Radical Elphame

I sometimes wonder why, of all the occult and magical currents we have on offer, Witchcraft manages to still have such a powerful pull on our contemporary culture. We find ourselves on the other side of a century of occult revivals and magical trends, and yet Witchcraft somehow stil retains a timeless appeal. More recent spiritual trends, such as the "New Age" movement, which you would expect to be a better gateway for contemporary Western people to explore spirituality, have aesthetically aged far worse than Witchcraft generally, and what once appeared modern and enlightened would now be better described as cringe. Similarly, Chaos Magic – with its having its cake and eating it to, non-commital metaphysics and whiff of the science-y – would seem to be the heir apparent to the most accessible form of magical engagement for the Western mind, but looking at the numbers: the domination of "WitchTok" in magical social media landscape, and the non-existence of a "CaoteTok" paints a pretty clear picture of the respective crossover appeal. The assumption that Chaos Magic would grow in popularity to become the magic trend of the future is similar to the presumption that "prog rock" would go on to top the Billboard charts in perpetuity from its inception. If you take a look at the ideas disseminated on WitchTok you'll run into plenty of New Age thought and Chaos Magic, but they have become subsumed under the cloak of Witchcraft.  I think a key to understanding Witchcraft's enduring popularity in the modern era lies in Jacques Derrida's concept of "hauntology." Hauntology describes the ways in which the past continues to haunt us in the present. It is somehow both a nostalgic and eerie feeling that Derrida said could be summed up most susinctly by Hamlet's line, "the time is out of joint." As our relationships, and media landscape, and ways of interacting with the world become increasingly less tangible, it's only natural that we would yearn for a more embodied way of engaging. In smaller ways we crave the experience of a time when our own lives were simpler, which is why music and fashion trends seem to be perpetually looking back twenty years. The writer Mark Fischer observed an effect that he called the "Slow Cancellation of the Future," where this nostalgia for a generation before, this desire to relive a memory of a simpler time, has caught us in a perpetual cultural time warp where novelty and innovation in the realms of art and media are rapidly decreasing, all while technology advances exponentially around us. If my generation is so nostalgic for the 80's of our youths that we largely consume media that calls back to it, will our children be nostalgic for the era we're living through today or for the 1980s, and then what about their kids?   When we look back, what are we looking for? I think we are seeking meaning in the tangibility of the past that we no longer experience in our daily lives today. In many ways, this "slow cancellation of the future" has left us in a vacant pastiche, and so we have to look back even further.                                                                                                                              We start to crave the kind of activities that make us feel more human – maybe you take up bread baking, or exercising with kettlebells, or making beef tallow lotion. This same impulse, I think, is just as present in our spiritual lives. And hence, the timeless appeal of Witchcraft. The expression of magic that, as far back as you go, in all of its iterations, has always felt even older. In Lee Morgan's latest book, The Rag and Bone Man, they explore the enduring influence of the Victorian Age, and the ways its novel approaches to the spirit world are still haunting us in the present day. Lee describes our attraction to this time as being related in many ways to its very substance, where, as they describe it: "Our modern witchcraft ladders get started. Through stealing the Fat from the previous era (one that still exists inside us in the presence of our own great-grandparents), we can nourish ourselves here in this one." In Lee's new book, they weave together academic research, poetic fiction, and embodied practice to bring the Victorian era's ecstatic hunger for a new kind of spiritual experience into tactile relief. Here we, just like the Rag and Bone Man of his time, can "steal the fat" from the discards of the past, and deepen our own practices.  Also, a friendly reminder that you can tune in to our extended conversation on Patreon, where we talk about the nature of being in diaspora as a magical practitioner, the ways that Lee's practice has evolved since they first started writing, and the "slow cancellation of the future." SHOW NOTES: Order the Book: The Rag and Bone Man Lee's Website: Leemorganbooks.com Lee's Patreon: Lee Morgan  

When you look at the oldest and most intact spiritualities around the world, you will find that, at the center of their practice, is ancestral veneration. For many of us who were raised in less intact spiritualities and in cultures with a tendency to mold prevailing religions to the will of Empire, venerating our ancestors can feel complicated, to say the least. The same cultures that tend to mold religions to the will of Empire, also have a habit of tainting our ancestral line. It doesn't take long tracing back the family trees of many of us to run into the stains and wounds of colonialism, racism, and patriarchy. I think for many of us in this situation, not interested in inviting these influences into our spiritual lives, it's easy to feel like ancestor veneration just "isn't for us."  Aidan Wachter is one of my favorite thinkers on the subject of sitting with the trouble of working with ancestors, and the actionable techniques they've developed to productively navigate these practices are unrivaled, in my opinion. On top of offering unique methods to heal and remediate more negative aspects of our ancestral lines, Aidan also has another very interesting solution for those of us who might face this spiritual conundrum in our own practice. Aidan has a name for the ancestors that come to us from the deep and distant past, and whose insights and motivations seem to bypass much of the taint of Empire. Aidan calls them the "Old Lines," and they are regularly explored on their invaluable Patreon platform as well as the focus of their upcoming book: Spirit & Stone: Animism and the Old Lines. In our chat today, Aidan and I go deep into the Old Lines, considering how this kind of ancestor work is unique from what we typically encounter when exploring the subject, and also how we might begin working with spirits from the Old Line that come to us with no ancestral ties. Speaking of "invaluable Patreon platforms," I probably don't plug mine enough, but to hear my extended conversation with Aidan, you can find it and many other additional bonus interviews on our Raidcal Elphame Patreon page. In my bonus chat with Aidan, we dive into a fascinating new area of focus for them that they're still exploring and unraveling. I can't recommend it enough. SHOW NOTES: Aidan's Website: aidanwachter.com Aidan's Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/aidanwachter Aidan's upcoming conference appearances: Between-the-Worlds

Folk magic has a powerful pull. It can express complex metaphysical ideas that, for most of us practicing today, had once felt like the purview of the "New Age." Magical ideas that once seemed fantastical, through the lens of folk magic, can suddenly feel earthy and vital. Techniques that once felt silly can begin to feel ancestral. The source texts go from channeled writings, to myths and folktales, and academic papers. There's an artistry and intelligence grouped in with modern-day practitioners of folk magic that give the disenchanted "Western" mind permission to think differently. Coupled with the aesthetic power and the engrossing scholarship inherent in the modern-day study of folk magic, can sometimes be a cold distance and a whiff of a larp. Can the practices of people alive during the Witch Trials, people who might scry entrails, or bleed their cattle on fairy hills to propiciate the Good Neighbors, ever truly be unlocked for a person in a contemporary world so removed from this archaic way of life? Even as someone with a podcast that focuses on folk magic, I often feel like there can be something missing in translation when I encounter many of these antiquated and esoteric beliefs and practices, especially when sifted through and untangled from primary sources. I am extremely lucky to have just returned from an intensive workshop with Corinne Boyer in Washington State. There are many great things I can say about studying under Corinne, but paramount for me is how alive she can make the folkloric practices and beliefs, which in less capable hands might feel like mere relics or curios. Rooted in her deep study of the folk beliefs surrounding plants, trees, the dead, and wider metaphysics, Corinne has that rare ability to re-enchant and unlock a worldview and way of life that otherwise may have vanished completely. Corinne's almost playful willingness to test drive and experiment with the folkways of our ancestors felt like it summoned them to the room and made them feel at home and welcomed in our world.  SHOW NOTES: Sign up for Classes with Corinne: Maple Mist Wood Corinne's Bibliography: Books IG: @maplemistwood  

They're on bumper stickers, they're on bags of jerky, they're on bars of soap, and if you're not seeing an ancient alien on the History Channel, you're almost certainly seeing someone searching for them in the woods. Big Foot, Sasquatch, Oh Mah, Sunk Ape – they go by many names, and are spotted throughout North America, and beyond. For some, they are a myth; for some, a monster; and for the rest, a mascot. The loudest amongst their fans will tell you they are a flesh and blood relic hominid, and describe their migration patterns, their use of infrasound to evade capture, and, of course, their pendulous breasts. So what, then, does "Big Foot" have to do with the mythic Woodwose of European folklore? The sometimes therianthropic wild man you find in the art and literature of Medieval Europe, and sometimes even in the hagiographies of Saints. What could this mysterious European archetype have in common with America's most popular cryptid? The real question may be, what don't they have in common? Both Bigfoot and the Woodwose exist as symbols of the uncivilized natural world, its dangers, and the faint familiarity with a time in the distant past when this was also our home. Both display supernatural-seeming abilities. Both challenge us and inspire us. Both have no hard scientific evidence of existing. The callous skeptic would conclude that this comparison perfectly illustrates why belief in Bigfoot is absurd. To the Occultist, the Animist, the Magician, however, such clear deliniations between reality and fantasy are never to be trusted. What the skeptic forgets are the beliefs of the native inhabitants of Turtle Island, who all speak of these creatures in the same breath as bears, deer, and coyotes. To Indigenous People of this land, creatures that we now call Bigfoot are very real, and they also have more in common with nature spirits than gorillas.  Nay Noodmans gave a fantastic presentation at this year's Salem Witchcraft and Folklore Festival, exploring all of these ideas and many more. I'm so excited to have her back on the show to chat about the history of the Woodwose, how the Magician should reconsider Bigfoot, and of course we make time to swap personal stories about life in Far Northern California's Bigfoot Country.  SHOW NOTES:  House of Gnomi: https://www.instagram.com/houseofgnomi/ Nay's Links: https://linktr.ee/houseofgnomi Salem Witchcraft & Folklore Festival: Salemwitchfest

What is it that draws occultists to horror films, when by in large, the history of horror cinema is essentially anti-occult propaganda? Despite what can seem like a counterintuitive interest on the part of practitioners, the fact remains that the horror genre is the last bastion of regular engagement with the spirit world left in contemporary media, and therefore a natural draw for people who see the spiritual as fundamental to everyday life. Another consideration is the cathartic embrace of the shadow on display in horror, and often staring death right in the face. Both things our culture in the West tries to aggressively sterilize out of how we do life, but that practitioners know we can't escape.  In the spirit of the spooky season, I wanted to take a closer look at the horror film, and in particular, our relationship to it as people who make magic and dabble in the occult. And what is scarier than a horror film? A cursed horror film! To navigate the complex metaphysics that might be lurking behind the legends of these supposedly cursed films, and to try to understand what makes a curse in the first place, I knew I had to have on B. Key and Sfinga from the essential The Frightful Howls You May Hear podcast and With Cunning & Command blog.  Sfinga and Key bring to the show a wide-ranging perspective on why horror films matter so much to the magical folks of the world, and how the nature of curses that can take hold in any part of life can easily find a home in the media we produce. Join the Patreon for an even deeper dive into the nature of cursed media, and some tips for how one might go about making a cursed film … if they so desired.  SHOW NOTES: Sfinga and Key's website: With Cunning and Command Website Sfinga and Key's Podcast: The Frightful Howls You May Hear Sfinga's IG: Dragoncunning B. Key's IG: Barnowl.key