Can you use birthday candles for magic?

February 19, 2025February 19, 2025 Leave a comment

I love candle magic, but I don’t do it quite as often as I’d like for one simple reason: It usually requires letting a candle burn completely, ideally uninterrupted, and who’s got that kind of time? There are options for getting around this, of course, but a lot of them are less than ideal. If only there was something smaller, that could burn more quickly. Something like… oh, I don’t know. A birthday candle.
There’s gotta be some kind of birthday candle witchcraft out there, right?

Burning candles against white textile. — Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com

What do you do if you can’t leave a candle burning?

So, you’ve got a candle spell to work, and one big problem — you can’t just leave it burning while you go on about life. There are some suggestions in old books, things like placing the candle in a cauldron or bathtub with an inch or two of water in it, so it’ll be immediately doused if it falls over. As someone who grew up with a firefighter, however, these suggestions make my teeth itch.

Fortunately, there’re better options out there than “stick a candle in your bathtub and hope for the best.” If you absolutely have to, you can snuff a candle and re-light it when you’re able to pay more attention to it. You might even be able to work this into your spell itself, by performing it every night for a series of nights and only burning a little of the candle at a time.

The other option, of course, is to use a really tiny candle.

There’s nothing wrong with using birthday candles in spells. They pack much of the same characteristics of full-sized candles (the element of Fire, the act of burning, the presence of a flame, the wax and wick being consumed) in a tiny package. There are a couple of things to consider before swapping all of your pillars, jars, and chime candles for a package of birthday candles, though.

The Pros of Using Birthday Candles in Spells

They’re tiny

Birthday candles are little and don’t take long to burn completely. When time is of the essence, or you can’t afford to take your eyes off of a candle for even a second (hello, friends with children or pets), then you need something that can work quickly.

That aside, there’s another reason why you might want to try using birthday candles: portability.

I have a crane bag. For Druids/Neodruids, this is a container of tools for field work, power objects, and/or everything that you might need for performing a ritual at any time, in any place. I’ve got tiny incense sticks, small statues, stones, bits of wood, airline-sized bottles of whiskey, a small bowl, a tiny bell, a rattle, etc. Birthday candles fit nicely here, and I don’t have to worry about disposing of a plastic or aluminum cup like I would with a tea light.

They’re inexpensive

Birthday candles are cheap and plentiful. You can find them in any grocery store, in decently sized packs that should last you for a while. Honestly, you’ve probably already got some in a junk drawer or the back of a cabinet in your kitchen right now.

They already have positive magical associations (that other candles don’t)

In cultures that celebrate birthdays with cake and candles, there’s a tiny ritual associated with their use. The candles are placed on the cake, one for every year of the recipient’s age, and lit. The recipient closes their eyes, makes a wish, and tries to blow out all of the candles in one breath.

Cupcakes on a table with lighted candles and balloons. — Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

Honestly, if you mention birthday candles to anyone in the US, it’s likely that one of the first things they’ll think of is making a wish. Sure, it’s a cute little ritual primarily targeted at kids. It’s still a ritual, though. It’s still a positive association between birthday candles and wishes.

This is something that other candles don’t really have. Can you imagine parking an eight-inch-tall pillar candle in the middle of a sheet cake? Eleven or twelve tea lights? A massive jar of something labeled “Sun Dried Cotton”?

Depending on your particular birthday candle witchcraft goals, that connection with wishes is something you can tap into.

They’re easy to clean up

As a candle burns, the wax turns to liquid and is carried up the wick to be used as fuel for the flame. This process is more efficient for some candles and some types of wax than it is for others. Scented candles, for example, produce a lot of liquid wax to let the fragrance dissipate. Taper candles are used primarily for light, not scent, so they have a different shape and generally don’t produce much messy liquid wax. Birthday candles are only supposed to burn as long as it takes to blow them out, so they burn pretty neatly. Maybe a drop or two of dripped wax, if that.

If you’re not a fan of either cleaning old wax out of your candle holders, or digging holes to bury the remains of spell candles, birthday candles offer easy clean up and disposal.

The Cons of Using Birthday Candles in Spells

They’re difficult (if not impossible) to engrave

The small size of a birthday candle doesn’t give you a whole lot of real estate for inscribing sigils, words, etc. If you have a particularly steady hand, you may be able to do something with the tip of a straight pin or sewing needle. Otherwise, if your spell calls for inscribing a candle with something, skip the birthday candle witchcraft and go for a chime, votive, or even pillar instead.

They blow out easily

Unlike other candles, birthday candles are meant to go out easily. This can be a pain if you’ve got a situation that makes it tough to keep a candle lit. A stray breeze, whether from the outdoors or sudden movement, can leave you scrambling to re-light your candle mid-spell. It’s a major concentration breaker, if nothing else.

They’re a pain to use in long-running spells

Some spells call for snuffing a re-lighting a candle, generally over a period of several days. Taper, knob, or pillar candles are good for this. Birthday candles, not so much. Can you imagine having to mark a tiny birthday candle into seven equal segments, and burn one single segment each night for a week? By the time you got it lit, you’d need to immediately snuff it again.

You might have some trouble finding a good holder for them

Birthday candle holders usually come in the form of either those little plastic or metal cups with a spike on the bottom, or an entire cake. Neither of these are particularly ideal when you only need to burn one candle, on a flat surface.

If you have trouble figuring out how to securely set up a birthday candle, get yourself a basic glass votive or tealight cup, and a handful or two of sand. Poke the birthday candle into the sand, and you should be good to go. If any of the melted wax gets on the sand, it’s easy to scoop it out and bury or otherwise dispose of it along with any other remains of your birthday candle witchcraft.

Like I said, I love candle magic. I also have three cats and the attention span of a brine shrimp, and I need candles that I can easily travel with. For me, birthday candles are a valuable and useful magical tool.

Witchcraft

The Magical Meaning of String

February 12, 2025August 20, 2025 Leave a comment

When I was a tiny child (very tiny, maybe six or seven), my grandma taught me to crochet. I didn’t learn much — my clumsy little hands weren’t able to do more than work a piece of string into a basic chain — but it was something I’ve wanted to get back into. So, as part of my desire to continue reskilling this year, I picked up some merino yarn and a basic #5 hook and got to it.

(So far, I’ve managed to make one tiddy portion of a bikini top in single crochet, and most of a scarf that I accidentally did entirely in slip stitch. This is okay, though. Even if you do crochet wrong, as long as you do it wrong enough and consistently enough, you’ll most likely end up with a useable item once you’re done anyway.)

Close up photo of teal yarn and a copper colored crochet hook. — Photo by Castorly Stock on Pexels.com

So, since I’ve ended up with a number of odds and ends of string, I thought it’d be a good idea to point out its many magical virtues and uses.

Witches and Pagans — at least, the ones I know — are nothing if not resourceful. Every weed, seed, stick, stone, empty jar, scrap of paper, and bit of string has potential. Sure, supplies from a local metaphysical shop are beautiful and fun, but you’d be amazed at what you can get up to with the contents of your trash.

(Literally. One of my most successful workings involved nothing more than a Sharpie, some toilet paper, and about ten seconds a day for a week.)

Anyway. String.

The Magical Uses of String and Yarn

Witch’s Ladders

One of the most recognizable uses of string/yarn/floss/twine/thread/etc is the witch’s ladder. This is a length of cord knotted at intervals, often with feathers, leaves, stones, or other curios placed within the knots. Ultimately, the ladder is a talisman — as it’s made, the creator imbues each knot and curio with their intention for the ladder.

Wikipedia describes a specific instance known as the Wellington Witch Ladder, the first recorded instance of someone finding a witch’s ladder in an old house. Charles Godfrey Leland discovered that it was remarkably similar the description of a kind of folk charm used in Italy. Witches would utter a baneful spell as they braided the cord (along with locks of the victim’s hair and feathers from a black hen) and place the finished piece under a victim’s bed, in order to cause them pain, illness, and misfortune.

(As a magical device, a witch’s ladder isn’t solely for baneful magic. The inclusion of different curios and chanting a different spell would, by necessity, give the finished product a different effect.)

Knot Spells

String, envelopes, and a pocket knife. — Photo by Fotografia Eles Dois on Pexels.com

A more stripped-down version if the witch’s ladder is basic knot magic. This involves taking a length of string and tying knots (usually nine) at intervals, starting with the center, then both ends, then working back toward the center. Each knot is accompanied by a chant.

This is useful as a kind of magic “bank” — each knot holds a portion of the spell and, when the knots are undone, the spell is released. One way to use this involves untying a knot once a day for nine days. I’ve also used them to tie around my wrist or ankle. Once the string breaks, the spell is released.

Magical Pouches and Sachets

Strings also have the more mundane use of securing magical sachets and pouches. In Hoodoo, the traditional knot for this is the miller’s knot. Other traditions may have their own methods that call for a particular knot (or number of knots), or none in particular. Here, the string is mostly just intended to keep the contents of the pouch from falling out, but it’s easy to apply basic techniques like color magic if you so choose.

Embroidery Sigils

If you know how to embroider, it’s easy to apply this skill to creating sigils or other magical images. Embroider them onto pouches, clothing, altar cloths, or any other fabric items sturdy enough to handle them. This is a great method for magic you wish to keep with you — think workings for protection, prosperity, or attraction.

Strings as Sympathetic Magic

Lastly, strings have a powerful symbolic component. Take the photographs of two would-be lovers, for example, place them face-to-face, and tie them together with red or pink string for a love spell. Or, use a string as a component of cord cutting magic, to help you visualize and act directly on the “etheric tethers” that hold you to old relationships, situations, or other undesirable things. Strings represent the “ties that bind,” for good or ill, and you can use them to either strengthen or sever these ties as you wish.

Choosing Your String (or, How to Not Become a Magical Hoarder)

Okay, so. Like I said, I’ve been crocheting. I’ve ended up with a lot of odds and ends of yarn as a result. I probably don’t need all of these bits of yarn, so it pays to be a bit selective in what I decide to keep. If you hold on to odds and ends of string for magical purposes, you’re likely to end up in the same boat.

So, how do you decide?

First, I recommend against using synthetic fibers for magical purposes. This isn’t because I feel like they’ll necessarily have a bad impact on the magic itself — they’re just not practical. They don’t break down like cotton, hemp, linen, silk, or wool do, so they’re not great for spell cords that need to fall apart eventually. They also don’t burn well (and, when they do, tend to melt and produce awful, migraine-inducing fumes), so they’re not great for any spells that involve burning cords.

Close up shot of blue yarn in a wicker basket. — Photo by Miriam Alonso on Pexels.com

Second, you don’t necessarily need a ton of strings of the same length and color. You probably know what spells you tend to work the most, and what it makes sense to hold onto. (For example, if you’ve been focusing a lot on money magic, you probably don’t need an ever-increasing stash of red strings.) If you don’t, that’s fine — shoot for white or black strings, and one or two in other basic colors. Develop your preferences from there.

Third, destash periodically. There are a ton of posts and vlogs about people who fall out of practice, or struggle to find the motivation to continue regularly doing magical workings. Let decluttering your magical supplies be a reason to use them. With knot magic, this is especially practical — knot your cords, recite your chants, and put what you’ve made to good use. (Or gift them to your witchcraft-inclined friends.)

Often times, working magic means seeing the potential in what would otherwise be discarded. A plain piece of string can be everything from a curse to a love spell, from a healing charm to a magical battery.

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

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.

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.

Plants and Herbs

Nepenthes (Pitcher Plant) Folklore and Magical Properties

September 25, 2024September 24, 2024 J.2 Comments

Now that I’m home, I’ve been spending the day unpacking, straightening up the house, taking care of my cats and plants, and eating pho. It didn’t take me long to notice some new… uh, additions.

A close-up of an N. ventrata pitcher. — Audrey’s newest pitcher.

This is Audrey. Every so often, especially if she’s gotten plenty of humidity, she puts out gorgeous little pitchers. I reward her by hand-feeding her dried black soldier fly larvae.

A close-up of another pitcher on the same plant. — Another pitcher on the opposite side.

Since she seemed to be in particularly good humor when I came home, I thought now might be a good time to take a deeper look at the folklore and magical properties of the beautiful, unique, profoundly strange Nepenthes.

Nepenthes Magical Uses and Folklore

The plant genus Nepenthes is named for nepenthe, an ancient medicine said to heal sorrow and induce forgetfulness. It’s mentioned in ancient Greek literature, and is typically depicted as originating in Egypt.
It also appears in the Edgar Allan Poe poem “The Raven”:

Respite—respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

An image of an open pitcher plant, displaying the "lid," slender neck, and round belly of the pitcher. — Photo by Phoebeud83dudc1f on Pexels.com

Nepenthes consists of numerous species. In garden centers and plant nurseries, you’re most likely to encounter N. x ventrata — a hybrid of a N. ventricosa and N. alata.

Pitcher plants prey on insects by providing sugar and water to lure them into their pitchers. Their leaves have nectaries — special glands that secrete sweet nectar — and their pitchers contain water and digestive enzymes. Insects are attracted to the presence of food and water, and end up caught in the pitchers where they eventually drown and get digested.
(They’re pretty much Hotel California for bugs.)

However, not all pitcher plants feed on insects. N. lowii, a species native to Borneo, is known for its… rather unique shape.
Toilets.
The pitchers look like toilets.
Not only do they look like toilets, they are toilets.
N. lowii has an interesting relationship with a local shrew species. As with insects, the shrews are attracted to the pitcher plant’s nectar. While they’re there, they generally end up crapping directly into the conveniently toilet-shaped pitchers. The shrews get free nectar, and N. lowii gets free nutrient rich shrew leavings.

A close up of the mouth of N. bicalcarata, showing the pitcher's "lid" and two pointy "teeth." — Nepenthes bicalcarata, known for its two pointy “teeth.” It has a mutualistic relationship with a species of carpenter ant that makes nests in the plant’s tendrils. The plant benefits by receiving nutrients in the form of dead ants and ant feces. Photo by Yufan Jiang on Pexels.com

Other pitcher plants have symbiotic relationships with frogs. The frogs hang out in the pitchers, just under their “lids.” They eat insects that are attracted to the plant, and, as with the shrews, leave their nutritious little doots behind. They help dispose of pest insects that are more likely to harm the pitcher plant than to feed it, and the plant still gets a boost of nutrients.

One other pitcher plant species, N. rajah, has pitchers large enough to snare rats. It’s a particularly visually striking species.

In pitcher plants’ native areas, they’re often used as a source of clean water. When the pitchers initially form, they come complete with a little bit of water in their bellies to dilute the plant’s digestive enzymes to a usable level. People will sometimes crack open a fresh pitcher and drink the water inside. The trick is to use a very fresh, young pitcher — once the pitcher has opened itself, and its “lid” is raised, it may be contaminated and is no longer safe to drink.

A close up of a young pitcher, with its "lid" still sealed. — This is an earlier image of the first pitcher pictured in this post. Notice how it’s greener, slimmer, and its “lid” hasn’t opened yet. Even in this state, it has a generous amount of liquid in the belly of the pitcher. At this stage, the pitcher hasn’t yet come into contact with any insects.

Interestingly, this water is more than just a refreshing drink on a hot day. It’s also used as medicine. Nepenthes water has been used to treat digestive issues and constipation (which makes sense, considering it’s just water and stuff that helps digest things), as well as urinary tract infections.
An extract of the plant is also used to prevent scar formation.

A view of particularly striking Nepenthes pitchers, with bright red hairs and streaks on their otherwise-green pitchers. — Photo by Egor Komarov on Pexels.com

There aren’t a whole lot of resources for those looking for typical European-based magical uses for Nepenthes species. From my own experience, these plants seem to be very useful for attraction. Just be warned — while they’re effective, they aren’t quite as docile and well-intentioned as something like rose or lavender. (All things considered, this probably isn’t too surprising for a carnivorous plant!)
They’re also helpful for defense and healing.
Lastly, Considering the enormous crossover between “plants that repel or get rid of pests” and “plants historically used for purification,” it may be worth experimenting with pitcher plants as a potential purification herb.

Elementally, pitcher plants are associated with Water.

Using Pitcher Plants

If you have access to fresh pitchers, you can add the water to a ritual bath or window, door, and floor wash for attraction. Just make sure that these are fresh, unopened pitchers. You really don’t want to be dumping partially decayed bug soup into your bath.

If you don’t have access to them, then you can also use dried pitchers. Like any other part of a plant, they don’t last forever — the pitchers have a lifespan and naturally dry up and fall off after a while. Just make sure that whatever pitchers you use are cleaned up, free of insect parts, and completely dried.

Dried pitchers are suitable for container magic like jars, sachets, or spell bottles. They also look really cool when they’re pressed in a book or between glass.

I love carnivorous plants, but it’s not always easy to find resources for using them in western magic. Since I’ve begun keeping them and developing a close relationship with them, I’ve found that they have a wonderful variety of potential magical (and even medicinal) uses. Pitcher plants don’t just help keep homes bug-free, they’re also incredibly interesting and versatile friends to have!

Plants and Herbs

Lemon Verbena Folklore and Magical Properties

September 4, 2024September 3, 2024 J.Leave a comment

I wrote a post about vervain a while ago, which I chose to limit to Verbena officinalis and V. hastata. Today, I wanted to revisit this subject with a post on a vervain relative: Aloysia citrodora, lemon verbena.

Lemon verbena is native to South America, and was introduced to Europe in the 17th century. It’s a member of family Verbenaceae with a bright, citrusy odor (hence it’s name, citrodora). It has a long history of use in cooking and, while it was only introduced to Europe fairly recently, it has made a name for itself in various systems of European-based folk and ceremonial magic.

Lemon Verbena Magical Uses and Folklore

Within its native range, lemon verbena seems to be primarily used as a medicinal and food ingredient.

Medicinally, lemon verbena appears to boost sleep quality. Lemon verbena is also used as a digestive aid, and has demonstrated very interesting antioxidant and antitumor properties. There are mixed messages about its toxicity — while it’s generally regarded as safe for humans, some sources say that it’s toxic to animals.

Historically, lemon verbena was used to treat gout, as a diuretic, and to treat inflammation of the spleen or liver.

A blend of dried herbs in a teacup, against a white background scattered with more herbs. — Photo by lil artsy on Pexels.com

Putting a sachet of lemon verbena under one’s pillow is said to keep away bad dreams.

Lemon verbena is a pretty traditional luck herb. It’s said to convert misfortune to good luck, and is useful for cleansing, protecting, uncrossing, love magic, and attracting what you want. It also acts as a strengthening herb, meaning that it adds power to anything to which it is added, so it’s a good addition to herbal formulas for positive effects.

Interestingly, lemon verbena is yet another cleansing/protecting type herb that crosses over into a natural pest repellent. It’s often grown and used to keep mosquitoes away (possibly because its strong, lemony aroma covers up the natural scent of carbon dioxide that female mosquitoes use to detect people).

Lemon verbena is typically associated with the planet Mercury.

Using Lemon Verbena

The easiest way to use lemon verbena is by steeping it. Get some of the dried herb and brew it like you would a tea. Strain out the plant matter, and use the liquid as an offering, drink it, add it to floor, door, or window wash water, you name it. Brew it with intention, stir it clockwise using your dominant hand, and visualize it filling with energy as you do.

While this herb has a very pleasant, citrusy scent and has been used in perfumes in the past, this is no longer advised. Natural components of lemon verbena essential oil are photosensitizing. So, if you’re looking for something to add to, say, an anointing oil, maybe give lemon verbena oil a miss. It’s fine for aromatherapy uses, but shouldn’t be placed on skin. If you have sensitive skin, I’d avoid adding lemon verbena tea to ritual baths, too.

Bottles of oils on a wooden tray, set on a wooden counter in a very modern-looking bathroom. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

As a tropical plant, lemon verbena isn’t the easiest to grow outside of that zone. It seems to have limited invasive potential in most of the US because it doesn’t get very large here, doesn’t proliferate very readily, and dies at the first sign of a freeze. In warm, moist areas (like Florida, for example), lemon verbena has an easier time self-seeding and expanding via root suckers. Plant with caution.

Lemon verbena is a beautiful, interesting herb with some fascinating properties. It’s easy to come by anywhere teas or dried herbs are sold, and very easy to use. (Just don’t get the oil on your skin and then go in the sun!) For many modern magic practitioners and herbalists, it’s a staple ingredient that it always pays to have on hand.

Plants and Herbs · Witchcraft

Myrtle Folklore and Magical Properties

August 28, 2024August 28, 2024 J.Leave a comment

So, something funny happened.

Two years ago, I purchased a set of three elderberry starts. (Not quite saplings, since they were still very tiny.) I planted them, looked after them, and then pretty much let them do their thing once they got established. When I noticed buds on one, I was very excited — it was a little early for a baby elderberry to put out flowers, but so what? Elderberry flowers!

Except…

A close-up of a cluster of hot pink crepe myrtle/crape myrtle flowers.

Don’t get me wrong. They’re beautiful and vibrant. They’re just also extremely not elderberries.

Couldn’t be farther from elderberries, actually. This small tree is a stunning example of a Lagerstroemia — also known as the crape (or crepe, or crêpe) myrtle.

While I was looking forward to experiencing my first home-grown elderberries this year, I am willing to settle for a very pretty crape myrtle. This tree isn’t native to this area (in fact, there are no Lagerstroemia species native to the US), but it’s very common in the southeast and the seeds have become a food source for birds like goldfinches, cardinals, and dark-eyed juncos, among others. While I’m far more in favor of planting native plants, the fact that many native species of birds have shifted to using crape myrtle seeds as a winter food source is a very big (and legitimately fascinating) deal. If left unchecked, crape myrtles can produce a lot of seeds and will multiply prolifically. If native bird species are taking to crape myrtle seeds as a winter food source — and even seemingly preferring them to commercial bird seeds — that’s a good thing. It allows these birds to take the place of their natural predators and may keep volunteer crape myrtles from becoming a problem.

But enough about my myrtle problems. Here’s some more neat stuff about myrtles in general.

Myrtle Magical Uses and Folklore

Crape myrtles (Lagerstroemia) are native to parts of Asia, Australia, and the Indian subcontinent, and they’re somewhat distantly related to what we usually consider myrtles (Myrtus). Same with lemon myrtles (Backhousia citriodora), which are found in Australia.
Myrtus species can be found in the Mediterranean, western Asia, India, and northern Africa. Lagerstroemia, Backhousia, and Myrtus are genera in the order Myrtales.

There are also bog myrtles (Myrica gale), which are found pretty much anywhere in the northern hemisphere where you can find bogs, and bayberries (like Myrica pensylvanica, M. carolinensis, M. californica, and a whole bunch of others). These are wax myrtles, part of the order Fagales, and are actually more closely related to beech trees.
(Vinca, also known as “creeping myrtle” or “lesser periwinkle,” is not related to myrtles. It’s also a bit of an invasive nightmare here.)

For the purpose of this post, I’m going to focus on members of Myrtaceae.
(Wax myrtles, you’ll get your turn. Promise.)

A botanical illustration of Myrtus communis, the common myrtle. — n208_w1150 by BioDivLibrary is licensed under CC-PDM 1.0

Common myrtle (Myrtus communis) is used as a culinary herb and medicinal plant. Figs, threated onto a myrtle skewer and roasted, acquire a unique flavor from the essential oils present in the wood. The seeds, dried and ground, have an interesting, peppery flavor often used in sausages. As a medicinal plant, it’s been used to treat scalp and skin conditions, to stop bleeding, and to treat sinus problems. (Unfortunately, there’s limited evidence that myrtle really does much for that last one.)

Lemon myrtle (Backhousia citriodora) is also a culinary and medicinal plant. As a culinary herb, it’s used to flavor any dish you might flavor with lemon: desserts, fish, poultry, or pasta. It’s especially useful for flavoring dairy-based dishes, since the acidity of actual lemon juice tends to ruin the texture of milk products.
Medicinally, the oil has some pretty significant antimicrobial activity. The leaves themselves are also very relaxing.
(I’ve had the dried leaves in tea, where I find it really shines — it’s got a delightful citrusy flavor with a bright, subtly sweet taste, and it absolutely knocks me out.)

In ancient Greece, the myrtle tree was a sacred tree for Aphrodite and Demeter. Seeing one in a dream or vision was considered good luck if you were either a farmer or a woman. It was also connected to the minor deity Iacchus, for whom there isn’t really much information — he was often syncretized with Dionysus, and Dionysus was all about wreaths and garlands. He could also have been a son of Dionysus, a son of Demeter, or a son of Persephone.

There are also three ancient Greek origin stories for the common myrtle. In one, an athlete named Myrsine outdid all of her rivals. In retaliation, they killed her and the goddess Athena turned her into a beautiful myrtle tree. In another, a priestess of Aphrodite broke her vows to get married (either willingly or unwillingly, depending on the version). Aphrodite then turned her into a myrtle tree, either as a punishment (for willingly breaking her vows) or as protection (against the husband who abducted her to marry). In the third version, a nymph turned herself into a myrtle tree in order to avoid Apollo’s unwanted advances.

Pink crape myrtle flowers on the branch. — Photo by Griffin Wooldridge on Pexels.com

In Japan, crape myrtles are known as sarusuberi (百日紅). Their striking flowers are often found in traditional artwork and make very striking bonsai.

Crape myrtles don’t have much history in old grimoires or European magical systems, purely because they weren’t really around centuries ago. When you’re reading about largely European folk magic, ceremonial magic, mythologies, or herbal medicine, they’re going to be talking about Myrtus species, not Lagerstroemia. That said, crape myrtle flowers are associated with general positivity, love, and romance.

Lemon myrtles don’t have much history in European magical systems, either. Like crape myrtles, this doesn’t mean that they don’t have value. In modern western magic, lemon myrtle is usually considered a solar herb and all of its attributes: purification, positivity, luck, and protection.

As a plant of Aphrodite and Demeter, common myrtle makes a good offering for either of these deities. (This isn’t always the case — sometimes, when a plant is sacred to a god, it means don’t touch that plant.) Since these goddesses are shown wearing wreaths of myrtle, it’s not a terrible idea to weave a myrtle wreath and either wear it while doing devotional work, or place it as an offering to one of them.

A hand holding a sprig of myrtle, showing the plant's leaves and berries. — Photo by Furkan Films on Pexels.com

Common myrtle is also very strongly associated with love and marriage. In Eastern Europe, myrtle wreaths were held over the heads of a marrying couple (now, people use crowns instead). All the way across the sea, in Appalachia, one method of love divination involves throwing a sprig of myrtle into a fire. If you watch the smoke closely, it’s said to form the shape of your true love’s face.

Myrtle is more than a love and marriage herb, however. It’s also considered protective. As mentioned in myrtle’s Greek origin stories, two of them describe women turning (or being turned) into myrtle trees in order to escape men. In England, it was also thought that blackbirds used myrtle trees to protect themselves against malevolent sorcery.

Common myrtle is associated with Venus and the Moon. Lemon myrtle is associated with the Sun.

Using Myrtle

If you have access to dried common or lemon myrtle as a culinary spice, you’re in luck — these are ideal ingredients for kitchen witchery. Combine them with other ingredients that match your intention (for example, make a delectable chamomile and lemon myrtle tea for luck, just be ready for a nap first), ask the herbs for their help, and you’re good to go.

Lemon and common myrtles have a high concentration of essential oils, so they’re good for infusing. Place some of the dried leaves in a carrier oil, like sweet almond or jojoba, and allow them to sit in a warm, dark area. Shake them regularly, and decant or strain the oil after a month or so. You’ve made an oil you can use for anointing, dressing candles, you name it.

If you want to use common myrtle for love divination, brew a cup of myrtle tea and read the leaves. You can also toss a branch of fresh myrtle into a fire and read the smoke.

I wouldn’t recommend planting myrtle trees if you live outside of their native range, but, if you’re in the southeastern US like me, you probably have access to loads of them anyway. You can find lemon myrtle in tea and spice shops. Same with common myrtle. Crape myrtle grows by the roadsides here as a landscaping plant. (If you’re me, you might even think you’re planting an elderberry start and end up with a crape myrtle instead!)

Even if you can’t grow myrtles yourself, I recommend experiencing their delightful colors, flavors, and aromas at least once. Each myrtle species and relative has their own fascinating folklore and history of use,

Plants and Herbs

Ivy Folklore and Magical Properties

August 21, 2024August 20, 2024 J.1 Comment

Ah, ivy.

In the US, few outdoor plants are as divisive. There’s the very romantic ideal of an old, ivy-covered brick building in the Northeastern US, but also English ivy is invasive here. It’s a low-maintenance ground cover, but will also crowd out just about everything.

I wrote about vines in general a little bit ago. As I write this, I’ve just come back indoors from taking a walk around the yard and checking on how my plants’re doing. I was scoping out the raspberry canes when what to my wondering eyes should appear by a sneaky tendril of English ivy, creeping its way under the deck. With those two things in mind, I figured now might be a good time to do a deeper dive into one very specific vine: Ivy.

Ivy Magical Uses and Folklore

The ivies make up the genus Hedera. There are 12-15 distinct species within this genus, all native to Europe, eastward to Asia, and southward to northern Africa. The one that most English-speaking people think of when they hear the word “ivy” is common or English ivy, Hedera helix. (Pothos, Epipremnum aureum, is sometimes called “devil’s ivy” but is not related to Hedera. Neither is poison ivy, genus Toxicodendron.)

A dense growth of ivy covers a wall, surrounding a green door. — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In the Ogham alphabet, the few ᚌ (gort) is said to represent ivy. The Bríatharogaim for gort is “sweetest grass,” “suitable place for cows,” and “sating of multitudes.” The word “gort” also stems from a Proto-Indo-European root meaning “enclosure.” Some Ogham readers interpret gort as “field,” rather than “ivy,” which seems to be closer to its traditional sense. When the Ogham is conceptualized as a purely tree alphabet, gort becomes ivy. This few is associated with growth, prosperity, and the winding path toward enlightenment. On the flip side, it’s also connected to the word “gorta,” meaning “hunger” or “famine.”

In Irish folk stories, ivy is often described as surrounding the entrances of caves or secret doorways. Interestingly, in this context ivy is concealing these entrances from the outside world — either as a narrative flourish to give the text some more flavor, or as a deliberate guardian and barrier between the Otherworld and this one. In some tales, ivy is a protective plant against the fae.

In ancient Greece, ivy was connected to the God of wine, frenzy, and agriculture, Dionysus. He’s often pictured with a crown of ivy as a representation of his exalted and immortal status. In one tale, it’s said that he wore an ivy wreath to curb the effects of drinking wine — while grapes are a summer vine, ivy is a cooling, wintery evergreen. Thalia, the muse of comedy, was also depicted as wearing an ivy crown.

In Egypt, ivy was a sacred plant to Osiris. Similarly to Dionysus, ivy was connected to the concepts of immortality and rebirth.

The idea of buildings covered in ivy comes from the belief that this plant could protect one’s home and family from evil, as well as bring in good luck. This belief is also where ivy door wreaths come from.

While people often overstate the effectiveness of using indoor plants to remove pollutants from the air, research has shown that ivy may help reduce numbers of airborne mold spores. More study is needed to determine how effective this would be in the average home, as well as how many plants it’d take to cause an appreciable drop in mold spores.

English ivy is considered toxic, and consumption can cause gastric upset, pain, and vomiting. Some people are allergic to ivy, and may experience severe reactions. That said, this plant has historically been used medicinally to treat respiratory issues and extracts can still be found in some modern cold and cough remedies.

As an evergreen, ivy is often used for decoration during the winter holidays. It has a perpetual connection to the sun and springtime since it never loses its color, even during the depths of winter.

Magically, this plant is associated with fertility, abundance, protection, and good fortune. Some also use it to enhance divination or improve psychic abilities.

Using Ivy

If you’re in the US, do not grow English ivy outdoors. If you’re going to grow it, pot it and keep it inside. While English ivy can be controlled with careful pruning, it can easily get out of hand and grow prolifically enough to starve and weaken trees by weighing down their limbs and blocking sunlight from reaching their leaves. It also has a habit of escaping and ending up where there isn’t anyone around to keep it pruned, damaging native forests. IWithin its native range, ivy provides food, shelter, and an increase in the biodiversity of forests. Outside of that range, it is mainly a way to slowly kill trees and turn every available surface into more ivy.

If you really, really want to grow ivy in your garden, look for varieties that are considered non-invasive where you live.

Historically, the easiest ways to use ivy have been to have it near or on your front door, or even just to wear or carry a sprig. You could do this by tucking a fresh sprig in a pocket, a buttonhole, or even a hair clip whenever you go to do something that requires some extra luck and protection.

Traditionally, ivy was used to protect against supernatural entities and malevolent witchcraft. This makes it a good candidate for including in any spells, jars, or sachets intended to break or protect against hexes, jinxes, or curses.

If you do decide to keep English ivy in your home, whether live and potted or fashioned into a wreath or garland, keep it away from pets. While it does have medicinal properties, this is only when properly prepared by a skilled herbal practitioner. Otherwise, it’s considered toxic to dogs, cats, and humans.

Ivy is a beautiful little plant with a long history of symbolism behind it. As with many plants of considerable power, it needs to be treated responsibly — stay mindful of ivy’s place in (or outside of) your local environment and build a relationship with it accordingly. Whether you’re able to safely grow ivy outside, or must keep it confined to a pot indoors, this plant is a very handy and capable magical ally.

Plants and Herbs

Mugwort Folklore and Magical Properties

August 7, 2024August 6, 2024 J.2 Comments

The other day, after attending the drum class I wrote about yesterday, I was waiting in the herb shop to stock up on some things I need for teas, oils, and the like. I overheard the customer in front of me talking about mugwort, and, since it’s an herb I use often, I maybe kind of eavesdropped a little bit. What followed was a really interesting conversation about herbs, dreams, lucid dreaming, dream recall, and trance work.

It was so nice to get to talk about herbs with someone outside of a purely medicinal context, that I figured that this was a good week to talk about one of my absolute favorite plants: mugwort.
(And, if you were that person, I’m so sorry for being an eavesdropping weirdo but I also had a really fun time talking to you about herbs.)

Mugwort Magical Uses and Folklore

An old statue depicting Artemis alongside a stag. — Photo by V Marin on Pexels.com

Okay, I know the name “mugwort” leaves a bit to be desired in English — it’s not exactly the most phonetically pleasing word — but its scientific name is rather beautiful: Artemisia vulgaris. The “vulgaris” in this instance means “common,” like the “wort” in “mugwort” roughly translating to “plant.” Mugwort is a very interesting, very magical, and very common plant.
The “mug” in mugwort may come from its use as an insect-repelling herb. The Old English word “mygg” is where we get the modern word “midge.” Another possibility is from its use as a flavoring herb in brewing. The “Artemisia” in Artemisia vulgaris, naturally, comes from the lunar and woodland goddess Artemis.

Mugwort was an important herb to the ancient Greeks and Romans. Soldiers and travelers would place sprigs of it into their shoes, in order to ward off fatigue.

Mugwort is very commonly included in herbal blends for dreams, psychic abilities, divination, cleansing, protection, and banishing. Like so many other herbs that are used for cleansing and banishing, this may stem from mugwort’s use as a pest repellent — it can literally banish the evils of disease brought by insects, ergo it must be useful against other evils as well. (See also: Pennyroyal.)

In Christian mythology, mugwort is associated with John the Baptist. It’s said that he carried mugwort with him to ward off evil. As a result, people would wear garlands of the herb on St. John’s Day (June 24th) and toss them into fires to ensure protection for the next year.

In some shamanic practices, mugwort is a representation of ancient wisdom. This plant is often visualized as a kind of crone figure, and used to facilitate a connection to ancestors.

A close-up of a young sprig of mugwort. — Photo by Lauri Poldre on Pexels.com

Medicinally, mugwort was (and often still is) used to help ease difficult periods, treat menstrual irregularity, and as a mild pain reliever and anti-inflammatory. Mugwort is also used in the acupuncture practice of moxibustion, in which pieces of mugwort are placed at the end of acupuncture needles and burned.

Mugwort is also part of the Nine Herbs Charm according to one source, along with plantain, lamb’s cress, fumitory, chamomile, nettle, crab apple, chervil, and fennel. In this charm, mugwort is honored as the “oldest of plants,” strong against both poison and an unnamed force that travels the land. (This may be either a personification of evil, a venomous serpent, or a specific disease, but it’s referred to simply as “the loathsome thing.”)
The Nine Herbs Charm is a beautiful piece of poetry that combines Pagan and later Christian influences in a way that passes down important medical knowledge. The charm concludes with the recipe for a healing salve made by powdering the herbs, mixing them with old soap, mixing this with lye to make a paste, and combining it with boiled fennel. The charm is sung several times during the process — three times to each herb, then over the patient’s mouth, ears, and the wound being treated.
This is not only a magical consideration, but a practical one as well. It’s considered important to declare one’s intentions in adding an herb to a magical mixture, but the number of times the incantation is sung may correspond to how long it takes to powder and mix everything correctly. Singing it once while powdering an herb, for example, may yield a coarse consistency that doesn’t properly blend. Singing it three times, on the other hand, gives you the exact length of time needed to properly powder and mix the herbs. It’s like having a portable kitchen timer that not only tells you the recipe, it tells you what each ingredient is for and makes sure you do it right.

Mugwort was also used like hops before hops were a thing in brewing. Hops didn’t really achieve widespread use until the 15th century — before that, brewers used mugwort. It’s still used in food and teas for its unique flavor, which is like a bit astringent and savory, with a really interesting resinous character. Kind of like a mix between celery, mint, and eucalyptus.

Using Mugwort

While mugwort isn’t native to the US, it’s not exactly hard to find here, either. It does have a number of lookalikes, so you’ll want to get the help of a seasoned forager to make sure that you’re correctly IDing it. Start by looking for it in ditches, by roadsides, fields, and other places where the ground has been disturbed.
(Of course, if you’re foraging mugwort in order to consume it internally, avoid any that’s growing within ten feet of a roadside. In general, it’s better to avoid foraging near roadsides at all because the soil and plants there are contaminated by vehicular pollution. Leaving the plants in place ensures that you’re not consuming any of this pollution, and also allows them to remain and continue bioremediation.)

A large clump of mugwort, absolutely thriving next to a drainage ditch full of water. — Mugwort growing beside a drainage ditch in the Norton Marshes by Evelyn Simak is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

Of course, as with many other plants, I advocate for growing mugwort if you want to develop a relationship with it. However, if you’re in the US or another area where mugwort is a problem, I recommend either growing it in containers, or trying a related native species. (Like Artemisia douglasiana, California mugwort, in the western US.)
If you’re looking for mugwort’s medicinal properties, stick with A. vulgaris or other Artemisia species specifically used in herbal medicine. Different species may not have the same active compounds in the same concentrations, and some may even have some not-very-desirable qualities as well.

An old botanical illustration of a member of Artemisia. — The “Absinthe” on this illustration suggests wormword, Artemisia absinthum. However, the pointy leaves with green tops and silver undersides indicate mugwort.

Once you have some, using it is pretty easy:

Dry the leaves and add them to dream pillows along with herbs like lavender or chamomile. Squeeze the pillow and inhale the scent before dropping off to sleep.
Add dried mugwort to incense and light it before card reading, scrying, or other forms of divination.
Powder it fine and combine it with protective herbs, then sprinkle them in the corners of your home or around the border of your property.
Rub fresh mugwort on a black candle and burn it to banish a person, entity, or situation.
Dry whole sprigs of mugwort, tie them into bundles either alone or with other cleansing herbs, and burn to purify spaces and prepare them for ritual work.

You can consume mugwort as a tea or flavoring agent in breads, soups, poultry dishes, or beverages. However, high consumption of this herb does come with some unpleasant side effects like muscle spasms. If you’re looking to tap into mugwort’s psychic, trance, or dream benefits, you should still avoid consuming more than you’d normally get in an herbal tea, and avoid doing so for more than two weeks at a time. More isn’t always better.

If you’re pregnant or seeking to become so, avoid consuming mugwort. One of its chief medicinal uses has been to treat menstrual irregularity by stimulating uterine contractions. So, unless a qualified herbal practitioner says to use it, it’s best to avoid mugwort in these situations.

The mugwort of European folklore may not be from the US, but its invasive and resilient nature means that its probably here to stay. If you want to enjoy the long magical, mythological, culinary, and medicinal history of this herb, I recommend growing it in a container or purchasing the pre-dried herb to add to teas, incenses, sachets, or other preparations.