HERBS + WOODS + SMOKE + WATER
Water
Our relationship with water needs little explanation, as one of the most important basic needs we have to live and thrive. In 2016, news of the water protectors’ defense of Oceti Sakowin, the Great Sioux Nation, against the Dakota Access Pipeline finally became known to the mainstream. We learned the rallying cry of the movement at Standing Rock: Mní Wičóni, Water is Life. I believe this helped sprout seeds already planted in our collective awareness of the importance of human connectivity to land and being. After all, that connectivity is our very history (and also, I believe, our future). Human civilizations rose up on the banks of rivers, lakes, seas, and oceans. Inland and coastal peoples alike worked the land’s natural irrigation through these rivers as well as rainfall, springs, and foothill streams to our advantage [1]. It makes sense that so many of our cosmologies originate with stories of the waters, and that our folklores speak of both water’s benefactor spirits and deities, as well as its most dangerous creatures and entities. The wilder and deeper, misty, or glasslike the water, the more of a bridge to the unknown, or the Otherworld, water became. The tides and torrents of oceanic currents, lakes, and rivers symbolize boundary places for other realms, spirits, and the dead. Its unfathomable, unpredictable, and oftentimes dangerous nature came to symbolize the emotional realms of our psyche. And scientifically, we now know that moving water generates negative ions which tend to have a calming effect on humans [2]. From mist and rain to lakes, ponds, springs, rivers, and oceans; our observation of what roles water serves across the entirety of our world is an inherent awareness of how it both surrounds us, and is contained within us. We cry tears, shed sweat, urinate, and spit and chew with saliva. In literature and in lore, heroes and protagonists make pacts and contracts, or solidify familial or community bonds, with blood [3]. Our menstrual and sexual fluids are associated with empowerment, sensuality, embodiment, and creation. In this way, our own bodies became collaborators in the magical technologies we use with water. The practical act of cleansing the body and the home translates to sacred acts of preparing for a new season or ceremony; the sustenance of water is made sacred through the act of transmuting water into a holy substance for blessing or consecration. The connections between these acts suggest a deep intimacy that is impossible to find with fire. Water, which we can touch, fosters a relationship of the body to source, to the unending and restless flow and cycle of life; the connectivity between dreams and living.
Water rites also appear throughout European history. What might be the most common contemporary association is baptism, and the use of holy water for blessings and protection. Any real in-depth discussion about Christianity is beyond my area of expertise, as I grew up in a non-religious household. However, because of the appearance of holy water throughout many folk magic traditions, including American diasporic ones, I’ve become a lot more aware of its presence as an embedded syncretic practice. The words and the material used may be rooted in Christian practice, but the actions themselves are closely related to pre-Christian methods of blessing, protection, and purification. I think this speaks to the mutability of folk traditions and folk magic, that they never remain static. Instead they flex, grow, and change with time and with culture. A couple of examples that come to mind are saining or wassailing rites in Scotland or England that later became practices done through a Christian lens. But their purposes remained largely the same—sprinkle blessed water on a person, place, or thing; say a charm or a prayer or sing a song; and whatever needs to be purified, protected, petitioned, or blessed is done through the act of making water and words sacred.
Saining with water throughout Scotland is fairly well documented, as are May Day rites of washing ones’ face or hands with the first morning dew which is also found throughout Ireland, Wales, and England. Various seasonal rites throughout the year call for visitations to holy wells and springs, or to bathe in the ocean, lake, or river. Other traditions have precedent such as sprinkling water on the ground to make it rain or using silvered water to bless and protect the home as well as people and livestock [4]. Some New Year's traditions in the Scottish Highlands seem to have had a prohibition on fire at New Year’s, so they would sprinkle spring or silvered water in each room that morning [5]. In some places, they would gather water from a living source and infuse it with bits of evergreen, or they simply used sea water. The use of “living water” such as from a stream, river, or ocean comes up repeatedly. Perhaps it seemed most beneficial because of its direct connection to its source, or the fact that moving water tends to run clear—standing, stale, brackish water such as from pools, ponds, or bogs has a significantly different makeup than running water does. Folk traditions often bear valuable pieces of knowledge that have been lost in translation through our contemporary notions of folklore or folkways as “story” or “superstition”. But oftentimes if you look more closely, you start to notice patterns of practicality or common sense embedded within the tale.
Our relationship with water needs little explanation, as one of the most important basic needs we have to live and thrive. In 2016, news of the water protectors’ defense of Oceti Sakowin, the Great Sioux Nation, against the Dakota Access Pipeline finally became known to the mainstream. We learned the rallying cry of the movement at Standing Rock: Mní Wičóni, Water is Life. I believe this helped sprout seeds already planted in our collective awareness of the importance of human connectivity to land and being. After all, that connectivity is our very history (and also, I believe, our future). Human civilizations rose up on the banks of rivers, lakes, seas, and oceans. Inland and coastal peoples alike worked the land’s natural irrigation through these rivers as well as rainfall, springs, and foothill streams to our advantage [1]. It makes sense that so many of our cosmologies originate with stories of the waters, and that our folklores speak of both water’s benefactor spirits and deities, as well as its most dangerous creatures and entities. The wilder and deeper, misty, or glasslike the water, the more of a bridge to the unknown, or the Otherworld, water became. The tides and torrents of oceanic currents, lakes, and rivers symbolize boundary places for other realms, spirits, and the dead. Its unfathomable, unpredictable, and oftentimes dangerous nature came to symbolize the emotional realms of our psyche. And scientifically, we now know that moving water generates negative ions which tend to have a calming effect on humans [2]. From mist and rain to lakes, ponds, springs, rivers, and oceans; our observation of what roles water serves across the entirety of our world is an inherent awareness of how it both surrounds us, and is contained within us. We cry tears, shed sweat, urinate, and spit and chew with saliva. In literature and in lore, heroes and protagonists make pacts and contracts, or solidify familial or community bonds, with blood [3]. Our menstrual and sexual fluids are associated with empowerment, sensuality, embodiment, and creation. In this way, our own bodies became collaborators in the magical technologies we use with water. The practical act of cleansing the body and the home translates to sacred acts of preparing for a new season or ceremony; the sustenance of water is made sacred through the act of transmuting water into a holy substance for blessing or consecration. The connections between these acts suggest a deep intimacy that is impossible to find with fire. Water, which we can touch, fosters a relationship of the body to source, to the unending and restless flow and cycle of life; the connectivity between dreams and living.
Water rites also appear throughout European history. What might be the most common contemporary association is baptism, and the use of holy water for blessings and protection. Any real in-depth discussion about Christianity is beyond my area of expertise, as I grew up in a non-religious household. However, because of the appearance of holy water throughout many folk magic traditions, including American diasporic ones, I’ve become a lot more aware of its presence as an embedded syncretic practice. The words and the material used may be rooted in Christian practice, but the actions themselves are closely related to pre-Christian methods of blessing, protection, and purification. I think this speaks to the mutability of folk traditions and folk magic, that they never remain static. Instead they flex, grow, and change with time and with culture. A couple of examples that come to mind are saining or wassailing rites in Scotland or England that later became practices done through a Christian lens. But their purposes remained largely the same—sprinkle blessed water on a person, place, or thing; say a charm or a prayer or sing a song; and whatever needs to be purified, protected, petitioned, or blessed is done through the act of making water and words sacred.
Saining with water throughout Scotland is fairly well documented, as are May Day rites of washing ones’ face or hands with the first morning dew which is also found throughout Ireland, Wales, and England. Various seasonal rites throughout the year call for visitations to holy wells and springs, or to bathe in the ocean, lake, or river. Other traditions have precedent such as sprinkling water on the ground to make it rain or using silvered water to bless and protect the home as well as people and livestock [4]. Some New Year's traditions in the Scottish Highlands seem to have had a prohibition on fire at New Year’s, so they would sprinkle spring or silvered water in each room that morning [5]. In some places, they would gather water from a living source and infuse it with bits of evergreen, or they simply used sea water. The use of “living water” such as from a stream, river, or ocean comes up repeatedly. Perhaps it seemed most beneficial because of its direct connection to its source, or the fact that moving water tends to run clear—standing, stale, brackish water such as from pools, ponds, or bogs has a significantly different makeup than running water does. Folk traditions often bear valuable pieces of knowledge that have been lost in translation through our contemporary notions of folklore or folkways as “story” or “superstition”. But oftentimes if you look more closely, you start to notice patterns of practicality or common sense embedded within the tale.
1 ] Harris, citing Wittfogel
2 ] Goel and Etwaroo, Pino and La Ragione
3] This practice is often found in the real world too, and has some very deep cultural roots and histories. I'm not addressing this practice in these essays at the moment, nor is this a suggestion or encouragement of such a practice to my readers. This sort of work requires careful instruction, deep counsel, and the presence of your very knowledgeable spiritual priest, guide, or teacher. Do not try this otherwise.
4 ] Campbell, McNeill
5 ] Hutton
2 ] Goel and Etwaroo, Pino and La Ragione
3] This practice is often found in the real world too, and has some very deep cultural roots and histories. I'm not addressing this practice in these essays at the moment, nor is this a suggestion or encouragement of such a practice to my readers. This sort of work requires careful instruction, deep counsel, and the presence of your very knowledgeable spiritual priest, guide, or teacher. Do not try this otherwise.
4 ] Campbell, McNeill
5 ] Hutton
This piece is adapted from a series of courses taught in 2019 and 2020. Acknowledgements and transparency of resources may be found on the home page for this project.