Rekindling the Old Fire: Returning to the Materials of My Magical Predecessors
Author’s Note: The content of this blog reflects my personal experiences and perspectives on magic. Witchcraft is a deeply individual practice, and my approach may not align with everyone’s beliefs or traditions. I encourage readers to explore, question, and adapt what resonates with them. Nothing shared here is meant to serve as absolute truth or professional advice. Trust your intuition, do your own research, and walk your own path.
I have been a witch for twenty-five years—though my introduction to magic as a concept began even earlier. My journey started with a blend of cottage and hedge magic along with the few charms and methods I learned as part of a familial cunning practice. After years of practice, as I researched my family history and learned the languages of my near ancestry, I felt an increasing pull toward the regional source of the early magic I had known. This led me to refine my practice, aligning it with my roots in a way that harmonized my ancestral veneration, my magical worldview, and my spiritual beliefs.
A year ago, I took a step further, beginning what I call the process of rewilding my witchcraft. I chose to work only with materials that I already had on hand, could make myself, or could obtain from artisans within the magical community. This decision led me into deeper research, prompting me to explore the materials mentioned in the grimoires and folk traditions that shape my practice. I also considered what materials would have been available to the average household at the time those texts were written. Through this shift, I have found greater depth, meaning, and connection in my craft.
Why Materials and Methods Matter in Magic
Materiality (not to be confused with materialism) is a foundational aspect of magic. The objects we choose—whether tools, ingredients, or vessels—carry layers of symbolism, spirit, and history. Just as different witches may prefer a wand, a staff, or a knife to direct energy, the choice of material also holds significance. A cauldron made of iron has a vastly different magical presence than one made of copper, just as a wooden offering bowl carries a different energy than a glass one.
As an animist, I believe that materials hold spirits of their own. The type of material influences the spirit of the tool itself. Connecting with the essence of a wooden implement is not the same as working with a brass one—both can be powerful, but they are distinct.
This understanding extends to the process of crafting. The act of shaping a tool or ingredient with one's own hands allows for an ongoing relationship with its spirit, from raw material to finished object. Even when I cannot craft something myself, I seek out artisans who share a connection to similar traditions, allowing their own craftsmanship and intent to be woven into my tools and ingredients.
Note: I acknowledge that it is a privilege to be able to work with such artisans to obtain my magical tools and supplies. Although I rarely buy new supplies—maybe less often than once a year—I know that not everyone can do so due to affordability and accessibility. The standards I have set for my magical tools and practices work for me; I recommend that others find what works for them as well.
The Shift to Historically Appropriate Materials
When I create a spell or formula, I strive to use the methods described in grimoires, folklore, and scholarly sources. This impacts every level of my practice from the wording of charms to the rhythm of breathwork to the intonation of speech. I have long used the color symbolism, herbs, and spoken formulas found in folk traditions relevant to my craft. It only made sense to extend this philosophy to the physical materials I use in spellwork.
Modern conveniences are not evils to be avoided, but they often create an artificial barrier between myself as a witch and my work. Making this shift meant replacing mass-produced items with those that held deeper connection and craftsmanship. Some of the major changes I made included:
Candles: Store-bought paraffin candles gave way to hand-dipped beeswax candles. I will additionally be learning to create tallow candles this year.
Cord & Thread: Synthetic string was replaced with hand-spun or natural fiber thread. I use these in knotwork but will also begin using them in loomwork and tablet weaving in the coming months.
Vessels: Glass bowls and dishes, though beautiful, were swapped for wood, clay, or metal—materials more in line with historical usage.
These shifts were not about strict historical reenactment but about aligning my practice with materials that carry both historical weight and spiritual significance.
Regarding Traditional Crafting Methods
While I use traditional materials, I do not feel bound to historical crafting techniques. My approach prioritizes sustainability, practicality, and alignment with my broader household crafting practices. When I make something, whether for mundane or magical use, I aim for quality and longevity rather than strict adherence to old methods.
Likewise, while I appreciate the work of artisans, I do not exclusively seek out those who follow historical crafting methods. Instead, I value handcrafted, well-made items created with intention, using materials that align with historical magic. This balance between historical inspiration and practical craftsmanship feels natural to my practice, though I leave room for my approach to evolve in the future.
How This Shift Has Enriched My Practice
Since making this transition, I have noticed profound changes in my magical work:
Stronger Connection to Magical Ancestors and Practitioners: Using tools and materials aligned with historical practices helps bridge the gap between modern and ancestral magic.
Deeper Authenticity and Intentionality: Every material is chosen with purpose, reinforcing the symbolism and energy of the spell.
More Meaningful Engagement with the Physical Craft of Magic: The time and effort invested in preparing tools and materials add another layer of power to my work.
A Strengthened Relationship with the Spirits of Materials and the Land: Working with natural and regionally appropriate materials fosters a deeper bond with the land’s spirit and the elements of my craft.
Challenges and Adaptations
Despite its benefits, shifting to historically appropriate materials comes with challenges:
Accessibility: Not all traditional materials are easy to obtain, and some can be prohibitively expensive.
Balancing Historical Accuracy and Practicality: While historical inspiration is important, I recognize that strict adherence is not always practical. Some modern alternatives are necessary for safety and sustainability.
When Modern Tools Are Necessary:
Safety & Medicine: Some traditional materials were toxic or unsafe by today’s standards, and I make careful substitutions where needed.
Harvesting & Storage: While I favor traditional gathering methods, I do use modern tools when necessary to ethically harvest and store ingredients.
Conclusion
My journey of historical reconstruction in magic is an ongoing one. This shift has brought me closer to my magical roots and helped me refine my craft in ways that feel deeply meaningful. However, it is not about rigid historical reenactment—it is about honoring the lineage of my magical practice while maintaining flexibility and practicality. My magic is a living tradition, and each step toward deeper connection is a spell of its own.
