Let’s talk words! When I first started searching witchy hashtags, I was struck by certain words, and their slightly askew-of-mainstream definitions. This is one of my favorite features of English – the ability to adapt and change wordforms and meanings to suit the needs of the moment or movement. The witchcraft community is adept at it, to my delight. But, as in all things witch, I eventually needed to parse and un-layer these phrases, in order to gauge their relevancy to my craft. I was inspired to further contemplation by the following blogs: @asksecularwitch @upthewitchypunx and @lazywitchling. If you find this topic engaging, definitely check them out! This will be an ongoing series, with individual posts given to individual words for ease of discussion (also I, ah, have a lot to say). I’ll be tagging these #witch words Now let’s get into some nitty-gritty :)
I’m gonna start with my favorite, and perhaps most contentious? Cleanse
I no longer use the word ‘cleanse’ in relation to my magical practices (and with diminishing frequency in other arenas). On the one hand, it has a new-agey meaninglessness. Cleanse your body of heavy metals! Cleanse your mind of negative thoughts! Cleanse your space of bad energy! Cleanse your life of toxic people! Aside from the impossibility of such goals, ‘cleansed’ becomes an emotional experience that has little to do with the actual state of things. I feel this in the call for a witch to energetically cleanse everything in sight, as if simply existing and experiencing the world makes everything dirty. As if the work that our tools and ingredients do somehow taints them. I never felt so sure that my accoutrement needed to be cleaned after completing every assignment. I’ve never wanted to wash away the knowledge my tarot deck has collected after years of use by myself and my grandmother. What, exactly, are witches trying to be rid of?
What am I doing when I rid myself of energy? What does that mean, what do I intend to accomplish, and what do I actually do? If I decide I need to remove something, is it necessary to cleanse? And what does that entail? Beyond the buzzword, “to cleanse” does have meaning. And this is where we get to the sinister element of cleansing. Think a bit about the word. What does your heart conjure when you hear the phrase “a cleansing”? For me, nothing good. I think of ethnic cleansing. I think of purity culture. I think of Christian dogma and an association with suffering and Godliness. I think of themes which suggest that to be worthy you must be clean, and that cleanliness comes through trial, pain, and acceptance of an oppressive world. Not my cup of tasseomancy.
‘Clean’ comes from Germanic language. In Middle High German, kleine meant fine, excellent, or small. From there it entered Anglo Saxon as clæne or clene, and on to Middle English as clenè or clænè, meaning clear, pure, chaste, or bright. This is what you do when you cleanse: purify, refine, chasten, make small. In my days as a baby witch, I often found cleansed objects to be empty and listless, a husk. I believe this etymology is why.
What words do I use, then? Depends on the goal. If we’re talking objects, I like to use terms like ‘refresh’ or ‘reset’. I want my tools to feel like they’ve been to the spa and been rejuvenated to their resting glory. Notice I say ‘resting’ rather than ‘former’ -- I try not to imply that the work done has lessened them, as experience usually strengthens a being. I acknowledge that it may have tired or otherwise depleted them. A soak in moonlight, soundwaves, or selenite is meant to uplift and restore them.
If we’re talking about my space or person, I usually use ‘banish’. ‘Ban’ is the root word that gives us bandit, banish, and abandon – the themes of outlawry. It has a long and somewhat convoluted etymology that I won’t recount here (see sources below), but it has meant, across various languages: to proclaim, to prohibit, to curse, to exile. There are possible connections to Latin and Sanskrit words for ‘to speak’ and the Greek word ‘I say’. For me, this is pretty powerful stuff. By banishing an entity, I proclaim right of domain, and exile them from that domain. Exile is a permanent and non-negotiable condition, only revokable by the exiler. I may use several layers to aid in banishment (burnt herbs, laid thorns, solid wards for after), but a stong (or strongly felt inner) voice makes it smooth like butter. I believe this etymology, of voice and the power to prohibit, is why so many witches find surprise success when they bang a pot and yell GTFO. (I wanna be super clear here that I have done this in complete silence -- you do not need to speak to have a voice!) I like banish because it is powerful and effective, but also because it is kind. I am removing something from my space, but not with the intent to harm. Banishment is not death, nor assault. It is simply a command to go elsewhere.
What words do you use? Maybe you cleanse, because it makes you feel clean, fresh, and bright. Maybe you need to wipe the slate clear as an important step in your magical practice or spell crafting. Maybe you restore, because you use the heck out of your tools and they need maintenance. Maybe that word connects you as a builder to your craft. Maybe balance would somehow reflect your values and path. There are so many delightful options! Refit. Treat. Pamper. Reclaim. Soothe. Resurrect. Wash. Train. Retool. Teach. Temper. Fortify. . .
Last thought -- I’ve been asking why I rid myself of the energy that I do. Why I baby certain kinds of objects and not others. Talk of cleansing crystals runs rampant, but rarely do I see suggestions on how to cleanse plants, and never have I seen the suggestion that ribbon or jars be cleansed. We cleanse our wands, but not the pens we write our sigils with. We cleanse our space, but not our food. Why? Why, why, keep asking why! This is what’s great about exploring your word choices – it gets you asking a lot of other questions.
Etymological Dictionary of the English Language, Rev. Walter W. Skeat, Oxford University Press Inc., New York, 1999