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queerasfolkmagic · 6 years

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Introducing myself

Hello folks,

Having been here a while, I thought it was about time to formally introduce myself to you guys. Plus I’ve spent most of the day drafting a letter of introduction to apply for an apprenticeship, so my thoughts on who I am in terms of magical practice and where I’ve come from feels a lot more organised than it has for years.

So the basic stuff. I’m a queer cis man living in the UK, but I grew up working class in Georgia. I’ve got a brilliant boyfriend who is a dyed in the wool atheist & sceptic who nonetheless is extremely supportive of my practice. I work in the arts, and have been working professionally as a poet, performer and installation artist for the past 15 years or so. However, I’m taking some time off next year from both my company and my arts practice to focus on retraining as a psychotherapist. In its own way, this feels closely linked to my renewed interest in magic, but more on that later.

So my journey into magic - When I was a freshman in high school, a way-cooler-than-me senior sat me down in a patch of grass near our school and asked me if I’d ever heard of Wicca. I’m not sure why she singled me out – I was a pretty nerdy and way into fantasy novels, but she was friends with my older brother. It was the first time I’d ever heard of Wicca, but she lent me a copy of Cunningham’s Wicca: A Guide For The Solitary Practitioner, patted my head, and sent me on my way. I read the book from cover to cover and shared it with my friends, and we formed (or at least formalised!) our first coven.

The 90s was a pretty good time to be a teen witch. The Craft came out, and you could pick up Llewellyn books at Barnes and Noble (even if your heart was pounding the entire time you walked up to the register). It was good, even in the Bible Belt. There was a metaphysical shop in downtown Atlanta we’d all make the occasional pilgrimage to when we could convince an older sibling to drive us down, or later when we started getting our own licenses. We traded books and stayed up late. We burned candles in the woods – scrappy copses of undeveloped lands at the edges of our subdivisions, our public parks, our back yards. I started wearing a pentacle and drawing green men on my textbooks. It was the 90s and it was exciting. I read a lot of Cunningham and Caitlin and John Matthews. Later I found Starhawk, both her fiction and non fiction.

However, I remember that even at the time I felt like I got more out of books like Brian Froud and Alan Lee’s Faeries or pretty much anything by Charles de Lint or Terri Windling, and the bits of folklore that got slipped into their stories. I felt more resonance with current writers grappling with and interpreting myth and folklore than I did with people writing about modern witchcraft. Partly, it was because I felt uneasy about some of the claims around unbroken lineage a lot of writers were making, rather than admitting and owning a reconstructionist approach. Also, the emphasis around fertility never felt like it fit for me. As a queer kid in a small southern town, the last thing I needed was another dogmatic approach to gender. When authors talked about the Wheel of the Year, it sounded like a beautiful myth but one that felt so removed from me. The Horned God felt like just another straight guy – unknowable and unrelatable,

I spent a lot of time walking through woods, and trying to be open to what they contained. Looing back, I think what resonated a lot more with me was a sense of animism – something that was discussed briefly in the books I read, but never given the same sense of importance as Deity worship.

Then things fell apart. My dad committed suicide and my mom’s addictions started spiralling out of control. My own drug and alcohol use increased massively. I started spending a lot more time at raves than I did in nature. By the time I finished high school, my sense of connection with nature and interest in spirituality of any stripe pretty much disappeared. Occasionally it would resurface. I went to acting school, and the Goddess showed up in more than one visualisation exercise – which was both powerful and uncomfortable. After I got sober I discovered Quakerism and connected to a different kind of god – not quite the Christian one, not quite the Wiccan one – but someone who felt like a loving father and also mysterious and awesome. Still, nothing really stuck. I moved to the UK in 2004 and religion and spirituality is pretty much a no go here.

So fast forward a couple of years – I promise I’m getting to the end! Two things happened. I took my partner back to the US to meet my family, and the newness of seeing my family through his eyes taught me a lot including the fact that my family is witchy AF. We talk openly about seeing ghosts, we talk with our dead and they speak to us in signs, we share stories about premonitions and intuition, and we create little altars all the time. I know it sounds stupid, but I’d genuinely never really thought about it before. It was just my family. I though magic came from wise women in the woods, not my Aunt Nancy in Chicago. For the first time, I thought about magic as being an inheritance, and as something that bonds me to family both living and dead.

The second incident happened while on holiday in Cornwall when for the first time in years I took a whole week off and sat by the sea. I didn’t do anything else. I turned off my phone and just sat in the sunshine, slept when I was tired, ate when I was hungry, watched the waves and the moon and the bees and just listened. And a message came through loud and clear (and terrifying in its clarity).

And so with both those things in mind, I opened myself up. There were a lot of mistakes. The first witchy book I bought after 20 years was a beautiful book on natural healing – gorgeous pictures, but mostly recipes for homemade bath bombs and raw smoothies and nothing on spirituality. I bought some santo palo and realised I do not like the smell of santo palo. I bought way too many crystals and tarot packs, all of which looked beautiful and felt dead in my hands. I started a tumblr page and followed pretty much anyone who looked a bit witchy and got lost down some unfulfilling rabbit holes.

Then one day I pulled out a tiger’s eye my best friend had given me in high school and I felt something. Something profound – a tingle in my hand and up my arm, small but undeniable. I found a tarot pack that started giving me startlingly clear answers. – turns out it was a basic vanilla RWS pack I needed! I found some great witchy podcasts – New World Witchery, The Witch Wave, and Betwixt and Between – who were talking about things that made sense to me.

The world of witchcraft has changed SO MUCH in the past twenty years I was away! Wicca is no longer the only flavour! No shade to Wiccans, but it feels so good to see other traditions be given more airtime. I’d never heard of Southern Conjure, hoodoo, and cunningfolk practices, and it has been so exciting to learn a bit about them. I’ve found Judika Illes and Byron Ballard. I’ve rediscovered Cunningham – not all of it is relevant to me, The Magical Household is one of the best books I’ve ever read. Most importantly, I’ve started thinking again about what bits of folklore and fairy tales feel ‘right’. So while The Green Witch and The Sorcerer’s Secrets are on my beside ‘to read’ book pile, so is The Book of English Magic, A Treasury of British Folklore, The Long Lost Friend, and A Deed Without a Name. So is Brewers Book of Phrase and Fable and Red Sky At Night and In The Pines and The Book of English Folk Tales and fairy tale collections from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson.

So while I’m still finding my way,I’d like to be a modern-day cunning man. I’d like to use traditional and folkloric knowledge relating to my cultural and ancestral heritage (Irish, Welsh, Hungarian, Southern American, working class, queer) to help myself and the people around me deal with the challenges of being alive – finding security, dealing with grief, understanding their loved ones better. I’d like to be a repository for old ways and the creator of new ones. I’d like to be open and honest about my practices and my spiritual life. I’d like to be mostly kind and sometimes righteous when I need to be. I’d like to be on a first name basis with my ancestors and the land I live on. I’d like to spend time learning about little gods – house spirits, local faeries and land spirits, the birds who live in the local park, the spiders who make their homes in my garden – than building up big pantheons from other cultures. I’d like to celebrate the phases of the moon rather than the Wheel of the Year. I’d like to worship my mom and dad as the fierce, wonderful, loving, dangerous spirits they are. I’d like for casting a spell or talking to my ancestors to be as immediate an impulse as looking something up on Google. I’d like to be Sally Owen. Maybe Gilly Owen. One of the Owens, anyway. Definitely one of the Owens

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