life

How to Protect Your Magical Stuff

About a week or so ago, I got a lovely message from someone who I wasn’t able to email back. In it, they asked if this site functioned as a kind of grimoire for me, and, if not, if I had any charms for protecting a hard copy grimoire or other magical text.

To the first point, I wouldn’t say that this site is really a grimoire for me personally. Right now, I have a pretty solid background in magical techniques and a running list of go-to ingredients to be able to do what I need to do on the fly. Magic in Druidry also tends to have a different emphasis than witchcraft and folk magic. I mostly keep this site because I have fun writing about folklore and exploring the connections between old beliefs, way-less-old traditions, and modern science.

I do have a small notebook and couple of pages in a notes app that I use for working out recipes. This is for when I’m working on a specific brew, incense, or oil and need to take notes.

As far as protecting things goes, this can be very important. I grew up in an abusive household headed by someone who went from staunch Catholic to American Evangelical, with all of the emphasis on fear, the End Times, and absolutely everything being Satanic. Every few months was another sign of the Apocalypse and a miniature Satanic panic. It was exhausting. The psychological aftermath of it is still exhausting.

Fortunately, there are a lot of ways you can protect yourself and your materials if you’re in a situation where you need to.

I’ll be honest, I’m not super into protection charms for hiding objects. I don’t have a real reason why, other than that I like to rely on more mundane means first. Still, a short, sweet protection charm, when slapped on over several other layers of security, can certainly be a welcome addition.

The easiest protection charm is an old Wiccan bit I picked up ages ago. It’s succinct, it’s simple, and it’s nice as an added layer on top of mundane infosec.

  1. Place the object in front of you.
  2. Hold your dominant hand over it.
  3. Channeling your energy into your hand, send it down into the object.
  4. Trace a pentagram over the object.
  5. Say, “With this pentagram, I lay protection here both night and day. And the one who should not touch, let their fingers burn and twitch. This is my will, so it will be.”
    (The original contained the line, “I now invoke the Rule of Three. This is my will, so mote it be.” I leave most of that out, as the Rule of Three doesn’t actually have any meaning in my tradition.)

Whatever you do, don’t just look up lists of “protection herbs” and throw a bunch of them together. Lists of magical correspondences are useful for some things, but every herb has a folkloric and often medical or scientific basis for its use. Carraway seed, for example, is usually invoked for protection against theft and loss. Good for keeping chickens and such from wandering off, not so much for keeping someone from reading your diary.

Also, the presence of these herbs may be a tip-off. Most regular notebooks don’t come dusted with a generous helping of bindweed and St. John’s wort.

Magical alphabets are writing systems that are sometimes said to have a unique power of their own but also function as cyphers. Some of them are 1-to-1 swaps for the Latin alphabet. Someone who isn’t well-versed in them would have no idea what they say and, even if they had an inkling, they’d have to find the right alphabet and painstakingly translate letter by letter.

You want to create something that an interloper wouldn’t be able to immediately decipher? A magical alphabet is your friend.

Magical alphabets can also be used to hide things in plain sight. Get a sketchbook, memorize a magical alphabet (or create your own cipher), and draw something. Anything. Write the information you want to record in your cipher or magical alphabet, incorporating it into the drawing or background. At most, it’ll look like asemic writing.

If you can’t have a handwritten magical text, the next best bet is to go online and start stashing stuff in weird places.

If you have an email address or app, start writing an email. Don’t send it. Let it stay in your “Drafts” folder. Use it to save whatever information is important for you.

Open up Notepad, Wordpad, or something like it. Write strings of gibberish and symbols. In the middle, write the information that you need to save. If possible, change the font to Wingdings. Save the file as something innocuous, preferably stashed in a program file somewhere on your computer. Few people are going to bother hunting for occult secrets in “Sims 4 > Mods > earringconfig.txt.”

Even better, set it to be “hidden,” stick it in a ZIP file and encrypt it, or password-protect it.

You can also start a free blog on something like tumblr, Blogger, or WordPress. Don’t access it through an app that you need to download, use the site’s interface instead. Don’t use a URL or username that you use anywhere else, especially not your actual name or birthdate. (For best results, use a common word you’d find in the dictionary. It’ll obfuscate your stuff in search engine results.) If you can, password protect it or mark it as private. Use that to organize whatever information you need. Clear your browsing history after each time you update it, and don’t save your login information to your computer or phone.

If you have an altar space or tools that you want to protect, do like the old heads did: Use the most mundane stuff imaginable.

I’m talking a stone to represent the Earth (or the pentacle, if that’s your jam). A mug, cup, or jar for a chalice. Your hand for a wand or athame. A scented candle (even if its unlit) for Fire or the hearth. A bud vase of flowers for the Tree.
(Of course, your tradition/path may call for all, none, or more of this, but you get the idea.)

The principle here is to strip everything down to its most basic. A fancy altar with a cloth embroidered with occult symbols, a towering pillar candle, a chalice, a ritual sword, a staff, and a cauldron is going to attract attention. A windowsill with a tea light, a bud vase, and a rock, not so much.

There’s an old trick that won’t exactly protect a book or small box of objects but can tell you when someone’s been snooping.

If you have long hair, pull out a single strand. Tie it around the book or box. It’s inconspicuous but will easily break when someone tries to go through your stuff. If you go back and your hair is no longer there, you know someone has read your grimoire or gone through your things.

There are some who’ll probably say, “But J., you’ve just told people how to find all of our secrets!” I don’t really think this will be the case, especially if you use several measures at once — save part of what you want to save in an email Draft, another part in an innocuous file, and another in a drawing. Even if one part gets found out, you can still maintain plausible deniability.

Having to protect yourself, your stuff, and your desire to learn is a pain. It’s demoralizing and disheartening. Unfortunately, it’s also sometimes necessary. If you have secrets you need to keep, it’s better to pile on both magical and mundane measures to make sure your stuff stays safe.

life · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

A very happy Samhain!

Despite popular depictions of Samhain/Halloween, it’s not really a major holiday for me in a religious sense. It’s more or less New Year’s. There are some events here and there — workshops on ancestor veneration, dumb suppers, and such — but it’s not quite as big for me as the solstices and equinoxes are (especially Mabon).

This year, we had tentative plans to have dinner and watch movies with friends, but that fell through. Instead, it was handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, doing small, homey things, and holding a spirit feast.

Elegant dinner table with floral centerpiece
Photo by Alina Skazka on Pexels.com

Dumb suppers are a traditional way to celebrate Samhain and involve sharing a meal in silence with the ancestors. Spirit feasts are a bit different — they’re not necessarily silent, and there are a lot more invitations to go around.

Dumb suppers tap into a kind of sacred silence that’s part mourning, part veneration, part listening and being receptive. The intention is to pay attention to the spirits of the ancestors, rather than the noise of living beings. Sometimes, people use this as a time for divination by listening for the voices of the dead.

Close up photograph of two lit sticks of incense.
Photo by Abhas Jaiswal on Pexels.com

When I conduct a spirit feast, on the other hand, it’s more like a party. Deities, spirits of nature, spirits to whom I may owe a debt, and spirits of ancestors (blood-related or otherwise) are all invited. I may offer food (this year, for example was fresh-baked biscuits with peach honey butter). I usually also offer incense, candles, liquor, tea, flowers, honey, and/or perfume. I play music (usually the lyre or dulcimer guitar). I read poetry. I tell stories or jokes. I put new artwork on my altar.

The atmosphere and focus are a bit different. It’s less about communing with the dead, and more about offering the best of what I have to all of the people, animals, plants, elements, places, and gods that have made me who I am.

I do this year-round, but Samhain makes it a bit more special.
Plus, it’s easier for everyone to attend.

This year, I’m honestly looking forward to winter. I have a lot of small-scale stuff to do to prepare for spring and summer, and I’m excited to get to it. I have art to make, wood to prepare for wands, trees to prune, and areas of the garden to set up for vegetable and herb beds. Honestly, I’m almost more eager to do that than I am to see the payoff later on.

I’ve built up a pretty good stock of art, wands, and jewelry. I’m starting to study incense making and botanical perfumery. I’m super stoked to find actual markets to vend at next year, so I can expand beyond just selling things online. It’s a little scary, but even more exciting.

No matter whether you celebrate Samhain or not, here’s hoping all of you have had a peaceful, happy October 31st and are looking forward to the months ahead!

animals · life

Pagan Pride 2024! (In which I meet some very handsome lads.)

This past Saturday was Pagan Pride at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick. If you’ve never been, I highly recommend it — there’s live music, workshops on a variety of subjects, food, and tons of vendors of all kinds of cool stuff!

(I, personally, came away with a mug, some artwork, a mushroom-shaped incense holder, a pin, a set of earrings, dried organic lavender, magnesium butter, a really cool jar shaped like a skull, a hand-dyed and block printed bandana, and a display of a mossy log set with three corked test tubes. The stump in the front yard has been putting out a ton of interesting mushrooms lately, and I’ve been dehydrating what I can identify. I’m looking forward to displaying them once they’re done!)

This year, I decided to skip the workshops in favor of hanging out with friends (actually, many of the friends that I just saw at the Mabon celebration), listening to music, and eating delicious sorbet. The Street Cow‘s Cowabunga sorbet pop is non-dairy, real fruit puree, and awesome.

An image of a series of moon-shaped suncatchers. They're all made of copper wire, decorated with gemstones, brass charms, and crystals.

Also, I met some very handsome lads.

This is Spectre.

An image of a snowy owl, with his beak agape.
Spectre is fine, it was just toasty out and he is a young boy who is very excited to see new things.

He was part of Avian Encounters, a group of falconers who provide people with the chance to learn about and see raptors close up. These are all trained birds, kept by licensed professionals who know how to properly feed, care for, and mentally engage them. Getting to see birds like this up close is a rare and fascinating experience.

They also had a little screech owl, an American kestrel…

And (oh, be still my heart) a gorgeous African pied crow.

A close up of an African pied crow, showing their distinctive white chests and backs. They look like black crows that are constantly wearing little white sweater vests.

“May I take a picture of him?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.

“Sure! If you make a donation, you can also hold him and take a picture.”

!!!!

A photo of the author with the pied crow perched on their arm.

Needless to say, I did. He sat still for a short video (the picture to the right is a still), before hopping back to his handler. The whole time, I gushed to him (like a starstruck dork) about how pretty he is.

Human celebrities are all well and good (I saw one of my favorite musicians not long ago and managed to be surprisingly normal about it). A really cool bird or bug, though? I will absolutely lose my mind.

Pagan Pride is delightful every year, but this year was particularly special. I really hope Avian Encounters is there next year, too — the birds are all beautiful, alert, and well cared-for, and it’s a great opportunity to learn more about them and get some close-up reference photos for paintings.

life · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Mabon 2024

This past weekend was the Mabon camping trip! My Handsome Assistant and I are part of a local Druidry group, and that group teams up with another Pagan group to go have a fantastic time in the woods.

(If you aren’t sure what Mabon is, here is a brief rundown.)

There’s food (lots of food), singing, stories, rituals, and catching up with friends, all set in a beautiful forest. Last year, things got a bit cold and damp. This year, the weather was better, and my Assistant and I knew what to expect. We were more thoroughly prepared (air mattress, extra blankets and sleeping bags, extra dishes, a solar powered fan), so it made for a much more comfortable trip.

The rain also stayed away just long enough for the weekend’s rituals, which was very important.

A close-up of some very pretty lichen, growing in a bed of moss.
Fortunately, there was just enough rain to make the mosses and lichens really pop.

Earlier, during the Midsummer goods and gear swap, a couple of us floated the idea of having a masquerade party. It wasn’t a serious plan at the time — mainly a “this would be really cool” kind of thing. Later, during a planning Zoom call, I mentioned that some of us thought a masquerade would be really neat. Maybe for Samhain?

One of the group’s Stewards knew of a ritual that involved masking — the Council of All Beings. Another person found chants that suited the occasion. Another wrote the transitions and spoken parts of the ritual structure. By the end, it was a beautiful, adaptable, and powerfully creative work.

Some people came to the trip prepared, already knowing which being they’d embody, having a mask or costume, and knowing exactly what they wanted to say. Others took time in the woods or labyrinth, waiting to see what reached out to them and asked to be represented. I’d gotten some inspiration a while before Mabon, so I was all set to go.

A photo of a labyrinth in a forest. The labyrinth is made up of stones, set in a spiraling pattern in a clearing.

The ritual itself was wonderful. The masks were gorgeous, and seeing what kind of entities inspired/spoke through people was fascinating. Some represented a specific organism — like the critically endangered regent honeyeater. Others represented a genus or type of being, like moths, small snakes, or coral. Others represented something broader, like smoke or the sun. Some were natural features, like the bedrock or an underground spring. There were representations from a variety of cultures and cosmologies, all brought together to express themselves through us. I loved it.

(I was the necrobiome, aka all of the little guys that dispose of trash and dead things. I had some trouble figuring out how to express “a tiny ecosystem of various bacteria, fungi, insects, and scavengers” through a mask, so I ended up settling on a skeletal deer mask instead. The presence of decomposition bacteria and fungi was somewhat implied.)

A humanoid figure in a forest. The figure is standing with their arms at their sides, staring directly at the camera. They are wearing gray boots, bandages around both hands, and a black shroud that covers them from their head down to their knees. They are also wearing a deer's skull as a mask, over the shroud. 
The photo also appears to be glitchy, with smeared areas and light leaks.
My Handsome Assistant took some photos of me all dressed up. I used them for some little analog horror-style photo manips, and I’ll be honest… this one really makes me want to go ominously photobomb strangers.

We also had an icebreaking and learning exercise called Birds of a Feather, where we wore small tags labeled with subjects we wanted to talk about — either things we found interesting and were well versed in already, or stuff we wanted to learn. It sparked a lot of very interesting conversations!

There was also a chants workshop, where a group of us got together to try various chanting techniques and see how they felt both through our own voices and hearing them in a group. (Some of the non-verbal chants, I thought, felt especially powerful. I love exploring and working with different sonic frequencies, so feeling and participating in chants that ran the gamut from “results in full-body tingles” to “surprisingly like the drone of a titanic beehive” was particularly fascinating.)

One group member also gave a talk about spiritual experiences at various megaliths in Ireland. Both my Assistant and I found it really interesting — enough to where he’s sincerely trying to figure out how to create some form of mobile hyperbaric compression chamber so I can get on a plane without Problems.

And then there was food.
(So much food.)
Every meal was a potluck, and there was something for everyone. Vegan, vegetarian, carnivore, gluten-free, nut-free. There was fresh fruit, Koren barbecue ribs, vegan fennel and garlic sausages, fresh bread, pudding made from foraged pawpaws, homebrewed peach mead, vegetable soup made from home-grown vegetables, curried chickpea salad, and a ton of other things I’m probably forgetting.
I ate like a combination of a Redwall character and some kind of Roman emperor all weekend, and it was delightful.
(My Handsome Assistant jokes that he puts on five pounds over Mabon, then spends the rest of the year losing it.)

I also stayed up way too late every night, mostly sitting around the fire hearing/telling stories, talking about things, and having the occasional smoke. This came back to bite me on Saturday, when I set an alarm to wake up, realized I had a terrible headache, and decided to sleep in. This would have meant that I’d miss the Equinox ritual Saturday morning, fortunately my Assistant and I had accidentally set up our tent right next to the ritual area.
I heard the drums going, bolted upright, wrapped myself in a blanket, and poked my head through the tent flap to watch.
It worked out okay until the calling of the quarters got to the South, which meant that everyone turned to face me, who was currently sitting due south and staring out of my tent like some kind of small cryptid. (I kind of slowly retreated behind my tent flap again until that part was over, Homer-Simpson-backing-into-a-bush style.)

So, while I am glad to be home again, I’m sad Mabon’s over. I’ll see (almost) everyone soon, but man do I miss that vibe.

life · Neodruidry

How is everyone so good and cool?

This past weekend was the yearly Goods and Gear Swap. The Druidry group that I’m part of does one every June — we get together, bring songs, poems, stories, and food to share, and find new homes for things. Every year, I come back with plants, books, you name it.

It’s also a lovely way to connect with people in a not-strictly-ritual setting. Sure, this gathering has some ritual elements since it’s Midsummer, like the opening of the bardic circle, but it’s mostly a way to catch up and eat excellent food.

I admit, lately I’ve been having an antisocial streak. Maybe it’s from doomscrolling, maybe it’s the beginnings of an ennui, I don’t know. I just know that I’ve been feeling more and more at home when I eat breakfast with the crows in the yard, and more and more on edge around other human beings. This year’s Goods and Gear Swap did a lot to help pull me out of it.

It made me realize just how fortunate I am to know such talented, smart, funny, genuinely cool people. Every conversation I had was interesting and validating, from stuff about gardening, to stuff about spiritual practices. People sang. Read poems (either ones by other authors, or ones they wrote themselves). Told stories. Played instruments. We shared food. We swapped books, plants we’d grown, things we’d made. It was an excellent antidote to the doomscrolling and general people fatigue I’d been feeling.

I came away with several fascinating books, two dragonfruit plants, some camping supplies, and a ukulele. Though it was only one afternoon, I feel recharged, in a way — inspired, energized, full of ideas for my art and my garden.

Here’s hoping this season is treating you well, too.

life

On the importance of the Third Place.

There’s a concept called the “third place.”

This is a place where people congregate, distinct from their homes and workplaces (first and second place, respectively). This can be a pub, or a community center, or a church, or salons and barber shops.

For much of the Pagan community, metaphysical shops hold the distinction of “third place.” They’re more than a place to buy candles and incense. They’re where you attend events. Classes. Opportunities to socialize with and learn from other people like you. A place to find community.

A picture of a tranquil stream wending through a forest.
I’m fortunate in that, as part of a group of Druids, many of my community meeting spaces are forests. Even so, natural meeting spaces can be taken away, too. Photo by Ian Turnell on Pexels.com

Not long ago, I found out about the closing of a metaphysical shop near me which I loved dearly. A week or two ago, I found out about the closing of another. The owners had been looking to retire and sell their business, but the ownership of their location changed hands. The new owner opted not to renew their lease, leaving them without much choice other than to close the business.

A lot of metaphysical business owners and event coordinators are older, and there haven’t yet been enough people to take their place. I wish I could, but money is often the obstacle to doing so. I’ve donated money to ongoing efforts, supported businesses, reached out to figure out what I could do as far as vending, teaching, or anything else, but the problem is usually much, much bigger than I am.
Every time we lose a shop, a group, or a festival, it’s like losing a friend.

Whether you’re Pagan or not, the third place is important. For many people, it’s life- and mental health-sustaining. Don’t take your third place for granted — there are a lot of things that can take it from you. Support the local businesses that matter to you, even if they’re more expensive than big box stores. Attend community events. If you have a skill or craft to share, see what you can do to become a part of things. If you have the means, consider creating or contributing to a third place for your people.

Sacred Circle, in Alexandria, VA, will be closing at the end of the month. In the meantime, they’re having a sale with deep discounts on everything. Books, journals, candles, herbs, crystals, musical instruments, you name it.

Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Beltane with Frederick CUUPs

This past Saturday, my Handsome Assistant and I went to celebrate the first of the fire festivals with the Congregation of Unitarian Universalist Pagans. It was a bit rainy, so outdoor bonfires were out, but they managed to make even an indoor-only Beltane a ton of fun!

There was lots of food, drumming, dancing, and a maypole. When we arrived, we were asked to write a message on two pieces of ribbon — one was a wish for ourselves, the wider community, or the world. The other was a specific wish for an anonymous person in the community.

The first ribbon was tied to the longer ribbons streaming down the maypole. The as the dancers dipped and wove around each other, these ribbons were all beautifully interwoven together in a powerful representation of community, togetherness, and cooperation.

A different maypole, pre-dancing. Photo by Sandeep u2736 on Pexels.com

The second ribbon was placed in a basket, for another attendee to select at random. (The one I picked simply said “joy,” which is a succinct and delightful thing to wish for another person. I tied it to my backpack, and it makes me smile every time I see it. Sure, the person who wrote it doesn’t know me, and the wish wasn’t for me in particular, but the idea that someone out there hopes that a stranger is happy is still a sweet notion.)

I also brought my big tongue drum. I wasn’t sure how it’d fit with the rest of the percussion, but it was fine. A bit challenging to keep up the tempo of the drumming, since tongue drum notes are meant to be sustained, and not very loud, but still lots of fun to play — and my first time playing it at a public event.

I danced a little in the beginning but couldn’t really take part in the maypole dancing. I’m still coming off of spraining my ankle, and, with everything else this weekend held, I knew I had to pick my battles. So, drumming and socializing it was!

After the ritual, I was carrying my drum back to the car when I was sidetracked by an adorable tiny child in a skeleton costume. Said tiny child came up and began bapping at the top of the drum, in the absolutely fearless and unselfconscious way of tiny childs, so I set it down on the floor, sat next to them, and let them play. I showed them how the small metal tongues make the high notes, and the larger ones make the low, and they seemed to have a blast making all kinds of sounds.

The ritual was beautiful, the drumming was high-energy and exciting, and everyone there was delightful and welcoming. It was great to see friends I hadn’t seen in some time (some since the Mabon camping trip) and make new ones. 🧡

life · Neodruidry

Happy Spring Equinox!

Hello! It’s Tuesday. It’s also the Equinox, Alban Eilir, or, in some traditions, Ostara. (Unless you’re in the southern hemisphere, in which case: Happy Mabon!) This is essentially the second part of the celebrations of spring: Imbolc, the Equinox, and Beltane. If Imbolc is when spring wakes up, the Equinox is when it really gets going, and Beltane is the height of its strength.

Since it’s Tuesday, our celebrations this year are small. There’s a bigger ritual and feast planned for this weekend, but this weekend’s also likely to be very cold and rainy. Appropriate for early spring, but it does nonetheless put a damper on being outside. (⍩)

Many different colors and varieties of daffodils and tulips.
Photo by Vural Yavas on Pexels.com

As you read this, my Handsome Assistant and I will be replanting a rose bush. It’s a lovely bush with bright pink flowers, and I pruned it quite a bit to get rid of the crossed branches and dead wood. We’re moving it to the back yard, between the raspberries and the Carolina allspice sapling. That area gets tons of sun and, since the yard is essentially a hill, could use more plants to help absorb rainfall and keep everything in place.

I’m also planting some arugula and extra peas in the raised vegetable bed. I planted plenty of peas in containers, and they’re growing well already, but I’ve still got lots to use! The arugula came as a gift from an Etsy seller, secreted away inside a package with a beautiful vintage linen shirt. (This is part of why I love Etsy and indie sellers in general — I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten vegetable seeds, small crystals, stickers, or other fun things with orders.)

We’re also sifting through compost. Our tumbler is black and in a sunny area, so, between the solar radiation outside and the heat of biological activity inside, it fortunately manages to stay plenty warm all year round. It’s a good time to sort through, separate the finished compost from the still-composting scraps, and put it away for use in the near future.

A close up of a branch covered in pink cherry blossoms.
Photo by Anelia on Pexels.com

Otherwise, it’s time to air out the house some more, bring in fresh spring flowers, give all of the windows and linens a good wash, and use up the last of the food that was stored for winter.

This year, I’d like to honor Fliodhais. She’s an Irish Goddess of cattle and fertility, though, in the recent past, she was mistaken for a forest deity as well. I don’t have cattle, and I don’t drink milk, but some fertility could certainly help my garden right now. I’d also love to see the crows and other birds bring their babies back! There’s whiskey in the chalice, seeds for new growth, and blessed incense to release into the air.

Whether you celebrate this High Day or not, it’s hard not to see the way that the land is really reviving herself. Yards are full of spring ephemerals, there are red-breasted robins everywhere, and the shifting angle of the sun brings renewed light and warmth. Happy Equinox!

May the song of this, my blessing, be joined by the chorus of the birds in the sky,
May the spring breezes bring peace and balance.

Excerpt of AODA Air Blessing prayer
life · Neodruidry

An Imbolc Hike (and Tree Divination) at Patuxent Research Refuge

One of the nice things about having other Pagans around is that it makes the High Days a lot more fun. On my own, Imbolc is mostly divination and spring cleaning (or, in this year’s case, divination, deep cleaning, and rearranging my entire house). Traditionally, it’d involve pilgrimages to sacred wells, asking for healing, and leaving offerings and clooties.

This past Saturday, my Handsome Assistant and I met with a local group that we’re a part of for a hike around a lake at Patuxent Research Refuge. It was a nice, flat loop, mostly on a gravel or mulch trail, so it wasn’t too challenging. It left a lot of mental and breathing space for conversation, catching up with friends we hadn’t seen in a while, and contemplation. (One group member who’d moved away was back for a visit, and it was really nice to have the chance to talk to them again!)

We covered about a mile and a half before pausing for tree branch divination. Admittedly, as much as I enjoy divination, this was something I hadn’t tried before. The group split up to find places to sit — fortunately, it seemed like every tree near the path has spread out a welcoming pillow of moss at its roots. From there, we thought of the questions we wanted answered, or the problems we needed guidance on. After relaxing our gazes and letting them rest on the bare, outstretched tree branches above us, shapes began to emerge.

The experience was very different for each of us. My Handsome Assistant experienced it almost like a story, with images coming and going in an evolving plot that gave him a hopeful look into his questions. I had a little more trouble — I just wanted to know whether I’d achieve the goals I set for myself this spring. The trouble is, divination methods like this aren’t often conducive to “yes” or “no” answers. What would the trees even do? Give me a check mark for “yes” and an X for “no?” Spell out “Yup” in their branches? It was a little frustrating.

Finally, I kind of gave up. If the trees had something to say to me, I wasn’t going to constrain them to a “yes” or “no.” As soon as I did, my eyes came to rest on a spot that was only visible from the angle I was looking from. The branches of multiple trees came together to form a pentagon, and their twigs radiated outward into an almost perfect spiderweb shape. In the second when it all came together, it made perfect sense — I’d only be successful if I could keep from sabotaging myself. Catastrophizing is a snare. Worrying over inconsequential details is a web I build to trap myself. Even the expectations I had around this divination yielded only frustration, not answers.

I also found a really neat little clump of moss.

A small clump of bright green moss nestled amid some leaf litter.

After the divination, we all walked silently to the lake. On the shore, we meditated on what we wanted to be cleansed and healed of, made an offering of water gathered from different sacred sites, and dipped strips of cotton cloth into the water of the lake. One would traditionally tie a clootie to a tree near the sacred spring itself, as a type of sympathetic magic (as the clootie breaks down, so too would the issue to be cleansed/healed). In this case, we all brought ours back with us to be tied to our own fences or trees, composted, or burnt and scattered. I’m planning to tie mine to the branches of the little redbud tree in the front yard, myself.

A single bright red holly berry among spiky green leaves.

Things haven’t really “greened up” yet, but there’s a beauty in that. You could see the tiny sprouts and buds of things just starting to awaken from dormancy. The green needles of pine trees and spongy carpets of emerald moss were bright splashes against all of the shades of silver, gold, brown, and gray leaves. The sunlight was thin and silvery, shining through an even blanket of clouds. Even though it’s late in the cold season, some bright, jewel-like fruits still lingered — like yellow horsenettle and ruby red holly berries. The seedheads of dried mountain mint stuck up here and there, ashen gray, fluffy, and smelling strongly of mint, oregano, and bergamot. A few trees showed signs of beavers, and we even passed near the entry way to a beaver lodge.

A conifer, girdled by beavers. Though the bark's stripped away, the wood itself isn't gnawed on very deeply.
(I’m guessing conifer wood didn’t agree with this beaver.)

I’d hoped to see some mushrooms since it’s been so damp and warm, but it’s still a bit too early for that. There was plenty of bracket fungus on fallen tree trunks, clinging to the bark like oysters to a stone. One tree even had really interesting lichen on its bark, forming shapes like rivers.

A closeup of a fallen tree trunk, with lichen and tiny bracket mushrooms.

By the time we were finished, three hours and several miles had passed. Now, I’m back feeling a little bit lighter, a little reassured. Here’s hoping that Imbolc has treated you well, too!

divination · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Footprint Folklore & Magical Properties

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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