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The History of the
Modern Tradition of Witchcraft
At the Loom: In order for us to be amazing weavers, we first must understand the history of how such things came to be.
Liminally Minded: To find the space in between, we need to see where we have been and feel where we are going.
Every tradition starts in the present, becomes part of the past, and sees itself change and morph into the future. In walking the path of the Modern Traditional Witch, searching for origins can be like following an ouroboros—the serpent that consumes itself endlessly in a circle, all the while shedding old skins to reveal new ones beneath. To uncover the history of the Modern Tradition as well as its present applications and future possibilities for you, we need to wade through some of the skins of my own path.
In the Beginning
I often joke that I need to work on my Witch origin story. Almost every time I am interviewed, I get asked, “How did you get started in Witchcraft?” My brain instantly spins out in twenty directions, correlating all the various threads that have led me here to this moment. It’s practically impossible to narrow it down to a short and sweet narrative, which is probably what people are expecting when they ask that question. I feel they’re looking for something like, “I had this mystical experience in the woods with a birch tree when I was fourteen. It spoke and revealed to me that I was truly a Witch.” Or maybe, “When I was eight, my aunt gave me a special book and initiated me into a secret order that only a few people in our family know about. Then we made cookies.” Or even something simple like, “One day my best friend gave me a book on Witchcraft, and the rest was history.” (Note: These are all examples I made up right now.)
I seriously doubt that many Witches have a short and sweet origin story. It tends to be more of a collective rainstorm of clues drenching you versus coming across a single magical wellspring. You might remember one specific moment of revelation, but then that one leads you to another and another, going further back in your history. Sure, there may have been that one book or person you met that seemed like a starting point. But when you think back more deeply, there was that weird experience you had in the old house, a prophetic dream, a resistance to certain doctrines, a kinship with a certain story or piece of artwork you couldn’t explain, and so on. I feel like I came to Witchcraft through the back door—but is there really any other way?
I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t interested in mystical and mysterious things, metaphysical powers, and the occult. Growing up, I spent a lot of time out in nature having conversations with plants, trees, animals, and other things. When I was about three or four, my father and grandfather built a playhouse in our backyard for me. It was more like a little house or cabin—made of solid wood, with a foundation, proper roofing, two windows (with screens), and a Dutch door. My older brothers (seven and nine years my senior) didn’t really want to play with me, so I entertained myself by collecting seeds, flowers, leaves, moss, mushrooms, and sticks, and making things from them. I was familiar with every tree and bush in our yard, and most of the animals that traveled through it—bugs, birds, rabbits, and more.
But my interests went beyond our backyard, and particularly to the library, media, and wherever I went with my family. I enthusiastically studied ancient cultures from around the world, fascinated by their myths, art, and religions. I loved watching shows like In Search Of and checking out Time-Life’s Mysteries of the Unknown series of books from the library. My friends and I would test out our psychic abilities with flashcards and similar games. I was intrigued by the saints and spiritual mysteries of the Catholic Church but bristled against the patriarchal structure and rules. To offset my agitation and boredom with attending mass, I studied the art, ritual tools, and architecture of every church we went to. On my own, I read the more fascinating parts of the Bible, mainly the Old Testament, looking up the stories of Esther, Judith, and Ruth, and around sixth grade I read the book of Revelation for fun (it wasn’t).
As I grew older, I fell into reading a lot of fiction and nonfiction about prehistoric societies all the way up to pre-Christian Europe, from Jane Auel’s The Clan of the Cave Bear to The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Throughout all of it, I noticed interesting patterns and made note of weird things that happened to and around me, but I maintained a fair amount of skepticism—and I still do. I knew I saw things differently, but I didn’t really have a word for it until I read Margot Adler’s Drawing Down the Moon. Sure, my family often referred to me in jest as “the little heathen” and “the pagan,” but the meaning of those words didn’t fully register with me at the time. To my family, “pagan” and “heathen” referred to being a nonbeliever in a negative, derogatory context versus a follower of other “valid” ways. And “witch”—well, that went along with being wicked or evil!
Suddenly these words had new meaning and context, opening up a whole new world for me. To find out that there were other people who saw the world as I did, to connect with nature, spirits, and metaphysics, was exhilarating. Yet now that I knew what to look for, I wasn’t exactly finding the home I imagined in the books I saw on the shelves. I wasn’t attracted to the whimsical-looking and sounding new books on Wicca, and sought to go further back. I studied in depth the development of Spiritualism in the late nineteenth century—all of the different cultlike movements leading up to it: mesmerism, Swedenborgism, Quakers, etc. Combined with my studies in fine art, I delved into Theosophy, the Golden Dawn, Freemasonry, Crowley, and Agrippa, as well as modern feminist works. I researched the history of the Burning Times and read popular source materials: The White Goddess, The Golden Bough, Etruscan Roman Remains in Popular Tradition, the Malleus Maleficarum, and Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches. I dove deeper into folklore and myth. I read the works of Gerald Gardner, Dion Fortune, Janet and Stewart Farrar, Marian Green, Doreen Valiente, and many, many others. Out of all of them, it was Doreen’s work that struck the closest to my heart.
You see, I love reading different perspectives and particularly enjoy the hunt for information. But for my personal practice, it was hard finding one path or tradition that resonated. I found I have an aversion to ceremonial magic, trouble with power pyramids, and no tolerance for ego massaging or misogyny, so that cut out certain paths. Then there were the folks obsessed with recreating or reconstructing the past. Rediscovering ancient things is cool, but the question is: Does the practice work or can it be applied practically now? Can it work effectively outside of its original location or time period? I live in the United States and come from a long line of people who like to sleep with people from other cultures, so I couldn’t follow just one path from one place. Most importantly, I asked, if we’re living in the here and now, what makes the most amount of sense for the modern-day practitioner?
Discovering Witchcraft and modern Neo-Paganism was like landing on a mythical island I didn’t even know existed. Suddenly I wasn’t alone! But upon landing, I was having a heck of a time trying to find people who spoke my language. Not that I was going to let that slow me down—at all.
Founding a Tradition
On January 2, 2000, three cloaked figures gathered at dusk in the winter-kissed woods of Rhode Island. The circle was hidden from view by leafless branches of trees and bramble bushes by the edge of a lake. Despite the cold temperature, the air was still within the space where they gathered, the snow hushing the world around them. The glow of a few small candles seemed to radiate heat beyond their normal capability, warming up bodies. The three met to consecrate each other and to formalize a path that had started more than three years prior. That night, they became Labyrinth House of the Modern Tradition. Four months later, one of the initial three would gather with five others to form the second formal group, the House of Annwyn. Over the course of the next two years, the House of Annwyn doubled in size and continued on from there.
As you have probably guessed, I was one of the three cloaked figures. The formalizing of the House of Annwyn happened at such a weird time of year because while two of us lived in Rhode Island, the third, known as “Sojenice,” had moved to the Bay Area in California. She was back in town visiting, so we took the opportunity to formally ritualize what we had already set in motion. We had met during our time at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), three young women artists with overlapping common threads. We each came from converging backgrounds: Slavic, Celtic, and Mediterranean mingling with other roots in such a way that no one place felt like home in a neat and tidy package. We were raised Christian but knew early on that it wasn’t for us—we each felt a calling for a spiritual vocation beyond the framework allowed by that belief system. Through our artwork and writing, we found the divine feminine in the world around us—and in ourselves. Together we brought together formal training in other traditions of Witchcraft, independent occult study with esteemed mentors, family practices, open-path group workings, and self-guided education. We were deeply inspired by ancient myths and felt most aligned with the unfettered, organic-feeling, no-nonsense practices of folkloric Witchery. We didn’t find one path already out there that fit us, so we worked to create our own.
I didn’t exactly say to myself, “I’m going to found a new tradition of Witchcraft,” but I didn’t not think that either. I had a lot of enthusiasm and energy back then, so the idea that I could start something new didn’t seem far-fetched. I had similar thoughts about bringing forth a new style of dance as well. After much searching for what ignites your heart, you perceive a void, and so you seek to create something to fill it. But you can’t just sit down and create a new tradition or style of anything overnight. You can’t lay it all out completely in advance like a game with precise rules—even games take time to evolve. To develop a working system takes trial and error, noting what is effective and isn’t, and being open to experimenting as well. When you start involving multiple people, places, deities, and spirits, that adds more factors and viewpoints to consider. There are more threads to weave, and new patterns start emerging.
When I encountered Sojenice in 1997, I had essentially been on my own trying to figure out my path for several years. I had corresponded with other folks online via IRC chatrooms, online forums, and email, but I had yet to meet another practicing Witch in person. Sojenice was studying with Rosegate, an officially registered church of Witchcraft in Rhode Island that was a blend of family tradition, Wicca, and Rosicrucian systems. When I moved to Providence myself, I discovered another group that I was interested in: the Society of the Evening Star, associated with the N.E.C.T.W. (New England Coven of Traditionalist Witches). Unfortunately, and to be brutally honest, the marriage that I was in at the time didn’t give me a lot of freedom to explore that option or many others that he couldn’t keep tabs on.1 Instead, I tucked away the invitation letter for safekeeping, with a lot of wishful thinking. So when I met Sojenice, it was thrilling to finally talk to someone in person at length about Witchcraft while I was also going to school. (That made it “safe”: my school time was my own.)
Sojenice had a project she used to fulfill both a school assignment and work for her tradition degrees that became a beautiful quarterly magazine called Crescent. I started to write and create art for it, and through the magazine I met the third person in our equation, “D.” D was a recent RISD graduate who followed a solitary path that blended Italian and Celtic practices and wasn’t really interested in working with formalized groups or systems. We were united by our common interests in art, Witchcraft, tarot, and mythology. Soon, though, Sojenice graduated and moved to California. The magazine kept on running, but whatever practice we talked about mainly happened via phone, chat, or email, and we did our workings on our own individually.
I was pretty much heartbroken by Sojenice moving home to California. D and I hit it off well, but her own situation didn’t allow for a lot of free time to hang out either. I desperately felt the call to meet up with others to talk about Paganism and Witchcraft and to do rituals and workings, so I decided to head over to the Office of Student Life to see what it would take to form a Pagan Society. I don’t remember the details very well, but it wasn’t terribly hard. I reserved a meeting space and put up some fliers around campus, and people actually showed up! We had enough people to officially become a recognized group, which I called the Cauldron of Annwyn Pagan Society. (The Cauldron of Annwyn is said to be a source of inspiration, which fit an art school very well.) Soon we expanded to include Brown University students, following the model of other faith-based campus groups. Then I had students from other nearby colleges contacting me, asking if they could come to meetings because their school didn’t have a Pagan Society. Sure! The more the merrier! Next I heard from people who were college age but not in college—could they come too? I couldn’t see a reason why not, so they joined too. And, well, what is college age, anyway? So soon the group was open to everyone who was interested in joining. Regular meetings could see at least a couple dozen faces, whereas special rituals and events would attract two to five times that many.
From this large group of people, there were a small handful that I really connected with. I started to teach classes on Witchcraft to this small group. Soon we started to do our own separate rituals and workings outside of the larger open-path Pagan Society. In the meantime, I started a website where I collected my thoughts, practices, and ideas about Witchcraft—called the Modern Tradition of Witchcraft. The website quickly became large and fairly popular because it was an easy-to-read yet in-depth resource for anyone searching to craft a similar path for themselves.
The name “Modern Tradition of Witchcraft” came about because I felt it best explained what we were doing. Sojenice, D, and I had tossed around a few different names without agreeing on one. In the midst of the ’90s popularity boom for Witches (largely in thanks to a movie called The Craft), there was a lot of discussion online about the differences between Wicca and Witchcraft. There was separation between the main British forms (mainly Gardnerian and Alexandrian), New England traditions, the various new forms of Wicca out in the book market, West Coast systems, and a rise in what currently is called “tradcraft” and hedgewitchery—branches of Witchcraft that may be hereditary/family in nature and/or non-Wiccan in structure. We felt like a family in structure, lacking a formal degreed hierarchy while having the autonomy to practice on our own. In our practice and beliefs, we most closely resembled folkloric, traditional Witchcraft, but we weren’t trying to recreate the old ways or claim some ancient authenticity. We researched our own roots and discussed concepts with each other, but we also recognized that we needed to focus as much on the now—where we were living and what we were dealing with on a daily basis in the modern world. So when I came up with “Modern Traditional,” with the option to be more poetic about the naming of individual houses (groups), Sojenice and D were on board. I wouldn’t see anyone else using that combination as a naming description for a few more years.
It’s still a bit mind-boggling to look back and see how I went from a solitary practitioner, to meeting other like-minded Witches, to forming an open-path Pagan Society, to designing and leading group rituals, to teaching Witchcraft and heading up a tradition. I began studying dance intensely so I could incorporate movement into our practice. I became an associate editor for Crescent, was the youngest attendee at the 2001 Pagan Leaders Summit in Bloomington, IN, started the first Rhode Island Pagan Pride Day, and also became the regional coordinator for the Pagan Pride Day Project. Clearly I was inspired and driven and, perhaps some might say, possessed by the spirit.
The thing I wasn’t ready for was trying to lead a close-knit group from thousands of miles away. When I finally followed Sojenice to California in late 2001, the House of Annwyn carried on without me. But there was latent resentment over my leaving, and communication didn’t always happen smoothly. I couldn’t help resolve tensions between members, being so far away. Then life happened, as it does: folks move, someone gets divorced, another gets married, and people follow their own path, focusing on that instead. The House of Annwyn ceased to exist, at least in the way we initially imagined.
My own life shifted and changed as well. Instead of trying to build something similar on the West Coast, I taught general classes on Witchcraft and metaphysics, immersed myself in dance, and got involved with local festivals and events. But as my time in California progressed, I found myself withdrawing more and more from the larger Pagan community. I started to focus more on dance-related business, eventually resigned from the magazine, and felt burned-out in general across the board.
Feeling the need for a fresh start and to be closer to my family, I moved to New Jersey in 2007. I found new inspiration in the familiar landscape of my childhood and teaching beginning dance classes to a wonderful group of people. Through them, I slowly put a toe back in the Pagan community waters and reconnected with what inspired me to dance in the first place: movement as ritual. But soon there was another move back to Rhode Island, leaving friends and new threads behind. More energy had to be channeled into making ends meet while trying to keep the peace at home. I couldn’t reconnect with old threads without facing ridicule from within my own home, so I kept my practice to myself.
Finally, at the fifteen-year mark of the marriage, I summoned the power to end that unhealthy relationship and reclaim my life. I also quit my fancy corporate design job and moved across the country to Seattle. This major shift marked the end of what I call “my previous life.” I began making art full-time, entered into a wonderful partnership, and absolutely fell in love with the landscape and energy of the Pacific Northwest. I found myself rekindling friendships I had once considered burned away while fostering amazing new ones. I discovered the energy and excitement to take my practice out of its tucked-away shell and expand on all levels. I also encountered the blessing of being able to collaborate with like-minded folks from a multitude of diverse paths and traditions.
These days I focus on teaching the methods and mindset of Modern Traditional Witchcraft to aid practitioners in developing paths and practices that work for them, versus focusing on a handful of people or small groups. Through workshops, local classes, online classes and study groups, my blog, my website, and now this book, the Modern Tradition can empower a wide variety of people all over the world. I’m not interested in setting up an organized religion, society, or league of followers. I’d rather see folks be invigorated and inspired to walk their own path and respect others.
So while the houses of the Modern Tradition are no longer officially active in a formal sense, something greater was born. Through those years of experience, concepts were tested, new ideas were explored, and a more fluid system was created that can work for anyone interested in and willing to forge a similar path. The Witch of the Modern Tradition morphed into the more appropriate designation of a Modern Traditional Witch.
But Modern and Traditional?
Back in the late ’90s, I read and participated in a variety of online forums/message boards. There were many that were flooded with 101 questions, spell requests, and fantasy fluff, so it took some work to find ones where serious or more advanced discussion happened. Often you had to fill out a questionnaire to be granted access to the better boards. That was the process for several of the Traditional Witchcraft boards I belonged to. There were some good discussions and sharing of resources, but often the conversation got dominated by pissing contests. Statements like “My way/tradition is better/more correct/more authentic/older than yours” would come up again and again. And there I was with my on-the-table oxymoron: “Why, yes, I’m both modern and traditional.” I didn’t receive too much flak for it, possibly because I was probably ignored by some hotheads who saw me as beneath them due to my age, gender, or chosen labels. But I think a large part of the lack of debate had to do with the fact that I was very upfront about my path, presented myself in a grounded manner, and didn’t care much what other people thought.
So why modern and traditional? Because I’m not a genetic pure-blood anything, nor am I living in the twelfth, fifteenth, or nineteenth century or in the “old world.” I’m not from one particular ethnic background, so why would I align only with the gods found in a portion of my blood when there are many more talking to me? What if it’s not just ethnic heritage that factors in but also past lives—and what if those aren’t connected by blood either? What if our ancestors really can and do come to us in dreams and initiate us in the old ways as needed? If our predecessors had the tools we have access to today, would they exchange the flint for the lighter? I think so.
Every day we are not only living proof of past traditions and methods but are also innovating and creating new traditions and ways. To me, Witchcraft is about doing what needs to be done with what you have available. There are time-honored things we do not just because Grandmom did them but because they work—and then there are the new ways we find that work better. Whether the method is ancient or modern isn’t important as long as it works. The trick is in understanding how and why these seemingly opposite categories work in balance.
What Is Traditional?
What is a tradition? What is traditional? I think these are both questions that are not often asked when folks talk about “tradcraft,” or Traditional Witchcraft. I’ve watched an interesting metamorphosis over the last two decades, and there are a wide variety of opinions as to what those two words, when put together, actually mean. Those who identify as Gardnerian or Alexandrian often refer to themselves as BTWs (British Traditional Witches) to differentiate themselves from the eclectic and other forms that became known as Wicca. For some, Traditional Witchcraft refers to non-Wiccan Witchcraft in the belief that it’s pre-Gardnerian, lacking the ceremonial magic structure and other formatting typically found within Wicca and essentially differentiating the practice from modern Wicca. Then there are other traditions of Witchcraft, many of which claim to be hereditary or family-based in origin, though being a blood relation is not necessary to join. I have seen countless online forums and discussion threads where people really get their anger on debating what those words mean and who gets to use them, which is essentially time wasted arguing semantics and worrying about what other people think. Who has the time and energy to police and validate other people’s paths, especially if they’re working for them?
I don’t know about you, but I find all of that so exhausting. If your label works for you, great. It’s wonderful to explore history, but no amount of academic research is going to prove that there is one definitive tradition of Witchcraft. Humans and culture simply do not work that way.
Traditions are born, acknowledged, and reinvented and fade away into obscurity every day. They are not universal, meaning that if you find a tradition in one place or with one group of people, you won’t necessarily find it somewhere else. You might, but considering that traditions can vary from country to country, town to town, family to family, and generation to generation, we must acknowledge their fluidity. A tradition simply refers to a pattern of action and/or belief that is passed along in some designated way. It could be direct, from generation to generation, or passed along by friends, or it could skip down the line. Recipes, songs, dances, stories, observations of holidays, good luck charms, ways of crafting certain items, formulas for gardening, and secret spots for fishing or vacations are all ways that traditions are transmitted. With the possible exception of recipes and photos, very few things are handed down solely through the passing of books. Even those two examples are generally shared directly, such as cooking alongside the maker and looking through a photo album together. There is a hands-on factor that keeps a tradition living, and it’s usually dependent on the relationship we have with the person we’re sharing that experience with. You might have certain saints on your altar because your beloved grandmother had them too and taught you how to work with them, but you might avoid doing something you associate with that mean uncle you hated.
We tend to equate “traditional” with things that are old, ancient, or historic, have esteemed value, or were created by great people, but the reality is that traditions are being made every day by regular, ordinary people. Often they are infused with meaning, but sometimes the initial intent and purpose gets lost in a multigenerational game of telephone. Traditions tend to get started because there was a change activated that correlated to a specific event or situation, which probably involved some problem solving. Typically the response to that change was positive and seen as successful, so that belief or action became reinforced and was repeated.
We see this a lot with traditional dishes that have been passed down through generations. My former mother-in-law was originally from London and was old enough to have been there during World War II. She taught her son to make Yorkshire pudding, with a beef roast and gravy. The story that was passed along with this meal was that in lean times you were able to fill up on the spongy bread and sop up the meat gravy with it, thus making more meal out of expensive meat. (It’s also ridiculously tasty.) When I visited the UK myself, the story was collaborated by my British companions as we sat down together for a meal at a tavern. Even though I am no longer part of that family, I make my own variation of this meal because over time I came to associate it with comfort food. On the Italian side of my family there are specific traditions involved in the making of “gravy” (spaghetti sauce), pizzelle cookies, and other dishes that are made only at certain times of the year, usually aligning with harvests and religious feasts. Every New Year’s Eve I think of my friend Anaar, who is half-Japanese, and her tradition of making a beef and noodle dish on that night. (I also think of her every time I put soy sauce on my white rice because of how disgusting she finds that. I find it deliciously salty.) Really, you could look at any family (even the ones that don’t cook) and find traditions regarding food.
Which brings up a very important thing to think about: the only thing consistent about family traditions is that they happen. This fact gets to the diseased heart of many authenticity arguments that state, “That can’t be real or authentic because my family didn’t do that!” What is true for one family may not hold true for another—which invalidates neither. Think of a holiday family dinner. It may be a tradition in your family to have ham, potatoes, and fruit for a certain holiday, but your neighbors may celebrate that very same holiday with something totally different, like lamb, rice, and roasted vegetables. (And now we’re all hungry—sorry about that.)
Certain traditional practices get left behind or change because they’re no longer functional, safe, available, affordable, culturally/socially acceptable, or able to be reproduced. Others fall out of favor when a new generation tries to break away and the old ways get tossed in the rebellion. But things that work and have meaning are not always lost forever. We can reactivate traditions that were left behind or forgotten, picking up the thread and weaving it anew.
So what does tradition have to do with Witchcraft? Consider the traditional as a means of weaving in the past. We can look to folklore to harness the wisdom of those who came before us. Plant lore, charms, myths, and cultural history can all help us tap into things our ancestors already discovered. We don’t always have to reinvent the wheel—especially when the plans have been laid out before us. We can also look to tradition for inspiration and to give us guidelines on how to use our knowledge effectively and pass it on to future generations. It’s much easier to know where we are going if we’re familiar with where we have been.
What Is Modern?
Now that we’ve tackled traditional, let’s take a look at the application of modern. In retrospect, it’s rather funny that I selected the word “modern,” as I tend not to be enthusiastic about most of the modern art movements, and outside of Martha Graham emerging from the Denishawn dance company (Ruth St. Denis is one of my dance heroes), I have tepid feelings for modern dance as well. But “modern” does pair better with “traditional” than with “contemporary” or “current” or, gods forbid, “neo.” The juxtaposition of the words and the sound off the tongue are more effective, in my opinion.
One of the best things about humanity is our ability to problem-solve, to take ideas and build on them, to find new and different ways to interact with the world. Of course those same inquisitive traits can get us in trouble when we move forward without considering the full consequences of our actions. Progress for the sake of progress can in turn set back progress, but for the most part, innovation has moved carefully and positively forward. For instance, we harnessed the power of fire to warm ourselves, cook food, and purify water. Then we learned to work metal so we could go from using animal bladders, shells, and coconuts (carried by African swallows to Europe) to crafting cauldrons to use for cooking, carrying, and cleaning. 2 We could continue down the line with advancements that led to new techniques, from indoor plumbing to electricity. It’s natural for us to keep wondering and working—in fact, you can say it’s part of human tradition.
Incorporating new ideas into the mix doesn’t have to mean tossing out old ones. There has to be a balance. Short of going totally off the grid and running your own island, it would not be easy to disconnect from the world and go back to the way our ancestors lived 200, 500, 1,000, or 5,000 years ago. Our modern world presents new challenges that our ancestors could never have imagined. That means we must use our ingenuity and be willing to adapt to new ways of doing things when the old ways cease to work. It’s important to respect and educate ourselves about the past, but living traditions can’t survive under pin and glass. They have to be able to breathe, grow, and change. But at the same time, everything that’s new and shiny isn’t necessarily better. So it’s up to us to find the right mixture of modern and traditional.
What does modern have to do with Witchcraft? Thanks to technology, we are able to find information more quickly, as well as preserve it for ourselves and others in a variety of formats. We can use our modern technology to tap into the past, locate ancient sites, and discover relics that give us insights into the past. With our advanced knowledge, we can utilize materials that are safer and healthier for us and the environment, and have a better understanding of where those materials come from. We are able to connect with others much more easily and share our ideas with people all over the world.
Keys to the Witch’s Path
In order to find the golden mean between past, present, and future, it’s helpful to have some goals, or keys, to keep in mind. The symbol of the key reminds us of responsibility and the ability to lock, access, or open a door. Keys invoke a sense of stewardship and connectivity to something larger than ourselves. Their weight is familiar in our hands, and their sound brings us comfort and awareness. Through them, we’re able to unlock pieces of ourselves.
The following three keys have been an integral part of the Modern Tradition from the beginning. They provide basic guidelines that allow us to tread carefully into deeper territories.
1. Know Thyself
These words are said to have been inscribed in Greek in the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, where the Pythiai (oracular priestesses) did their work. This was one of the 147 Delphic maxims, or aphorisms, whose exact origin is unknown but which were attributed to the Seven Sages of Greece by Joannes Stobaeus, a scholar from the fifth century CE. These are wise words to consider when journeying to consult the oracle. We often look outside of ourselves for guidance when much of what we need to know is already within us. To know yourself means to be aware of your strengths and weaknesses, mentally, spiritually, and physically. When we are conscious of these things, we can make better choices about what we need to do, how to do it, and who to do it with. Be mindful of your own limitations as well as those of others.
2. Maintain Balance
This key sounds like knowing how to practice moderation, but it also requires understanding extremes and working with them. Sometimes we must take an extreme position or action to correct a situation. Balance is a state of mind, not an exact location. Part of maintaining balance is understanding that every action and intention has possible positive and negative reactions to varying degrees. Whether something is positive or negative (helpful or harmful) has a lot to do with perspective, and we should endeavor to see outside of our own personal spectrum. Is something you’re doing helpful or hurtful to yourself or others?
3. Accept Responsibility
With the vision that comes from understanding how to maintain balance, we perceive cause and effect and the implication of our own involvement. Therefore, this key inherently requires us to be willing to accept responsibility for what we do and say. Part of being a Witch is being able to acknowledge, accept, and work with both the known and the unknown consequences of our actions and words. Take into consideration what the outcome of any working could be, beyond your own intentions.
These three keys combined can guide you through many situations you will encounter on your path as a Witch. If you’re considering a course of education, knowing what your limits are and what you need to work on can help you make the best choice. When using divination, you can consider how you and/or others will react to a situation and calculate possible outcomes.
With your own idiosyncrasies in mind, you can avoid making common mistakes and steer clear of trouble. You can learn more about the merits of your character and what you are willing to put up with or sacrifice to achieve a desired outcome. With patience, compassion, and understanding in hand, these keys will empower your path and illuminate your way as a Witch.
Witchcraft Today, from Yesterday to Tomorrow
The Modern Tradition of Witchcraft was founded with the intent of creating a sensible, fluid, and living path for the modern Witch. That intent certainly birthed such a way, even if the initial idea of a formal structured tradition didn’t exactly stick. The phenomenon of Modern Traditional Witchcraft allows for so much more than what that initial idea could have encompassed. The Modern Traditional Witch doesn’t have to follow a specific deity or undergo a secret initiation. They can live and be from anywhere. They don’t need a house or a coven to practice with. They find their footing in their own roots, the endless possibilities at their fingertips, and the potential within their hearts and minds.
As we move forward in this book, I want to remind folks that Witchcraft is not for the elite or the elitist. Its roots lay deep within the earth, while its branches break the sky. It requires us to be grounded, practical, and creative all at the same time. Sure, we can geek out over details and wax poetic about esoterica. However, if we forget how to be in the moment, to get dirt under our nails while tasting the wine of our creations, we miss out on the actual practice of Witchcraft. My goal with this book is to inspire, to break down old and outdated ideas, to be practical and metaphysical, spiritual and embodied. There are no secrets or established pinnacles, but only possibilities and opportunities.
1. I could probably write a whole book on surviving under the strain of a narcissistic abuser, but I really don’t want to explore that here. I only bring it up because it did play a factor in what paths I was free to explore at that time.
2. Want to know more about the evolution of cauldrons? I wrote a book on it! The Witch’s Cauldron: The Craft, Lore & Magick of Ritual Vessels (Llewellyn, 2017).