Category Archives: Witchcraft

Books, Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Let’s talk about “An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft” by Moss Matthey

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[Content Note: Brief references to of cults, homophobia, self-hatred, and authoritarian control.]

Happy Monday, dear readers! I thought I’d take a brief break from my polytheology series to talk about a book I recently finished reading. That book is An Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft: Finding Freedom Through Magic by Moss Matthey. In it, Matthey describes his own experiences leaving the cult he was raised in and finding a home in witchcraft. Along the way, he shares a bit about his own witchcraft practice and offers advice and simple exercises to those readers who might be interested in exploring whether witchcraft might be something they’re drawn to.

In a lot of ways, I found a lot of Matthey’s story relatable. After all, we are both gay men1 who grew up in fairly conservative Christian church2 that essentially taught us to hate ourselves. We both eventually found freedom in our respective witchcraft practices, which bear some unsurprising similarities.

One of the things that I appreciated about Matthey’s approach to the subject was that he was quite clear that he had no interest in spending a great deal of time dissecting the beliefs of “the cult”,3 setting these goals for the book instead:

Through these pages I will introduce you to a world of magic and spirits, where queerness is celebrated and sin does not exist. I will tell you how I left a cult and the lessons I learned along the way. Culture and community will be celebrated through folklore, myth, and folk magic. We may even take a detour into theology and philosophy, though hopefully it won’t be too boring. Above all, we will celebrate the joy and freedom of Witchcraft.

I think he accomplished those goals quite well. I cannot recommend this book enough for those who are coming out of any religion that asserted any degree of authoritarian control. I think those who, like Matthey and myself, experienced abuse and/or trauma due to their sexuality or gender will find it particularly helpful. And if a handful of people read it and find a home in witchcraft, all the better.

Another reason that this book holds special meaning for me is that I think it diversifies the stories available to those deconstructing. I often get the sense that the stories available — both those published in books and those shared less formally — tend to come from who have either found a way to remain in Christianity (albeit a more progressive form) or those who have walked away from religion altogether. While I think both of those trajectories are valid for those who find comfort and healing in them, I don’t think they are the only trajectories available. Also, I feel that the fact that those two trajectories get the lion’s share of the attention means that deconstruction discourse still often focuses exclusively on Christian theologies and Christian understandings of the world. Combined with Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow, this book could help provide a needed correction to that.4

Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on September 28, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on September 29, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. I want to point out that I’m using these words carefully when describing Matthey. In the book, he notes that he has started to prefer referring to himself as “queer” rather than “gay,” though he affirms the latter is an accurate description. He also notes that his understanding of his sexuality and gender continues to be more expansive. So while everything I’ve been able to find suggests his pronouns are still he/him and it’s okay to refer to him as a man, I want to draw your attention to all this just in case I missed something and am unintentionally misgendering him here. ↩︎
  2. I will note that I don’t feel that my church exerted quite the same degree of control over its members as the cult Matthey belonged to (the Jehovah’s Witnesses) tends to. For example, my family was not instructed to shun me at any time. But that’s the interesting thing you learn when you study cults: There are different degrees of cult behavior, and my church was “bad enough.” For more information on cults, I would recommend Cultish by Amanda Montell in addition to the books by Steven Hassan that Matthey recommends. I will note that I haven’t read any of Hassan’s books, but have looked over his BITE Model of Authoritarian Control (which Matthey also mentions) in the past and consider it an invaluable tool. ↩︎
  3. Matthey only mentions the Jehovah’s Witnesses by name once in the entire book. The rest of the time, he simply refers to it as “the cult.” I’m not sure if this was his reasoning personally, but there are traditions of witchcraft that hold that naming something gives it power, so it is often better to not say the name of those who are a disruptive influence. Again, I don’t know if that motivated Matthey’s choice about how he chose to refer to his former cult in the book, but I think there’s a certain amount of wisdom in that line of reasoning. ↩︎
  4. Of course, once Yvonne’s upcoming book, Pagan Roots, is released at the beginning of next year, I think all three books would make a powerful trio. ↩︎
Paganism, Witchcraft

Mourning the loss of context and nuance

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A while back, I had a friend who heard someone mention “sour grapes” and they were confused. This friend had never heard (or had forgotten) Aesop’s famous fable about the fox and the grapes. Without the knowledge of that story as the context for the phrase, they were puzzled by what the other person meant by “sour grapes.” Fortunately, it was easy for me to relate the story of the fox and the grapes to my friend and give them that context. Fortunately, I was there to do so.

Recently, another incident happened that has me pondering phrases people have no context for and finding something somewhat concerning going on in some witchcraft and Pagan communities. it seems that a number of us are divorcing certain statements from any context. The most recent incident that got me thinking about it was a discussion centered on the aphorism “if you can’t hex, you can’t heal.” To be honest, the interpretation that the individual who started the conversation suggested a newcomer to witchcraft might take me floored me. I offered a summary of how I interpret the phrase and the context in which I occasionally invoke that aphorism.

As I wrote my response, I considered how the conversation I was having played a huge role in determining whether I brought up the statement. So I decided to add that fact to the conversation:

Granted, “if you can’t hex, you can’t heal” isn’t exactly a phrase I’d be tossing out to newbies. Or using outside of the context of a conversation about how our magic/actions have far-reaching consequences (including unintended consequences) and we need to take responsibility for that.

The other person noted that they see the phrase phrase thrown around frequently, and I can certainly understand why that would bother them. I can also see how someone who was new to witchcraft and encountered that statement without any further context might interpret it — as my conversation partner suggested — as an indication that you actually have to learn how to cast a hex before you can do healing magic.1

I suspect there are a lot of phrases and aphorisms that tend to get thrown around in witchcraft and Pagan circles without important context,2 and I think that’s unfortunate. Especially when those who have no way of discovering that context on their own encounter those random statements. I also think that this tends to rob those aphorisms of further discussion and the exploration of the nuance to properly understand such statement.

I also worry that rather than being illustrative statements that encourage the start of a conversation, they’ve become little more than thought-terminating cliches. Having read Cultish by Amanda Montell, I will simply note that I’m deeply concerned about the dangers that lie in that direction.

So what is the solution? I don’t think we should banish these aphorisms and other statements from the discourse. However, I think it’s important to re-evaluate how and when we use them. That way we can better assure that when people new to them encounter them, they also have ready access to the context and nuanced conversations that they arise from and rely on for proper understanding.

Post History: I wrote, proofread, and revised this post on August 25, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. That is an idea that just boggles my mind. I think that any tool that can be used for good can also be used for ill and acknowledging that is important. But I certainly don’t think you need to learn how to stab someone effectively with your kitchen knife before you learn how to use it to chop vegetables, if you’ll forgive the analogy for the sake of ludicrosity. ↩︎
  2. I would argue that both the Wiccan rede and the threefold law are two more obvious and prominent examples. ↩︎
Magic/Magick, Paganism, Witchcraft

Pondering what Ryan Smith said about the titular subject of his book “Spinning Wyrd”

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Wyrd is an important subject to me. This is reflected by how often I keep coming back to it onn this blog. I’ve written posts about how the concept relates to both my ethics and my magic. I’ve even written a guided meditation/visualization for connecting with the web of wyrd. It’s so important to me that a major thing that made me take notice of Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith at first is the fact that it has “wyrd” in the title.1 So naturally, it only makes sense I’d have a few thoughts after reading the chapter of his book that is dedicated to discussing this important topic.

I like that Smith first demystifies wyrd by suggesting that it is just a force of the universe similar to the force of gravity. He explains the nature of wyrd in comparison to some models of fate like this:

However, Nordic wyrd is best understood as a metaphysical force comparable to gravity or magnetism that operates in consistent patterns that are shaped by the two essential forces of ørlog and hamingja.

Smith goes on to explain that these two forces represent the circumstances and implications of past actions and our personal and communal power2 to create change. I think this is an important interaction to understand because it helps us to keep in mind two equally important truths:

  1. We are not the victims of fate and have a say in our destinies through each action we take.
  2. Our influence is not limitless and there are other factors at play that we must learn to cooperate with and/or work around.

To me, becoming a proficient and effective witch is largely a matter of understanding these two truths and the interplay between them. We learn to understand the limitations placed upon us by our circumstances and the consequences of past actions,3 then understand how we can act anew and assert our will and power to shape the future within the confines of those limitations.4

This is an idea that not all Heathens seem to share. Some Heathens tend to be more fatalistic about wyrd and tend to view it as being more set in stone. This is due to certain passages in the lore. Fortunately, Smith covers those and beautifully explains why he reads those passages less fatalistically5 in the second section of this chapter, where he discusses the Norns. I have decided to do a separate blog post on that topic, which I hope to publish on Agust 23.

Post History: I wrote the initial draft of this post on August 11, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on August 13, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. Beyond that, “spinning wyrd” poetically describes how I understand magic, which I see as the act of altering the very web of wyrd and the reality that is created through it. Smith doesn’t use the word “witchcraft,” but I get the impression that he perceives his own mystical/magical practices in a similarly way, regardless of what labels he might use for those practices. ↩︎
  2. Smith introduced me to the idea that individuals could pool their hamingja (which I’d summarize as being about personal power) to work toward a common goal, thereby reshaping wyrd communally. While I had gotten close to this idea, I had never arrived at it quite so eloquently or explicitly and I appreciate Smith’s help in getting me across that threshold to full revelation. ↩︎
  3. Both our own actions and those of other people. ↩︎
  4. We might even test those limits to determine if they actually lie where we think they do. ↩︎
  5. I’ll note, however, that even Smith and I might hold different views on how set in stone certain future events are. For example, Smith clearly sees Ragnarok as unavoidable. I’m not as convinced of that conclusion. At the very least, I think some of the details — for example, whether Fenrir would oppose the Aesir in that battle — could have been avoided if the Aesir had simply made different choices. But then, I acknowledge that ‘could be different” and “will be different” are two different things. Also, I think how we interpret Ragnarok — such as whether we look at it as a Norse version of Armageddon or a metaphor for all cycles of death and renewal — changes my answer as to how avoidable or malleable the outcome is. ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Spiritual Development, Witchcraft

Synchronicity vs. Looking for Signs: Thoughts while reading “Spinning Wyrd” by Ryan Smith

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Happy Friday, dear readers! For today’s blog post, i want to share some reflections inspired by Ryan Smith’s discussion of synchronicity in chapter one of Spinning Wyrd. While discussing the topic, Smith offers this bit of cautionary advice:

When you accept synchronicity into your life, you should refrain as much as possible from actively imposing meaning where it might not be present. Not all moments of coincidence are necessarily instances of synchronicity. Sometimes a flock of ravens chattering on the power line is just a conspiracy of ravens and not a visit from the god of victory to remind you that your utility bill is overdue or that a blackout is imminent.

Personally, I think this is a much needed warning. I too have noticed some Pagans’ tendency (especially among witches) to look at every moment in their life and try to find some sort of sign or portent in it. This can be anything from seeing an animal on the way to work to wondering what it means when the flame on their spell candle dances. And while I get that this is likely at least partly motivated by an understandable and admirable desire to see the wondrous in everything,1 I think a lot of people take it too far. Sometimes, animals show up simply because they exist in the same world as us. And sometimes, a flame dancing is just a demonstration of chaos theory.2

Smith goes on to discuss some of the criteria he uses to discern whether a given event is truly a case of the powers trying to send a message or just stuff coincidentally happening. His biggest advice is to focus primarily on those events that happen in close relation or proximity to ritual or other mystical work. So for example, he might take a raven or two landing on front porch shortly after holding a blot to Odin as a sign more readily than if he saw those same ravens on a fence while walking through the neighborhood on the way to the park. This strikes me as good advice.

I would also suggest that the problem often comes when we actively look for these signs and portents. In my experience, a true sign from the powers feels substantively different than a circumstance to the point where I immediately take notice even though I wasn’t looking for such a sign. And to be honest, I trust the powers I work with to send another sign if I happen to miss the first one.3 So this allows me to relax a bit and not push myself to be on the constant outlook for such signs, making me less likely to “see” ones that are not actually there.

Of course,this requires a person to have a certain level of trust in their own intuition, including the trust that their intuition will ever kick in to begin with. But that’s a confidence and trust that an be built over time and in my opinion, is something well worth cultivating. Ultimately, I think that once most people experience a handful of signs from the powers, their confidence that they’ll spot them without going looking for them begins to grow and they’ll be able to relax.4

Post History: I wrote the draft of this post on August 3, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on August 9, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. Though I have also hypothesized that “what does the flame dancing mean” is often a case of someone — especially if they’re relatively new to witchcraft — looking for some sign that their spell is “working.” That in itself deserves its own exploration as building that kind of confidence in one’s magic is a real need. ↩︎
  2. As someone who’s a bit of a math nerd, I must admit that chaos theory is pretty wondrous in its own right. Sometimes, appreciating the way in which such “randomness” can appear beautiful is well worth meditating upon in its own right. ↩︎
  3. This is also why many mystics and witches suggest that paying attention to repeating “coincidences” is another great way to discern legitimate messages from the powers. I think there’s merit to that bit of counsel as well. ↩︎
  4. Of course, even experienced witches and mystics sometimes mistake a coincidence for a sign or even misread a sign’s meaning. This is to be expected, as developing and improving our discernment is a never-ending process. ↩︎
Magic/Magick, Witchcraft

An exploration of why I don’t believe in “words of power”

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This blog post was inspired by an answer I submitted on Quora. Much of the text from that answer was used as a basis for this blog post.

“Words of Power” seem to be a common idea that comes up in certain magical traditions. A lot of ceremonial magic1 involves invoking the various names for God and/or the names of angels. As near as I can tell, the idea seems to be that by invoking the names, you are effectively directing the very power of God and/or those angels toward whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish.

I’ve also seen this manifest itself in the form of using just the right words in a chant, incantation, or spell. I’m reminded of the tales in which a djinn is obliged to grant some human a number of wishes and the human quickly learns that they must be careful how they phrase the wish, lest the wish-granting spirit finds a way to fulfill the request so that the person making it comes to regret it. Indeed, I think this need to get the words (and everything else) “Just right is rooted in this fear that if the witch or magician doesn’t, things will go horribly wrong.

I think this idea of “words of power” in any conceptualization is giving words way too much power. And I say that as a blogger and writer who values my ability to communicate through language greatly.

But that’s the thing, i value language and the way it allows me to communicate ideas. This means to me that power is not contained in individual words by themselves. Power and meaning are created through how we string them together to communicate ideas.

To me, what matters is not using “the right words” or invoking “the right names” when doing magic, but communicating and clarifying my intent. So in that sense, I do think that the idea that carefully choosing words when writing a chant or something similar to be used in magic (or any other ritual) is important than the idea that having the right words will compel any deity or any other being to do our bidding.

To be honest, I don’t think we can compel anyone — even other humans — to do our bidding merely through using the right words. Sure, we can use our words to implore, negotiate, and otherwise influence others. And if we’re less than ethical, we can manipulate them or gaslight them to the point where they rely on us to tell them what to do.2 But ultimately, the final decision to act a certain way is theirs to make. So the idea that gods and spirits are going to do whatever we want just because we “say the magic word” is just laughable to me.

As for the need to clearly communicate our intent and desired outcome through language, I think some people take this too far and even get unreasonably afraid. Such people seem to live in fear of what might happen if they use the wrong word(s). To be frank, they seem to think they live in a universe that’s out to get them, and I don’t think that’s a realistic perception. I certainly don’t think it’s healthy.

So what about you, dear reader? What are your thoughts on “words of power” and the importance of language in magic in general? Do you tend to see things similarly to the way I do? Or do you have a different take? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

Post History: I wrote the first draft of this post on July 31, 2024. I proofread revised, and finalized it on August 3, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. I should note that these statements are based on my extremely limited knowledge of ceremonial magic and should probably be taken with a grain of salt. Any readers more familiar with the tradition are welcome and encouraged to point out where I’m misstating or oversimplifying things here. ↩︎
  2. Even if you are morally reprehensible enough to engage in gaslighting and other abusive behavior, I would not recommend trying that approach with a deity for…practical reasons. ↩︎
Books, Paganism, Religion, Witchcraft

Pondering the “Invoking Fire and Ice” rite in “Spinning Wyrd,” by Ryan Smith

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When I was exploring the differences between my witchcraft practice and Wicca back in May, I mentioned that i was still exploring how to start my rituals and create a sort of ritual and magical space. At the time, I shared the following thoughts:

Also, there an aspect of circle casting I’ve found some Wiccans express that I find appealing — the idea of creating magical space, a “place that is not a place in a time that is not a time.” Or another way to put it would be “creating a liminal space for ritual.” This to me is different from creating sacred space and has a value. Setting aside a space to work magic in a given moment makes sense to me.

This also feels right for working with Freyja, though I’m not sure she likes liminal spaces, so much as wild spaces. My perception of Freyja is that much of her worship and magic is about stepping beyond the domain of humans and the bounds of civilization. In many ways, I imagine it as making forays from Midgard out into the wild and primal places of Utgard. So I’ve thought about exploring a way to create ritual space that is a sort of “pocket of Utgard.” Or perhaps a sort of outpost in Utgard. I haven’t made much progress with the idea, but it’s definitely one I keep toying with.

While reading Spinning Wyrd by Ryan Smith, I ran across his “Invoking Fire and Ice” rite, which may be an excellent starting point for what I want to do. To be honest, I’m a bit embarrassed I didn’t think of it myself. After all, the rite involves invoking and bringing together fire and ice — the opposing forces that were pivotal in sparking the creation process in the Norse myths — “in a way that leads to them meeting, joining, and creating a new synthesis of possibility and space for new creation.”1 I’ve often waxed poetic of the creative tension of the fire of Muspelheim and the ice of Niflheim. And yet, it did not occur to me to magically invoke these forces and that creative tension in order to make a space for my own efforts at creation and making changes to wyrd.

I also think this idea meets my needs for creating a sort of “wild space.” After all, the civilized order of Midgard did not come from the meeting of the fire and ice of the two elemental realms. That had to be shaped from the primal forces that resulted from that first moment of creation. I feel that my invocation of fire and ice would create a similarly primal space of unordered forces that I (and those working with me) could according to my (our) needs.

Post History: I began writing this post on July 21, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized the post on July 25, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. I’m directly quoting from chapter one of the book here. ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Witchcraft

I will call myself a “witch.” Even if I call myself other things as well.

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Part of me is surprised that no one has ever asked me why I call myself a “witch” rather than something from Norse practice (like a spae-man or a seithman.1) Probably because I often ask myself that same question and project my own tendency to question my choices onto others. But the fact that someone — even if only myself — is asking, I thought i might be beneficial to explore the answer to the question in a blog post. So here I go.

I started calling myself a witch back in 1998 when I first started exploring non-initiatory Wicca. I dropped the label somewhat when I started exploring Druidry through Ár nDraíocht Féin and then Heatherny through The Troth. However, I eventually realized that neither of these organizations quite nourished my spirit or matched how I perceived my own religious or magical practice, so i decided to go back to calling myself a witch and adopted the term “Vanic witch” to signify just how central my relationship with Freyja was to my own practice of witchcraft.

At this time, I also got involved with an email list that focused on discussing initiatory witchcraft. I found the definition that one of the initiates offered for witchcraft resonated with me:

A witch is someone who serves the role of both priest who serves the gods and ecstatic practitioner who seeks direct experience of the mystical.

Rough paraphrase of a definition given by an elder of the Mohsian tradition.

That’s how I saw (and still see) my own practice so I decided “witch” was the right term for me after all.

Mind you, I do occasionally use other labels to describe myself. I do like “seithman” and “spae-man,”2 as these refer to particular aspects of my practice (or aspects I want to incorporate into it). But they don’t really seem to encompass the entirety of my practice.

To be honest, this is reinforced by the fact that I allow my practice to be syncretic as well. These syncretic practices don’t fit into many of the Norse-specific words. And to be honest, a lot of Heathens who are more strict reconstructionists seem to almost frown on those of us who, for example, still find Tarot to be a useful tool.3 For me, “witch” is a more generic term which makes space for all my practices. It is inclusive of all the tools in my magical practitioner’s toolbox. Both those that have a basis in Norse culture and those that may be syncretized with it.

Also, I think calling myself a “witch” means I’m using an easily recognizable term more people are familiar with. If I say I’m a seithman, a spae-man, or a vitki, most people are going to have no clue what I’m talking about. Heck, I typically have to explain why i call myself a wyrd-worker.4

But if I say I’m a witch, most people have a rough idea of what I’m talking about. And now that people are becoming more aware that there are other witchcraft traditions and practices beyond just Wicca, mistaken assumptions about me along those lines also seem to be less common.

Post History: I wrote the original draft of this post on July 21, 2024. I proofread, revised, and finalized it on July 22, 2024.

Footnotes

  1. Of course, those who know me closely or have followed me long enough might already know that I have “seithman” as one of my email account names. I won’t post the full email address here, as I don’t want to encourage the spammers who already like to hit me up through my contact list. ↩︎
  2. I personally find “spae-master” entirely too prideful to consider using, however. ↩︎
  3. I will note, however, that I am not a fan of trying to blend such syncretic practices to the point where I try to make some universal, coherent system out of all of it. I love both the runes and the Tarot and find them useful, but i see no reason to throw them into a blender and make a single symbol system out of them. In fact, I tend to think it disrespects both practices. ↩︎
  4. Here’s a bit of interesting trivia for you: I typically only refer to myself as a wyrd-worker on my blog and social media. In fact, I started doing it when I created my YouTube channel. I was trying to come up with a name for the channel, and considered “A Witch’s Wisdom.” However, I realized that there were so many witch influences out there and wanted something a bit more unique. So I came up with “A Wyrd-Worker’s Wisdom” instead. And while the term absolutely reflects my understanding of my witchcraft practice and its nature, I will be forever amused by the reality that I adopted the label for the purposes of branding. ↩︎
Paganism, Religion, Witchcraft

The Wyrd-Worker rants: The harmfulness of the body/spirit dichotomy

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See the update at the bottom of the post.

A common idea that much of our society seems overly invested in is the separation of the body and spirit or soul. Often, the soul is viewed as something that is contained by — or worse, trapped by — our body. At death, it moves on to some sort of afterlife. In my emphatic opinion, this line of thinking devalues the body in toxic and harmful ways.

I maintain that our bodies are both integral and essential to our experience as human beings. After all, without our bodies, we would have no way to experience this life. So while I believe that something of myself will probably “move on” from this life after I take my final breath,1 that could never be fully me. Without my body, it is at best a shadow or a ghost (see what I did there?) of my full, living, and human self.

To my way of thinking, this issue isn’t just a matter of making sure we have the right theology or cosmology regarding the afterlife.2 For me, this issue is much more important because the resulting devaluation of our bodies and an over-inflation of the importance of spirit or our souls leads to negative thought patterns and behaviors. To give just one example, I’ve noticed some people in the New Age and even witchcraft movement seem to be adopting purity culture style ethics. Some have gone so far as to view maintaining their virginity and/or embracing cisheteronromative, patriarchal relationship models as the only correct ones as some sort of spiritual ideal. I don’t know whether the people thinking this way are reinventing these ideas or if they’re former Christians who just haven’t abandoned those notions as they’ve moved into a new spiritual tradition. Either way, I find it a disturbing trend. As those who have spent years talking about purity culture in Christianity have repeatedly noted, that kind of thinking is toxic and harms people, often to the point of fully traumatizing them.3

I think that being a devotee of Freyja strongly impacts my view of this topic. As I continue to grow in my relationship with her, I find that Freyja is all about embodiment. Not only when it comes to our sexuality, but in all aspects of our lives. So to devalue the blessings of our bodies and the experiences we have through them in favor of some sort of focus on the spirit and/or soul just feels like spitting on those blessings.

And Freyja does not seem unique among the Pagan deities in this matter. Many of the deities in many cultures strike me as being embodied and make the experiences of our bodies an important part of their rites and mysteries. I’d hate to see modern Pagns and witches lose that.

This post was inspired a journal prompt I found online: Do I believe I’m a spiritual being in a human body? What does this concept mean to me?

Updated 07/19/2024: After I completed and scheduled this post, David Hawyard posted a tweet talking about how this divide between the body and the soul can also lead to ableism.

I think he makes an excellent point and wanted to draw my readers’ attention to it.

Footnotes

  1. Personally, I tend to envision that something as an “enlivening essence” rather than a soul containing my full consciousness and mental faculties. I’m open to the possibility that said essence might carry a vague imprint of some of my memories or personality quirks, but once again, this isn’t fully me. Heck, I doubt it’s even my full consciousness. ↩︎
  2. Ultimately, I think such theology and cosmology is unverifiable and not that important anyway. I’m all for focusing on this life rather than what may come after it. ↩︎
  3. Okay! Time for a break for nuance, lest my aro-ace friends (and others) who are sex indifferent or even sex-repulsed think I’m invalidating them. Not being interested in sex is entirely valid for certain people. And if you’re one of those people, you should embrace that rather than trying to be someone you’re not. But I thank all of those people who don’t want sex, yet manage not to turn it into some sort of sign that they’re somehow “more spiritual” than the rest of us. And I’d ask you to continue to call in those who tend to present their lack of sexual interest as such. ↩︎
Books, Memories, Witchcraft

Thoughts after reading the recently released biography of Scott Cunningham

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A Kindle snapshot of the cover of Christine Cunningham Ashworth’s biography about her brother, Scott.

Hello dear readers! #ChangingPathsBookChallenge is over and it’s time to get back to my Monday and Friday posting schedule.

Today, I thought I’d hare a few thoughts about Scott Cunningham and the biography his younger sister published recently, as I just finished reading it. I’ve already posted a review of the book over on GoodReads. However, I tried to keep that short and focused on the book itself. This post will talk more about my experiences and thoughts from engaging with Scott’s books myself as well as my thoughts on the biography.

Like so many people who came to witchcraft in the 1990s, the first book on the subject I read was Cunningham’s WIcca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner. And while I now consider my own witchcraft decidedly non-Wiccan, Scott’s book will always a special place in my heart. As he did for so many other witches, Cunningham got me started on my journey, and to that, I owe him a debt of gratitude. I will not forget my roots despite having moved beyond them. And in many ways, I think that Scott would approve. And honestly, based on her book, I think his sister would agree with my assessment.

By the time I read Scott’s book, he had been dead for roughly 5 years, something I did not know at the time. One of the things that came as a surprise to me while reading Christine’s book was that Scott’s life had been claimed by AIDS. I had known that Scott was gay — and often felt a certain amount of affection for and solidarity with him because of our shared sexual orientation — but knew no details about his personal life beyond that. For me, one of the hardest parts of reading this biography was hearing the tragic way his life ended and how his health faded away at the time. I admire Christina’s willingness to face the pain of reliving those moments of her brother’s life so that she could share them with us.

I’m considering digging out my copy of Scott’s book and reading it again. It’s been nearly thirty years since I read it and I think it might be interesting to see how the book strikes me now. Also, I feel like doing so would be another chance to re-engage him in a dialogue of sorts.

At any rate, I remember you, Scott Cunningham. You will always be a cherished mentor and a spiritual forebear to me. Hail to you.

Books, Paganism, Religion, Witchcraft

Deities in my spiritual practice: Exploring a journal prompt from chapter 12 of “Changing Paths”

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Good morning, readers! It’s Friday and it’s time to explore the next chapter of Changing Paths by Yvonne Aburrow. This blog series is up to chapter twelve, which is titled “Changing Paths Within the Pagan Sphere.” I have chosen to focus on the following prompt for this post:

Does your practice focus on self-development, creating community connections, or devotion to gods and spirits? Does that sit comfortably with the tradition you currently practice?

In many ways, I think my practice tends to incorporate all of these things without over-emphasizing any of them. I view them as all related. For me, creating community and helping to create a better and more just world is in part accomplished through self improvement, and my relationship with my deities helps drive those processes.

I will note that while I consider my relationship with my gods to be devotional to some degree, I do not mean that in a way that I think many people think of when they think of being devoted to a deity. In a previous post, I offered a few comments on the “human/deity divide,” and my views on that matter impact the nature of my relationship — even the devotional aspect — with my deities. For me, being devoted to Freyja — and the other Norse deities to a lesser degree — is more like being devoted to my husband or a good friend. There is much affection there and I revere my deities’ wisdom and guidance, but I also still have my independent spirit. And quite frankly, I don’t think my deities would have it any way.

But my relationship with Freyja and the other deities goes beyond devotion as well, just as my relationships with my husband and my friends do. We are also partners in a great effort — that effort to make the world a better and more just place. So we have discussions. We occasionally even have arguments. I’ve even been known to swear at my deities before. And again, they respect me for it. In the end, we are bound together in our desire to build community, a better world, and a better place.

As for whether my current tradition supports this, I would say so. After all,e I’m building my own tradition in many ways. But the lore I’m drawing inspiration from aligns with these ideas, I think. One of the things I noticed about the Norse myths and sagas pretty quickly is that there seems to be this constant balance between personal freedom and communal obligation. And I see that dance of building community, working with the deities (and other spirits), and improving myself reflected in that balance.