Nascendo morimur moriendo vivimus.

Mosaic from the impluvium of the House of Gometric Mosaics, Pompeii

So like, why would historical witches have worshipped the devil? If they’d practiced localized agrarian religions (which they did) 1. Where would they have gotten the VERY specifically Christian idea of the devil? And 2. Even if that existed in their religions, why would they gravitate towards that and not the gods of their religion?

Also, keep in mind that witchcraft, by nature, is transgressive. Even in agrarian religions, much is made about obedience and the power of the deity beyond your own. Witchcraft bargains, rather than bows. It greedily takes power for itself, which leaves the witch in a position that neither obedient adherents desperately trying to keep their societies together, nor the gods like.

The Elder Mother is an arboreal guardian figure in British, Germanic, and Scandinavian folklore, known by various names, such as the Danish Hyldemoer ("Elder Mother") and the Lincolnshire names Old Lady or Old Girl. She is known as the protector of the Elder Trees, as well as the one who guards the door to the Otherworld—realm of the Faerie and/or the Dead. As such, she is associated with some of the darker mysteries and magics, especially in relation to the cycles of life, death and rebirth. Until relatively recently in Scandinavia and the UK, it was widely believed that if one harvested wood from an Elder Tree without permission from the Elder Mother, they would suffer misfortune at her hands. In order to gain her consent, the wood-cutter was required to address the Elder Mother by chanting or singing a particular promise: "Old girl, give me some of thy wood and I will give thee some of mine when I grow into a tree." This simple vow refers to the potentiality for growth and renewal offered through death, as the decaying of the body gives way to the enrichment of the natural environment that serves as its final resting place. One such story of the Elder Mother's retribution recounts the mother of a sick child saying : “It were all along of my maister’s thick ‘ead. It were in this ‘ow't’ rocker comed off t'cradle, and he hadn’t no more gumption than to mak’ a new ‘un out on illerwood (elder wood) without axing the Old Lady’s leave, and in course she didn’t like that, and she came and pinched the wean that outrageous he were a’most black in t’ face; but I bashed un off, and putten an eshen on, and the wean is gallus as owt agin."

Bearing such an intimate connection to the Otherworld, Elder is widely considered one of the Faerie trees. In Denmark, it was said that if a person stood beneath an Elder tree, wearing a crown of Elder on May Eve, they would be able to commune with the Other Realm and see the Faerie and the spirits of the Dead. According to a similar, Scottish tradition, it was said that if you stood beneath an Elder on the eve of Samhain, you would be able to see the Elven Monarchs and their hosts of Elves. However, while the Elder is intimately linked to the Faerie Faiths, it is also closely connected to the lore of witches.

A different tale, from Northamptonshire, tells of a man who cut a switch from the branch of an Elder, only to see that the tree was oozing blood. Later that day, upon meeting the local witch, he notices that her arm is newly dressed with a bloody bandage.

Another story casts the Elder Mother, not only as an Arboreal Witch, but as the morally ambiguous heroine of the tale. She is credited in the tale with rescuing Britain from being conquered by a foreign king and his cavalry. This also serves as an origin myth for how the Rollright Stones, rest along the Oxfordshire / Warwickshire border, came to be. As the king and his knights made their way to Long Compton, they came across the witch, who told the king:

“Seven long strides thou shalt take,

And if Long Compton thou shalt see,

King of England thou shalt be."

The king went onwards though, saying:

"Stick, stock, stone

As King of England I shall be known."

However, when the King's made his seventh stride, a hill rose up before him, preventing him from seeing Long Compton. The witch spoke to the king and his men once again, saying:

"As Long Compton thou canst not see

King of England thou shalt not be.

Rise up stick and stand still stone

For King of England thou shalt be none;

Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be

And I myself an Eldern tree."

And so, the king and his knights were turned to stone and the witch turned herself into an Elder Tree.

Hail Sutekh, lover of the monstrous, the queer and the outcast! 

SHOP / KO-FI / PATREON / INSTAGRAM

Nature is not soft—neither sweet nor kind.

There is blood, and savagery—

a struggle for survival that cares not whether you live nor die.

Even spring, the ‘softest’ season is not all flowers and butterflies.

Spring is a time of growth;

yes, there is beauty and flowers, and sweet whimsical moments.

But have you ever noticed the way the flowers grow—wild, chaotic?

What about the little corpse of a baby bird that fell from its cradle?

Did you notice the withered saplings that failed to take root?

How about the blue jay who raids other birds' nests? Or the half eaten corpses that litter all about?

Dearest, did you know?

Spring is a time where the weak are weeded from the rest—

animals, insects, plants; only the strongest will live to grow and flourish.

Just as any other season, the hunt is ever strong

and fresh blood always flows.

Oh, lovely little doll with their head up in the clouds; when will you realize,

that during your petty little spring—

a time you think is honeysuckle, and lace—

birth walks hand in hand with bloodshed and death?

Why else would the goddess of spring be given a name that means the bringer of destruction and death?

According to one Hungarian lore, the Devil’s favourite tree is the elder because of this legend:

When God was creating the world, the Devil watched as he created the animals. Once the Devil ran home and by the time he got back, ha saw that the animals, that were laying lifelessly before, now moved around, ate and drank - in other words, they were alive.

“How did you do this?” asked the Devil the Lord God.

“I breathed into them.” answered God, and showed the Devil a wooden flute.

This is a collection of articles and information pertaining to Ancestral work with both The Beloved Dead (ancestors of blood, family, familiar ancestors) & The Mighty Dead (ancestors of spirit, witchcraft). The practices that surround working with the dead, benevolent necromancy, ancestral worship, and altars, and offerings. 

Who’s Who : Ancestors (Greenstag)

Ancestral Practice, Altars & The Mighty Dead (Wildhunt)

Altars to the Beloved & Mighty Dead (Sarahannelawless)

Ancestral Altars & Rituals (Sarahannelawless)

In Search of The Mighty Dead (Pantheos)

Ancestor Altars (AFWcraft)

Honoring the Dead in the Northern Tradition (Northernpaganism)

Dem Bones (Newworldwitchery) 

Dancing with the Ancestors (Walkingthehedge)

What is Necromancy (Greenstag)

For the Ancestors (Northernpaganism)

Related Articles 

Drying & Preparing Graveyard Dirt (Unfetteredwood)

Recipe for New Flesh (Walkingthehedge)

Nature Friendly Offering Stones (Unfetteredwood)

Mullen Candles & Torches (Unfetteredwood) 

Creating an Ancestor Garden (Unfetteredwood)

MAID AGNES musing sat alone

Upon the lonely strand;

The breaking waves sighed oft and low

Upon the white sea-sand.

Watching the thin white foam, that broke

Upon the wave, sat she,

When up a beauteous merman rose

From the bottom of the sea

Of course he is your patron. The Man in Black is the patron of every witch. He is there when you follow the traces of the craft, he is there when you go into the lonely wilderness to seek the power, he is there waiting in the dark. 

Witchcraft is a craft of the night: hidden, secret, veiled, obscured. Just as it, the man is hidden by a hood or hat. Even in name, he is hidden. Who is he? Who can be him? Is he truly a man? Often, he can appear as animals hoofed, horned, scaled, feathered, and sleek. Often, he can appear as a well dressed man, or even a man covered in rags. The unknown figure that is there to guide every witch to the inner mysteries. 

He sees your inner fire and knows you. 

What is his name? Is it the Devil? Is it the Fairy King? Is it Tio? Is it Baron Samedi? Is it Leonard? Is it Old Nick? Is it Cain? Is it Saturn?  Who is he?  I dare not say. For, we cannot know. 

He is a patron of witches, for he is a figure of witchcraft itself. He is our man veiled and hatted in darkness. The watcher of the witches, and the vigil of witchcraft.

To know him and learn of him, you must seek the tales of witches. For in the tales of witches, he is not far away.

As far as organized groups, I got initiated into one and then immediately left because its atmosphere (and lack of work ethic) was bullshit. So I can sort of see where people go with the gatekeeping in an organized group. But I’m not talking about that here. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about attitudes I see on Tumblr.

Bitching about gatekeeping in the context of a solitary practitioner on Tumblr that won’t just hand out their work is laughable. Solitary practitioners started out where you are. No tools, no teachers, no clue where to look. But the one thing they did have in common was the hunger. The drive to learn. Be better. Talented magicians in “fancy” or “well-to-do” trads come from all stripes and all walks of life: the projects of Detroit. Rural farming towns. Waitresses, janitors, coal miners. Chavs from Cornwall who spent their childhoods in the equicalent of juvie and found their first books of magic in what is essentially a youth prison library. College students struggling to pay their bills and who would surely go hungry without magic. People addicted to hard drugs, on the brink of ruining their lives to the point of being either dead or completely ruined. Quadraplegics. All these examples are real people that I know.

If you cant be bothered to Google, go to a library, read through a blog, use a search function, you don’t have the hunger and you won’t last anyway. Sorry. I have several learning and mood disorders and I don’t want to hear it. If youre a solitary occultist and you’re making excuses, or expect free help, or are not giving it your all, the only person gatekeeping you is you.

Some newbie with no resources but all the burning desire in their heart, who goes out desperately in the woods or a burial ground and lays down in the dirt on the New Moon and just hopes against hope a spirit shows up to teach them something, with no tools, no knowledge, nothing, has more respect from me than someone who simply makes excuses and won’t utilize any of the tools around them.

Plenty of people go it alone. They don’t need a coven, a lodge, a lineage, where a group of people can keep knowledge from you (arbitrarily or not). They do it because they’re hungry and it’s in their blood and they are driven beyond belief to get the things they want in life.

I’m not sure I understand the first part of your question, anon. How does one obtain a staff? The same way they find any tool; by taking/making one. Dive into the forest. Uproot a sapling, cut a branch from a tree, take up a fallen limb, anything of the nature.

As to the uses, a witch’s staff has as many uses as there are witches who use them. Use a rod to conjure a storm, beat open the land, command spirits, delineate a working space, lay a circle, leap over an obstacle, a steed of flight, or even as a walking stick. Certain woods are said to aid certain works along. Ash tends to be favored for those who seek flight or to have the staff act as a bridge between this and the unseen realm, while others will favor blackthorn for it’s long history as a tool of cursing and blasting. Still others may choose staves of an unknown wood simply because it is a part of their locality.

It may be far better according to you, but I would vehemently disagree. Further, while it may be your practice to make offerings and ask permission, who is to say it’s someone else’s? While I am an animist, not everyone who practices witchcraft is, and to try and pigeonhole this process into an animist view excludes those who do not believe such things. 

Also, this was my own method, given after the anon asked me for it.Thank you for the contradiction of my method, both of you, and lack of explanation as to why the method I gave is somehow lesser. I’m sure that will go a long way. 

So I say again, do not just reblog something and tell someone not to do something with no explanation of why it should be done, or matter-of-factly as though your process is somehow better. 

Here’s my little thank you to my followers! I know it’s been a long time coming, but it’s finally here! In celebration of hitting a follower milestone and another year of being a witch, I cobbled this together.

250ml bottle of raw Myrh Resin

Porcupine quil for candle carving

Eggshell, salt and bone chalk

Palo santo

Burlap sachet with: Goldsheen Obsidian, Kyanite Shards, Pyrite, and Amethyst Chunk.

Large pink rock salt

Handmade beeswax Eclipse Candle

Large black and red candle

Wild White sage and California Sunflower herb bundle (made by hand from sustainable sources from a local Native American group)

Resin Palmistry Hand

Protective Corn Doll

Spirit Halloween Tarot got it in a raffle, unused, cloth not included

Flying ointment

Barber’s Almanac

Contest is in no way affiliated with Tumblr

The Rules:

Must be 18 or older to participate! 16 with parent permission and flying ointment will be removed.

Follow the blog! That’s where updates and any changes will be posted!

Likes and reblogs count as entries! (Limit 2 reblogs per day! And No bot, spam, or giveaway blogs)

If reblogging from a side blog and you follow from a different one, put the name in the tags!

Do not tag as giveaway or it will mess up the notes for everyone.

Contest ends November 30, 2018 and winner will be chosen by random number generator!

Winner must respond within 24 hours with full name, and address after I message them.

This goes for herbal correspondences, crystal meanings, tarot keywords, and more.

Handy lists are useful in a pinch but at the end of the day, they should be the beginning of your research, not the end. The powers, depth, and nuance of something can rarely be summed up in just one word, or even a few. They are good for quick answers and setting up a baseline of knowledge, but when used alone can actually serve to harm your craft!

These lists prioritize speed and memorization over true understanding, and can overgeneralize to the point of inaccuracy.  A witch who has a list of words memorized but no real understanding of why things work the way they do (or only understands correspondences in umbrella terms) will kill their research skills and be much more prone to wonky manifestations. What ingredients would you use for an uncommon intent such as legal trouble or performance?

When I first fell headlong into witchcraft, something like seventeen years ago, it had to be kept secret. Everything had to be hidden away, in various places, scattered under the bed, the dresser, behind cabinets, in drawers, and as completely innocuous as possible and all of it behind a bedroom door that stayed locked more often than not.

It’s not like that now, and while I don’t disassemble my altars or hide my books away from disapproving family, I still keep things very secretive.

The term I use for it is sub rosa, meaning “under the rose”. Basically, it seems to originate from Eros giving a rose to Harpocrates to make sure that Aphrodite’s indiscretions would be kept secret. I’m generalizing (poorly) and using the Wikipedia summary, forgive me. The roses came first, the why always seemed less important.

Historically, the concept of sub rosa continued, used in the Middle Ages and onward. You can see roses carved onto confessional boxes for privacy, and sometimes roses were integrated onto the ceilings in people’s homes to signify that whatever was discussed would be kept secret, or under the rose.

I’ve also seen this similar sort of concept woven into pop-culture, in a few books but most recently in Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. Lady Pole’s inability to speak because she was bound by a rose at the mouth.

Dried roses hang in clusters about my room where all of my work is done. I don’t even remember when I started doing it, I just knew that I should. Now the air moves through them and in the quiet, I can hear the dried rustle of the petals scraping against one another - whispering. They’ve become an important symbol for me, a reminder every time I look at them, though the meaning has changed over the years.

They are both a spell and a promise. And every December, I’ve replaced them with fresh ones and renewed the vow. It’s an unspoken agreement: I keep their secrets and they keep mine. 

A spell woven to protect this part of me that I keep hidden, to keep it safe from prying eyes and wandering hands. A fascination, a distraction to keep them from looking too long, from asking questions.  

A promise to the gods and ungods that I will keep the secrets they gift me with. That whatever I am shown or told will be kept quiet. This is a promise I hold sacred.  

So far, it holds true and has taken on a life of it’s own. The spirits hold me accountable and tell me when to keep silent. There have been many times I’ve wanted to speak; I’ve even wanted to post things on this blog and find that I simply cannot. I am stopped every time, my promise won’t let me - and for good reason, they are experiences that are not really meant to be shared.