Welcome to Between Three Witches, where we talk about
witchcraft in plain sight. Everyday magic lived honestly,
and it's hosted by three witches.
Me. GAIL, the witch next door.
Me. The weedy green witch and me and
on the anonymous witch. We all walk different paths with
different levels of experience, but we share a deep respect for
the craft as it is actually practiced and not the dramatized
version people expect. Hello, it's Vicky the Wheelie
Green witch from Between 3 Witches, and on today's episode
of our Words from Witches or Pocket Practice section, it's
really trying to sort out the confusion of where to even
begin. So come on in, kettles on.
As always, ignore the state of the kitchen table.
I've been pottering around sorting out all the plants and
I'm fairly sure half the garden's actually followed me
indoors. There's soil on the side,
Rosemary is drying near the window, and I've already
reheated my coffee three times, which I feel is a very fair
representation of lived in practice.
You know, one of the questions I get asked the most often is
where do I even start with witchcraft?
What tools do I need help? I think social media has
accidentally convinced people that the answer needs to be
incredibly complicated and a bit expensive.
You know, like one day you wake up, you need to buy 17 different
candles, 4000 different crystals, adopt A crow, rename
yourself Moon Shadow, and vanish mysteriously into the woods by
next Thursday. Thing is, Folkcraft probably
began because somebody just needed to get through the
winter. Most of the old ways weren't
separate from ordinary life. They were woven directly into
those kitchens and gardens, into the sick rooms, family life,
bread ovens and long winters where people needed to feel
safer, healthier, and simply less alone.
A lot of what we now call folk magic was survival mixed
together with belief, observation, repetition and the
need for hope. And most people started exactly
where they were, with whatever they had, you know?
And that really matters, because somewhere along the line, people
started feeling that they needed the perfect tools before they
were allowed to even begin. The right book, the correct
altar, beautiful shelves of matching jars.
Meanwhile, historically, somebody was storing herbs in
whatever currently wasn't holding onions.
Most people weren't building practices from luxury and
Margaret from 1683 was definitely not ordering imported
moon water from Etsy at 2:00 in the morning.
Margaret was probably just trying to stop the goat eating
the washing and hoping the cabbage would last until
February. People used what grew nearby
Rosemary. If Rosemary grew nearby nettles,
well, they pretty much grow everywhere.
Salt was expensive so used very carefully.
Ash from the fire thread pins thread.
And honestly you know, I think that's partly why I really love
knot work so much. Threads just well humble people
tied in wishes into it. They knotted in protections,
they mended things with intention.
Making and meaning just weren't separate at all.
The same goes for poppets. People weren't making elaborate
dolls from expensive supplies. They used scraps of fabric,
wrapped herbs, clay, wool, roots, old clothing, bundles of
vegetation tied together by hand.
Those things appear again and again through folk Alf
traditions. But honestly, I think that's
absolutely beautiful, the idea the ordinary material can carry
love and care, hope, protection, memory, just because somebody
shaped them with intention and emotion.
Historically, people reused absolutely everything because no
one was wasting good fabric on aesthetic woodland nonsense.
Now, I'm not to say historical witchcraft and folkcraft were
only symbolic or domestic. They absolutely were.
Spoken charms, protective workings, healing rituals, folk
healers, cunning folk, and people deeply engaged in the
practices. People carried written charms in
pockets. They buried objects beneath
thresholds. They used herbs intentionally.
They put shoes in walls, carved protective markings into
buildings, and they passed regional practices through
families and occasionally through community.
The practice and the magical weren't always separated neatly
from each other. Most of this knowledge also it
just wasn't written down neatly in books the way people
sometimes imagine now. Huge amounts survived through
storytelling, around fires, at kitchen tables, in gardens,
while working through stories, sayings, rhymes, repetition and
observations. And children learn by watching,
usually then being sent out to go and fetch something and
returning 3 hours later distracted by frogs.
I am not saying anything about my childhood here, you know.
Stories help people remember. A warning wrapped in folklore
survives far longer than a lecture.
And honestly, I think that's why part of folk craft survives so
strongly, because it meets people where they actually
lived. The same woman stirring time
into a soup for a cough might just tuck that Rosemary above
the door because it made the house feel a little bit safer
somehow. And honestly, modern people
still do versions of this all of the time.
We light candles to celebrate all when we feel uncertain.
We make tea for when we don't know what else to do.
Certainly if you're British, we open windows after difficult
days and arguments because the room feels heavy.
Humans have always attached meaning to small acts.
And you know what's really interesting?
If you look through history, Folkcraft.
Old customs are nearly always resurfacing strongly during
uncertain times. Periods of instability pull
people back towards the older skills and the older comforts,
and you see it repeatedly during hardship.
People return to baking, gardening, preserving food,
sharing stories and remedies, and carrying lucky objects.
I mean, just look at the COVID lockdown.
Everybody went back to doing sourdough, you know?
And honestly, I think that's part of what we're seeing again
today, the resurgence in witchcraft, people asking where
to begin. Collectively, I think we're all
about 1 minor inconvenience away from moving into a cottage.
Cottage and growing beans. And do you know what I've
already done That modern life is so loud it's exhausted.
And frankly, some of us are just being held together completely
and entirely by a good old cup of tea and some darn
stubbornness. People start looking for things
that are slower again, not because they're trying to become
mysterious woodland cryptids by next Thursday.
Social media occasionally gives that impression, however, But
it's more because people are searching for small routines
that help them feel steadier. And there's also something
deeply reassuring, particularly to me, about the fact that old
folk practices are really perfect.
People adapt them, they adapt the methods, and they adapt the
way that it fits in with their own life.
They worked around poverty, they worked around weather or grief
or exhaustion, children under foot, disability and ordinary
normal everyday chaos. Half of folk history is
basically essentially people saying right then this is what
we've got, let's make do. And honestly, I think that's one
of the most magical sentences in human history.
Let's make do. So to answer the question if
you're someone wondering where to start with any of this, I
honestly think the answer is much gentler and calmer than
people expect. Start where you are with what
you have to hand, and you fit it in around the life that you're
already living. You don't need to disappear into
the woods for three days carrying a Lantern and wearing a
ceremonial cloak. Honestly, some of us barely have
time to disappear into the bath uninterrupted.
You can stir intention into your morning tea.
Grow herbs in a chipped bug on a windowsill if that's all you
have the room for. Open the windows after an
argument. Tie a knot with purpose.
Light a candle when you rest. Learn the names of plants that
you already have growing near your home.
Whether you have a garden or not, that's all still practice.
It's all still the craft. It's folk craft.
It's a witchcraft, and it all still counts.
The old ways were often built from very, very ordinary acts
that were repeated with care. And maybe that's all people ever
have really needed to do anyway. Kettle's gone cold again.
I need more coffee and I've lost this.
I've lost the secateurs. Where were the secateurs?
Right, I'm off. Enjoy yourself and I'll see you
next time. OK, bye.