I was introduced to something new today. I was a bit surprised. Not a lot, but a little. It seems that another school is out to abandon all Halloween activities. But unlike most schools — who seem to make this decision to please uberconservative “Christians” with propagandistic views of the holiday, this one is actually cancelling due to what can only be described as “political correctness gone terribly wrong.” You see, this school is concerned about “offending real Wiccans with the stereotypes about witches.”

Now, I should point out that this isn’t the only reason mentioned. It’s just the reason that the article is focusing on. The school board actually cited three different reasons according to the article. And personally, I don’t think any of them hold water. (And I find myself wondering what the primary reason is or if this is just a matter of trying to find any reason that will stick for a decision already made.)

Now, some people who have seen this article have commented that it doesn’t mention any actually complaints from “real Wiccans.” (The closest thing to it is merely a soundbite from an unrelated news program made by a Wiccan High Priestess while explaining her religion.) And it’s a valid point. But sadly, I have no doubt that some “Wiccan” somewhere really is offended. (Heck, in my brash and younger days, I complained about such things myself. Fortunately, I’ve grown since then.) After all, there are some rather hypersensitive Wiccans (and Pagans of other persuasions, for that matter) out there. And it wouldn’t take much to see some of them get their panties knotted.

Me, I find the whole thing silly. Then again, I find the stereotypes silly. But that’s what makes them fun. I like playing with them. If I was in the middle of my town rather than off on some hill where no one sees me, I’d meet every trick-or-treater at the door in a painty hat and a fake wart on my nose. (Heck, I’d even cross-dress to be the traditional hag.) I think it’s fun to do such things. And besides, I think that playing with the stereotypes reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously.

I will occasionally use the word “Wicca” in my diary. Due to the state of affairs in the world, I figured I should probably make it clear what I mean when I say this word. You see, I don’t use the word as it’s generally used in the general Pagan community. In fact, if you hear my say “Wicca” and you immediately start thinking about anything that’s been written in a book published by Llewellyn or a similar author, you’re on the wrong page. For that reason, I would like to give my explanation of what I mean when I say “Wicca” so we all stay on the same page when reading my diary.

I believe that Wicca is an Oathbound (that means it involves solemn vows which include vows to keep certain secrets), initiatory (“only a Witch can make a Witch”), mystery (the core of the religion must be experienced through ecstatic revelation rather than academically believed) religion that originated in the New Forest region of England. The Wicca (which is the collective term used to refer to all initiates of this religion) are those people who can trace their initiatory lineage back to that region (usually through Sybil Leek or Gerald Gardner).

Anything else may be a form of witchcraft (after all, there are other forms of witchcraft than Wicca). It certainly might be Paganism. But it is not Wicca. Silver Ravenwolf is not Wicca. Scott Cunningham was a Wiccan initiate, but his books are not about Wicca. They are about Paganism and witchcraft. And they have some great gems of insight in them. His “Guide for the Solitary Practitioner” was the first Pagan book I ever read and I still cherish where it brought me. But what it described has some remarkable difference from the Wicca I’m coming to discover and love.

I think it would also be good to point out that by my own definition, I’m not one of the Wicca. It’s my goal to eventually develop the necessary bonds with a coven and become an initiate, and I believe it will happen in the gods’ good time. But for now, I’m content to be a generic, non-Wiccan witch. (I bring this up just to hopefully mitigate the accusations of “elitist bastard” that will be coming my way.) Because of this, I try to be very careful when I talk about Wicca. Because I am speaking as an outsider. An outsider that’s trying to get on the inside, but an outsider nonetheless. As such, my statements about Wicca — while as accurate as I can make them in my careful research — should not be considered entirely authoritative. (They will also be apt to change as I get my butt kicked by the gods and/or those who are initiates and I learn my errors. Ah the joy of learning a path!)

For those who wish to know what Wicca is — and to get a close idea of how it differs from the Neo-Wicca that many authors write about these days — I would encourage you to pick up a copy of Gerald Gardner’s two books. They are “Witchcraft Today” and “The Meaning of Witchcraft.” These two books tell a lot about the Craft of the New Forest region than most other books combined. (I particularly encourage people to note Gardner’s descriptions and discussions of the God of Wicca and compare it to what most modern authors have to say. I sincerely believe that a careful reading of this will demonstrate one of the largest differences between Wicca and Neo-Wicca.) Another book I’d recommend is Vivianne Crowley’s “Wicca: The Old Religion in the New Millennium.” She’s written a delightful book on Wiccan ritual. In her writings, her education in psychology really shines through.

Now, I’m not going to argue with people who call themselves Wicca despite not meeting my definition. My intent is not to invalidate anyone’s beliefs (though I find myself wondering how calling one’s beliefs by a name that doesn’t fit in my opinion serves to “validate” those beliefs” anyway.) And I’m not here to start playing the “definition police.” However, this is my diary, and as such, I intend to use words as I understand them. And as such, I felt it important to make it clear what I mean when I talk about Wicca.

One of the Wicca I know has studied the historical practices of various crafts. Most notably, he’s studied the craft of blacksmithing, and under the right circumstances, he can talk about the practice at some length.

Most interesting about his knowledge of and love for the smith’s art, however, is a particular pet peev he’s expressed a few times. And that’s his pet peev about how some perceive the blacksmith’s trade. You see, most people (myself included, I’m afraid) who start thinking about the art of ironwork immediately think of images of swords burning in teh furnace and being pounded out to strong, cutting blades between the anvil and hammer. Or they see the creation of shields, armor, or other instruments of war. However, after listening to talk of such image, B always manages to remind us to keep perspective. As he rightfully points at, the craft of armor and weapons has historically been a tiny part of the smith’s trade. Much more of his time was spent forging daily items that one would need for their lives. The smith would build far more iron cooking utensils, nails, and other such daily necessities in a month than the number of swords and breastplates he’d pound out in years. Isn’t it funny how we tend to forget things like that? We focus on the weapons and armor because we find the “flashy” or “fantastic,” while forgetting the real work — the work that most likely kept him fed on a regular basis — of the blacksmith.

As I thought about this memory today at lunch, it occurred to me that Pagans on the whole (and here I go stereotyping again) tend to do this with more than the blacksmith’s craft. We spend a lot of time looking at the “goodies” of our religion while ignoring the “daily necessities.” How often do we talk about the spells we do or know, yet don’t talk about the daily devotion or self-discipline that we place upon ourselves? How often do we speak of our Sabbats, and yet never discuss the careful planning, preparation, and other work that we endure before and after that make them so great? How often do we focus on the fantastic — such as the experience we had when we came into contact with a spirit that one day — while completely ignoring the changes in diet, exercise, and our general lifestyles that we need to make to better prepare our bodies for such experiences?

I’m as guilty as anyone. I’m doing my best when I have those “flash in the pan” kinds of experiences. I get on a spiritual high and I can do all kinds of things. And yet, I have yet to manage to get my meditation schedule to be as regular as I feel it should be. And my daily religious devotion needs a lot of work, there’s no denying it.

I think that’s what I like about the Wicca I know. They’re so down to earth. I have sat in some of their homes and had incredibly ordinary discussions. Oh sure, we have our discussions that involve “witch stuff.” But it’s interspersed with discussions about pets, work, politics, and the fact that they need to clean and winterize the pool out back. And none of these discussion topics are treated as particularly more “special” than the others. It’s a completely different attitude that I don’t always see elsewhere, even in my own life.

This entry may become a bit controversial, but it’s something that’s been on my mind for awhile. I was hoping to make it coherent, but I’m not sure it will be. Because things don’t want to seem to fall into any “perfect order” in my mind, I decided to just dump out the stream of my thoughts without any particular order. So if you’ve read me in the past and find that this doesn’t have my usual well-structured eloquence, please forgive me. But hopefully, it’ll still have some valuable reflections in it somewhere.

Traditionally, the rites of Wicca have required ritual nudity. And I think that this is a good thing. In fact, I think that these rites should involve ritual nudity. It seems to me that it’s a central component to the practice of this particular form of witchcraft. In fact, I often find it odd that (Neo-)Wiccans often will dogmatically cling to the words “harm none” in the Wiccan Rede (something which by its very name suggest it’s merely advice) and yet completely ignore or discount the phrase “ye shall be naked in your rites” which occurs in the Charge of the Goddess (which by its very names suggests that it’s a direct command). It’s one of those strange oddities in Neo-Wicca that convinces me that it (1) has completely divorced itself from the true Wicca it tries to masquerade itself as and (2) has become an “anything goes religion.”

Of course, ritual nudity in Neo-Wicca doesn’t really make sense, I suppose. After all, Neo-Wicca is too “open.” It wants to have public rites. It wants to be able to invite practically any random person into its celebrations. Because of this, the level of trust and intimacy that is required to make mandatory ritual nudity safe is simply not present. One cannot foster the safety that such vulnerability requires. As such, it’s understandable why Neo-Wicca wishes to distance itself from ritual nudity.

However, in Wicca, ritual nudity still makes sense. After all, in Wicca, the rites are not open. Random strangers cannot be invited to the celebrations. Heck, not even friends of those participants in the rites are welcome. But because Wicca is an oathbound, initiatory (and initiates-only) religion, it fosters an atmosphere that makes ritual nudity both possible and wholly appropriate.

If you stop and think about it, it makes perfect sense. In Wicca, one joins an established coven. Membership is not guaranteed, and the seeker must approach the leader and members of the coven to seek initiation. Initiation is not an immediate process, and the seeker spends time with the leaders and members of said coven. There is a (usually extensive) period of relationship-building that takes place prior to any group magical work. It is during this time that both the seeker and the current members of the coven get to know one another and decide if there’s a “good fit” here. It is only once it is determined that the “good fit” exists — which includes the simple questions of whether everyone can trust each other and feel comfortable working with each other — that the person is initiated into the coven and participates in the rites. (I’m ignoring the practice of filtering seekers through an “Outer Court” for the time being for simplicity, but the idea still applies to this as well.)

Because of the lengthy time between seeker introduction and ritual participation, there is plenty of time for trust to be built up to the point that everyone can become comfortable with being naked around each other during the rites. Certainly, there may still be some discomfort with the actual nudity at first, but there’s a level of trust there that enables those all involved to work past those fears and step out into the realm of vulnerability. As time goes by, the closed nature of the group and the level of closeness and trust that’s built up allows for the kind of safety that is required for proper and effective ritual nudity.

Gardner describes this in one of his books — “The Meaning of Witchcraft,” I believe — indirectly. At one point, he is discussing ritual nudity and mentions an amusing conversation he had with a Witch in his coven. He mentioned his own membership in a nudist club, when a witch commented that she could never get naked in front of other people. When Gardner pointed out that she did exactly that at every ritual they held, she simply explained, “That’s different. That’s family!” This underscores the very nature of the relationship-building process that I’m talking about. Indeed, I’d propose that another question for determining “good fit” between a seeker and coven is the simple question of “Are we all comfortable enough with each other to be naked?” And to be honest, from what I’m coming to realize about Wiccan magic, I’m not sure I’d want to work magic with a group of people who couldn’t answer that question yes, anyway.

Of course, a lot of people are probably screaming that it doesn’t make any difference whether your naked or clothed during ritual. I actually disagree with them, and I will give my personal best argument for that shortly. But first, I need to put my answer into context. I do not currently practice Wicca. I am not an initiate. However, I am currently seeking a coven and hope to become an initiate in the future. As such, I have given a lot of thought to this very issue in my own life. I have often thought about the fact that if I am to respond to what I believe is the call of my heart, I will have to participate in a coven that performs their rites nude. And I’ll be honest, the idea scares the crap out of me. I’m very self-conscious about my naked body. I have a hard time with the idea of letting my lover see me naked. So the idea of joining a small group of people and letting all of them see me naked scares the living crap out of me.

Surprisingly, that’s the exact reason I think ritual nudity does make a difference. The fact that the whole idea scares me and some part of me wants to resist the idea tells me its significance. If nothing else, there are psychological implications to consider when it comes to ritual nudity.

I think too often, we tend to forget about how our state of mind and psychological makeup takes a part in ritual and magic. How our minds work and how they react to situations has a deep effect on the effectiveness and “flavor” of our magic and the results of our ritual. Overcoming my fear, giving into (earned) trust, and disrobing in front of others to work magic with them has a definite psychological effect on my mind, and it seems quite obvious that such an effect on my state of mind during ritual will have an effect on the ritual and the resulting magic. Indeed, it’s people’s reactions (usually negative) to the suggestion of ritual nudity that belies their own claims that “it doesn’t matter.”

I have tested this in my own personal practice. I have done meditations, performed rituals, and practiced magic both clothed and naked. And I can say for certain that there is a marked difference in one’s state of mind at the time as well as the “feel” of the work at hand. And I would encourage anyone to experiment to this in their private work to see for themselves.

You know, some Pagan message boards really disappoint me at times. It seems to me that a lot of people you meet there are looking for ego stroking more than any real religious devotion. In fact, a lot of these people seem to be interested in showing off how incredibly “spiritual” or “magical” they are.

For example, today, one person was talking about how they had all these past lives they could remember. And of course, in every one of these past lives except one, this individual “had power.” The cynical, bastardly part of me just wants to scream “get over yourself.” And of course, then you have the discussion about self-Initiation. And when someone mentioned they don’t believe in it, someone threw out “well, who initiated the first witch, then?” I’m sorry, but that’s an old question. Who gave a medical degree to the first doctor? And yet, I doubt anyone would be interesting in hiring a heart surgeon who was “self-degreed.”

Of course, most people will scream that there’s a difference between a doctor and a witch. Well, that may be true to an extent. But it does beg the question. Isn’t being a witch more than a label to bolster one’s self-esteem? Doesn’t it actually mean something? To me, it does. To me, it means serving a god in a priesthood. To me, it’s about actually working towards something. But to a lot of people out there, it just seems to be another status label. There seems to be no duties or responsibilities that come with it. Just something to impress others with.

Me, I think the most incredible thing that I’ve had happen to me is to hear people I consider far smarter than I am refer to me as “intelligent.” To me, that made me smile from ear to ear. It also made me blush. Because I know that the person who said it doesn’t give out compliments willy-nilly. But it also made me realize that I had an expectation to live up to. Because of this person’s high standards, I suddenly had a compliment I needed to strive to live up to.

Recently, I’ve been in a Harry Potter mood. In a few more days, I suspect I might actually consider getting out one of my Harry Potter books on tapes and going through it again. But that’s a bit of a tangent. My recent Harry Potter mood is “background” for this entry, not the central matter.

While I was in the Harry Potter mood, I decided to do some searches for online stuff about Harry Potter. I found a list of the various “spells” mentioned or used in the books so far. I found some curious quizzes. They even have one about the unorganized “Harry Potter is evil incarnate” campaign. I actually enjoyed taking that quiz.

And naturally, I ran across a few sites that were apart of that particular campaign. I won’t bother writing any remarkable details about any of them. Truth be told, I don’t think there were any remarkable details. Just the usual nonsense. “Harry Potter encourages children to practice witchcraft!” “Harry Potter makes people who don’t practice witchcraft look like losers!” “Harry Potter promotes disobedience and rebellion.” Honestly, once you’ve seen one such site, you can pretty much expect a strong feeling of deja vu every time you visit another site of the same type. No one’s ever accused Harry Potter protestors of being creative, and it’s pretty obvious why.

But on the one site, I found a link to yet another open letter to Wiccans. One of these days, I think I’m going to start trying to keep a running tally of how many such letters I can find online. There are tons of them. And quite frankly, the people who write them don’t seem to be any more creative than the people who go on about how evil Harry Potter is. That’s probably partly because they’re the same people a lot of times.

There’s really nothing remarkable abou this “open letter” when compared to others of its kind. In fact, I think the only thing remarkable about it is that it’s fairly representative of all such “open letters.” And as I was reading this particular letter, I noticed a certain pattern. So I decided I wanted to reflect upon it.

What really catches my attention is the “background” of the person writing the letter. Most of the people I’ve seen write such letters naturally have experience in the occult. (I do note however, that this one admits that his experience is in Spiritualism rather than Wicca, though he fails to seriously address whether that distinction is important.) But more importantly, they’re “driven” to it by some sort of psychological need, usually of an extreme nature. For example, in this particular letter, the writer was driven to it by the traumatic death of both of his parents and his own resultant fear of death.

In telling about these events that led to their interest in the occult, such writers often seem to make it a heart-rending story. Well, in fairness, I’m sure it was very heart-rending, and they’re only telling it like it is. But as someone sitting here waiting to be “witnessed to,” I still find it a bit bothersome. It seems to me as if the whole set up is to evoke an emotional reaction in me, to create a sympathetic state of mind where I will read the rest of the letter in such an emotional state. In some ways, I can’t help but wonder if the writer isn’t trying to be a wee bit manipulative, trying to get me to respond out of an emotionally charged state of mind rather than careful consideration of these words.

The other thing that bothers me is the implications of such a story. The writer never considers that their traumatic experiences and emotional unrest might not have contributed to their experiences of the occult, thereby biasing them. It seems to me as if there’s this silent implication that the only reason someone might get involved in such things is because of emotional trauma and psychological problems. In effect, such letters seem to me to prey on those who are still emotionally wounded and use their wounded state to the advantage of the writer’s own agenda.

This is why such letters have a different effect on me, I think. I don’t identify with the “wounded child getting messed up with things he shouldn’t.” Instead, I look at such letters and go, “Wow, you really shouldn’t have been messing with such things. You did all of this for completely the wrong reasons.” And their failure to acknowledge these truths causes me to approach the rest of the letter with a heightened sense of skepticism.

I don’t know, I think I’d be much more impressed by an “open letter” that was written by someone who didn’t bring such emotional instabilities with them into their “occult experimentation.” Or I could even be impressed if they didn’t make such instabilities and insecurities the entire foundation for their foray into occult matters. Heck, I can even respect someone who would at least admit how such things might have biased their experiences and their interpretations of such experiences. At least then I would feel like I’m reading something written by a reasonable individual. But someone like this author, I can’t help but look at his letter and shake my head. Because to me, the clear problem in his story is himself, not the occult.