Earth Witch, page 4
Rituals are frequent acts that we take part in with regularity and consistency. It took me a while at the start of my practice to realize that I was already performing many small rituals throughout my day. Upon waking, I brewed a precious cup of coffee. Before retiring, I brewed a relaxing cup of herbal tea. I noticed that these were check-in points for me—times when I could reflect on myself and my life. Though seemingly mundane, they contained the elements of ritual and became magical for me. From there, I branched out and created a sequence of events that shifted my consciousness to take the next steps in my day.
Take a closer look at how you can create rituals throughout your day. You're probably already engaged in some! Do you make your bed or brew a cup of coffee or tea in the morning? Perhaps you brush your teeth every day or take an evening shower. These are daily rituals that you perform, often without even knowing it. Many of the magical moments you can access are right in front of you, and you can harness them to become more a part of your practice. All it takes is a little shift in perspective to make the mundane into magic.
For me, making tea or coffee first thing in the morning after making my bed signals that my morning practice of journaling, prayer, and spirit veneration has begun. The coffee or tea acts as an olfactory and sensory cue to enter my ritual space. In that space, I sit and journal, I ground and center, I pray and reflect. Notice the rituals you perform throughout your day and see where you can create space therein.
Journaling has become such a fruitful and important part of my witchcraft that I want to share more about it with you now, and encourage you to try the practice for yourself.
A Magical Journal
Starting a magical journal in the space that you generate for your practice lets you focus on your calling and helps you figure out what is essential to your craft. Not only will this process be rewarding for you in the long run, it will also be immensely helpful for you and your process as you discover your path. A journal is a record that acts as proof of the efficacy of your magic. It validates your process and shows you where you are on your path.
When I first began journaling, I was nervous because I was intimidated by my shiny new notebook. I had no idea what I would write, so, with the first shaky stroke of my pen, I wrote down the date. Then I introduced myself: “Hello, I am Britton.” I felt as if I were encountering a new person, and that perhaps that new person was me. But I was also recognizing that what I was going to write would become a physical artifact that would have the power to send ripples through the universe. It's true. When you write something down, especially your dreams and desires, they do gain more power to come true. With time and practice, my journal became a living spirit and a friend whom I encountered daily. Sometimes my entries were long; sometimes they were short. Often, I simply detailed the day's events or things I was thinking. Once I created the journaling habit, it stuck; on days when I did not write, I felt as if something were missing—like a visit from a good friend. Sometimes I let my journaling practice lapse, but I always come back to it, sometimes with an apology for being absent for so long.
Journaling has become, for me, a sacred ritual in which my ideas, thoughts, and encounters with spirit are recorded. I have even found that syncing my writing with the lunar cycles helps me record and remember. I have a ritual in which I write through the waxing, full, and waning moons. Then I review what I've written on the dark moon, starting a new cycle on the new moon. If you choose to do this, look for signs and patterns in your behaviors, thoughts, and dreams. It's in that reflection where I'm able to notice my own cyclical nature. Just like the moon, your writing may sometimes shine brightly; at other times, it may be so dim that it's barely perceptible. Developing your journaling habit may take time and patience, but I am certain it will be one of the most rewarding things you will ever do for yourself.
Journaling is simple. Just gather up a pen and a paper journal and write in your journal daily. You can find numerous beautiful “books of shadows” and “grimoires” out there in the witch world. But their sheer number can be overwhelming, leaving you with a sense of not knowing where to start. I recommend that you keep it simple. If you feel called to journal with paint or collage, or utilize other forms of artful recording, have at it. My point is that, once you create space for your practice, begin to journal in whatever way you wish.
The method presented in the practice below was developed by Julia Cameron in her book The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. She recommends writing three pages each day, in a stream of consciousness style. You can also use a set word count as a goal if you are working digitally. Julia stresses “no mental cigarette breaks!” Just let it all flow out. If you don't know what to write, simply write: “I don't know what to write.” Something else will eventually bubble up to the surface. This type of writing can be a very revealing and rewarding process.
You don't have to follow this method, however. You can simply write a few pages however you wish. Writing is key here. Do not censor yourself. Keep pushing through any discomfort or nervousness, and you will find your flow. In the space you create for your practice, devote a half hour to an hour to journaling each morning, or whenever you wake up.
The following practice can help you warm up to journaling. The goal here is just to get you started so that you can discover your own magical efficacy and do some visioning for the future.
Practice: Creating a Journal
If you're nervous about starting your journal, which I know many will be, begin with a simple introduction. Imagine you're sitting with a new friend and sharing stories, and simply answer the following questions:
Who am I and where do I come from?
What is my story and why am I here?
What do I hope to achieve and experience in starting this new journey?
Imagine that you feel completely safe and comfortable in sharing your experiences and secrets with this new friend. Here's an example:
Hello, my name is Britton. I am thirty-six years old and originally from Georgia—I don't live there anymore. My father was in the military and that had me moving a lot as a child and teenager. Through my many journeys, I landed in the dusty high desert of eastern Oregon—the original lands of the Cayuse, Paiute, Umatilla, and Nez Perce people. I am surrounded by sagebrush and high mountains on all sides.
Check in with where you are right now. Don't look at what you lack; look at what you have and what you have generated for yourself. Ask yourself:
Where have I made improvements in my life or made something I desired happen?
Where have I overcome obstacles?
Where have I empowered or transformed myself?
It may help to have a friend or someone who knows you well point out your own fabulous qualities and accomplishments. Friends and people we know and like often view us in beautiful ways that we never see ourselves. Your answers don't have to be elaborate; they can be as short or as long as you like. You may answer with something as simple as: “I learned how to cook myself a good meal.” Or with a personal anecdote, like: “I can confidently wear bold red lipstick in public and I feel strong and sexy doing it.”
Next, come into the present moment and pay attention to what surrounds you. Ask yourself:
Where does the beauty in my path lie?
What do I currently have to be grateful for?
How have I helped to bring these things into my life?
What can I do to manifest more beauty in my life and in the world around me?
And finally, explore how your practices as an earth witch can help you manifest more beauty and blessings on your own path and in the world at large. Ask yourself:
What can I do in my practice to connect more regularly and more effectively with the spirits of the land and the natural world around me?
What can I do in my practice to better understand what my plant and animal kin have to teach me?
What can I do in my practice to reach out to my tree kin and hear the messages they offer me?
What can I do to incorporate these messages into my path and my practice?
How can I use this knowledge in ways that will benefit and protect the earth and the environment and all it contains?
The answers to these questions can bring about huge shifts in perspective and provide you with proof of your own magical efficacy.
Chapter 3
Genius Loci
A witch sees through things and around things. A witch sees farther than most, a witch sees things from the other side. A witch knows where she is, who she is and when she is.
—Terry Pratchett
Genius loci is a term meaning “the prevailing character or atmosphere of a place,” but it also refers to the presiding god or spirit of a place. In classical Roman religion, the genius loci were the protective spirits who presided over places of power or where unique energy resided. The Romans built shrines to honor them, and we can still find some of these in our landscape today—fountains where we toss coins, statues whose patina has been worn to a bright sheen by those seeking blessings, groves of old trees, crossroads, and other places of power.
Witches, above all, can recognize our inherent connection to the land and its spirits. We are born from this earth and supported by it. It is what grounds our practice. It is the place from which we may pivot. It is crucial to understand this because, as you begin exploring your spirit body and opening yourself up to spirit contact in the chapters to come, you will need to find a place to become rooted. That place will be the very ground upon which you stand—literally and metaphorically. It will be the environment with which you interact and the land by which you are informed. This rootedness will bring your awareness to the greater web of life around you and the unique ecology in which you participate.
The classic archetype of a witch is a person who lives just on the borders of civilization—someone both reviled and revered. Witches inhabit that strange and liminal space between what is wild and what is tame. There, they observe. In classical folk tales, witches are usually elderly, strange, or queer individuals who live in huts at the border of a town or village. They have knowledge of plants and animals, of the comings and goings of spirits, and of that which desires to remain hidden. They're also the ones who know. They are rooted in and connected to the web of life around them.
This archetype can still apply, however, even if you live smack-dab in the middle of a city. All space and land are sacred; there is no hierarchy of value here. Land that has been tended with care and land that has been despoiled by extracting its resources are both sacred. If the land around you is in tatters and has been exploited to the extent that it is blasted and razed, don't judge it. Rather ask how you can help it. If you're standing in an old-growth forest, surely this is a special place. Ask how you can help protect it. How can you be of service?
The validity or value of witchcraft is not predicated on where witches live. It's their connection to that place that counts. Your connection to your surroundings is a part of your own knowing and your process of increasing your awareness and understanding. This is where the value lies—in your connection to your environment. Even if that connection feels uncomfortable or aloof to you—or sometimes even a little scary—it is still worth exploring. Having knowledge of your surroundings and still being willing to explore and understand them is the value.
It is crucial to your understanding that your actions be informed by the spaces you inhabit. I invite you to contemplate the following questions deeply:
What do these spaces need and what is their resonance?
What do I need and what is my resonance?
How do these two move through each other? How does one inform and affect the other?
When I first came into my practice, I was not living in some ideal environment that offered me room to roam the countryside in search of places of power and uniqueness. I lived in a city, albeit a green and tree-laden city, and I feared that I would somehow be divorced from the magic of the earth.
As I began to awaken to my surroundings, I found myself reaching far and wide for connection to the land. During this time, I was without a car and often went to work or the grocery store on foot. I really didn't have a way to go outside the city limits into the forests to commune with nature, so I worked with what I had—the lichens and mosses growing in profusion along rock walls, the wild fruit trees that grew in alleyways, the weeds pushing up through cracks in the concrete.
If you look closely, you can find all that you need right in front of you. Spirit's presence can be experienced everywhere—even in sewers and powerlines, in busy city centers and back alleys, in dilapidated buildings and vacant lots. And your environment and what grows within it is often exactly the medicine you need in that moment.
Animism
Animism (from the Latin word anima) means “breath,” “spirit,” or “life.” Animism is the belief that all things contain a spirit or some form of animating life force, even seemingly inanimate objects like rocks, broken branches, old T-shirts, or pencils. For earth witches, it is the genius loci—the spirits of place—who animate the earth, giving the land and all it contains life and meaning and power. For them, rocks, plants, trees, insects, animals, seemingly inanimate objects, even the soil itself all hold resonances of place, origin, feeling, and spirit. This animistic worldview is crucial to our work as earth witches, because, in that work, we come into a relationship with all things—all living things and all things seemingly non-living.
Consider an object that you may take totally for granted, like an old wooden table. That table was hewn from a living tree that once stood in a forest. Imagine the experiences collected by this table in the places it may have inhabited and how it may be imbued with the qualities of those environments. Imagine seeing this table in all its unique character—the grain of its wood, the stains and scratches on its surface, its patina, and the feeling it impresses upon you. The table has a life. You may be able to gather a sense about where the wood has been and what it has seen. Perhaps you are repulsed by or deeply attracted to the table. You stand in relationship with it, whether you realize it or not. And with all that came before.
This table, like us in many ways, reflects its surroundings. It changes and influences us, and, in turn, also changes and influences our environment. Why would we limit this just to the human experience? Animism allows for personhood in the natural world, a world that our capitalist culture sees merely as something to exploit, to objectify, and to denude.
But witches shift this focus, and that shift is reflected in their language. When speaking of plant allies, for example, we change “what is that plant?” to “who is that plant?” By doing this, we open ourselves and others around us to a shift in perspective. For witches, all things are animate living beings that carry a spiritual pulse with which we may intertwine and interact. When we see a plant or flower that we are curious about, we open ourselves up to a much more living, embodied, and sensitive experience. We ask: “Who are you, and what is your power?” This question helps us cultivate a relationship based on curiosity and reciprocity. It becomes an invitation to connection, rather than a demand for a productive purpose.
If this is not already a part of your language, I invite you to try it. View the environment within which you live—a city, an urban landscape, a yurt in the woods, a mobile home, or an apartment in a small town—as inhabited by living, breathing beings with whom you can interact in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.
If this is a struggle for you, take a second look at the things around you right now in this moment. What memories are attached to them? Where did they come from? Can you trace their origin or maybe their story? Hold a few of these items if you can and experience them. What do you sense with your emotions? What do you feel in your body? Take note of these feelings. See if you notice anything about their spirit and what they want to share with you. What do they do? What is their function? How can you learn from them?
When you go outside, realize that your body and its magnetic field (essentially your heart's magnetic field) is encountering other beings who also radiate energy. It is in this special moment that you receive wisdom and guidance from them. It is then that you can respectfully and reverently interact with them. From there, you can really begin to cultivate your relationship to the land and the genius loci themselves.
Deep Listening
Deep listening is a practice by which you can know and connect to both the land and the spirits you find there. Listening deeply requires generating stillness within and being in deep recognition of your surroundings. Meditation, grounding, centering, meditative walking, and deep observation of a particular place let you listen deeply and become more attuned to the messages the land or the objects you find there offer. They do not speak to you in your common language, but in the whispers of the wind, in the travel patterns of bees, in families of trees, in the texture of the dirt, and in the old structures that progress wants to knock down, perpetuating the myth that new is always better.
Deep listening is the language of naturalists—those who pay attention to the signs of nature. But earth witches take this listening a step further and interweave themselves with it all. They know we are not separate from nature or our surroundings, but an integral part of them.
Many years ago, in a late and dry summer, I took a trip to visit a coastal meadow that I loved dearly. It had been some time since I had been there. As I got out of my car, I could smell faint whiffs of wildfire smoke in the air, mingling with the salty air rolling in off the ocean. It was a strange contrast for a place known to be quite wet. I picked my way down a favorite trail to spend time with some plants whom I'd befriended on previous visits. The sky was a deep shade of blue, and the wind was ripping down the beach. A beautiful lighthouse stood at the tip of the cape, placed there to protect and guide ships. I wondered whether this would have been a place of power if civilization hadn't reached these shores. A place that is sacred—lighthouse or not.
