Back in 2020, I mentioned briefly that I do not consider the witchcraft I practice to be Wicca. At the time, I offered the following explanation:
[I]n reality, my practice doesn’t really resemble what most people see as the the most common defining characteristics of Wicca.
I thought that it would be beneficial to write how my own practice tends to differ from both non-initiatory and initiatory Wicca.1 I will also be noting a few places where my practice bears some similarity to WIcca — especially initiatory Wicca.
I want to say up front that this post is meant to be informational only. None of what I say is meant to be a criticism of any form Wicca (whether initiatory or non-initiatory). Nor is it an attempt to suggest that my witchcraft practice is somehow superior. Saying “they’re different” is not the same as saying “one is better,” and it distresses me that many people still seem to interpret the former as the latter.
It’s important to note that my witchcraft practice is deeply rooted in Norse mythology and cosmology, which explains a lot of the differences — especially the more superficial ones — between my practice and Wicca (especially of the non-initiatory type). A lot of the ritual and liturgical elements in Wicca come from other cultures and sources which have no personal significance to me.
For example, most Wiccans seem to focus a lot on the four elements: earth, air, fire and water. However, these four elements just don’t play a part in Norse cosmology. So I’m not inclined to attempt to assign everything an elemental correspondence or call the Quarters.2 I’d rather choose a rune3 or two (or even more) that encapsulates the central mystery or primal concept(s) behind my magical working.
As for constructing ritual space, that’s a complicated topic for me. In fact, I’m still pondering and experimenting with how I want to do this in my witchcraft practice. Obviously, calling the Quarters is something I quickly nixed in my personal practice. A lot of Heathens like to perform the hammer rite — often making the sign of the hammer at the four cardinal directions as well as upward and downward. This is certainly more in line with the myths and cosmology I tend to work with. But I’m also more a Freyjasman than a Thorsman. While the hammer rite makes sense for a rite to Thor or one which is honoring the Aesir and Vanir in general, I’m not convinced it’s quite right for a magical rite specifically focused on working with Freyja. (I’ll talk more about her and how she influences how I view my rites in a bit.)
Casting a circle is something that I often do, but I’m not entirely sold on that, either. It depends on how I look at casting a circle. Indeed, I’ve heard some Wiccans and other Pagans refer to the whole process of casting a circle, calling the Quarters, and so on as “creating sacred space,” which is a phrase I’m not entirely comfortable with. After all, I believe that everything is already sacred, so I’d be essentially “creating” something that already exists. And while this may seem like its mostly about semantics, I think the words we choose and the meanings they convey are important.
I will admit that I’m also at least a little influenced by my time with Ar nDraíocht Fein,4 whose ritual structure does not include circle casting at all. The argument made against it — at least as I recall it — was that casting a circle that encloses the participants of a public rite honoring the gods is more trouble than it’s worth. They argue that it’s better to allow attendees to come and go as needed rather than forcing them to have to find someone to cut them a door (which is generally discouraged as much as possible in magical rites anyway).5
And yet, I’m not really looking to lead public rituals or just honor the gods. I’m looking to work magic and develop a more intense relationship with my deities — and one deity in particular. So ADF’s reasons don’t necessarily apply to my practice. 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 Freyja6 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.
Another thing — which I mentioned in a footnote — that seems common among many Wiccans that doesn’t do much for me is the influence from and tendency to draw on the Kabbalah and other aspects of ceremonial magic and Christian occultists in general. This was before I even learned about cultural appropriation and considered the implications of how Christian occultists have historically pilfered a lot of their ideas from Jewish mysticism. So the fact that I tend to prefer stuff that comes from Norse mythology instead just feels like the best choice for me.
One particular thing that Wiccans — especially non-iniatory Wiccans — seem to pull from Christian occultists and mystics is the idea that all the deities are names for or facets of a single divine couple. This is not something that works in my theology and I see important differences between the various deities.7
So is there anything I have in common with Wicca. Well, yes. Or at least there are similarities. I remember that the Alexandrian priestess whose coven I briefly considered seeking initiation into once told me that there’s a lot of overlap between seidh or seidr (both pronounced “sayth” with a soft “th” sound like in “these”) and initiatory Wicca. But I think a lot of those similarities are in the way we see the world and think about magic and rather than details in practice.
Also, I have read books by Wiccans and had many conversations with many Wiccans. Some of those experiences have at least shaped my thinking. And there are just some parts of Wiccan lore that resonate with me. Two such examples are the myth of the goddess as described by Gerald Gardner and the Wiccan virtues found in the Charge of the Goddess.8
I think those are some of the more major differences between Wicca and my witchcraft practice. I doubt it’s an exhaustive list and I’m sure there are more similarities that I’m forgetting as well. But hopefully my readers will find this analysis helpful in understanding my particular quirks as a witch a bit better.
