To all my Lokean friends out there

Happy Lokabrenna Day!

New bone and claw jewelry at Wytch of the North on Etsy

I’ve just finished uploading a bunch of new animal totem bone and claw jewelry to my Wytch of the North pagan store on Etsy.  This batch consists mostly of simply wire-wrapped pendants paired with hand dyed, handcrafted felt cords.  The represented animal totems are lynx, bobcat, elk, and snapping turtle.

I probably won’t be making too much more of this kind of thing (too many projects I want to focus on and not enough time!) so if you see something you like, better grab it now!

F is for Fehu: the Pagan Blog Project

Wealth is a source of discord amongst kin;
the wolf lives in the forest.
- Old Norwegian Rune Poem

Wealth is a source of discord amongst kin
and fire of the sea
and path of the serpent.
- Old Icelandic Rune Poem

Wealth is a comfort to all;
yet must everyone bestow it freely,
if they wish to gain honour in the sight of the Lord.
- Anglo-Saxon rune poem (translations from Wikipedia)

In all of the surviving rune poems, Fehu (or Fe, or Feoh) is the first rune given. Cognate with the English word “fee,” Fehu roughly meant sheep or cattle to the ancient Germanic peoples, since these animals formed the backbone (so to speak) of the economy in those days; they were synonymous wih wealth, specifically wealth that moves and flows and changes hands, wealth that can be easily bought, sold or traded (as opposed to landed property). So, in modern parlance, although there are some more esoteric connotations involving luck and the exchange of energy in any form, the most common meaning for this rune is cold, hard cash and the energy exchange that occurs when money is earned, spent, or otherwise changes hands. And to a certain extent, our energy does in fact go where our money goes; after all, we earned the money with our time and energy. (Unless you’re independently wealthy, but even then someone earned it–or stole it–if you go far enough back on the family tree.)

I’ve been pondering Fehu lately in terms of this basic financial exchange that forms the foundation of our economy and defines so many of our dealings with each other. The rune poems warn that money can be a source of discord, especially within families (something we all know to be true), but that it must be spent freely in order to gain honor–and certainly a sign of a healthy economy is that money is being spent, that people have enough disposable income to spread it around a bit. While I’d hesitate to define the so-called “pagan community” as one big family, I have seen quite a bit of disagreement within it surrounding the question of where we as pagans ought to spend our money, which businesses we should patronize and support. This conversation is not limited to just pagans, of course; environmentally-minded people urge us to support some businesses and not others, based on the business models and practices of the companies in question, and the tactic of spending locally to keep money flowing within one’s own community is well known. Ideally, we all should support businesses that reflect our own ideals, and there is some merit to the notion of buying from other pagans in order to keep the moveable wealth circulating within pagan hands.

With that in mind, I ask: how important is it to you, personally, to support pagan businesses? Does it bother you to spend your money (and thus energy) on businesses that are (or, we suppose, would theoretically be) opposed to pagan ideology?
I know that it does, in fact, bother many people, and I can appreciate that. For example, on a Facebook community I’m part (a group for pagans who veil), the subject of where to purchase head coverings came up. Several of us admired the coverings produced by Garlands of Grace, an Etsy shop which is, let’s face it, a blatantly Christian business. When I received my snood from them (which I love!) it was wrapped in paper stamped with Bible verses (which I loved a bit less). Clearly, they produce these coverings as part of a deeply held Christian devotion, which was enough to make many people in my group say that, lovely as their coverings are, they would not buy from them. Once again, I do see their point; they would prefer not to support a business that seems opposed to their own faith.

But you know what? Personally, buying from a Christian business–especially a small Etsy business–doesn’t bother me, although I’m sure that attitude owes a lot to my own background. Luckily, I’ve never had the problems with Christianity or Christians that many pagans have; I’ve never been pressured by Christian relatives into adopting their beliefs, never had to hide my pagan interests or take refuge in a “broomcloset” from repressive and disapproving parents or family members. (In my family, the disapproving relatives were more likely to be Jewish, but there wasn’t a lot of pressure to conform, nevertheless.) I do realize how fortunate I was in that.

Further, one of my primary spirits (Anne Boleyn) is Christian. Although like her husband Henry VIII Anne lived and died a devout Catholic, she also encouraged independent religious thought and the notion of a personal relationship with divinity, and during her time as queen helped make English language bibles widely available to the English people. As a medieval history buff, in fact, many of the people I admire most also happened to be Christian. (At least one of them, Edward IV‘s queen Elizabeth Woodville, was probably a witch as well–though not in the modern pagan sense of the word.) So it would be rather hypocritical for me, personally, to take the stance of refusing to buy from overtly Christian businesses, especially since, as a craftsperson myself, I believe in supporting talented artisans who produce well-crafted goods. Conversely, I would not buy inferior goods from pagan business just because the proprietor/craftsperson is pagan; that would offend my artistic sensibilities, which are as strong as my pagan ones, if not stronger. (For me, Odin is a god of artistic inspiration and creativity across the board, not merely concerning the written word.)

Which is not to say that ideology does not influence my purchases at all, since I also believe in buying locally when possible, will not support businesses that destroy the environment or wild habitats if I can avoid it, and would certainly never buy from Nazis (for example). But I have no problem with buying a well made handcrafted item from someone who embraces a positive religious creed that is not my own. (And of course I know all of the arguments about Christian persecution of pagans throughout history, but that was then, not now, and if we go back to the very earliest days of Christianity we could also see the reverse situation, in which the Christians were the victim of the established and institutionalized pagan religions. Everything comes around again, if you only wait long enough.)

I wouldn’t presume to tell anyone else what they should do, but that’s my own stance on the subject. (Of course, as a fiber arts craftsperson myself, as well as a pagan who veils, I also see a market niche here that I might, just possibly, consider trying my hand at filling…)

What say you, readers?

Surprise!

This was the view from my front door (in Eugene, Oregon) at 7 am on Wednesday, the second day of spring:

Beautiful, yes (and it satisfied a secret longing I’ve been harboring for the white all-enveloping silence of a snow sky), but getting to work was nightmarish, since the lovely city of Eugene does NOT know how to handle snow at ALL.  (There were no snow ploughs out on the street until after 8, and never any ice or sand at all–yes, I know, I can sense you east coast folks squirming; believe me, I feel your pain!)  I finally made it in at 11 am after two hours standing on ice in the snow and rain–which was not good for my Raynaud’s (a circulation condition involving the absence of capillaries in places in my fingers and toes, making the possible consequences of frostbite rather serious), and my toes are aching tonight.

Added to the wind storms we’ve been having, this surprise snowstorm is also reinforcing my growing impression that spring is as much Wild Hunt season as Yule is, here.

We’re supposed to get more snow tonight; I’m hoping the weather forecast is wrong because I would dearly love to get paid for tomorrow, but I don’t think I can go through that kind of ordeal twice in one week.

The dog doesn’t quite know what to make of it all:

F is for Frigga: the Pagan Blog Project

Frigga is certainly not the flashiest goddess in the Norse/Germanic pantheon, nor the one non-heathen pagans are most likely to be familiar with. (That would be Freyja, on both counts.) Yet Snorri Sturluson (the Icelandic clergyman responsible for much of the information that has come down to us about Scandinavian paganism) calls Her “foremost of the goddesses,” Queen of Asgard to Odin’s King, and provides Her with both a hall of Her own (Fensalir, or “Marsh Hall”) and an impressive retinue of 12 “handmaidens” (many of whom I believe may have originally been independent regional goddesses in their own right who gradually became absorbed into Her train). Even if you think (as many heathens do) that Snorri was overly influenced by classical portrayals of Zeus and Hera and wanted to cast Odin and Frigga as Their northern equivalents, there is enough material surviving from various other sources (including the Poetic Edda, the scurrilous Gesta Danorum, and Paul the Deacon’s History of the Langobards) to secure Her place as the Aesir’s Queen.

She is also described as “Fjorgynn‘s maid,” and while there is some debate over the meaning of this the most common interpretation–since Fjorgynn is a byname for Jord, the goddess of earth–is that She is a daughter of Earth (and sister to Thor, which would make Her stepmother to Her brother; yes, these divine relationships can get tangled and a bit incestuous). Thus Her partnership with Odin can be seen as a marriage of earth and sky in which She represents the earth and sovereignty, a parallel to Celtic traditions in which the sacred king is wed to the land itself. The myths bear this out, showing Her bestowing lordship on several individuals (in addition to granting children and heirs to childless kings) and even tricking Odin into bestowing victory on one entire tribe against His wishes. (She has Her devious side, clearly, as any queen must.)

Yet despite all of this She tends to keep a low profile, and I suspect She likes it that way. She can be elusive, but for those who come to know Her she is quite a formidable presence, and even those who are kept at distance (for She does not grant Her attention to all who court Her) can sense Her quiet power. She willingly stands always a step behind Odin, performing all of the duties traditionally ascribed to medieval queens: peace-weaving (smoothing relations between hostile parties, which a queen often accomplishes by the very fact of her marriage), intercession (allowing the king, by means of her pleas, to show mercy without appearing weak), and supplementarity (serving as a general helpmeet to the king in all ways). Frigga is often referred to as a domestic goddess and there is some truth in that as She does love Her home and hearth, as well as the crafts (such as spinning and weaving) that traditionally belong to the feminine sphere. Yet I also see Her as an adept administrator. Early medieval European queens were working queens and Frigga fits this model very well, personally overseeing the running of a royal household and the comfort of its residents and guests–a task which takes on extra importance considering that Her husband is away for long periods of time on His continual travels. The keys She wears at Her belt (the traditional badge of a northern housewife, with which she was ceremonially presented at her wedding) symbolize not only Her status as a married lady but also Her dominion over Her husband’s home and property.

I have heard Diana Paxson and others comment that women who become deeply involved with Odin also inevitably find themselves working with one or more of His divine wives or mistresses at some point, and naturally some of us would feel a closer affinity to some of Them than to others. When I first married Odin almost ten years ago now, Frigga was not the goddess who I initially felt most drawn to. (Her we will get to under the next letter, G.) True to Her nature, Frigga stood somewhat aloof from me for a long time, and, true to mine, I interpreted this as rejection and reacted accordingly, by shoving Her even further away and declaring that I had never wanted anything to do with Her, anyway. I did not yet understand how subtle She is. You can court Her your entire life and receive graciousness in return–for after all, She is a queen–yet never be allowed past the level of polite regard, let alone into Her inner circle.

There is a veil of Mystery about Frigga, who is said to know the fates of all although She will not speak of them, as well as a haunting sadness, as She is a mother who can extend protection to Her devotees–as well as to Her husband, on His travels–but was unable to save Her own child. Snorri avers that She is the only one besides Odin who is permitted to sit on His high seat at Hlidskjalf, that remote, solitary throne at the highest point of Asgard from which it is possible to look out over all of the nine worlds. Frigga’s gifts of prophecy are deep-rooted, like the roots of Yggdrasil whose course and tracings no one knows. Many modern heathens believe that She spins the threads from which the Norns weave the fates of men, gods and the worlds. It is likely that She will not speak of the things She sees and knows because no one else–with the possible exception of Odin Himself–would be able to comprehend them.

She is very much an introvert goddess, an example of the saying that “still waters run deep,” and in that She is very much like myself. In pushing Her away, I realize now, I was rejecting myself, at a time when my life was still in constant turmoil and I had little or no confidence in myself or my path. In standing aloof from me, She was allowing me time to master the traits that stood in the way of my gaining that confidence–impetuousness, jealousy, hurt and anger–until I was ready to move past them, into a relationship with Her that would enable me to recognize and embrace my own sovereignty. In other words, for a long time I simply was not ready to have Frigga in my life in any significant way.

I have written before, in this blog, about how all of that changed, about the growing significance of spinning to my spiritual path and how it was my embrace of this ancient and graceful craft that enabled me to cultivate patience (for you cannot work with fiber without it), grace, and inner quiet within myself. It was this development that allowed me to not only reach a truce with Frigga but also led me to the rather startling discovery that I now consider Her to be my goddess (secondarily after Odin as my god, of course), and perhaps always have. She epitomizes not only those aspects of myself that have long lain dormant within me, waiting to be recognized and nurtured, but also all of the things I aspire to, particularly in my role as Odin’s wife. She and Odin have a complex relationship that has not been without its difficulties, but–as I have mentioned here before–His comings and goings, and even His affairs and mistresses, do not alarm or concern Her because She knows that in no way do they threaten Her place at His side. She is a goddess who (just as much as Freyja) is very solidly and securely centered in the knowledge of Her own worth (something that I long lacked, and have only in recent years begun to gain for myself). She is the calm at the center of Odin’s raging storm, the quiet center to which He always returns.  And Her very name means “beloved lady.”

My Fensalir Fiber blog is now open for business

It even has a re-introductory post and a new, bright and shiny layout.  Come see!

Now that I’ve finally got that all set up, I can get to work on the other new blog I have planned for release in May.

What other new blog, you ask? Ha! Wait and see…;)

E is for Ecstasy: the Pagan Blog Project

Most pagans, when they hear the word “ecstasy,” will very likely think of one god, first and foremost: Dionysos. For this reason, I thought I’d say a few words this week about Odin as a god of ecstasy.

The origin of the word (ekstasis) is of course, Greek and means, roughly, “to be removed from oneself.” This definition refers to the shift in consciousness that can take place during trance work, fervent prayer, or even activities such as dance when performed for a ritual purpose: the elevation of awareness beyond the constraints of the self and into another realm. In this altered state, consciousness of one’s physical surrounding and sensory perceptions diminish and awareness of the spiritual realm and spiritual beings intensifies. It is in this state–which can occur in varying degrees of intensity or depth–that those of us who practice some form of trace work or spirit work are able to converse with the gods, to travel to other realms (in what is known in the northern traditions as “faring forth,”) and to read and work with Wyrd. Taken to its furthest extreme, it is in this state that those of us who have the capacity for it can be taken out of ourselves completely in the process of divine possession or “horsing,” in which we step back willingly in order to let a particular god take over as “driver” of our personal vehicles, our bodies and consciousness.

But that is likely a subject for another post. To return to the topic of gods who are closely linked with the concept of ecstasy, most pagans would be at least passingly familiar with the image of Dionysos, Greek god of the ecstasy that comes to humans through intoxication (by way of wine, of which He is the patron) and of His handmaidens the maenads (“raving ones”), a band of wild women who become so possessed–through a combination of drink and dance– by the frenzy and madness of their god that they are able to rip an animal limb from limb with their bare hands and eat its flesh raw. (In the myths, sometimes this same fate would befall human victims who had somehow pissed the god off, too!)

Odinists and Dionysians, when they have occasion to meet and exchange words, will often comment on the similarities between their (our) respective gods. And on the surface at least, They do have much in common. Where Dionysos has His maenads, Odin has the valkyries (“choosers of the slain”), His handmaidens who assist Him in collecting the souls of the fallen, and–even more to the point–His berserkers, those feared warriors of the northlands who would become so enflamed with Odin’s battle frenzy that they would go on fighting even when gravely wounded, feeling no pain or fear. Dionysos and Odin are both gods of ecstatic states, of altered states of consciousness, of shifts in awareness, divine possession, intoxication, and even madness. Where Dionysos has wine, Odin has the Mead of Poetry, that dangerous concoction wrought of murder and sex that can inspire poets to greatness, or to madness and destruction. Where Dionysos feeds the dead and facilitates communication between the dead and the living, through the blood sacrifices performed by His maenads, Odin does so through His own role (and that of His valkyries) as a guide and collector of the dead, and through His leadership of the Wild Hunt.

Both gods have many, many epithets (or in Odin’s case, <i>heiti</i>), and a full array of aspects and masks that They each wear. They are both paradoxes, gods both of sacred kings and of social outcasts, of fertility and death, creation and destruction, and They both inspire fierce, obsessive devotion and loyalty from Their respective followers.

But this, I feel, is where the resemblance ends.

As I am not a initiate or devotee of Dionysos, I am not qualified to comment on that god’s deeper mysteries here. It seems to me, however, that the hallmarks of His cult are about liberation and freedom from oppression and from social constraints, and about releasing the inhibitions, fear and self-consciousness that may stand in the way of such freedom. Thus, for His followers, ecstasy is a tool towards this end. In other words, Dionysos is, arguably, a god of ecstasy for its own sake.

For Odin, on the other hand, ecstasy is very much a means to an end. Odin is a god both of fetters and of the release from them. Ecstasy certainly releases us from the fetters of everyday consciousness, but for the Odinist it also imposes new fetters: the obligation to use this freedom to obtain something of value to one’s people, whether the thing in question be knowledge, experience that can be used to teach others, or simply a spellbinding story that will entertain. Where Dionysos is a god of actualization of the self, Odin is–despite appearances–very much a god of the tribe, the community, even if that community consists only of you and one other person, or of a spirit worker and the spirits he or she serves.

I will give you an example: Odin’s famous shamanic self-sacrifice on the World Tree, Yggdrasil, in which He hanged Himself for nine nights to obtain knowledge of the mysteries, the runes. To do so, He had to enter a very deep state of altered consciousness in which He was able to journey into Ginnungagap, the great void, and grasp the secrets of creation itself. Because of the ruthlessness of this shamanic ritual, His action is often held up as one of the prime examples of His selfishness, His willingness to do anything and everything to enhance His personal knowledge and power. Yet Odin–for all that He is a wanderer and patron of outcasts–is also a king, and a king (a true king, at any rate) is fettered to his people, bound to serve them as much as they serve him, if not more. As the <i>Havamal</i> tells us, the first thing Odin did when He returned with the knowledge of the runes was to teach others how to use them. His knowledge of the runes and their use, quite apart from a personal coup, was won in service to His tribe–which, as Allfather, extends in one sense to all beings in the Nine Worlds.

Another example frequently given of Odin’s “selfishness” is His sacrifice of an eye into Mimir’s Well in order to see into the past (memory) and gain an understanding of how it shapes Wyrd (and thus, the future). Voluntarily ripping an eye from one’s own head is such a violent action that we shrink even from imagining it, and so it is cited as a example, again, of His ruthlessness and selfish grasping of power. Yet it is this action, this ability to comprehend cause and effect in full, that made Odin truly wise, and it is His wisdom–perhaps above all His other attributes, which are many–that is His greatest asset as a king His greatest ally in service to His tribe. By the same token, the understanding of Wyrd that He gained–the knowledge of its workings, and how to manipulate them–is arguably His greatest tool as a shaman and sorcerer. And again, these are skills that He is bound (fettered) to use in service to His people., as their king.

I could go on to give other examples, but for now I hope I have illustrated some of the crucial ways in which Odin’s role as a god of ecstasy is defined, and the ways in which it is distinct from that of Dionysos. (Who I have used as a contrasting example not in order to prove that Odin is better–of course I think He is, but I’m sure Dionysians would say the same about their own god!–but because He is probably better known to the majority of pagans, and because The two of Them are alike in so many ways while still being so very different. )

The Face of Anne Boleyn

For the other Queen Anne fans out there: I just discover this: a reconstruction of her face, using the surviving descriptions of her from historical records and coinage, through the Photoshop magic of Jude Maris.  It gave me chills! He also has reconstructions for other historical figures including Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II (from their tomb images).  Very impressive

Snood!

My snood from Garlands of Grace arrived today and of course I had to try it on right away!  I have never worn a more comfortable head covering, or one that meshes better with my own personal style.  Must get and/or make more of these!

E is for Entheogen: the Pagan Blog Project

Image via Wikipedia

The word entheogen (from the Greek entheos, or “full of god”) was coined sometime in the seventies by mythologists to refer to any psychoactive plant used in a religious or shamanic context for the purpose of producing a sense of divinity within the worshipper or promoting inspiration (which, when you come down to it, means pretty much the same thing). Most often, entheogens were also an aid to producing ecstasy–no, not the street drug, but a euphoric trance state (of varying degrees of intensity) in which the barriers between self and the divine dissolve, grow thin, or perhaps entirely melt away.

Odin, in the northern traditions, is commonly considered to be the god of inspiration and ecstatic states, and as such is the patron of poets and berserkers as well as shamans and (sometimes, in about a 50/50 split with Freyja) seidhr practitioners. In fact, His very name means something like “master of frenzy,” the frenzy in question being agitation and excitement of the mind, emotions and spirit. So it is only natural and to be expected that He should have a long-standing traditional (as well as practical) connection with entheogens and their use, and that some of these sacred and dangerous plants should be especially sacred to Him. And in fact, many people would be familiar with the depiction (if not the name or details) of one of the most famous among these: fly agaric or Amanita muscaria, the showy white-spotted red mushroom (cousin to the deathcap, which is exactly what it sound like) that has become so ubiquitous in European Christmas traditions. (The German authors of the book Pagan Christmas: The Plants, Spirits and Rituals at the Origins of Yuletide even argue that Santa Claus–due to his red and white garb–is but a personification of this sacred mushroom. No, I am not making this up.)

Entheogens have gotten a bad name in the pagan community, largely due to the psychedelic drug culture of the sixties and seventies in which the use of many of these traditional plants (most notably the truly hallucinogenic ones such as peyote and ayahuasca) became secularized and degraded, used as a route to a quick high or vivid “trip” by the curious. The fact that some of these plants are hallucinogens or can produce a “high,” however, is completely besides the point, and in fact, in my own experience, true entheogen work may have nothing or little to do with the psychoactive constituents of the plant and everything to do with how an individual interacts with the plant spirit itself.

Although it is far more common within paganism to speak of relationships with animal spirits, plants too have spirits that can choose to interact with people, and plants can also like or dislike particular people and choose to either help them or not. This applies even within the context of “simple” healing-focused herbalism, in which some plants mysteriously just do not perform as expected when taken by certain people. When taken in a religious, shamanic or ritual context, this is even more likely to occur.

For example, fly agaric has yet to produce the dramatic effect for me that some people have claimed, and my attempts to use it as an aid to ritual trance states have mostly left me wishing for a big bowl of cream of amanita soup. (Seriously, I love the taste of this mushroom! Please don’t hasten to tell me it’s poisonous; I know that, which is why it hasn’t ended up on my dinner table yet–but still, yum.) So obviously, however much I might drool over this mushroom’s mystique and its rich tradition, amanita and I are not well-suited to each other in this context. I have heard similar tales from other people, of various supposedly powerful entheogens that utterly failed to have any effect on them whatsoever.

Mugwort, on the other hand–another herb closely associated with Odin in both Anglo-Saxon and Germanic tradition–is not generally considered a psychoactive plant, and thus would not be counted as an entheogen by many, but its effects on me when I consume it in a ritual context are immediate and, while not especially dramatic, very effective.

I began my relationship with this remarkable plant when, on Odin’s instructions, I first started incorporating it into my seidhr practice five or so years ago, and over the years have forged a strong alliance with the plant, which I think of affectionately as Grandmother Mugwort. (I see Mugwort as a witchy and somewhat temperamental old woman, sharp tongued and very clever.) For seidhr rituals, I drink a tea of mugwort and rose petals that gently and almost seamlessly guides me into the deep trance state required for my journey to the Well of Wyrd. When cleansing or blessing my home or consecrating ritual items, mugwort smoke is my smudge of choice. If I want to induce vivid or prophetic dreams, mugwort goes into my bedtime cup of tea and under my pillow.

Many people in the pagan/witchcraft community are already familiar with the use of mugwort tea to bathe scrying crystals and black mirrors, or to drink before consulting Tarot or runes. Mugwort–one of Odin’s Nine Sacred Herbs–is well known for its ability to thin the veil between the worlds, or at least allow us a peek behind it. And this effect does not even require the plant to be consumed or burned. One of my co-workers (who is not pagan, so far as I know) commented to me that she used to keep a live mugwort plant next to her bed to induce lucid dreams, but it worked so well that after a while she had to move it out of the room when she simply wanted a good night’s sleep. (Plant spirit relationships often work this way, deepening–like any good relationship–over time.) And yet, mugwort does not contain powerful psychoactive chemicals, just a rather weak thujone content…and a whole lot of attitude.

Of course, not everyone will experience mugwort this way, and some people, inevitably, will not “click” with the plant at all. Which is why, once again, I would argue that it is not the chemical content of the plant that determines an effective entheogen, it is the relationship between the plant and the person, whether a particular plant agrees to work with you personally and how you and the plant function together in a spiritual/ritual context.

For the curious, here is a list of plants associated with Odin that frequently function as entheogens, mostly culled from Pagan Christmas by Christian Rätsch and Claudia Müller-Ebeling, Inner Traditions (November 4, 2006):

Heliotropum europaeum (Wodan’s herb)

Monkshood (Aconitum napellus) – also known as Odin’s hat or storm hat

Fly Agaric mushroom (Amanita muscara) – also known as “raven’s bread”)

Yew (I personally believe this tree–with which I have a close affinity–to be the “needle-ash” referred to as Yggdrasil in Voluspa)

Mistletoe – in Scandinavia mistletoe sprigs were used as “wishing rods” and were thought to open treasure boxes. A protective barrier against witches and sorcerers and a key to vitality and good luck, but also a vehicle for witches’ flight, especially when found growing in birch trees. Called “witches’ broom” in the vernacular.
Ivy (through connection with the wild man/Green Man, and as a “snake spirit” plant and an intoxicating herb)

Juniper – one of its folk names is wodansgerte. Protective and has been used as a “life rod” (one of a number of plants traditionally used for ritual beating of women and virgins to encourage fertility). The berries, also known as weiheichen (holy berries) have been used as a substitute for frankincense in the North. Heals rheumatism, asthma, pain in the chest or side, sleepiness, depression, and lunacy. An ingredient in beer, schnapps, and gin. Used in protective amulets.

The Nine Sacred Herbs (according to Ratsch and Muller-Ebelling; there is some controversy about the actual botanical identity of some of these plants, which are named in an 11th century Anglo-Saxon charm):

mugwort (“oldest of all herbs”)
plaintain (“mother of herbs”)
stone root (“drives away evil”) – stinkweed or pennycress
wormwood (“venom-loather”)
chamomile
wergulu (maybe chicory)
apple
chervil
fennel

(The phrases in quotations above are from the Anglo-Saxon herb charm, 11th c.)

Rye (used for brewing a special Christmas beer, Wodelbeers (Wodan)

Poppy – cultivated in southern and northern Germanic regions from very ancient times, fields of poppy were called “Odin’s ground” (Odainsackr) and seen as sacred healing sites where Odin performed healing wonders. Poppy juice was believed to ward off demons; poppy seeds are a traditional food of witches and the dead. Also associated with fertility and prophecy as well as prosperity. Traditionally, poppy seeds must be sown on Christmas Eve, three days before that, or on a Wednesday (Odin’s day).

Mugwort – also called felon herb, naughty man, old man, and old Uncle Harry (similar to Harr, or “High One,” one of Odin’s many names). Also used as a “life rod,” as above. Promotes fertility and the transition of souls from the other worlds to earth and vice versa. Was used both as a childbirth aid and in graves, and burned on bonfires for the dead. A boundary plant that grows by roadsides. Protection, love and sex magick. Traditionally used to season the St. Martin’s Day goose to call Wodan’s attention to the sacrifice and induce Him to hear and fulfill the wishes of those making it. (St. Martin’s Day is November 11th, on the evening of which St. Martin is said, in Germany, to be visible riding a white horse through the sky. Farmers finish their year’s work on this day and make an offering to St. Martin—clearly Wodan—of cheese, wool, bread, or flax, also leaving hay or oats in front of their house for his horse.)

Clover (trifolium) – through its associations with sorcery, astral travel and flight, shamanic initiation, and the world wanderer.

Plantain – used in witches’ incense as well as smudging incense to ward against witches. Traditionally had to be dug up with a tool other than iron. Wards off worms, fevers, and evil spirits; protects against love charms; wins lawsuits.

Holly – both protects against and attracts dangerous powers. A plant of evergreen life. Witches were believed to need the red berries to brew thunderstorms.