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.

Footnotes

1. I think it’s also important to note that I’ve actually changed how I use the word “Wicca” on this blog since 2004 when I wrote this post defining the term for the blog. Back then, I was spending a great deal of time on a Yahoo Group dedicated to discussing British Traditional Wicca (which includes the Gardnerian, Alexandrian, and closely related traditions) and I wanted to reflect the definition used in that group. This was also motivated by the fact that I was deeply interested in BTW at the time and was considering seeking initiation into one of those traditions. However, that group has since gone away with the rest of Yahoo Groups and I’m no longer looking to become an initiate. So it’s time to broaden my definition for this blog. However, I do still try to make a distinction between initiatory and non-initiatory Wicca, as from my perspective at least, there are some remarkable differences. ↩︎
2. When a group of friends and I formed a coven over a decade ago, I was pleased that we did not include calling the Quarters as part of our ritual. Sadly, the rest of the group decided to revisit that decision about a year after we formed the coven and I was outvoted. So we ended up calling the Quarters after that. i was bummed, but chose not to let it get in the way of me enjoying working magic and honoring the gods with my friends. Sometimes, being a witch is about being practical, including about which hills we choose to die on. ↩︎
3. Speaking of elemental (and other) correspondences, I frequently find myself suppressing an urge to roll my eyes when someone asks me what element or sphere of the Kabbalah I’d associate a given rune with. In my opinion, the runes are their own system and trying to mash them into one of those systems does them a disservice. (YMMV) ↩︎
4. What can I say? I explored a lot of different options before I came to my current witchcraft practice and I probably took a little bit from all of them. I said I’m “mostly Norse,” not completely free from syncretism. ↩︎
5. I will also note that such public rites often welcome inexperienced people who might not even be aware that they should have someone cut a doorway if a magic circle was cast. So that’s another reason why casting circles in such a scenario may be best avoided. ↩︎
6. I’ll note that I’m clearly getting into “unverified personal gnosis” territory here. ↩︎
7. I will note that I believe in what my old coven refer to as “the one eternal reality in whom we live and move and have our being.” (Imagine my surprise when I learned years later that the co-founder of the coven who wrote our ritual took that description straight out of the Bible.) In a sense, I see the One as the ultimate Divine. But for me, when you reach the level of the One, you’re talking about a Divinity that no longer has personality. Nor does it relate directly to humans or anyone else. In fact, we too are a part of the One, same as the deities I honor. ↩︎
8. I just want to give a shout-out to Yvonne Aburrow who — as near as either of us can tell — coined the term “Wiccan virtues” for the eight virtues mentioned in the Charge and is the only other person I have met who has ever brought much attention to them. ↩︎