Rites of Personal Identity
T he single most significant relationship a human has in their lifetime is with themselves. From the moment consciousness begins until the moment it ends, you are in constant conversation with yourself. The voice in your head, the “talking self,” is an ever-present companion. You’d think you should have a pretty good idea of who you are since you spend so much time with yourself, but people spend much of their lifetime trying to figure out exactly that. Any time you gain some knowledge or wisdom, that is worth celebrating. And yet, oddly enough, there are very few rituals and rites of passage dedicated to selfhood.
What These Rites Have in Common
To choose one’s own name is a radical, magickal act. Stating to the world that “I am unapologetically this” and then standing resolutely in your own shoes is nothing less than an act of revolution.
Each rite in this section, as distinct as they are, are all bound up in the rite of authenticity. One defining factor at work here is the right to self-identify as who you truly are. Stepping out from the warm and safe clutches of your parents or guardians, moving away from the dependency of childhood and adolescence, and entering a place of self-determination and adulthood is the very act of becoming your own person.
The Catalyst. This is clear, although not always simple: you wish to be yourself, defined on your own terms, with your interior landscape reflected proudly on the outside for all to see.
The Ordeal. This is all about being true to your own nature. It means setting your own clear boundaries and, in some cases, you have to accept yourself for who you are. You may have to break the limitation that you, or others, have set on yourself. The hard part, of course, is finding out just who your authentic self really is. Wrapped up in the ordeal may be the work of trying on different personas, reinventing yourself, changing the way you dress or eat or address yourself. It’s a thousand moments of saying “No” to find one moment of “Aha! Yes, that is me.”
Alone and Yet in Community. This speaks to something most people won’t admit: there is something wonderful about being you, and yet, it is hard work to be you. There are so many forces out there in the big, bad world trying to convince you that you are not what you say you are. The struggle is real.
Part of the “alone and yet in community” of these rites can be hard. You may take all the steps for yourself to own a label, you may ritualize taking on this title, or you may come out to your friends and family and feel wholeness in your decision. However, there may be people that don’t accept your title. Even after making a proclamation of your change, there may be people who don’t go along with your new identity. There may be people who refuse to use your new name, title, or identity. Part of the work of this section is to find the peace in yourself without the requirement of outside acceptance.
The Advisor. Becoming the advisor means being yourself every day and letting that be an example for someone else, even if they never acknowledge it to you. Being an advisor here means telling the truth about your journey back to yourself.
And there are so many more rites of personal identity. Because these rites are all about you getting to accept and own more of you, only you can really determine what rites are the most important. Perhaps you want to ritualize the title of grandparent, or Pagan, or weirdo, or priestess, or published author, or a myriad of other things. The following ritual can be adapted to any identity that you want to take on.
Adapt this ritual for any tag of personal identity that you want to take on. It can be done alone or with a coven or larger community. If possible, have a celebration afterward with people who do love and support you.
Supplies: A piece of clothing or jewelry to signify the identity you are taking on.
Set Up: Create an altar a way you find pleasing. Place your piece of clothing or jewelry in the center of the space.
Ritual: Take a cleansing bath or shower and get ready as if you were preparing to attend a big ritual. Wear your ritual finery.
Ground yourself and create sacred space in your favorite way. Call upon any guides or allies who have been an important part of this rite of passage for you.
Take time to honor the person you were before this change. Speak out loud who you were before this change. If you feel so called, you may want to write in your journal, dance, or draw as a way to honor the person you were before.
When you feel ready, shift into who you are now and the personal identity you are taking on. Speak to that title and identity and as you speak those words out loud, direct them into your clothing or jewelry. Imbue this item with the power of your new identity.
When you feel ready, put this item on. Feel yourself stepping fully into this new identity. Let it sink into your skin. Again, you may feel called to sing, write in your journal, dance, or draw to express who you are now.
This will come to a natural close. Thank any guides or allies who supported your working and release them from the ritual. Open the sacred space in your favorite way.
The rite is done. Blessed be!
Coming of Age
Although modern society doesn’t really have rites of passage for coming of age, there are a few that remain. The Jewish faith has the bat and bar mitzvah for young people to cross that threshold. Some folks may have a quinceañera or a sweet sixteen party to honor a shift from child to something else, but there is really little else offered to children in modern culture.
If you look to Native and indigenous cultures across the globe, you will find communities who still honor and celebrate the coming of age rites as a marker that a member of the community is no longer a child. These rituals all look different, but they often include a challenge that the child must face on their own, a trial of isolation. There are some rituals with trials of pain where a person is marked, scarred, or circumcised. Some rituals include an endurance challenge where they must prove they are physically ready to step into adulthood.
The timing of a child’s coming of age ritual varies greatly depending on the community and the culture. In certain cases, there are physical markers that determine it is time for a child to take the ordeal, often connected to puberty. In others, it is a chronological age where all of the children will be put to the test when they reach a specific number. And then there are the communities that determine on a case-by-case basis when a child is ready to face the ordeal and be challenged.
An important note here. We must recognize that folks outside of any particular culture often judge other groups’ rites of passage; there’s a tendency to either fetishize the rite of passage or to be reviled by it. This is a real holdover from the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, when dominant cultures began “discovering” and studying indigenous peoples and cataloging their remaining societies and traditions. Think about it for a moment: the notion of separating a child from their parents and relatives and having them fend for themselves for twenty-four hours out in nature to become a member of the “tribe” would have been considered barbaric, primitive, and abusive. These same folks making this judgment would likely have a nanny raise their children, consider simple touch to be spoiling a child, and then, at the ripe old age of four, send their children off to boarding school until they were sixteen and ready to go into business or get married. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.
Without a doubt, we are not saying any modern rites of passage you create should cause real, emotional, or physical danger to add authenticity to the rite. That would be reckless and irresponsible.
The loss of the rite is a problem in modern culture. There is no delineation on when someone changes from this to that. There is no clear line in the sand. This feels like it is more detrimental for young men in society than young women. Often, there is a clear physical line in the sand for a young woman that is not the same for men.
With coming of age rites of passage, you also must honor the child as they want to be honored. If your child is trans, nonbinary, or gender nonconforming, having a first blood ritual could be traumatizing. You want to make sure that any coming of age rite you create for your child meets their needs as they feel in their body.
However, whether you have a clear shift (like menstruation) or not, honoring the shift is important to the health of the individual. It shows that leaving behind childhood and stepping into adulthood is important, recognized, and seen by their families, friends, and communities.
First Blood: Phoenix’s Tale of Bleeding
It’s always bothered me that even when my blood first started in the 1990s, it was something to be embarrassed about. I’ve never stood for menstruation being a taboo. I talk about my period a lot. Just ask my friends, they will confirm that it’s something I share openly and unabashedly. I share my process and experience with everyone, whether they want to hear it or not. It is a regular topic of conversation in my life because it’s a regular part of my life. I’ve never felt like I needed to hide it or be embarrassed about it. I’m proud of my blood.
When I was eleven, I wanted my period to start so badly. In my belief system at the time, having a period made me a woman and I desperately wanted to be a woman. One of the first spells I ever did was a ritual to try and make my period start. This was well before I was practicing Witchcraft, but looking back on it now, I recognize the spell for what it was.
I would immerse in the bathtub and fill a cup with water. Then I would lift my belly out of the break in the waterline and pour the cup of water down my stomach and between my legs. I did it as a symbol of the blood flowing out of me. It was sympathetic magick. It took some time for my period to actually start; rituals don’t always work well on shifting biology, especially when you’re eleven and have no idea you’re doing a spell to begin with.
However, even with all my prayers, rituals, and longing, when it finally did come, I didn’t realize what was happening. Even though I had been literally praying for it for over a year, the brown sludge in my underwear didn’t look anything like blood. I thought I was ill and I hid any evidence of it from my mom for a couple of days. When the brown finally turned to red, I yelled for my mom from the toilet seat.
She was joyous. She was proud. She left home, leaving me with a white washcloth between my legs, to buy me menstrual pads and came home with a card and roses. She called all my aunts and my grandmother and then more roses showed up at the house and more cards. I didn’t have a formal ritual. I wasn’t led into the red tent with all the women of my family welcoming me into the fold, but the transition was honored by my elders and I felt seen. Sure, it was also a little bit embarrassing, but it was also what I had wanted for so long.
Because of how I honor the menstrual cycle, I couldn’t wait to be able to have first blood rituals for my daughters and to be able to ritualize and honor the transition. When my eldest started her bleeding, she was excited for her ritual. We took a full day to celebrate her. The ritual was beautiful and everything I would have wanted for myself. (A modified version of this ritual is included in the coming pages.)
However, when my younger daughter started bleeding, she wanted nothing to do with a ritual. She didn’t want to bleed. She didn’t want anything to do with it, and menstruation was not something she wanted to celebrate.
It would have been wrong to force her into a ritual to celebrate her first blood when it was something she was so against. But it felt important to mark the moment and honor her transition; it didn’t feel right to ignore it or pretend it wasn’t happening. For her, we greatly modified the ritual. We removed all of the drama and ritualistic elements and just created a special occasion for her. And it was still probably too much.
Celebrating first blood may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Not all children will want that ritual to happen. Performing a first blood ritual is best done if the child is in agreement and wants to participate. The ritual can be as simple or elaborate as meets the child’s personality and needs.
With my younger daughter—who was so against any ritual—I bought her a necklace and we went to the river. I kept the whole process short and sweet. I shared with her some of my joy and hardship with my cycle. I told her that I was excited and sad to see her growing up. I gifted her the necklace. By the end, she was totally over it and ready to go. So we did. We left the river and went out to a nice lunch. We didn’t talk about bleeding again unless she started the conversation. It was simple and special and perfect for her.
This ritual takes all day and requires several people to help make it happen. It should be performed—at the longest—three months after her first period. Ideally, women who menstruate or have menstruated will set up the ritual space. While the ritual is being set up, a father figure or non-menstruating close relation will spend time with the young person. They should be taken out for a meal or a walk in a beautiful place.
The father figure should share their favorite stories about the young person when they were small. As the time comes to meet up for the ritual, the father figure should say goodbye to the young person, acknowledging that they are saying goodbye to the child and will excitedly await the return of the adult. Potentially, they could offer a gift and then leave her to walk on her own to the ritual location.
Supplies: Colored markers or paint, flowers, food, drinks, gifts for the young person, red fabric, statues of goddesses, large fabrics, towels, a large bowl of warm salted water, and a white dress for the young person.
Set Up: Create an altar with flowers, statues, images, body markers, or anything else red and beautiful to decorate the space. Create a seating area for the girl, almost like a throne, with the bowl of salted water and towels close by. Have a place for gifts and food. Set aside the dress in a place nearby for when the girl arrives.
Ritual: When the girl first enters the ritual space, all of the women encircle her using the large fabrics to create a screen around her. Everyone should welcome her with their words, letting the welcomes overlap and become almost like a chant or song. When the girl is surrounded by the fabric, give her the white dress to change into.
When the girl is dressed, the fabric screen can be taken down and the main mother figure or eldest woman of the ritual should welcome her formally to the ritual as a member of the group of women. Each woman in the ritual should embrace the young person or offer some personal greeting. The girl is taken to the throne and made comfortable.
The women take turns sharing the stories of their first blood while the young girl has her feet washed by one of the other participants. Ideally, this would be the main mother figure, but anyone can hold this role. As the blessings continue, the women can draw or write blessings on the white dress. The women in the ritual should bring the girl food and drinks. They can make space for the girl to ask them any questions that she might have about being a woman.
The young person can then open their gifts. Ideally, each ritual participant will have an opportunity to explain why they brought the gift and what the intention of the gift is. An excellent gift is a piece of jewelry that the girl can wear during her moon time as a memento of the sacredness of bleeding. The ritual will come to a natural closing.
Becoming a Man
Becoming a man and the rites associated with it are quite possibly the most perilous undertaking in this book. It’s a little like trying to shoot a cloud with an arrow, from a moving train, when you don’t know what a cloud is.
Part of the challenge is properly defining just what becoming a man actually means. If you wrote a list of everything you’ve been taught about what it is to be a man and then actually examined if those things are true for men, you might be surprised to discover that there isn’t really much on the list after all.
For example, you might write “tall.” Women are tall. Giraffes are tall. Tall doesn’t not equal being a man. You might write “strong.” Winds are strong. Ants are ridiculously strong. Any person of any gender can be strong. Strong does not equal being a man. What about writing “great with the ladies”? There are so many things wrong with this concept. Let’s just say that being great with the ladies doesn’t equal being a man.
You get the idea. What is often ascribed to manliness has nothing to do with being a man. In fact, these outdated stereotypes do a great deal in damaging a man’s self-image and healthy growth.
Ask men to define the moment they became a man and you’ll get myriad answers. For some men it’s when they turned eighteen, and for others it’s when they became a father. Others will say it was when they married or lost their own father. What’s generally true for most men is that becoming a man is an unending, unfolding process. It’s the becoming part that’s far more important.
Irish folksinger and actor Glen Hansard often shares the epic tale of an arduous rite of passage. During one of his concerts, we heard him recount the story of rowing in a handmade currach for nearly 400 miles. As Hansard tells it, he and three other men rowed from Ireland to Spain, reenacting a centuries old tradition. What’s important is that the musician states that a person must be older, a little wiser, and ready to submit to the sea to undergo this rite. For Hansard, his rite of passage included learning to trust other men with his life and—quite literally—going with the flow.
Oddly enough, one of the most common answers men give to the question “What would you have included in a rite of passage ritual?” is being taught how to shave with a wet razor, brush, and foam. In the grand scheme of things, shaving is a pretty benign task. In the context of a rite of passage, though, it transforms from mere grooming into something totally magickal.
A Good Shave with Gwion
When I was fifteen, I received an electric razor as a birthday present. I barely had enough fluff on my face to put it to any good use, but it meant a lot to me. A few months later I was visiting with my grandfather and we got into a debate about the merits of a wet shave versus an electric razor shave. His position was that there was nothing quite like a “real shave, with a real razor.” I talked about how old-fashioned that seemed, and how slow. Then he marched me into the bathroom, filled the sink with hot water, took out his brush, shaving soap, and razor, and taught me to shave.
My grandfather lovingly showed me how to prepare my face. He walked me through the steps of lathering up, actually shaving, and how to take care of my face after I’d shaved. It took fifteen minutes from start to finish. I’ve never used an electric razor since.
Over the years, I’ve shared my experience with a few other men. My son learned how to shave with a wet razor. A few men who didn’t have a father growing up or who transitioned into a second puberty a little later in life have asked me to teach them to shave. It’s intimate. It’s vulnerable. There’s a little risk involved. Honestly, it’s quite beautiful and yet so simple.
In the microcosm, it’s just about shaving. In a larger, more holistic worldview, shaving is about self-care and self-image. Shaving, however often or not you do it, is about doing a task over and over again, and in the process, learning about your own face and what feels good. It’s a moment to connect with the person in the mirror and remember you are that person.
So how do we construct a ritual for an event that is completely different for each person going through it, occurs at different times in their lives, doesn’t include or need a clear biological marker to point the way, and doesn’t reinforce negative and damaging male stereotypes? Rather than looking for one instance, one moment, and saying “This is where being a man begins,” we chose to enact ritual and honor the journey of becoming a man.
The key to this ritual is storytelling and advice giving. All those gathered for this ritual are encouraged to bring a story about becoming a man. The attendees could all be men, or they could be a mix of all genders. Much of that has to do with how the exact ritual is structured.
Supplies: Each participant brings an item that represents the idea of “man” and places it on an altar. The items could be things like pictures of men, equipment associated with being a man, clothing, poems, or pieces of jewelry.
Set Up: Participants will need to be seated in a circle. This can be done in chairs or on the floor. Items that participants bring are placed in the center of the circle to form an altar. An actual table can be used to make the altar, the items can be placed on a blanket, or they can just be gathered together.
Ritual: Cleanse, ground, and prepare to enter ritual space in ways that feel most important for the moment.
Whether standing or seated, form a circle. Create the circle starting with the youngest person, moving to the left with the next youngest person, and so on, until the youngest person and the oldest person are next to each other.
The youngest person starts and says, “Here’s what I imagine it is to be a man.” Then they speak for as long as feels right, sharing with everyone else gathered what it is that is important for them to say. Each person from youngest to oldest follows in the same fashion, sharing what they imagine it is to be a man.
Next, start with the oldest person this time. They say, “This is what I wish I knew about being a man.” They then speak for as long as feels right, sharing with everyone else gathered what they wish they knew. Each person from oldest to youngest shares their thoughts.
Starting again with the youngest person: “Here’s what I think is challenging and hard about being a man.” Move around the circle, with each person recounting the challenges of being a man.
Moving back to the oldest person again: “The most joyful things about being a man are …”
And lastly, speaking in any order (but allowing each person to speak just once): “This is what I wish for each man here.”
When everyone has spoken their piece, let silence prevail. Remain silent for at least five minutes (it might feel like five hours). During the silence, look each person in the eye. Stay connected. Let the moments unfold. There is nothing to fix. Nothing that needs to be said. Nothing that needs to be hidden. If tears or laughter happen, let them happen.
Once the five minutes of silence have elapsed, find one person in the group that shared something surprising, profound, or terrifying for you. Sit with them. Ask follow-up questions or show appreciation; honor their story in some way. It could be a hug, a kiss, or just looking them square in the face and saying, “Thank you,” or, “I’ve been there too.”
Reform the circle as before. Starting with the oldest person, each person that identifies as a man takes one step into the circle and says, “I have heard the stories of what it is to be a man. Some of those stories were mine, are mine, and may yet be mine to tell. Some of those stories are not my story and yet I honor them. In this circle, with everyone gathered here, let it be known, I am a man.”
As each declaration is made, those gathered state, “You are a man.” When each person has made their declaration, been witnessed, and been acknowledged, take one last moment to look at every person in the circle.
Open up the ritual in any way that you prefer.
Coming of Age Ritual without a Gender Focus
A coming of age ritual does not have to be gender-specific. Not all kids want to step into manhood or womanhood. As modern culture becomes more open and aware of the nonbinary nature of gender, it only makes sense that there should also be ways to celebrate the coming of age without a focus on gender.
It will be important that the family and loved ones determine what the marker of this coming of age might be. Is it turning a specific age? Is it proving a certain level of responsibility? Is it the child stepping up and saying “Hey, I’m ready”? The marker of readiness is highly personal. This is also true for kids who are binary in their gender expression, but it can be an even more complex decision when you are working with a kid who is trans, nonbinary, or gender nonconforming.
This ritual can be performed whenever the child and loved ones agree it is time. Invite people to this ritual who are integral and supportive of the child’s growth. This ritual may take some time to set up; the more people who can help the easier it will be. Pick an auspicious time to do the ritual. This could be a new moon, full moon, trans day of awareness, or any special day.
Supplies: Flowers, food, drinks, gifts for the young person, fabrics to adorn the young person in, herbs to burn, incense charcoal, a firesafe container, and a crown, circlet, or other piece of ritual jewelry.
Set Up: Set up the room so the whole space looks lush, like a temple. Lay out fabrics and pillows and play soft music in the background. Create an altar with the flowers, herbs, charcoal, and firesafe container. Have the jewelry nearby, but hidden, so the child can’t see it. Have an area set up for the child to sit on.
Ritual: The child should be taken out for the day while the ritual is being set up. This could be with friends or family. No matter who spends the day with the child, they should do something fun and enjoyable. At some point, go for a walk or visit a place of nature.
The family member or friend should share stories they know about this person as they were going up. Tell stories about how the child has grown, succeeded, or overcome hardships. Tell them about witnessing their growth and how proud everyone is of them. Potentially, the family member or friend could offer a gift that represents the transition into adulthood.
The friend or family member should bring the child to the ritual space. Before they open the door, the family member should express to the child they are about to cross the threshold. Once they step over the door, they will be leaving behind the child they were and stepping into the adult they will become. This is a moment for the child to also share their feelings of excitement or fear about this change in their life.
The family member instructs the child to knock three times on the door.
When the ritualists inside the room hear the knocks, one predetermined person will open the door and say to the child, “Welcome, (name). Are you ready to cross the threshold and step into your future?”
Once the child responds, the adult moves aside to let the child step into the doorway on their own. When they do, the participants should cheer, clap, and celebrate this step.
The child is brought to their seat and the herbs are burned. Use the herbs to cleanse the child. All the while, people should share their memories of when they went through this transition, when they knew it was time to step into a coming of age rite or to take on more responsibilities in their life. People should also share memories about their struggles and how they got through them.
When the cleansing is done, pull out the crown/circlet/jewelry. One of the participants shares that this jewelry is a sign of this ritual, a mark of their coming of age. The first participant should hold the jewelry and speak their blessings to the child. They then pass on the jewelry to another participant who also speaks blessings; this continues until all have offered blessings. The final participant places the jewelry on the child.
If folks have brought gifts, the young person can open them. When that comes to a natural close, end the ritual with food, drinks, and toasting to the young person embarking on their new adventure.
Coming Out
The process of coming out is highly personal. Coming out can also encompass a wide range of personal expressions. One might come out as queer, gay, transgender, or even Pagan. The coming out process is layered. You may come out to your friends and later your family, or vice versa. There may be a need to come out to your communities. You may also need to come out at work or on social media. All of these steps come with their own challenges.
Sometimes the first step, and potentially the hardest step, is to come out to yourself.
The following section was written by Misha Magdalene, who is a queer author of the book Outside the Charmed Circle: Exploring Gender & Sexuality in Magical Practice. We asked them to write the following piece because they have direct experience going through the coming out process on several levels. They have a Bachelor of Arts (magna cum laude) in gender, women, and sexuality studies from the University of Washington and are uniquely positioned to share not only professional but personal experiences of coming out.
It felt vital to have someone with not only training in this field, but also personal experience to write the specifics of this section. They wrote the coming out section, as well as the ritual following.
Coming Out Queer by Misha Magdalene
The standard framing of queer awakening is the narrative of “coming out of the closet” (or simply “coming out”), which is a common metaphor for publicly disclosing one’s identity as a queer person: gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, asexual, and so on. In this narrative, a person realizes they’re queer in some way, then grapples with what that identity means for them, weighing the pros and cons of being “out” as queer, both personally and in relation to the other areas of their life: their family, their friends, their job, their community. Finally, they come out as queer, to one person or to many, and deal with the ramifications of being “out of the closet.”
The unspoken context behind this narrative is that most queer people live in cultures where queerness is seen negatively, and that demand our silence and complicity under threat of ostracism, isolation, even death. Every queer person deals with this, implicitly or explicitly, every single day of our lives. We’re constantly bombarded with messages that tell us we’re bad, sick, evil, and wrong, and that we don’t deserve to live. The people who promulgate these messages want us dead or, failing that, they want to silence us, so they can pretend we don’t exist. Consequently, much of the coming out narrative is centered on the bravery of being out, of being your true self in full view of the public. Indeed, it takes a lot of courage to come out and be openly queer. Being out involves, among other things, a near-constant awareness of how one’s identity interacts with the world around us, which can be terrifying and exhausting in a world where being out as queer can get you fired from your job, thrown out of your family, or murdered.
With that said, I struggle with the “coming out” narrative for a couple of reasons. When we focus on the “bravery of being queer,” we risk sending the message that people who can’t safely be out are cowards, or pressuring them to out themselves before they’re ready. Still, being out does have real value, and real power. The act of living our lives as authentically as we can is emotionally healthy, and a deep moral good in itself. Moreover, it empowers us to hold space for others and give them hope that they, too, can embrace the same liberation we have. After all, the first person any of us come out to is ourselves. We might lie to ourselves or hide from ourselves, but we can never escape who we truly are—and if who we truly are is queer, the act of engaging with that truth can be scary as hell.
It can also be liberating and lifesaving. As dangerous as the world can be for queer people, the simple act of coming out, even if only to ourselves, is an act of affirmation and joy, of resistance and refusal. To acknowledge the authentic truth of our own sexual and gendered identities is to believe, just for a moment, in the validity and sanctity of those identities and, beyond that, in the possibility of a world where our truest selves are valued and cherished.
Ritual for Coming Out by Misha Magdalene
The following ritual is offered to anyone who has realized they’re under that queer umbrella but hasn’t come out yet. This ritual is a solo working intended as a formal “coming out” to yourself, an owning of your own queer identity (or identities), though it can also be adapted as a group working for affirming one another’s identities.
For this ritual, you’ll need a place where you can be alone and undisturbed for at least half an hour. Ideally, this will be a place where you can speak aloud (or at least whisper) without fear of being overheard. If you want to set a formal working space for this ritual, you’ll also need any tools or materials you use for that work.
Supplies: No specific supplies are needed, although a mirror is optional.
Set Up: Create your space with any set up that makes you feel empowered. Include an altar if you desire and place an object of empowerment on it. You may also choose to use a mirror and speak the words of the ritual to your reflection.
Ritual: Begin by standing or sitting in a relaxed upright position and taking a few slow, gentle breaths to center yourself in your own body. If you have a preferred method to ground, center, and/or align yourself, use that now.
When you feel you’ve achieved a state of calm preparation, set your ritual space formally, if you wish. Otherwise, simply stand with your feet about a shoulder’s width apart and extend your arms out from your sides. Take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and release it slowly. As you do, bring your awareness to your own body. If you find that you’re holding tension or nervousness, breathe into those places and release what you’re holding. If your balance is askew or your posture is hunched, gently adjust your stance. Let your awareness expand to encompass the entirety of the space in which you’re working, then say aloud or in your own mind, “I claim this space as mine.” Bring your arms together and cross them over your chest, as though wrapping the space itself around you, then relax them at your sides.
Once you have a firm, relaxed stance, face the north and say, “By the earth of my body.”
Turn to the east and say, “By the air of my breath.”
Turn to the south and say, “By the fire of my blood.”
Turn to the west and say, “And by the waters of my birth.”
Turn to the north again, extend your arms outward, and say:
By all the powers I possess,
I call upon you, spirits of life and love,
gods of my heart and home,
queer ancestors of blood and breath,
to be with me in this sacred space
and to witness as I affirm:
I belong to myself.
I define myself.
I am myself.
Take a deep breath, then speak the words that define who you know yourself to be. These words can be a statement of sexual orientation …
I’m gay. I am a lesbian. I’m bisexual. I am asexual.
… or of gender identity …
I am a woman. I’m a man. I am nonbinary. I’m genderfluid.
… or of feelings or actions.
I love men. I love women. I love both women and men. I love people, no matter their gender.
If you wish to affirm multiple identities, you can combine these statements …
I am a trans woman who loves women. I am a nonbinary asexual person.
… or let each statement stand on its own.
I am a trans man. I am bisexual.
Envision introducing yourself to another person with your name and the identity you’ve claimed:
My name is _____, and I’m a _____.
Speak these words to yourself as many times as you wish. As you do, see yourself surrounded by all of your queer ancestors and heroes: all the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, demisexual, nonbinary, and queer people stretching back through history who have struggled, bled, fought, died, laughed, cried, sung, danced, painted, written, and lived lives of glorious wonder and beauty. They are here with you, always, reaching out to you, holding their arms open in welcome, laughing and cheering, blowing kisses and giving thumbs-up signs, all of them in their own ways, but all of them sending the same message: “You’ve got this. We love you, and we believe in you. You’re one of us.”
Stay in this space as long as you wish, listening to your own voice and, if they speak to you, the voices of those queer ancestors of blood and breath.
When you’re ready to leave, if you’ve set the space formally, you may release it by whatever means you choose. If you’ve informally claimed the space as outlined above, you can release it by drawing in a deep breath, gathering up the energy of the space created as you’ve performed this ritual, and consciously releasing it with your breath. Clap your hands together sharply three times.
The rite is ended.
A ritual is one step in the coming out process, but it is not the end of it. Coming out happens repeatedly. You may find that you are fully living your personal identity, at peace with who you are, when a person from your past shows up and you must come out to them all over again. This could feel affirming, it could feel like a challenge, or it could be a little bit of both.
Taking a New Name
In this section we are going to talk about Pagan- or Witchcraft-related name changes. However, everything in this section could just as easily apply to the many other reasons to change your name: gender confirmation, marriage, divorce, major life transition, safety, and more. All these reasons for changing a name are unique and different.
Name changes are pretty common in Pagan spaces. Sometimes it feels like folks take on new names as often as they change their underwear. But a name is a powerful thing. It is how you are seen and identified. A name tells a story about who you are and where you come from. For most people, they have no say in their name. It is assigned to them at birth—or shortly thereafter—by a parent or guardian. The name a person is given at birth says more about their parents than it does about the individual.
And yet, many people grow into their name. You begin to identify with your name. There are many theories about certain names bringing out certain personality traits. Does your name impact who you become? We would say yes! Have you ever met someone and totally could not see them as the name they used? What about the opposite? Have you ever met someone that totally embodied their name? We can say yes to both.
This is why it is so important to honor a name change. It doesn’t matter the reason a person has decided to take on a different name; the list of reasons is as vast as individual people. A name is a label you carry in front of you for the world to see. Humans should have some control over and contribution to the names that they are called.
The following ritual is to honor a full name change. This isn’t the ritual to use if you are adding an additional name or changing your last name after a marriage or divorce. This ritual is for when you have been known to the world as one name and now you will be known to the world by another. This is a major life transition and this ritual reflects the depth of that change. Use this ritual when changing your name legally or magickally.
Keep in mind a name-changing ritual will not change your name legally. There are several steps (and expenses) associated with legally changing your name. If you do decide to go the legal route, make sure you do your research and complete all the tasks required to make it official.
Picking the Right Name: Personal Anecdote by Phoenix
When my daughter was born, I was stuck on two different names. People kept pressuring me to make a decision, but I was clear I could not decide until I actually met her. How could I possibly know her name when I had never seen her or connected to her energy in front of me? As soon as she was born (I’m not exaggerating, it was immediate), my family asked, “So, what is her name?” I looked at that little baby and knew which name was hers. But if I was still uncertain, I would have waited and seen what developed.
I’ve asked my daughter many times over the years what she would call herself if she could pick her own name. She has always answered with the name I gave her. I feel like I did some good work there. However, if she asked to be called something else, I would honor that request. Her name is a part of who she is. A name is a powerful tool. In modern society, we give that power away to our parents; it is just accepted that that is how it works. It doesn’t have to be that way.
My birth name is Danielle. It is a beautiful name and a family name, but it has never felt like my name. My mother loves the name and I’ve always felt like it’s her name, not mine. I was called Dani for most of my life; that seemed to fit better. I made do with Dani. Of course, it’s important to mention that at a young age, I changed the spelling of Dani; originally, my parents spelled it Danie. So, there you go. From the beginning I was always trying to make it fit. And it never has. (Sorry, Mom!)
However, after years of working on myself, after years of mediation, journey work, and soul-searching, I changed my name to Phoenix. Phoenix is who I am. I feel in alignment with that name. It is how I show up in the world. It fits me like an old pair of jeans. And it is actually a rather long story on how that name came to be my name, but that’s for another time.
Over the years, I have taken on other names. And the gods know me by a name that no one else knows. Instead of replacing Phoenix with a different name every time I take on a new rite of passage, I just keep adding on. I don’t need anyone else to call me something different; at least, not at this point. But it has felt important for me to call myself something different at different times. At the time of writing this, I have eight names (not counting my “legal” name). They all fit and make up who I am, but I’d never expect someone to call me by all of them.
When we take on a new name, it can be hard for other people to get used to. Pretty much everyone in my life calls me Phoenix now—except my parents. In fact, my mom flat out refuses. It’s okay with me; I understand where she is coming from. But if someone new in my life calls me that old name, it bristles me. That’s not who I am. Names have power. Honoring how people identify honors their sovereignty.
Finding your name may be a long process. It could take months or even years of spiritual work, discernment, and list-making to come to a firm decision. You may make a decision only to change your mind after trying the name on for a while, you may perform one ritual and easily find the name that makes your heart sing, or you may be in a ritual where someone else names you and it fits like a glove.
There are many ways to come to a magickal name. I highly recommend trying on a potential name before doing a ritual to officially claim the name. Start calling yourself by that name for a few weeks. Give that name when you order coffee or get on a waiting list at a restaurant. Introduce yourself as that name to a stranger and see how it feels rolling off your tongue.
This ritual is written for the solitary practitioner, but it can easily be modified to include loved ones, a coven, or a larger group. It is important to include only people who will support the shift in your name in the ritual process. This ritual can also be performed solo and then performed again with more people involved. The ritual is between you and your spiritual allies; none of them need to be human or embodied.
Before beginning this ritual, be clear on what allies you want to call into sacred space with you. Are there certain gods, ancestors, Fae beings, animal allies, or green bloods who you want to honor or witness this rite? All the decisions made around this ritual should take some time. There is no need to rush choosing a name or stepping into a ritual to claim it.
This ritual can be performed at any time.
Supplies: Incense, a candle, a bowl of water, a bowl of soil, paper, a pen, a cauldron or firesafe container, matches, an athame, a journal (optional), and a drum or rattle.
Set Up: Place all the items on the altar in a way that pleases you. If there are any specific allies you are calling in, have representations of them on your altar as well. Ideally, you will be skyclad for this ritual. If that is not comfortable for you, wear loose-fitting clothes.
Ritual: Stand before your altar space and ground and center yourself. Breathe in deeply and bring yourself fully present into the ritual you are about to perform. Say, “I stand before this altar as (your ‘old’ name), ready to step into my next phase.”
Pick up your athame and face north. Draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the earth that is my bones.”
Direct your energy from the north to the east. When you reach the east, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the air that is my breath.”
Direct your energy from the east to the south. When you reach the south, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the fire that is my spirit.”
Direct your energy from the south to the west. When you reach the west, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the water that is my blood.”
Direct your energy from the west back to the north, closing the circle. Raise your hand, pointing your athame to the sky above you while stepping into the center of your circle. Direct your energy to close the gap about you by drawing an invoking pentacle. Say, “By the gods above me.”
Drop your athame, pointing to the ground below you. Direct your energy to close the gap underneath your circle by drawing an invoking pentacle. Say, “By the ancestors below me. The circle is cast. I am between the worlds and what happens between the worlds is seen and felt in all the worlds.”
Pick up the bowl of soil, face north, and say, “I call upon the spirit of earth. I call upon the power of strength, stability, and solid ground. I call upon the winter, midnight, and the bones below me. Join me in witness to this rite. Earth is sacred.”
Set down the bowl of earth and pick up the incense, lighting it while facing east. Say, “I call upon the spirit of air. I call upon the power of communication, clarity, and joy. I call upon the spring, dawn, and the breath of the ancients. Join me in witness to this rite. Air is sacred.”
Set down the incense and pick up the candle, lighting it while facing south. Say, “I call upon the spirit of fire. I call upon the power of passion, understanding, and love. I call upon the summer, midday, and the warmth of the hearth. Join me in witness to this rite. Fire is sacred.”
Set down the candle and pick up the bowl of water, face west, and say, “I call upon the spirit of water. I call upon the power of grace, flow, and intuition. I call upon the autumn, dusk, and the blood in my body. Join me in witness to this rite. Water is sacred.”
Set down the bowl of water and stand in the center of the circle. Raise your arms and call to your specific allies that need to witness this rite. Call them all individually and speak from your heart. Ask them to bear witness to your rite.
Take a moment to ground and center yourself again. Remember your given name and all that it connects you to. Think about what this name means to you and how you are ready to step into a different relationship. If you feel called, you may want to journal about your feelings at this point.
Say, “I call upon all of these guides and allies as I release the name (your ‘old’ name). This name is a symbol of who I was. I release this name and step into the next phase.”
Write your old name down on a piece of paper. Set it into the firesafe container and burn it. Watch as the smoke rises, taking note of any shapes or messages that stand out in the smoke.
Ground and center yourself again. You now stand nameless in sacred space. Take a moment to connect with what this feels like. What is it to be the nameless one? Leave space for this. Notice what comes up for you. You may want to journal any thoughts or feelings as they arise.
When you feel ready, pick up the bowl of soil, face north, and sprinkle yourself with the soil. Say, “I stand before the spirit of earth today as (new name). I ask that you see me and honor this change. Blessed be.”
Set down the bowl of soil and pick up the incense. Face east while running the smoke around your body. Say, “I stand before the spirit of air today as (new name). I ask that you see me and honor this change. Blessed be.”
Set down the incense, pick up the candle, and face south. Run your hand carefully over the flame without hurting yourself. Say, “I stand before the spirit of fire today as (new name). I ask that you see me and honor this change. Blessed be.”
Set down the candle, pick up the bowl of water, and face west. Sprinkle yourself with the water. Say, “I stand before the spirit of water today as (new name). I ask that you see me and honor this change. Blessed be.”
Set down the bowl of water and introduce yourself to your allies using your new name. Speak from your heart and tell them your reason for this change and what it means for you going forward. Explain how you will honor this shift and why you have chosen this name.
Pick up the drum or rattle and begin to chant your name, followed by “I am (new name)” over and over again. Continue to chant this, letting the energy begin to rise. Drum or rattle faster as you feel called. Speed up, letting the power of your new name begin to take over your body. Feel it. Dance it. Sing it. When you feel ready, end the chant by shouting your new name and the words “I am.”
Take a moment to sit in the silence with your new name still bouncing off of the circle around you. When you feel ready, say, “I am (new name).”
Stay in this space as long as you feel called. Journal about anything that you want to remember or keep track of for later. When you feel ready, take some time to speak with the guides or allies that you called into this rite. Speak from your heart, offer your gratitude, and say goodbye.
Pick up the bowl of water and face west. Say, “I thank you, spirit of water. Thank you for the power of grace, flow, and intuition. From this circle I bid you hail and farewell. Water is sacred.”
Set down the bowl of water, pick up the candle, and face south. Say, “I thank you, spirit of fire. Thank you for the power of passion, understanding, and love. From this circle I bid you hail and farewell. Fire is sacred.”
Set down the candle, pick up the incense, and face east. Say, “I thank you, spirit of air. Thank you for the power of communication, clarity, and joy. From this circle I bid you hail and farewell. Air is sacred.”
Set down the incense, pick up the bowl of soil, and face north. Say, “I thank you, spirit of earth. Thank you for the power of strength, stability, and solid ground. From this circle I bid you hail and farewell. Earth is sacred.”
Set down the bowl of soil and pick up your athame. Point it to the ground, draw a banishing pentacle, and say, “By the ancestors below me.”
Point your athame to the sky and say, “By the gods above me.”
Turn to the north and use your athame to cut open the circle you created. Turn from north to west. When facing west, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the water that is my blood.”
Turn from west to south, cutting open the circle as you go. When facing the south, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the fire that is my spirit.”
Turn from south to east, cutting the circle open as you turn. When facing the east, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the air that is my breath.”
Finally, turn from east back to the north, cutting open the circle. When facing north, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the earth that is my bones. This circle is open but unbroken. The work is done. So mote it be.”
Release any natural objects to the earth, including any water, soil, or ashes. Be cautious to not pour salt or salted water on any plants; salt water will damage plants and could kill them completely.
Do this ritual when you are adding a name, whether this is a second name, a third name, or a hundredth name. This ritual can be performed on your own or modified to include loved ones, coven members, or a larger community. Before performing this ritual, be clear on what allies you want to call into sacred space. Be prepared ahead of time with any specific offerings that you might want to give to them during the ritual.
This ritual can be performed at any time.
Supplies: Paper, a pen, a cauldron or firesafe container, matches, an athame, offerings (optional), and cakes and ale for after the ritual.
Set Up: Place all the items on the altar in a way that pleases you. Have any offerings you might give to your allies ready to use.
Ritual: Stand before your altar space and ground and center yourself. Pick up your athame and face north. Draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the earth that is my bones.”
Direct your energy from the north to the east. When you reach the east, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the air that is my breath.”
Direct your energy from the east to the south. When you reach the south, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the fire that is my spirit.
Direct your energy from the south to the west. When you reach the west, draw an invoking pentacle and say, “By the water that is my blood.”
Direct your energy from the west back to the north, closing the circle. Raise your hand, pointing your athame to the sky above you while stepping into the center of your circle. Direct your energy to close the gap about you by drawing an invoking pentacle. Say, “By the gods above me.”
Drop your athame, pointing to the ground below you. Direct your energy to close the gap underneath your circle by drawing an invoking pentacle. Say, “By the ancestors below me. The circle is cast. I am between the worlds and what happens between the worlds is seen and felt in all the worlds.”
Call upon any guides or allies that you predetermined you would invite into the ritual. Give any offerings that you have prepared. Speak aloud to your guides from your heart and ask them to witness your rite.
Write your new name on a piece of paper. Say it out loud and light it on fire in a safe container. Say, “I am now (new name).” When the paper has finished burning, anoint your forehead with the ashes and say, “I am now (new name).” Repeat this for as long as it takes for it to feel true.
Thank your guides and allies for attending the ritual. Speak out loud and from the heart.
Set down the bowl of soil and pick up your athame. Point it to the ground, draw a banishing pentacle, and say, “By the ancestors below me.”
Point your athame to the sky and say, “By the gods above me.”
Turn to the north and use your athame to cut open the circle you created. Turn from north to west. When facing west, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the water that is my blood.”
Turn from west to south, cutting open the circle as you go. When facing south, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the fire that is my spirit.”
Turn from south to east, cutting the circle open as you turn. When facing east, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the air that is my breath.”
Finally, turn from east back to the north, cutting open the circle. When facing north, draw a banishing pentacle and say, “By the earth that is my bones. This circle is open, but unbroken. The work is done. So mote it be.”
Celebrate the name change with the cakes and ale! The rite is done.
Golden Age
As you move through life, you gain knowledge, information, and, hopefully, a little wisdom. Conversely, as you move through life your body slows down, things change, and many things end. You may be called to step into leadership more, sharing the wisdom you have gained with others. While this is happening, you may find your cycle of fertility changing or ending, children becoming adults and moving on to live their own lives, and retirement looming not too far ahead.
How do you honor the golden age of your life and the transitions and changes that happen during these years?
For some, these changes can be bittersweet. It is an honor to be seen as an elder in the community or as an expert on a topic because of the amount of years spent in study. However, these shifts can also come with sadness and feelings of loss. Lost time, regrets of things not done, and even fears of mortality are all wrapped up in this time of life.
Entering into your golden years is a rite of leveling up, but also a rite of personal identity, and in some ways a rite of loss. We have included it in this section, but to further expand on this topic, check out the elderhood section in chapter 7, the retirement section in chapter 4, and the menopause section in chapter 6.