Witchcraft - rediscovering nature

Marcus Katz describes an initiation ceremony into witchcraft - a religion which has been growing in

It is 1982. Somewhere in a quiet suburban house in the middle of England, a circle has been drawn on the floor to mark a sacred space. It is decorated with the signs of the Zodiac and surrounded by candles.

A male candidate stands naked in the midst of the circle, surrounded by seven similarly ‘sky-clad’ participants. He is blindfolded, so the fragrance of incense and the recitation of ritualistic words around him have a peculiarly charged impact. He hears the calls to not only a single God, Cernunnos, depicted as a horned God of the Wild, but also to a Goddess, Aradia, seen as equally, if not more, important to recognise and worship. He realises that these are the names chosen by this particular coven, or group of Witches, into which he being initiated tonight – other covens, he knows, may choose different deities to worship.

He looks forward to the relative comfort of wearing the robe he has bought for this ceremony; not all covens work naked, and in fact, he has been told that being sky-clad is only practised in this particular coven for initiations. He is surprised to find being naked is sensuous but not sexual, and anyway, his mind is elsewhere – there appears to be a strange sensation of energy moving up his body, forcing itself up from the earth beneath him, in tune with the chanting about him, reaching up and out of his head, opening his awareness to the night sky. The room seems to have vanished to be replaced by a wooded grove. This is distracting enough.

His thoughts return to his previous year-and-a-day of studying the books recommended to him when he applied to join the coven through an advert in a small local New Age shop. On Witchcraft; first written in the 50’s by Gerald Gardner, and in the 70’s by Doreen Valiente, Patricia Crowther, and Alex Sanders. Soon, in the 80’s, more writers will clarify and expand on the rituals and beliefs of this emerging religion; Janet and Stewart Farrar, Starhawk, the American feminist and activist, and more contemporary writers such as the psychologist and Witch, Vivienne Crowley. All speaking of a new religion grown from ancient roots.

Meanwhile, as the chant increases in tempo, he is gently pushed and pulled, turned and spun, increasing his disorientation. The five members of the coven, which has never recruited to a full thirteen, are three women of varying ages and two men, one in his early twenties, the other in his fifties. The candidate will make the balance, and at nineteen years old, is to be the youngest member of the coven.

As the initiation progresses, it becomes easier to simply feel – a growing return to oneself, a communion with both male and female aspects, a sense of connection with the whole of Nature; the Moon, the Sun, the four Elements, the changing Seasons. All of these symbolised in the ritual he is participating in, a gateway into the Mysteries of a new religious movement based partly on a ‘creative misunderstanding’ of history. The movement is called in its various forms, Witchcraft, Wicca, and Paganism.

Soon, the cords that bind him will be removed, and he will swear an oath to be “true to the Art”. He will be consecrated, and then taught the secret use of the ‘Working Tools”; the Sword, the Athame (a dagger), the White-hilted Knife, the Wand, Cup and Pentacle, representing Fire, Water and Earth. Finally, he will be presented to the four Quarters of the Magic Circle, introduced as “newly-made Witch and hidden child of the Goddess”.

He is now initiated into the tradition of Witchcraft, and although later years will introduce the concept of self-initiation, at this time he feels suddenly connected to an invisible lineage, to nature, and to his own inner self. He feels both free yet at home. The initiation has changed him, introduced him to a new way of looking at the world, which will take time to consolidate.

For the next few years, this newly-initiated witch will practice rituals and ceremonies based on the common beliefs of witchcraft. Although both practitioners and academics will continue to debate these commonalities, the basic beliefs of Witchcraft are pantheistic or polytheistic; a belief in many aspects of the divine, both Gods and Goddesses, furthermore a syncretic approach often drawing on a bewildering variety of cultures, usually Celtic, Greek, Roman or even Ancient Egyptian.

Often the so-called feminine qualities are revered more than the masculine, sometimes they are seen as equal in all respects. Thus, the Moon is worshipped as a symbol of three aspects of the female; the three archetypes of Maiden, Mother and Crone.

All these things a Witch will learn, as I did from 1982, when I was initiated.

Marcus Katz is an MA student of Western Esotericism at Exeter University. He is a teacher of Witchcraft, Tarot and Ritual Magick in the Lake District at the Far Away Centre
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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.