By Katrina Rasbold
In the early days of Neopaganism, we learned a vital lesson: if you can’t laugh at your own ritual bloopers, the Gods certainly will. Over the last several decades, the Pagan movement developed a vocabulary so dense it could sink a Viking longship. In today’s Green Egg Blog, I step out of the circle and share the Inner Court, Super Secret Squirrel definitions of some of the most common magical terms.
Welcome to the Alternate Lexicon of Magical Practice. Here is what those fancy terms actually mean when the mead starts flowing and the incense gets a bit too thick. But before we get into that, I want to tell you a story.
When I was a starry-eyed magical newbie, which we called a “cowan,” a “seeker,” or “Wicky Wicky,” I stared at the closed door of the Third Level Room, which was the sacred Inner Sanctum of the group elders who made policy, commanded the highest magic, and held the esoteric secrets of the heart of the coven. To me, these leaders were God and Goddess on Earth meeting with their dedicated support team. Few covens now carry the reverence for leaders that we experienced in the 1970s and 1980s. You never talked back to your High Priestess. You dared not miss a sabbat – or even an esbat – for any reason other than lying on your deathbed. You hand copied the coven Book of Shadows. It was intense, but it also held a level of magical intensity that can be difficult to duplicate in our modern, diplomatic or “first amongst equals” led covens. I have nothing at all against that form of management. It’s just.. different.
I worked hard and mostly followed the rules and dedicated myself to Craft, not only with the ambition of internalizing every syllable of arcane magic(k) I could find, but also with the driving curiosity of knowing what went on behind that door. I imagined high level meditations, hand-to-hand energy exchanges with lightning bolts between the palms, knowing glances amongst the wise, and – as I progressed – a group power uncluttered by the often chaotic, antsy energy of the novice. The Secrets were in that room and I wanted to know them.
“For it is better to rush upon my blade and perish rather than enter this rite with fear or doubt in your heart.” I felt the point of my High Priest’s athame dig into my sternum through my diaphanous garments. I wondered if there would be blood on the white gown and vowed if there was blood on it, I would never again wash that garment so that I would proudly wear the blood shed at my third-degree initiation forever on my breast. (Spoiler: There was no blood)
I had no doubt, but I had plenty of fear in my heart in that “Rush Week initiation” kind of way. We were told NOTHING about what would happen at this initiation and I knew it could be literally anything.
I also knew that by the end of the ritual, I would be forever changed. “Once you view the world through thrice-born eyes, you will never again see life in the same way.”
The ceremony was powerful, poignant, and transformative. When the blindfold came off, I indeed saw the world and life itself differently.
It was done.
In our group, all third level practitioners participated in the government of the coven. A week before the next Full Moon coven gathering, I received a simple postcard in the mail with one sentence written in the message block in red Flair pen: “Be here at 6:00 pm.” The general coven met at 7:00 pm.
I. Was. In.
When I arrived at the covenstead, I was more nervous than I had been at the initiation. My hands vibrated with anticipation and my belly felt as if a giant hand was wringing it out like a washcloth.
I stood outside the door. Did I knock? Did I just walk in?
After a few minutes, the door opened. “Oh, you’re here! Come on it!” My High Priestess stepped aside and gestured into the room, which was filled with hassocks, giant pillows, yoga “situpons,” and bean bag chairs. Smoke hung heavy in the air and it was not merely incense.
People talked and laughed in low tones while the gentle winding melody of “Everything I Own” by Bread underscored the lively conversations.
“Sit, sit!” she said, moving a pile of books from the seat of an overstuffed chair.
“Clive will get you a drink. Clive, drink!” she pointed down at me while I obediently sat. Clive nodded and brought me a wine cooler with a smile.
I looked around in wonderment at all of these holy people in their ritual robes, chatting softly as if they were at a cocktail party (we had “cocktail parties” back then). After a few minutes, someone pushed a 3×5″ index card into my hands and said, “You are calling Water into the West Quarter tonight. Here’s your invocation.”
It was four (long-ish) lines and I studied them until they thrummed in my memory like a pulse.
Guardian of the Watchtower, Archangel, Element, and Direction… got it. I can do this. (I can do this, right?) I can do this.
I waited anxiously for the esoteric focus of the meeting to blossom. Any minute now, surely. And I waited.
“Is everyone ready?” the Maiden of the coven asked.
I was! I was! Goddess, yes, I was!
“People are starting to arrive,” she continued, “So we are going to line up in order.”
High Priestess, High Priest, Crone, Sage, Mother, Protector, Maiden, Young Warrior, the four elemental representations starting with North and ending with me in the West, and Clive, our Circle Guardian bringing up the rear.
Were we just going to go out there? Willy nilly? Without preamble or prep? What was happening?
Behind me, Clive sensed my anxiety.
“Hey, Newbie,” he whispered. “You OK?”
I’m back to “Newbie” again?
I nodded, then decided to just go for it.
“When do we start the third level preparation for the ritual? Am I missing something?”
He looked momentarily confused, then said, “Ohhhhhh, you mean the ‘third level mysteries?'”
I swallowed and nodded mutely.
He chuckled, then leaned forward whispered in my ear, so intimately that I felt the wisps of my hair move with his warm breath.
“The third level mysteries are that there are no third level mysteries. Mostly, we talk, drink, and smoke pot.”
I loud exclamation of laughter flew out of me and I quickly choked it back as people turned around to look. I pretended I was clearing my throat.
“I just…caught the smoke,” I said weakly, pointing to the lingering cloud.
They smiled and turned away again.
“So, there is no…?” I whispered intently.
“Do not reveal the third-level mysteries to the uninitiated,” he said, looking serious, “for to do so means banishment…or worse.”
It was an important lesson for me. I have always taken my Craft seriously, but in that moment, I learned not to take myself too seriously. Yes, we received more formal instruction on circle and group management, crisis intervention, conflict resolution, the art of effective ritual construction, the effective use of music and sound in ritual, how to organize a public event, and the dynamics of energy in ritual.
But mostly, we talked, laughed, drank, and smoked pot.
Now, as my mother would have said, “I told you that to tell you this.” With that story under your belt, you can perhaps see why I always feel a bit of levity is not only tolerated, but sometimes necessary in serious practice. Clive would have loved this post.
With all the love and respect in the world, I offer you:
Wiccan & Witchcraft Terms
Coven: A group of 3 to 13 people who spend 20% of their time performing magic and 80% of their time discussing what to bring to the potluck.
Book of Shadows: A massive, leather-bound binder that stays 90% empty because you’re afraid your handwriting isn’t “mystical” enough, mostly containing printed-out recipes from 1998 Pinterest and a single pressed leaf you can’t identify.
Athame: A dull decorative dagger used primarily for cutting the air in impressive patterns, but never, ever for cutting the actual ritual cake (that requires the “Kitchen Athame,” also known as a plastic spatula).
Skyclad: The liturgical term for “I hope there aren’t any mosquitoes tonight” or “I really should have checked the height of the backyard fence before we started.”
Drawing Down the Moon: A profound spiritual experience that, to the uninitiated neighbor, looks like you’re trying to catch a very high fly ball in your bathrobe.
Druid & Celtic Terms
Awen: The divine breath of inspiration. In practice, this usually hits you at 3:00 AM, leading to a 40-page poem about an oak tree that makes absolutely no sense at sunrise.
Grove: A gathering of Druids. Also: the specific patch of mud where you will inevitably lose one expensive earring during a solstice celebration. It is the sacrifice the Grove demanded.
Ogham: An ancient Celtic alphabet consisting of sticks and lines. It is primarily used today to ensure that no one else in the coffee shop can read your grocery list.
Bard: A person who knows three chords on a harp and fourteen verses of a song about a cow and will sing all of them if you make eye contact for more than three seconds.
General Pagan & Heathen Terms
Familiar: A household pet that has successfully convinced you that its demand for treats is actually a life-changing transmission from the Astral Plane.
Moot: A Pagan meeting in a pub where the primary “working” is determining which craft beer corresponds to the element of Water.
Summerland: The Pagan afterlife. Frequently described as a place of Eternal Spring, though most of us secretly hope it just has better Wi-Fi and fewer reconstructionist arguments.
UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis): A polite way of saying, “The Goddess told me this personally, and if you disagree, you’re arguing with a deity, not me.”
Warlock: An Old English term meaning “oath-breaker,” currently used exclusively by Hollywood screenwriters and that one guy at the Renaissance Faire who wears too much eyeliner.
Ritual & Tools
Saining Bundle: A bundle of herbs used to “clear the energy” of a room, but more commonly used to test how sensitive your landlord’s smoke detector is.
Consecration: The act of sprinkling salt water on a new thrift-store find until you feel less guilty about how much you paid for it.
The Cone of Power: A ceremonial buildup of energy to direct toward an established group goal. In reality, it’s the awkward thirty seconds of humming where everyone is waiting for the High Priestess to remember the next line of the chant.
Cakes and Ale: The part of the ritual where everyone suddenly stops pretending to be a 14th-century mystic and starts talking about their taxes.
Be reverent. Be loyal. Be mystical. Dedicate yourself fully. But also laugh, talk, drink wine coolers, and smoke pot, for therein lies the real magic. As one of my very favorite Wiccan Wise Ones, Janet Farrar, used to say, “Do you know why the call alcohol ‘spirits?’ Because the best rituals live at the bottom of a bottle.”
Do you have a vital definition that belongs in the Green Egg Lexicon? Drop it in the comments of the Green Egg Forum—unless the Gnomes have already stolen your keyboard! Bronwyn, I’m lookin’ at you.
Go to the Green Egg Forum and scroll for the forum post that relates to this article: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1069823176940972
Katrina Rasbold serves as the Editor for the Green Egg Blog, where she curates deep, magical, and thought-provoking content for the modern Pagan community. She is also Associate Editor, alongside Bronwyn o’r Drudwy, of the Green Egg Magazine. A Witch, published author, and priestess, Katrina co-created the CUSP spiritual path and co-operates Crossroads Occult with her adoring husband and priest, Eric. Explore her full collection of writings, mentorship, and services at www.katrinarasbold.com.