properties: Bitter herbs are said to trigger the release of gastric juices, including bile from the liver, which helps sort of flush things out. This is why herbal digestifs and digestive bitters became a thing. There’s not a lot of peer-reviewed research on the subject, but bitters have a very long history of safe use as digestive aids.

Wormwood is also one of those magical plants that doubles as a pest repellent. This is something we see pop up over and over. There’s a logical progression from “herb that keeps disease-carrying pests away,” to “herb that keeps all unwanted influences at bay.” This makes wormwood valuable for protection and purification.
Interestingly, I have also seen wormwood listed as an ingredient for spirit calling. I don’t know if I’d use wormwood alone for this, but it certainly seems like it’d be a useful ingredient to make sure you’re calling the right spirits.
(I see parsley mentioned with wormwood pretty frequently, which is funny because it’s another weird one for spirit work. It is listed both as a spirit attractant and repellent, go figure.)

Leaves of a wormwood plant in close up photography. — Photo by Veronica on Pexels.com

This herb also plays a protective role in Slavic lore. The rusalka is an entity, said to be the spirit of a young woman who died by drowning, who is associated with life-giving rain… and, after the 19th century, with madness, death, and trickery.
Carrying wormwood was a way to guard against rusalki. They are said to target young men, so guys were told to carry a sprig of wormwood with them wherever they went. A rusalka would inevitably ask if they were carrying wormwood, or parsley. Say “wormwood,” and she’ll scream and try to flee, at which point you must throw the herb at her eyes. Say “parsley,” and she’ll ensnare, drown, and/or tickle you to death.
(As someone who is a) ticklish, b) hates it, and c) was frequently tickled against my will as a child, I think I’d rather drown.)

Wormwood is also connected to divination. It’s a relative of mugwort and has many similar properties. The two aren’t entirely interchangeable, but you can often substitute one for the other in certain situations. Wormwood’s focus seems to be more connected to protection and purification, while mugwort is more psychic and divinatory.
This herb is sometimes used in love magic, but not as an attractant — its main virtue seems to lie in love divination. There are multiple recipes and instructions for tying wormwood leaves to one’s forehead, placing them under a pillow, or brewing them with other herbs and honey and anointing oneself in order to get a vision of one’s future spouse.

Wormwood is tenuously connected to the Greek goddess Artemis (and Roman goddess Diana) through its name. However, the genus name Artemisia may be a reference to Artemisia II of Caria, and not Artemis directly.
In practice, this herb is considered to be ruled by Mars and Mercury, while Artemis and Diana are Lunar deities.

Wormwood is associated with Fire (which I can certainly see, as it’s a Mars-ruled herb that likes sunny spots and dry ground), but I’ve also seen it listed as an Air plant.

The Myth of Absinthe

Contrary to popular depictions, absinthe wasn’t some kind of magic hallucination juice. Genuine absinthe does use wormwood, which contains the compound thujone. Thujone can, in concentrated form and large doses, cause hallucinations, convulsions, and death, but is present in absinthe in such tiny amounts that it doesn’t really do a whole lot. (Ironically, the compound absinthin is an anti-inflammatory and doesn’t have much to do with any of that.)
Absinthe’s hallucinatory effects have more to do with its high alcohol content (the stuff is about 50-75% ABV), the power of suggestion, and the fact that unscrupulous absinthe makers started adding copper salts as an artificial green coloring around the late 19th century.

Assorted liquor bottles. — Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

During its heyday, absinthe was also much enjoyed by counterculture movements. This led to it being vilified by social conservatives, who had every motivation to hype up its “dangerous, toxic, and hallucinatory properties.”
So, what do you get when you mix an herb that might, potentially be toxic in specific circumstances, a buttload of alcohol, a bunch of bohemians, cheap absinthe full of poisonous colorants, and a bunch of social conservatives? You get a liquor with a legendary reputation as a toxic hallucinogen, and an unfair ban.

Using Wormwood

You can grow Artemisia absinthum fairly easily. Like mugwort, it grows in bright, dry, disturbed soil. It also self-seeds readily, so be prepared to either keep it confined to an area where it can’t do that (like a pot on a patio), deadhead the flowers, or keep up with rigorously removing new baby wormwoods as they pop up.

While wormwood isn’t as dangerous as popular depictions would have you think, it’s still a plant with toxic components that should be treated with respect.

Close up of common wormwood. — Photo by Jeffry Surianto on Pexels.com

Wormwood has historically been used as a flavoring herb. If you want to use wormwood internally, do so under the guidance of a qualified herbalist. There are multiple health and pharmacological contraindications at play here, so it’s important to be careful.

Otherwise, dried wormwood makes a wonderful addition to protective bottles, sachets, and other charms. You can:

Grind it into a fine powder and sprinkle it on or around anything you wish to protect.
Burn it and waft the smoke around an object or area you wish to purify.
Keep some dried wormwood (perhaps with its cousin, mugwort) with divination tools to keep them cleansed and ready for use.
Soak it in water and asperge spaces, objects, or people to cleanse them.
Soak or steep it in water and use the resulting “tea” to wash your front and back doors for protection.
Grow wormwood near doors for protection against malevolent energies, entities, or bugs. (For real, a lot of what we consider pest insects really don’t seem to like it.)

These aren’t the only uses for this herb, of course, but they’re probably the ones most in wormwood’s wheelhouse. You can also use it for love divination or spirit work, but this may depend heavily on your specific tradition, techniques, and situation.

Wormwood is a beautiful, interesting, complex, and contradictory herb. It’s a poisonous healer, a repeller and attractor of spirits, and an invaluable addition to a magical herb collection.

animals

The Magical Meaning and Symbolism of Frogs

October 16, 2024August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

If you’re tired of bugs, you’re in luck! This week, we’re taking a look at frog symbolism.

A green tree frog, clinging to a metal post under a path light. Some purple asters are visible in the background.

My Handsome Assistant and I went for a walk the other day. It was late in the afternoon, and the weather was perfect for a little stroll to see if the leaves had started changing in earnest yet. While we didn’t see much autumn color yet (which is to be expected, as leaves change a bit later year by year), we did see something else that was pretty cool — a little green tree frog!

He’d camped himself out just under the glow of a path light. It was an ingenious move, since it gave him a virtually all-you-can-eat buffet of bugs attracted to the glow. He held still while we did a little amphibian photoshoot, with a backdrop of asters.

Frog Folklore and Mythology

Frog symbolism is one of the most ancient and enduring features of civilizations around the world. According to The Book of Symbols, “[f]igures with a frog’s body and a woman’s face and genitalia have been found dating to as long ago as 6000 BCE, suggesting that the notion of a frog goddess is extremely ancient.” The book also notes that there are similarities in the posture of a human giving birth and a frog sitting.

The above similarity may be part of why frogs are sacred to the Egyptian goddess Heqet, a Goddess of Fertility. Frog symbolism is also rooted in the yearly flooding of the Nile, when the water (and nutrient-rich silt it brought with it) brought greater fertility to the land. Frogs also reproduce in water, depositing their eggs either in the water directly, or on leaves where their spawn can easily fall into water upon hatching.
Interestingly, Heqet may be the origin of the name of the Greek Goddess of Witchcraft, Hecate.

Southward, in South Africa, the ǀXam-ka ǃʼē people had traditions surrounding frogs and menstrual seclusion. The frog deity !Kwah was said to watch over women and girls during this time. If any were to defy this deity and leave seclusion, they and their families would be turned into frogs.

green and white frog resting on brown tree branch — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In Mayan culture, frogs were rainmakers. They held an important role in the story of Kumix, a deity of maize, the sun, and rain. In some versions, they act as directional rain deities that reside on mountains. Here, again, is a connection between frogs and life-giving water — however, rather than the flooding of the Nile, the water comes from rain.
In Diné legend, frog symbolism is also associated with the cardinal directions. In the story of the creation and destruction of the First World (which we mentioned in the post about wasps), Frog lived in the sea to the west. Frog was also one of the creatures who became upset when the world grew crowded and chaotic.

In Hindu legends, frogs are associated with the sun. Bheki is a frog that represents the sun on the horizon. It’s said that Bheki was originally a beautiful woman. A king fell in love with her, and she agreed to marry him on one condition: He must never, ever show her a single drop of water. One day, Bheki grew tired and asked for a drink. Her husband brought her water, and she sank out of sight like the sun beneath the water.

vibrant red eyed tree frog on leaf — Photo by Ivan Rojas on Pexels.com

In feng shui, the Jin Chan (金蟾) is a charm for prosperity. Often translated as “money frog” or “money toad,” it is most commonly represented as a bullfrog with two forelegs and one hind leg, seated on a pile of coins with another coin in its mouth. This charm is said to protect against bad luck and help draw wealth into the household. For this reason, it shouldn’t be placed facing an exterior door, or in the bathroom or kitchen (where water flows out of the house).
While the connection between frog symbolism and water isn’t really explicit here, there are connections between fertility and prosperity through the concept of multiplying one’s desires or good fortune. In Egypt, the Nile floods, and the land’s fertility brings prosperity. In Meso- and South America, rain brings fertility to the land, and the land’s abundance brings prosperity.
In Chinese mythology, the Jin Chan is also connected to the moon — it’s said to appear on a full moon, near homes and businesses that are about to experience positive financial news. As the moon is also intimately connected to water through the tides, this may be another frog-to-water-to-prosperity connection.

Given the ubiquity of frog symbolism in myth and legend, it’s next to impossible to recount all of them here. Fortunately, a number of common threads arise with just a little bit of scrutiny. Frogs reproduce in water and are active where water is abundant. They’re thus connected to fresh, life-giving water, rain, and the fertility of the land. Through this, it’s also possible to see connections to abundance, prosperity, and fertility in general.

Sometimes, frogs also play key roles in the creation of people or civilization. This is particularly interesting, because it often involves a transformation in either direction. In Myanmar, the Va people believed that their ancient ancestors were two tadpoles that grew into frogs, and eventually into ogres. These ogres consumed all kinds of animals until, one day, they ate humans. From that day forth, they were able to reproduce and create human offspring — the ancestors of the Va.
On the other hand, in Vietnam, Bahnar legend tells that a human became a frog and ascended to the heavens to become a God of Agriculture.

photo of green frog on leaf — Photo by Lexo Salazar on Pexels.com

On the other hand, frog symbolism isn’t always positive or life-giving. In Christian mythology, frogs are one of the plagues of Egypt and spew forth from the mouths of monsters.
Frogs are also common fodder for witchcraft folklore. How many times have you heard stories of witches turning someone into a frog or toad? Even children’s tales like The Frog Prince revolve around such a transformation. You can see this reflected in modern media, too — ask anyone who’s ever played one of the older Final Fantasy games. Getting turned into a frog in the middle of a battle sucks.

Frog Symbolism

Through their connection to water (and their own abundant procreation), frogs are tied to fertility. This isn’t just the fertility of animals and humans, but of the land itself.

Frog symbolism is also connected to cleansing, renewal, or purification. This is through frogs’ connection to water, but also because of their unique biology: Frog skin is a respiratory surface. It’s very permeable, and very susceptible to damage from imbalances in water chemistry. Frogs can’t thrive where things are dirty, and they are one of the “canaries in the coal mine” for water pollution.

Macro photography of green frog in water. Frog symbolism is closely connected to cleanliness, purity, and renewal because of their connection to water. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Frogs also represent transformation, of a variety of types. There’s the very obvious transformation from egg, to tadpole, to froglet, to frog, but there’s also more subtle, alchemmical ideas at play. As The Book of Symbols explains,

In dreams and fairy tales the frog arrives, quite suddenly, out of water somewhere, just as an aspect (often princely) of self-substance emerges from the waters of the unconscious, but is not yet in fully conscious, recognizable form. In many such fairy tales, this fertile little being from the watery regions must be accepted and attended to in its frog form, however unattractive or odd it may seem, and inevitably it transforms into the soulful prince or princess.”

Dreaming of frogs is said to herald a change or transformation. If the frog catches a bug, it symbolizes seizing an opportunity. If you eat the frog, it represents an unpleasant task that needs doing.
On the other hand, seeing leaping frogs can represent an inability to commit to a person, idea, or situation.

Frogs are one of our longest-enduring symbols, and frog symbolism is present in everything from creation myths to children’s tales and poems. Not only do these creatures help keep pest populations in check, they’re also powerful symbols of renewal, transformation, fertility, and prosperity.

animals

The Magical Meaning of Wasps

October 9, 2024October 8, 2024 J.Leave a comment

Last week was spiders, this week we’re doing wasps.

Why wasps?

In temperate climates, late summer and early autumn when many wasps (the eusocial ones, at least) start losing direction. Like kids on spring break, they no longer have the structure they once did — the nest is likely done producing larvae, the newly-created queens are getting ready to hibernate, and the wasply lifecycle comes to a close to start back up in spring. This means that the workers, if they haven’t died already, are about to.

The lack of larvae to raise also means that the wasps’ dietary habits shift. Where babies need protein in order to grow big and strong (and adequate protein is so important, worker wasps have been observed shoving drones into lockers in order to make sure that the larvae eat first), the workers have already done all the growing they’re going to do. They don’t need a high protein diet; they need carbs for energy. This often puts them in conflict with humans, as sugar sources start to wind down a bit this time of year and humans are generally a veritable bonanza of sugary treats.

A close-up of a wasp's face. — Photo by David Hablu00fctzel on Pexels.com

So, if you’re noticing larger numbers of more aggressive wasps than usual, that’s probably why. They’re hungry, and they’re on a kind of wasply rumspringa. Don’t worry, though — they won’t be around much longer. It’ll get cold, the workers will die off, the queens will hibernate, et fin.

Right now, we have a wasp nest beneath a tree stump. We considered removing it, but it’s late enough that nature will take its course pretty soon, and then we can fill in the cavity to keep anyone else from setting up shop.

In honor of the last of the summer’s wasps, here are various bits of folklore, mythology, and magical properties associated with these creatures.

Wasp Folklore

Insects feature pretty frequently in Japanese folklore and mythology, wasps included. In one story, the deity Susanoo-mikoto ordered his son-in-law, Ôkuninushino-kami, to sleep in a room infested with wasps and centipedes. Fortunately, Suseribimeno-mikoto, his wife, gives him an insect-repelling cloth to protect him.

One of the plays of Aristophanes, an ancient Greek playwright, is titled The Wasps. In it, the titular wasps are a group of jurors. Bdelycleon, son of Philocleon, has imprisoned his father after many, many unsuccessful treatments for Philocleon’s seeming addiction to trials. When the jurors (Philocleon’s comrades) learn of his imprisonment, they swarm Bdelycleon like wasps. Bdelycleon eventually gives in, and turns the house into a “courtroom” where his father can judge household disputes.

In Boticelli’s painting Venus and Mars, there’s a small wasp nest far to the right, near Mars’ head. Wasps are associated with Mars (and his Greek counterpart, Ares) as animals that are considered aggressive or warlike, but this may not be why Boticelli chose to include them. The painting may have been commissioned by the Vespucci family (from the Italian “vespa,” or “wasp”), and the inclusion of the wasp nest may have been a nod to that.

Detail from Botticelli's Venus and Mars, showing Mars' face and an adjacent wasp nest.

Ichneumon wasps, a family of parasitoid wasps, were also instrumental in strengthening Charles Darwin’s doubts about the existence of a benevolent creator:

I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars[.]

I have seen multiple references to wasps as sacred animals in Indigenous American cultures, but haven’t found many specific examples of this — particularly examples sourced from Indigenous peoples themselves. This isn’t to say that this isn’t true, but any references to wasps as sacred, totemic, or spirit animals in generic “Native American” culture should be taken with a grain of salt. (North America is kind of a huge place.)
One specific story comes from the Diné people and tells the story of the First World — known as Ni’hodilhil, the Dark or Black World. This was a black place surrounded by four cloud columns: Black Night to the north, White Dawn to the east, Blue Daylight to the south, and Yellow Twilight to the west. The First Man, along with a perfect ear of white corn, was formed at the place where Black Night and White Dawn met. The First Woman, along with a perfect ear of yellow corn, was formed where Blue Daylight and Yellow Twilight met.
At that time, creatures did not have their present forms. They were as mists, but would one day become their present shapes.
In the story, the first man and first woman meet and live together. Gradually, other beings appear. First is Great-Coyote-Who-Was-Formed-in-the-Water, who hatched from an egg and knew all that went on under the water. Second was another Coyote, First Angry, who insisted that he had been born first, and brought witchcraft into the world. After that, four more beings appeared. They were the Wasp People, and they knew how shoot and harm others. They were followed by the Red Ants, the Black Ants, and many others, until the world became crowded and was full of arguing.
Eventually, the Gods became angry and the occupants of the First World were forced to leave. The First Man planted a reed in the east, which grew tall and strong. The First Man, First Woman, and all of the other creatures of the world climbed up it to safety, to the Second World.

A black and yellow wasp on a white flower. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Ahti, a little-known Egyptian deity, was represented as a hippopotamus with the head of a wasp. Not much is known about her, though her interesting composition has led some scholars to associate her with chaos, disorder, and spite.

In Hindu mythology, wasps are associated with Bhramari — the goddess of bees. Bees, wasps, hornets, spiders, termites, mosquitoes, and biting flies cling to her body, and she could send them out to attack for her. In the tenth book of the Devi Bhagavata Purana, there is a powerful asura named Aruna. He performs a penance to Brahma, and, in return, Brahma makes it so Aruna cannot be killed in war by any man, woman, weapon, bipedal creature, quadrupedal creature, or any combination thereof. Feeling suitably overpowered, Aruna called on other beings to attack the devas. He nearly succeeded in beating them, too, until Adi Parashakti appeared and began releasing bees from her hands. Calmly, she continued releasing insects that clung to her body, making her larger and larger and creating the divine form of Bhramari.
When all of Aruna’s army had been defeated except him, she released her insects upon him to tear him limb from limb.

John Gerard, a sixteenth century herbalist, had a method of tree divination using acorns. The technique involved finding an acorn at a specific time of year (likely autumn), breaking it open, and examining the contents:

If there was an ant inside, there’d be an abundant harvest in the coming year.
On the other hand, a worm that attempts to crawl away means a light harvest.
A spider was a harbinger of pestilence for humans.
A white worm was a harbinger of pestilence for animals.
If the worm thrashed and turned away, however, it meant the plague.
If there was a worm that “flew away” (perhaps by growing into an adult knopper gall wasp), it foretold war.

A wasp climbing on a mossy stick. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Some modern witches use deceased wasps as an ingredient in banishing or protective powders. Combine them with ingredients like salt, hot pepper, and garlic, and grind to a fine powder. Use to dress candles, sprinkle around borders, et cetera.

The Symbolism of Wasps

Wasps represent war, arguments, and violence. This is probably undeserved, as there are plenty of non-aggressive wasp species. (I mean, I woke up the other day with a little ichneumon wasp crawling on my leg. She was tiny, harmless, and seemed at least as confused as I was, considering both of us were A) in a bed and B) under a blanket.)

Wasps’ violence isn’t always unjustified, however. These creatures, and stinging insects in general, also frequently represent punishment and wrath. Even in the story of Bhramari, where wasps are part of the insect army that eventually defeat Aruna, they are part of the righteous, defensive wrath of the goddess.

They’re also symbols of strictly enforced boundaries and protection.

On the other hand, dreaming of wasps is said to represent evil and negative emotions. Dreams of being stung by a wasp may indicate envy. Killing a wasp in a dream represents bravery in overcoming the negativity or malicious actions of others.

Are wasps aggressive? They certainly can be, but this isn’t directionless aggression. In reality, they’re very protective. The trouble is, it’s often difficult for humans to tell where our territory ends and theirs begins, which frequently brings us into conflict. Still, wasps perform very important functions as pollinators and predators of pest insects, so it’s worth learning about your local wasp species and finding ways to coexist whenever possible.
Sometimes that long “stinger” is just an ovipositor, and that wasp is on the way to take care of your garden for you!

animals

The Magical Meaning and Symbolism of Wasps

October 9, 2024August 20, 2025 1 Comment

Last week was spiders, this week we’re doing the magical meaning and symbolism of wasps.

Why wasps?

In honor of the last of the summer’s wasps, here are various bits of folklore, mythology, magical properties, and the symbolism of wasps.

Wasp Folklore

Ichneumon wasps, a family of parasitoid wasps, were also instrumental in strengthening Charles Darwin’s doubts about the existence of a benevolent creator:

I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars[.]

If there was an ant inside, there’d be an abundant harvest in the coming year.
On the other hand, a worm that attempts to crawl away means a light harvest.
A spider was a harbinger of pestilence for humans.
A white worm was a harbinger of pestilence for animals.
If the worm thrashed and turned away, however, it meant the plague.
If there was a worm that “flew away” (perhaps by growing into an adult knopper gall wasp), it foretold war.

The Symbolism of Wasps

The symbolism of wasps generally revolves around war, arguments, and violence. This is probably undeserved, as there are plenty of non-aggressive wasp species. (I mean, I woke up the other day with a little ichneumon wasp crawling on my leg. She was tiny, harmless, and seemed at least as confused as I was, considering both of us were A) in a bed and B) under a blanket.)

Wasps’ connection to violence isn’t always unjustified, however. These creatures, and stinging insects in general, also frequently represent punishment and wrath. Even in the story of Bhramari, where wasps are part of the insect army that eventually defeat Aruna, they are part of the righteous, defensive wrath of the goddess.

They’re also symbols of strictly enforced boundaries and protection.

On the other hand, the symbolism of wasps in dreams is linked to evil and negative emotions. Dreams of being stung by a wasp may indicate envy. Killing a wasp in a dream represents bravery in overcoming the negativity or malicious actions of others.

animals

The Magical Meaning of Spiders

October 2, 2024October 2, 2024 J.2 Comments

(If you’re arachnophobic, you probably want to skip this one. Don’t worry — I’ll be back next week with some more non-spider related lore.)

This is Matilda. I was out checking for more ground candy (aka, the delicious maypops that fall off my porch’s vines when they’re ripe), when I happened to look up and realize that I was face-to-face with a massive orbweaver (Neoscona species).

A close up of a large, hairy orb weaver perched in the center of a web.

Later that afternoon, once she’d had a chance to build a sizeable web right across the upper part of my window, I very carefully opened the window to snap multiple pics of her from a variety of angles.
It was then that I realized that there was a fire truck and an ambulance in front of one of my neighbor’s houses.

(Note to neighbors: THERE WAS A COOL SPIDER. I PROMISE THAT I’M NOT A MANIAC.)

(Also the emergency vehicles left pretty uneventfully, so hopefully everyone is okay.)

*Ahem*

Anyhow, this is the time of year when sightings of these guys peak around here. So, in honor of Matilda, I figured now would be a good time to write a bit about the magical meaning of spiders.

Spider Folklore

In Greek mythology, the first spider was a woman named Arachne. She was a marvelously talented weaver — allegedly better than Athena herself. She challenged her to a weaving contest, and Arachne’s weaving was, indeed, very beautiful. However, while her weaving was flawless, Arachne had chosen to create a tapestry mocking the gods. (In some tellings, Athena is simply enraged by Arache’s pride.) Angered, Athena transformed her into a spider.

A close up of a jumping spider's face, showing their fuzzy pedipalps and big, black, almost puppylike eyes. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In Catholic Christian mythology, spiders are connected to faith. Saint Conrad of Constance, a German bishop, is said to have seen a spider fall into his cup during Easter Mass. While it was widely believed that all spiders were venomous (or, in this case, poisonous) Conrad drank the wine and trusted in his faith to preserve him.

Probably the best-known spider in mythology is Anansi, from the Ashanti people. He’s viewed as a cunning trickster figure. He’s so prominent, that he gave rise to the term “spider tales,” which encompasses several kinds of story within the Ashanti oral tradition.

In North America, spiders were viewed as either trickster figures, or ingenious creators. The Hopi and Diné people have Spider Grandmother, who plays a key role in the creation of the world.

Another close up of a very cute, fuzzy white jumping spider. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In Peru, spiders frequently appear in ancient artworks (including the famous Nazca lines). While the specific significance of these depictions is often uncertain, it is known that the Cupisnique people had a spider deity associated with weaving, nets, war, and power.

In Australia, spiders sometimes appear in art and as clan totems.

The people of Kiribati Island and the Republic of Nauru, of Micronesia, both have spider figures that play a central role in their creation mythology.

In Japan, there are spider-like yokai called ogumo, yatsukahagi, or tsuchigumo. Tsuchigumo translates as “earth spider,” but likely didn’t originate as a spider at all. Historian Yoshiyuki Takioto put forth the idea that tsuchigumo were local chieftains (described as short people with long limbs, who lived in caves, eschewed civilization, and disregarded the imperial court), These chieftains were most likely shamans.
The yokai tsuchigumo first turns up in medieval literature, as a spider-like figure 60 meters long. When killed, the heads of almost 2000 people fell from its belly.

In Scotland, spiders were an inspirational figure during the First War for Scottish Independence. After a series of defeats, Robert the Bruce hid in a cave. While there, he watched a spider struggle to climb a strand of silk. Despite failing over and over, the spider eventually succeeded. This gave him the encouragement he needed to go back into battle and eventually win Scotland’s independence.

A slender black and yellow spider perched on its web. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It’s often said to be bad luck to kill a spider that you find in your home. This has a (perhaps unsurprising) grain of truth to it — killing spiders in your house means that you’re opening yourself up to all of the much less desirable things that spiders eat. If an infestation of flies or ants looks like bad luck to you, then you might want to heed this bit of folklore!

In dream dictionaries, dreaming of spiders is believed to represent:

Feeling like an outsider — like a spider in a web in the corner of a room.
Wanting to be an outsider.
A protective force.
A strong or overbearing feminine figure.
Rewards for one’s hard work.
Unpleasant relationships. Relationships one can’t escape, a (usually feminine) person who is draining one’s energy, a conflict with an overbearing person.

However, dreaming specifically of a rainbow colored spider is said to point to a situation that you probably want to avoid.

The Symbolism of Spiders

Spiders have far-reaching symbolism. Across cultures, they’ve been everything from tricksters to cosmic creators, to the unfortunate fate of the proud.

In general, these animals are associated with industry and creativity. Spider webs come in an astonishing variety of shapes and sizes — from small, silk-lined burrows to impressive constructs that are as delicate as they are massive.

Strands of a spider's web, highlighted in the sunlight. There are trees and shrubs visible in the background. — Photo by Phil Kallahar on Pexels.com

They’re also associated with snares, webs, and trickery. Spiders who use webs to catch their food place them in places where they’ll be both efficient and unobtrusive — virtually invisible, until an unwitting insect (or unlucky hiker) bumps into them. Spiders who don’t use webs generally either rely on natural camouflage to hide them as they run down their prey, or conceal themselves and wait for the opportunity for ambush. In all cases, they are patient, diligent, and cunning.
This can be good for you, if you’re seeking to emulate the spider a la Robert the Bruce.
It can also be very bad, if you’re heading into a situation that may prove to be a trap.
As with all things, context is important when it comes to interpreting omens.

A close up of a jumping spider, on what appears to be a striped rug or blanket. — Jumping spiders are ambush predators. Photo by Skyler Ewing on Pexels.com

Spiders are also connected to resiliency. No matter how many times their webs are destroyed, they rebuild them. They get knocked down, and they climb right back up again.

To an extent, spiders are also symbols of healing and rebirth. A spider can lose a leg or two and (if they survive the injury without losing too much hemolymph) will regrow them with subsequent molts.

Not a lot of people like spiders. Personally, I was never a fan of them — they terrified me as a kid. Eventually, I forced myself to take an interest in them, their body language, and their habits. I’m glad I did, because they’re really beautiful, fascinating, helpful creatures when you get right down to it.

animals

The Magical Meaning and Symbolism of Spiders

October 2, 2024August 20, 2025 2 Comments

(If you’re arachnophobic, you probably want to skip the whole “symbolism of spiders” post. Don’t worry — I’ll be back next week with some more non-spider related lore.)

(Note to neighbors: THERE WAS A COOL SPIDER. I PROMISE THAT I’M NOT A MANIAC.)

(Also the emergency vehicles left pretty uneventfully, so hopefully everyone is okay.)

*Ahem*

Anyhow, this is the time of year when sightings of these guys peak around here. So, in honor of Matilda, I figured now would be a good time to write a bit about the magical meaning and symbolism of spiders.

Spider Folklore

In Catholic Christian mythology, the symbolism of spiders relates to faith. Saint Conrad of Constance, a German bishop, is said to have seen a spider fall into his cup during Easter Mass. While it was widely believed that all spiders were venomous (or, in this case, poisonous) Conrad drank the wine and trusted in his faith to preserve him.

In North America, spiders were viewed as either trickster figures, or ingenious creators. The Hopi and Diné people have Spider Grandmother, who plays a key role in the creation of the world.

In Australia, spiders sometimes appear in art and as clan totems.

The people of Kiribati Island and the Republic of Nauru, of Micronesia, both have spider figures that play a central role in their creation mythology.

The symbolism of spiders in dreams includes:

Feeling like an outsider — like a spider in a web in the corner of a room.
Wanting to be an outsider.
A protective force.
A strong or overbearing feminine figure.
Rewards for one’s hard work.
Unpleasant relationships. Relationships one can’t escape, a (usually feminine) person who is draining one’s energy, a conflict with an overbearing person.

However, dreaming specifically of a rainbow colored spider is said to point to a situation that you probably want to avoid.

The Symbolism of Spiders

Spiders have far-reaching symbolism. Across cultures, they’ve been everything from tricksters to cosmic creators, to the unfortunate fate of the proud.

Spiders are also connected to resiliency. No matter how many times their webs are destroyed, they rebuild them. They get knocked down, and they climb right back up again.

animals · Uncategorized

The Magical Meaning of Opossums

September 11, 2024September 10, 2024 J.1 Comment

We have a marsupial!

He appeared on the deck railing at 3 AM a few weeks ago, trundling along like one of the ROUS from The Princess Bride. (Which is to say, he moved like a very small man in an opossum suit.) I was so excited I almost shook my Handsome Assistant awake.

When he returned the next day to snuffle around the platform feeders, I actually went outside to offer him a small quantity of the kibble and dried bugs I use to feed the crows. He seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing — just kind of leaned back and gave me a look that distinctly said, “Are you @#$% serious right now?“

It was when my Handsome Assistant and I were watching Hellier a few days later that I realized that I’d never survive a monster movie. If I lived in Kelly, KY, and encountered the Kentucky Goblins, I would 100% have tried to give them Capri Suns and crackers and ended up 1000% dismembered inside an abandoned coal mine.

But my impending mortality at the hands of something I’m trying to give snackies to is neither here nor there. Since there is an opossum, I thought I would explore the magical meaning of these creatures.

Opossum Folklore

The Virginia opossum is the source of the name “opossum.” It comes from a Powhatan word meaning “white animal,” which derives from a Proto-Algonquian word meaning “white dog.” The Spanish words for opossum, tlacuache and zarigüeya, derive from the Nahuatl tlaquatzin and Guarani sarigweya.

There is a large difference between opossums and possums (and Possum). Opossums live in the Americas, have skinny tails, and are grayish with white faces. Brush-tailed possums are from Australia, have fluffy tails, and are brownish. They are unrelated. The kind we have where I live, the Virginia opossum, is a member of Didelphimorphia (specifically, Didelphis virginiana).
Some say that, due to a colossal mix-up, we ended up with Australia’s possum and they ended up with ours. For the purposes of this post, I’m going to focus on the American opossums.

The Virginia opossum. Photo by Skyler Ewing on Pexels.com

The Australian brush tailed possum. Photo by Charles J. Sharp, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

It’s often said that opossums “play dead” when confronted with a threat. In reality, they have a few different responses. They’re more likely to attempt to flee, or puff themselves up, hiss, and try to appear more threatening. In some situations, an automatic anxiety response may cause them to feign death, during which their heart rate and breathing slow, they lie motionless, and they emit a foul-smelling fluid from their butts.

It’s also often said that opossums are voracious tick eaters. This is not true. They are opportunistic omnivores, and they do eat a ton of insects, but the study that gave rise to this myth involved opossums in a laboratory setting during which they didn’t have much other choice. (It’d be like covering a human in peanut butter, locking them in a room for several days, and then saying that their diet primarily consists of nut spreads.) When the stomach contents of wild opossums were analyzed, there actually weren’t any ticks in there.
Still! Even though they’re not the tick-decimating forces of nature folklore paints them to be, they’re a vital part of the ecosystem that helps control numerous other problem species. They’re basically organic garden pest control that screams at their own butts.

Interestingly, opossums aren’t often found in indigenous American folklore. When they appear in North American lore, they’re usually buffoonish characters. (In fact, their feigning death is often portrayed as stemming from embarrassment!)
In South America, however, opossums are clever tricksters. Some groups even regard Opossum as a Prometheus-like figure.

The Symbolism of Opossums

In modern symbolism, opossums are seen to represent cleverness. This may come from the belief that they deliberately choose to “play dead.” (They also have really weirdly dexterous little paws and opposable thumbs on their feet.)

They’re also widely regarded as symbols of patience, perseverance, and survival against the odds. They’re slow-moving and very deliberate animals, and, when in a “feigning death” state, can remain motionless for hours to wait out predators.

Sometimes, opossums are viewed as symbols of rebirth since they seem to come alive after playing dead.

Dreaming of an opossum is believed to represent an illusion. Something may not be what it appears to be. It can be a sign from your subconscious that a situation isn’t right, and you need to look closer to find the truth.

Opossums are commonly associated with the Moon and lunar magic. They’re nocturnal, and their silvery fur and pale faces connect them to these energies.

Personally, I don’t care if Francis (by the way, I named the opossum Francis) never eats a single tick. I’m very happy to share this garden space with him. He is my precious garbage son and I love him very much.