Llewellyn's 2012 Witches' Companion

by Llewellyn

  We can all recognize the advantage of having this type of knowledge available to us, but we also know, through experience, that even the most learned professional may lack common sense or “street smarts.” These skills are just as valid for survival today as they were in ancient times. The professionals who are out of touch with their clients or co-workers may be technically proficient yet dismally inept at recognizing the human nature of those around them. They may forget, or never been made aware of, the fact that human nature is definitely part of the environment.

  A witch may be a doctor, a lawyer, or an educator. We use our skills within our profession, but we also carry with us the added awareness of our environment to enhance these skills. We must carry on the tradition of the Wise Woman and Cunning Man by using the knowledge necessary and available to us and incorporating the ancient ways by weaving the Craft of the Wise into our everyday lives.

  A witch may be a cashier at the market, a volunteer fire person, a police officer, or a dog walker—it doesn’t matter how one makes a living. What does matter is how we reclaim the sense of the Wise Woman or Cunning Man by being aware of our environment. Developing our “street smarts” is an age-old way of surviving well.

  Seeking, giving, and heeding advice is a personal choice. It includes being responsible for your own thoughts, words, and deeds. Reclaiming the responsibility of the Wise Woman and Cunning Man is something many people overlook in their search for the magic that comes with the position. Reclaiming the Craft of the Wise also means being trustworthy and able to trust those from whom you seek advice. The best teachers are those we can look up to. Our role models today are those who live by example and show us the ways of survival regardless of current difficulties.

  We don’t have to reach back in history trying to re-create an environment that is no longer valid in today’s society. We don’t need a man to tell us where to hunt or a woman to show us how to fashion clothes from skins. What we need to do is reclaim the essence of the Wise Woman and the Cunning Man. We need to emulate their nature as they struggled, experimented, and found ways to help their tribe survive. We need to recognize that the Wise Woman and Cunning Man are alive and well in today’s society. They are still our best role models as the survivors of whatever environmental conflicts are tossed in our path. What they know is simply that our environment includes human nature with all its foibles. We can reclaim that knowledge and act accordingly. We are not separate from our environment, but vital participants in its development.

  Paniteowl, simply known as Owl to many in the Pagan Community, has been a familiar face at festivals and gatherings. Over the past two decades she has been a popular presenter, giving workshops and organizing events throughout the East Coast and Canada. Her articles and poetry have been featured in many periodicals and on Internet sites. She and her husband have a 56-acre woodlot in the mountains of northeast Pennsylvania, where they have hosted annual gatherings for Pagans twice a year for the past 15 years. Owl also moderates a number of Internet groups, focusing on the Solitary practitioners, as well as Wicca Covened, and Non-Wicca practitioners who want to keep in touch with the wider Pagan community.

  Illustrator: Tim Foley

  Hibernation:

  Embracing Winter

  Susan Pesznecker

  What does winter make you think of? Playing in the snow? Fires in the fireplace? Pots of tea and cozy afternoons spent reading? Working on magickal projects? For some, the winter months are filled with homey, comforting images, and we look forward to pulling on wool sweaters and making up the beds in flannel sheets. But others regard winter with deep foreboding. For victims of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), the dark days of winter may trigger depression, sleeplessness, and a loss of energy. The incidence of SAD is on the rise. Although the disorder is typically thought to be related to a reduction in sunlight during the winter months, many now believe that it could also be deeply connected to a human failure to “hibernate.”

  In millennia past, humans lived from day to day, surviving through subsistence. As hunter-gatherers, their lives depended on their ability to find and store the food and materials they needed to survive. Forced to travel from place to place to follow natural cycles and animal migrations, their lives were tenuous. A particularly severe winter, a slight climactic change, a missing accustomed food source, or the chance death of a critical adult could wipe out an entire tribe. These Stone Age people constantly flirted with bad weather, hypothermia, and starvation as well as trying not to be eaten by a tertiary carnivore—humans were decidedly not high on the food chain back then.

  As hunter-gatherers, their lives depended on their ability to find and store the food and materials they needed to survive.

  As time went on, humans learned to use tools, make fire, and communicate with more ease. With these new skills, life became less tenuous. Instead of seasonal wildcrafting, Neolithic humans learned to grow the plants they needed. In addition to place-specific hunting, they learned to raise and use animals. Fire was started with flint and steel instead of laborious friction. Illnesses were treated with medicinal herbs. Warm clothing from animal skins offered realistic protection from the elements, and stone tools made every task easier. With these modern improvements came increased life expectancy and perhaps a bit of time to kick back and enjoy life a little.

  Stone Age living revol­ved around the seasons, and early religions honored Earth’s bounty and gave thanks for the gifts of weather, food, and life itself. Foods were tightly connected to the season: greens were enjoyed in the spring, berries in the summer, root vegetables in the fall, and dried stores throughout the winter. Daily life was governed by tasks and activities that tied in to the current season. Planting and new births happened in the spring. Summer featured long hot days in which to accomplish many tasks, such as drying food, killing and skinning animals, weaving cloth, and gathering berries. Autumn meant time to hunt, harvest, and store food.

  And then came winter.

  In winter, the ancients retreated to their caves and hunkered down. Wrapped in their warmest skins, they built fires against the cold, baked breads, and ate from pots of stews and soups that simmered over the fire. It was too cold to go outside, so they remained indoors and passed the time, perhaps weaving baskets, working leather, or forming tools from flint and obsidian. The people probably told stories, recounting hunts or other important events. Perhaps the clan’s knowledge keeper would recount history in traditional oral fashion. They may have sung songs, enjoyed games, or even enacted mock hunts around the fire. And they would pray, in their fashion, for the return of warmth and the return of the light, which was believed to happen at the whim of the gods.

  Winter was a dangerous time for the people. Enough food had to be put away to get them through the winter, and even with food stores, starvation was a constant threat. The weather was a hazard, too. Fuel had to be gathered in milder months to furnish warmth throughout the long, cold months. Enough animals must be hunted to provide warm skins and furs. Dried plants and raw materials created a store for medicines, storage containers, tools, weapons, clothes, and housing.

  The tribe survived through cooperation. They dressed warmly, ate high-fat foods, and passed the days communally. Light was limited, so when light was sufficient they worked at their tasks, and when it was too dark to work, they slept. The reduced activity and extra sleep conserved energy, reduced caloric expenditure, and protected such valuable resources as food and fuel. Their lives during those cold, dark months mimicked a state of voluntary hibernation. They respected the winter, understood what it meant to their lives, and adapted accordingly, and they did this even though they feared that the dark cold nights might never end. When spring came, they emerged from their winter cocoons to greet the softly greening Earth, the first buds of plants emerging from the still-cold ground. They gave thanks for the return of light, the return of warmth, the return of the world’s fertility for y
et another cycle in the Wheel of Life.

  That was then. This is now.

  Let’s look at our lives today. In many locations, there is little or no seasonal variation—and as our planet gradually warms, even those variations may be diminishing. For some, spring brings the urge to garden. Summer may mean vacation, sunscreen, and the kids being home from school. Autumn is time to put away the lawn chairs, carve a pumpkin, and exchange shorts for jeans. But many have lost touch with the simple rhythms of Earth and the turning of the seasonal wheel.

  We “modern humans” do things when we want and how we want. Technology has allowed us to manipulate the environment so we can continue working, playing, or doing whatever we feel like doing in any month and at any time of the day or night. If we want to work when it’s dark, we turn on lights. We’ve even invented daylight saving time to provide brighter mornings and longer days. If we’re hot in August, we flip on the air conditioning. If we’re cold in January, we crank up the heat. If we’re hungry for raspberries in November, we can buy fresh ones, probably imported from Chile. We indulge in spray-on tans, mimicking summer even when it’s not. Some people are so anxious to avoid winter they bisect their lives, spending the cold half of the year in Florida or taking beach vacations in February. In short, many live their lives based on what they want at the moment and what technology has provided to them, but they seem to have lost awareness of or respect for Earth’s normal cycles. It’s no wonder our internal date books are confused!

  Seasonal Affective Disorder occurs when people with normal energy and mood experience low energy, fatigue, and depressive symptoms during the winter months. The long-accepted theory is that SAD is primarily a light-dependent disorder. It’s often treated with light therapy, melatonin, and other therapies that more or less simulate the sleep-wake-activity cycles associated with the summer months.

  As a Pagan and someone whose daily life is Earth-centered, I’ve always believed—and science is beginning to support me—that SAD may result at least in part from the failure to observe the annual cycles and the season of winter. It may result from denying what we’re really “supposed” to be doing during the dark months: yielding to a deep, instinctive awareness of winter and its special rhythms. Simply said, I think that much of SAD results from a failure to hibernate.

  To hibernate means to spend the winter in a dormant state. When animals hibernate, their metabolism is depressed: their vital signs slow, temperature drops, kidney function diminishes, and they appear to sleep deeply, rousing now and then for a bite of food. The word hibernation is also used figuratively to describe a person who remains inactive or indoors for an extended period for an extended period of time. Humans are not known to hibernate in the literal sense—with actual changes in metabolism and level of consciousness—although recent studies have identified hibernation triggers that appear to send humans into a hibernation-like condition, which scientists believe may be useful in treating serious injuries or in long-duration space travel (Harlow). In their book, Why We Get Sick, evolutionary biologists Randolph Nesse and George Williams talk about the remnant of hibernative response in humans and suggest that SAD may indeed be a mal-adaptive response to seasonal change.

  Connections between human energy, behavior, and seasonal changes are well-established. We have no problems ramping up our activity level and spending more time outdoors when summer arrives. But at the time of year when darkness is upon us and when our instincts (and the available light) tell us to conserve energy by staying indoors and cutting back our daily routine, we continue to maintain our usual schedules almost as if ignoring winter’s arrival. The vast majority of American adults work eight hours a day, five days a week for fifty or fifty-one weeks out of the year. The schedule doesn’t change from season to season. One day is pretty much like another. Thus, at a time of year when the psyche aches to sit around the fire, engage in small but important tasks, and slow down, we’re pressured to keep up the established routine. In a season traditionally set aside for rest and hibernation, we might do everything but rest. This, in itself, can create a depressed mood if one interprets the normal winter slow-down as something unpleasant or unhealthy. Instead of accepting winter as a normal, seasonal part in their lives, many people lament against the short days and dark nights, rebel against the ebbing of energy, and regard these normal feelings as symptoms of ill health. This type of emotional stress is not only self-perpetuating but can easily lead to actual physical or emotional illness.

  Our diet is always an important aspect of supporting health and vitality, and this may be especially important during winter. At a time of year when people normally gain a few pounds (an ancient throw-back to the necessity of adding body fat to guard against starvation), and when we would normally subsist on baked root vegetables, homemade breads, soups, stews, preserved foods, etc., winter finds many people continuing to eat as if it was summertime. We can go to the local market and find imported fresh fruit, seasonal farmed fish, and hothoused baby greens twelve months out of the year. We don’t have to worry about gathering or preserving food because we can buy whatever we want whenever we want it. Now, let’s be clear: I love the taste of a good strawberry as much as the next person, but in most parts of the world, we aren’t meant to be eating fresh, ripe strawberries in January! This modern, uber-access to seasonally inappropriate foods may be helping us ignore the reality of winter.

  The research I’ve done suggests that SAD may be related to or influenced by the failure to show an instinctual awareness of Earth’s cyclic year: specifically, by the failure to hibernate properly. Ignoring winter’s routines in one’s daily life sets up a tremendous internal conflict. While our genes and centuries of tradition scream at us to slow down and hunker around the fire, the modern world and its expectations scream even louder at us to keep going!

  I’ve served as my own guinea pig in investigating these ideas. Several years back, I began making a conscious effort to “observe winter” as fully as I could. I’m someone who has always loved winter, but even I noticed the ebb of energy and sometimes a slight displeasure at not being able to do everything I wanted to be doing. Once I had formulated my theories on the problems of failed hibernation, I dug into winter in earnest. Retreating to my own house (cave) with my loved ones during the dark months, I cut back on my social schedule and on externally imposed routines. I began going to bed earlier and found that it felt good. I used fewer lights in the house, leaving lights on only in the rooms I was in and dimming those when I could. I lit more hearth fires and worked by candle and lamplight when I could, and I soon found that the soft lights created a wondrously comforting mood that traditional lighting missed altogether. In the evenings, I invited friends and family to join me in quiet pastimes: cross-stitch, reading, and so on. (And yes—some television too. No one’s perfect!) We visited and played games and shared stories. I tackled a couple of big magickal projects: a deep study of runes and the staged crafting of a hiking staff. One of the most concrete changes I made was absolute adherence to a winter diet, which meant emphasizing foods that were naturally available (either fresh in my area or stocked in my own pantry) during the winter months. On weekends, I simmered a kettle of soup and baked a loaf or two of bread. Meals were supplemented with dried grains and legumes and with pies and cobblers of preserved or dried fruits. Sometimes we’d actually cook in the fireplace, which was lots of fun. On less frigid days, I’d take long walks, observing the winter around me and rejoicing in snow days.

  I noticed an astounding change in my overall mood and energy level after making these simple changes. The feeling of continually fighting off “winter doldrums” vanished.

  The results? As someone who already enjoyed winter, I noticed an astounding change in my overall mood and energy level after making these simple changes. The feeling of continually fighting off “winter doldrums” vanished, and I felt myself embracing the rhythms of the cooking fire, darkness, dense foods, an
d low light. When I did my best to actively observe winter, I was filled with a quiet sense of rightness and of being in tune with Earth. I felt happier, more relaxed, and much more effective with my magickal practices.

  I’d like to share some specific guidelines for following the seasonal wheel and doing a proper job of winter hibernation. Note: For anyone who has been diagnosed with clinical depression or SAD, my suggestions do not constitute medical recommendations, and I would encourage you to discuss these ideas with your physician before trying them. Likewise, if you’re taking medication for SAD, please do not stop the medication without advice from your health care provider.

  Prepare yourself magickally. The month of January is ruled by Janus, Roman guardian of doorways, gates, and thresholds. Often pictured with two or three faces, Janus can see into the past and future simultaneously. Consider winter as a threshold or gate to the coming year. Carry out a ritual that welcomes winter and proclaims your personal and magickal plans and intentions. In most traditions, winter is associated with the north and the earth element, making it an excellent time for grounding, centering, and energy work. A pine, cedar, or sage smudge is a powerful way to cleanse or purify as often as needed.