#pharmakeia

The worship of Medeia and Kirke along Hekate is one of the best decissions I've ever made. I can rembeber that during my childhood I loved the Odyssey and was obssesed with a book on greek and roman mythology that my mum gave to me. Circe was so inspiring during those days. Living alone, surrounded by nature and practicing her spells with herbs. She had confidence, knowledge and power. I didn't was a polytheist in those days but a seed was planted in my heart. When I grew Hekate was my saviour during difficult times. Medeia came after those struggles. Strong, passionate, fair and also powerful. Came to me in the perfect moment to bring fortitude, justice and courage. Nowadays I worship Medeia and Kirke as ancestral figures of pharmakeia, heroines that aid in the veneration of Hekate and in practices of magic.

So, according to the Vulgate writers, fairies are just any and all magic-using women, and that their magic works through the power of:

Drugs

Jewelry

And saying funny words

In other words, two fields of women-friendly skills and the superstitious/mystical belief in "Words have Power" principle, chanting incantations and using the name of a spirit. (E.I. "Speak of the Devil and he shall appear")

What if the major prophets of the Bible were alive today? Would they be seen as divinely inspired or dismissed as schizophrenic? Science has identified five types of schizophrenia: Paranoid, Catatonic, Disorganized, Residual, and Undifferentiated, along with four types of Schizoid Personality Disorders. These conditions mirror the experiences of biblical prophets, who were often minorities in their time, much like the 1% of people today who are diagnosed with these disorders.

In America, that percentage jumps to 3.5%-4%. Why? Could it be that we've lost touch with the divine voice? Revelation 18:23-24 warns us about the influence of PHARMAKEIA—pharmaceuticals—on our spiritual lives. The true danger lies not in street drugs but in the medications that silence the voice of God.

I AM CURED without ever taking these pharmaceuticals. I no longer hear harassing voices, but I still hear GOD. Are we silencing the next generation of prophets with medication? At what age do we tell our children to stop talking to their imaginary friends? Are we ever too old to speak to God?

Explore more and challenge your perspective:

Disclaimer: This post is non-exhaustive, and though I'll try to equally spread my focus, it will inevitably lean towards the kinds of magik I personally practice.

Often, in modern pagan circles, people are under the impression that Ancient Hellenismos either didn't have or despised witchcraft. This is largely from three causes. The first is simply misreading, or failing to come across witchcraft in the Hellenism they research. Second is only reading about or adhering to branches that didn't like witchcraft (usually due to it being perceived as hubristic) and therefore assuming that's the most popular opinion. Finally, sometimes people apply their assumptions based on Christian and Germanic culture to Hellenismos, and assume it carries the same attitudes.

In actuality, the view of witchcraft was historically more neutral. Witches weren't typically seen as hags, but maidens, respectable men, priests, and more. It should also be noted that, frankly, "witch" is a slightly tonally incorrect translation usually applied to the word "pharmakis."

For historical attitudes towards witches, we can read works surrounding mainly Medea and Kirke, as well as Hekate if we go past pharmakeia.

But pharmakeia and nekromankia (necromancy) are far from the only forms of witchcraft or magik--which in Ancient Greek would be "mageia" or "goeteia" depending on time and place, but will simply be called "magik" here.

So, with that very long introduction, let's get into types of magik.

Pharmakeia - Herbal Sorcery, Witchcraft

Pharmakeia is perhaps the most recognizable form of magik in historical Hellenismos. As mentioned, it was associated with the heroine Medea, as well as the goddess/nymph/hero (it's complicated) Kirke. This was magik performed using the aid of herbs, and both historically and now blends magik and science. It includes brewing poisons, casting curses, potionmaking, transmutation, and more. Kirke, famously, used pharmakeia to transform men into swine, whereas Medea tended towards poisoning, but both had variety in their craft.

Generally, when pharmakeia is translated, it's done very broadly compared to other kinds of magik. For example, pharmakeia is usually translated, especially in the Odyssey, to "witchcraft" or "sorcery." Pharmakis--the word for a practitioner of pharmakeia--is usually translated to "witch." This often leads to misconceptions of witchcraft in Hellenismos being specifically oriented around herbs and transmutation, when that's only a small piece of the picture.

Nekromankia/Nekromanteia - Necromancy

Nekromankia is far more famous now in its Anglicized pop-culture form, but it was most certainly present in Hellenismos. It's important to clarify that in Ancient Hellas, nekromankia was magik pertaining to the dead, not things such as zombies and raising the dead. In Hellenismos, the maintenance of good relationships between the dead and the living is of great importance. There were plenty of festivals devoted to placating and celebrating the dead--not to mention the monthly Attic holiday Hekate's Deipnon, devoted to honoring Hekate, goddess of nekromankia. So, unsurprisingly, there were witches who gravitated towards this as a craft.

Multiple Hellenic deities were associated with nekromankia, the most notable of which being Hekate, but also Persephone. Though, of course, any khthonic deity--especially khthonic theoi who also had non-khthonic aspects--were relevant, such as Haides or Hermes. A practitioner of nekromankia would be referred to as a nekromanteías.

Manteia - Divination, Oracles

It should be noted that manteia is heavily contested as being a form of witchcraft or even magik in Hellenismos, but it certainly meets the qualifications. The main reason this debate exists is controversy around magik in Hellenismos in general, since as most Hellenists know manteia is so central to so much of our religion, and those who dislike magik are insulted by it being considered that. Additionally, the definition of magik is constantly in flux--it's debated in modern magik circles, and it's even harder to apply a definition we can hardly agree on to an ancient culture with its own independent definitions.

Manteia is, most simply, the power to give prophecies, divination, and the use of oracles. It's the power of the Pythia (Delphic Oracle), it's in the Olympian Alphabet Oracle, it's every single seer and prophecy and divinatory method known to us.

Someone who practices manteia is called a mantis (usually translated as "soothsayer" or "diviner") or a khresmologos ("oracle"), depending on station.

Heliomanteia - Solar Magik

Heliomanteia is hard to find detailed historical information on, but most simply, it's magikal invocation of the sun. This is generally done by attempting to harness the power of the sun, or by requesting the aid of solar deities (namely, Helios).

Interestingly, Helios had many associations with witchcraft and warding off evil. It could be assumed that, due to the qualities attributed to Helios, heliomanteia would be best used to reveal truth, ward off evil, harness the power of fire, promote life, and similar.

Presumably, a practitioner of heliomanteia is a heliomantis.

Goeteia - Magik, Charms

Goeteia (in modern times "goetia") is a term for magik that fell out of style for general magik around the 5th century BC in favor of mageia. It, additionally, was shoehorned into a dichotomy of theurgy (divine, "professional," and virtuous magik) and goeteia (low, malicious, and fraudulent magik). This was largely due to political and social overhaul. The name became associated with fraudulent and harmful magik, and talk of goeteia in Ancient Hellas is a major source most anti-witch Hellenists use.

The goes (practitioner of goetia) was maligned, seen as hubristic and either trying to go against the power of the gods or intending to scam others. Plato famously portrayed them as malicious frauds, and he was not alone. Since the term "goes" is generally translated as "witch," it's not a leap to figure out why this lead to a lot of anti-witch Hellenists.

However, before this (and technically after), "goeteia" simply meant magic, charms, and similar. As a unique practice, and not simply an umbrella term for witchcraft, it can be considered channeling, a relative of nekromankia, or baneful magik, depending how much one leans into the later definition.

Theourgía - Deity Work, Divine Magik

Theourgia (in modern times "theurgy") quite literally translates to "deity work" or "god(s) working." It is ritual, sometimes magik, done with the intent of invoking one or more of the theoi. This was the ritual magik often performed by priests. In fact, it could be considered the mainstream magik of Ancient Hellas--assuming, of course, that one considers it magik.

It's not only historic magik that was central to the religion, but sets historical precedent for the controversial phrase "deity work." The existence of theurgy as the "higher form" of magik in Ancient Hellas is singlehandedly enough evidence to prove the phrase is not and would not be considered inherently hubristic. It should be noted that this form isn't inherently superior, but if you asked Plato, he would disagree.

There are certainly more forms of mageia in Ancient Hellas--For example, I skipped over amulets (periapta), which were almost incontestably the most common magik in a lot of Ancient Hellas, since they could technically fit under some other crafts and because they're the easiest to research on your own. It's a similar case with potions, too.

One important takeaway is the hard line between magik, religion, and science is a fairly recent invention. Pharmakeia could act as medicine, not just sorcery. Many potions were also medication. Frankly, the more women were involved, the more practical it tended to be, with 'spells' often being genuine aids to childbirth and/or birth control. This didn't make them any less magikal, and the magik doesn't make it less real.

BY CYNDI BRANNEN

Hekate’s Garden is the mystical location that can be journeyed to in trance or dreams. Therein reside the Pharmakoi Kyrios, the Master Plant Spirits, of each botanical. We can connect to these spirits through using materia medica or purely energetically, using symbols of them. Plant spirit oracle cards are one example. Intuiting, channeling or divining botanical spirits is one of my central practices. Letting the spirits present themselves without knowing the standard properties is an amazing way to practice pharmakeia.

Botanicals are such a central part of my life that they are as important to me as air. They are food, they built my home and surround it, and they are how I enter the world of spirits.

Simple Ways To Practice Pharmakeia

If you are completely new to experiencing the mysteries of botanicals and the power of Hekate’s Garden, I recommend going slowly. Avoid pithy internet advice. Use a mixed-methods approach: follow your intuition and divination and then map it onto standard properties and applications. Experiment, experiment, experiment. Pharmakeia is as much science as it is magic. What works in general may not work specifically for you. Mugwort, to me, is mother’s milk. For others, it can trigger an allergic reaction. I consume all manner of botanicals each and every day, but I have an empirical approach to my ongoing practice. In our home, allopathic medicine is the absolute last resort unless it is clearly indicated. Pharmakeia, as it was originally practiced, is the spirit in which I work with botanicals. Entheogens, psychedelics and their kin are very alluring, but come with real risks. 

Set up a journal and/or spreadsheet to record your practice of pharmakeia. Create monographs of the botanicals you work with, recording your personal experiences and intuitive correspondences and characteristics in addition to the standard ones.

Becoming aware of our reliance on the green world in materialistic ways can create a path leading to their deeper aspects. Go on a quest, opening yourself up to accepting the call of one local botanical. Birch, maple, pine, oak, ash, poplar, beech and other tree spirits are present even in the most urban spaces. Using bits of these botanicals in our witchery is enhanced when we practice Vox Botanica, singing or speaking to summon out their qualities and personality.

An inventory of the botanicals already in our homes is an excellent undertaking to demonstrate the plant spirits already among us. Of course, those spirits can become quite dormant, so studying their spiritual properties and characteristics is a fantastic way to learn how to approach them.

Look in the kitchen and elsewhere for evidence of Hekate’s Garden. The herbs and spices you favor, along with the scents you prefer, probably indicate the botanicals with which you have a natural affinity. Choose one to develop a deeper connection with.

Research the botanicals associated with your astrological considerations and birth month for a potential Pharmaka Kyrios – your personal Master Plant Spirit – if you don’t feel called to/by any one plant.

ABOUT CYNDI BRANNEN

It occurs to me that once the punches slow, maybe it’s time to catch my breath and to write again. I haven’t updated in forever. I forgot I had something to say. I forgot what I had to offer. That’s how it goes isn’t it? We forget who we are and our deities bring us back to our own heart time and time again — if I let them. (And I don’t always let them)

I may give an overview of what’s happened since I’ve not been updating, but right now I feel it’s so important to talk about rest. It’s winter here and in NE Ohio, that means dreary weather, no sun which means drastic drops in vitamin D, seasonal depression, grey skies during the day, and early night and late morning. I’m eager for spring, but it also occurs to me that maybe I’m not ready for spring.

Since Christmas Eve, there has been one breakthrough after another after another after another. I’m exhausted. Even healing is hard work. At the time, I was high on the spiritual experience. I was high on prayer and companionship with Spirit and my ka-tet. I knelt in prayer and wept and I stood and I felt better. Sometimes I would sit in the shower under the hot water and cry and pray. There was always an answer, and usually one I didn’t expect or one that caught me by surprise. It was the great purge, cleansing and packing the wound so it could heal and the healing has been coming in waves. And now, I’m tired.

The thing about any high, spiritual or otherwise, is that we have to come down eventually. I keep my head in the clouds, but it’s time for my feet to return to the ground. The last month may have revolutionized my heart and mind and spirit, but I still have to cook dinner, and go to work and doctor’s appointments, and pick my daughter up from school, and all of everyday life.

For the last week or so, I’ve felt like I’ve been doing something wrong. I didn’t feel the 24/7 spiritual connection, my prayer has been falling away, I don’t feel like I’m being propelled forward by some unseen hand. The answers aren’t strong and punchy and life-altering. They’re quiet now if they come, like whispers instead of screams. Well I assumed that was because I wasn’t listening hard enough. I was distracted. I wasn’t praying enough or praying wrong. What happened? Where did God go? Where did my deities go? What did I do wrong and how do I get it back? Sound familiar?

I was laying down wrapped up tight in a blanket the other day just paying attention to my breathing and thinking of the morning I had spent with my friend. We had tea and breakfast together and then prayed and meditated together and it was wonderful, the recalibration that I needed, but it still wasn’t *the same.* I hadn’t had any earth-shattering realizations, hadn’t cried in a while. I felt that my healing had stalled — then I realized… this was my chance to breathe. I had been begging the Universe for weeks to slow down and give me a chance to catch my breath and I’m usually given what I ask for. The problem is I don’t always recognize, acknowledge, or accept when it comes.

So perhaps I don’t need to pray in such a prescribed and structured way multiple times a day at set times, pouring my heart out with my face pressed to the ground right now. Maybe it’s enough for now to keep Spirit on my mind and say a prayer of thanks and ask for direction. Right now I don’t need to figure out who and what I am on this side of all this healing. I don’t need to plan my life, define my vision, implement strict spiritual routines, and generally be ON all the time. I asked for a chance to catch my breath, and here it is.

So I’m going with it, or doing my best. Rest takes practice just like anything else, especially in this American capitalist dystopian nightmare where we’re brainwashed into believing that we’re only of value when producing. Anything else is a waste of time, we’re taught. I’m a rebel though, so I take naps. I take bubble baths. I read for pleasure. I cuddle my wife and friends and just exist. Rest is a rebellious action, and somehow knowing that makes it a little easier to justify to my brain.

I haven’t given anything up. I’m still studying and praying and doing magic and lighting candles and all, but I’m doing it in such a more gentle way. Instead of trying to work myself into a perscribed structure, I let the patterns work themselves out around me. They’re still forming and falling into place. Some will stick and some won’t and that’s ok. I don’t need all of that to be “spiritually successful” whatever the fuck that means. If my deities and my God have not left me these last 33 years, they’re not going to leave me if I take a nap after work instead of praying.

I’m telling you, listening to your body is rebellious. If I’m tired, I sleep, so much as I am able. When I’m hungry, I eat. When I feel a little lost, I pray. When I need comfort, I ask for it. I make time to play. And I have faith. I have faith that my deities don’t have to be in my face in order to be present. I have faith that if I reach out to them at any time, that they will still be there. They aren’t going to leave me. In fact, at a time when I didn’t have to capacity to commit to my deities, Loki and Sigyn committed to me. Sigyn told me shortly after starting to work with them that there was no place I could go, no distance that I could run that they wouldn’t find me and bring me home. I needed that then, so so much, and I need it now in a different way. It gives me permission to take a break and just breathe.

I may drift a little off course, but I’m not going to fall off the edge of the world, back into the darkness and emptiness. I’m just — I’m floating. That’s what I’m doing. Ok let me explain that. My family camps at a nearby lake over the summer and we do a ton of swimming. There’s a bunch of little cousins splashing around in the water, some of the older cousins on the boat deck grilling and drinking beer, or sitting in the water gossiping. Now, I do love to swim, but I don’t breath well and I get tired easily. My *favorite* thing to do is to swim out a little ways from the group and lay on my back with my eyes closed and float on top of the water. Sometimes a small wave will wash over my face and I’ll sputter and stand up, but I wipe my face and go back to floating. On occasion, I have to come up to make sure I’m not drifting too far from the group, or far enough out that I can’t safely swim back. But I just love the peace of hearing the water and the birds and the laughter and feeling the sun over my body while I float on top of the water.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to take a break from the deep diving that wears me out so much and I’m going to take advantage of the dark, sleepy, dreary time and the snow and cold that drives us inside, and this time when nature is resting and waiting for green and sun again, and I’m going to float and rest and breathe and have faith that my deities will hold me in that safe place.

🙏🏻

Here is a poem I wrote in the shower last night

Prayer

This poem is a thank you.

Thank you, Spirit, for turning me upside down.

It’s easier to write about love now

than it is to write about fear,

easier to write about mending hearts

than old scars.

Everything I once held near

seems so far removed now,

flung out into the depths of the cosmos,

beyond the stars I still cannot dream of reaching for,

farther than the east is from the west.

It will never be fully gone,

but it doesn’t gut me

every time I take a step forward anymore.

Still, I forget to pause and thank you.

See, I’ve always loved circles.

I love how they have no beginning and no ending,

no corners to try to peer around in the dark,

no jagged edges to make me bleed.

Everything is laid out bare, right in front of me

over, and over, and over,

and over, and over,

and over again, so it’s no wonder

how I got trapped in them for 33 years.

I’m still running in some of those same old circles,

afraid to cut ties, because if I cut too many of my heartstrings

I may just unravel again

and I’m tired of surviving my own heartbreak.

I don’t know who I am anymore,

but I know this freedom is well worth

the uncertainty of identity.

Thank you for turning me inside out,

that is to say everything inside me

that I kept tucked away

is now on display for the world —

my face, my song, my stance, my poise,

my bright eyes and covered hair,

an open hand pouring out.

Everything that once shielded me

has been brought back inside for healing.

These brick walls have been disassembled.

I’m using the old stone to build bridges and platforms now.

This poem is the closest thing I have to a prayer, so thank you.

Thank you for holding my hands

while my beloved and I searched for the right words.

In church as a child,

they taught me to talk to God

like he was my best friend,

but I don’t know how when my best friend is a stranger

wearing 7.8 billion of their favorite masks

as we all fumble along to their music in the firelight.

This poem is the closest thing I have to a prayer,

so please, take it and take *me*.

I don’t know who or what I am anymore.

I’m okay with that most days,

but it means that I don’t know what to offer you

because I don’t know what I’m made of.

This is the closest thing I have to a prayer.

I know it’s really just a poem,

but at least we got a couple of the letters right.

So take it, and take me.