Neolithic Shamanism: Spirit Work in the Norse Tradition - Raven Kaldera 2012
Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris)
The Green World: Plants
Raven: Before each of my shamanic workings with a client, I light a flame and set the end of the silvery bundle of leaves and twigs on fire. I gathered these from my own land, tied them together, and hung them to dry. I watched the Moon glint silver off their leaves, the Moon whose energy is so bound up with this plant named after the Greek lunar goddess. Her smoke wafts forth and she dances around me; I can see her drifting silver hair and silver green skirts. I breathe her in and feel that moment of dizziness, of my inner eye opening. I wave her smoke around the room to purify it as I sing a small bit of a song of my ancestors that is a thousand years old, a song where she is the first power mentioned. Her smoke quiets the room and calms the client, and we can begin.
Galina: Mugwort was one of the first plants with which I developed a relationship. Grandmother Mugwort is strong and very protective. Her use within sacred work is attested to in very old English herbal manuscripts and I liked the fact that, in calling upon her for aid, I’d be doing something that my ancestors would have recognized as holy—and she is very holy. I’ve only recently started to grow my own mugwort, and I was surprised to find that even before I planted the first cuttings, she was present on my land. The land gives us what we need, and I had wild mugwort growing all around the border of my property, watching over me, guarding my back. I call upon her for cleansings and before and after I see clients. I ask her to cleanse and purify the space, and I trust her wisdom to drive out and expel any energies that do not belong.
On every continent, Artemisia species are burned to clear away negative energies. This has been a frustrating thing for ethnobotanists, who don’t understand why people on different sides of the planet somehow independently figured out the same superstitious and mythical use for the same plant species. We, of course, know better. Mugwort is very old and has been used magically for a very long time. She has no active hallucinogenic parts, unlike her brother plant wormwood (whose alkaloid thujone isn’t useful while burning anyway; he must be ingested), but she doesn’t need hallucinogens to do the trick of creating a sacred space and enhancing psychic abilities. In our experience, she’s always been the best plant for the job. And, of course, it is the first plant listed in the thousand-year-old power song of our ancestors, Charm of the Nine Sacred Herbs. In this charm, mugwort is referred to as Una, the oldest herb.
When you work with her, sooner or later, you realize she is truly ancient. She carries with her a sense of memory; here is a spirit who watched our first human fumblings as we crawled out of the primordial ooze, here is a spirit who watched over our Neanderthal ancestors, who saw humanity gain the grace of fire, of craft, a spirit who reached out eons and eons ago to inspire the first shamans. She remembers all the wisdom that she bore to those first ancient humans, and she can share with us as well. Grandmother Mugwort watches over humanity. She has an interest in our well-being, and she has much to teach.
In the Middle Ages, mugwort was connected with Saint John the Baptist, who was said to have worn a belt of the herb during his time in the wilderness. Saint John’s herb, as the plant became known, had the power to drive out demons, and sprays of the herb were worn around the head on Saint John’s Eve as a protection against possession by evil forces. In China, bunches of mugwort were hung in the home during the Dragon Festival to keep away evil spirits. The Ainus of Japan burn bunches to exorcise spirits of disease, who are thought to hate the odor. It was planted along roadsides by the Romans, who put sprigs in their shoes to prevent aching feet on long journeys, and carried the plant to ward against wild beasts, poison, and stroke. Mugwort prevents elves and random evil things from entering houses, and is said to cure madness and aid in astral projection. A pillow stuffed with mugwort and slept upon will produce prophetic dreams. Mugwort is burned during scrying rituals, and a mugwort-and-honey infusion is drunk before divination. The infusion is also used to wash crystal balls and magic mirrors, and mugwort leaves are placed around the base of the ball or beneath it to aid in psychic workings. Crushed mugwort can be burned as incense as an aid in scrying.
This is the plant of Midgard, the World of Humanity, and it is burned at the start of a ritual. One starts and ends with mugwort, as one starts and ends with Midgard. Its shamanic purpose is purification. We tend to think of purification, in these days of advanced medical antisepsis, as creating a sterile atmosphere. To us, pure has come to mean “without life.” When we use something whose basic power is purification, we expect, on some level, for it to clean everything and leave it a blank slate.
However, that’s not what magical purification actually does. Perhaps a better term for it would be sanctification or consecration. Purifying activities create that aura of sacred space, which is so clear when you’re in it but so elusive to describe. In order to create that energy, they do push out other sorts of energy, including the busy, well-worn, “messy” energy of the everyday. After the purification energy fades, the other stuff may drift back, or it might not, so it can have a cleaning effect in some cases. Grandmother Mugwort helps to create an environment within a space that simply isn’t conducive to malignant energies of any sort. The image that comes to mind is of an old-fashioned hausfrau sweeping the house thoroughly from top to bottom, shaking out the sheets, beating the carpets until everything is spotless, and then doing that day after day to maintain that sense of “clean.”
Mugwort is the herb that is most often burned as recels, the Old English word for incense, pronounced ray-kels. The act of burning it is referred to as recaning, which can be pronounced various ways, but the most graceful seems to be reek-an-ing; the verb recan is a cognate to our word reek. Celtic tradition people use the term saining. It’s an alternative to the Native American term smudging. Mugwort can be bound in lashed bundles and burned in the same way as white sage. It has a clearing effect on the mind and heightens the extra senses, so it is a good thing to burn at the start of any working that is going to involve an altered or trance state. Eventually, the mind becomes keyed to the scent of the herb, and the smell alone becomes enough to spur some people into a light trance, or at least into the necessary head space for sacred work. Some people have a stronger reaction to mugwort than others. A few report that just having it by the bed can cause vivid journeying dreams. Its effect on you may depend on how much the plant spirit likes you or on whether you and the plant have a natural affinity or connection.
Grandmother Mugwort is witchy, spooky, and incredibly powerful. Most report the essence of this plant as feminine, if ancient and mysterious. She is very lunar, but she is not the shining maiden New Moon or the swollen Full Moon; she is the mysteries of the Dark Moon, the witchy crone with the wild mane of silver hair and the long, pointy fingers. Her voice is rough and cracking, and she cackles. When she opens her arms, silvery magic pours forth in a cloud, and she fills a space like no other plant we know, even beating out juniper and American sage. The only thing that comes close to Grandmother Mugwort’s power and presence requires a combination of several different herbs. She loves to work with psychic folk and lays very few rules; her attitude seems to be more one of “Knock yourself out! If you get screwed up, it’s your own fault and you’ll learn. Now, won’t you?” After which she cackles at you further. To her, your safety is not her problem . . . which can be good and bad.
Botanically speaking, mugwort and wormwood are very similar, considered sibling plants and both of the Artemisia genus; they are sometimes confused for each other. Chemically, mugwort lacks the thujone content of wormwood, so the psychoactive properties haven’t been conclusively proved by science. However, mugwort’s spiritual potency is such that people are affected when it is an ingredient in incense, steeped in wine, or just by having it around them (hence its reputation as an herb to aid in dream work). Where wormwood often possesses a masculine spirit, Grandmother Mugwort is feminine and full of classic Crone energy. She is wily and will lead you in circles before giving you a clear answer; she can be a bit of a tease, appearing ornery one moment and crafty the next. Her secrets are given up only at her discretion, though she is not generally picky about who gets to use her plant children. She is of the opinion that we learn best by seeing for ourselves just how big a mess we get into, and she generally won’t interfere when people seek to add her power to something they are doing. Having her direct permission to use her powers seems a bit more rare, and it is a special thing.
Mugwort has a variety of magical uses, including aiding in dream work, divination, protection, and the creation of magical tools. She also adds a layer of refinement to some workings, particularly those relating to cleansing and banishing, since she has a scrubbing effect that clears out all kinds of energetic and astral clutter without the muscle that other herbs, like rue, have. Simply put, she gets the job done without a great deal of fuss, and she doesn’t need the muscle. We have both used fresh sprays of mugwort as miniature flails to cleanse the body’s energy field; the slap of the leaves and twigs had a very pronounced effect.
Exercise: Recels I
Find some mugwort growing in a field—it often dwells by the roadside like an ordinary weed. Sit with the plant for a few minutes and try to call on Grandmother Mugwort, asking her to bless you and to aid the power of the herb that you are about to harvest. Ask permission to cut the plant—Raven has found that if he doesn’t have permission, his hand literally doesn’t want to go near it. Cut it just before it goes to seed. Let it sit for a few days inside until it is wilted but still soft, and then bind it together with natural-fiber string. As you bind it, try again to feel the presence of Grandmother Mugwort. Make a loop on the end of the “stick,” hang it up, and let it dry thoroughly. When it is dry, take the mugwort bunch—your new recaning stick—and light the end with a candle flame, just enough to smoke. Wave the smoking stick around the area, and ask Grandmother Mugwort to cleanse the energy of the area. Breathe in the smoke—carefully, so as not to choke—and ask her if she will be your ally, and what she wants for that service. What you want is for her to be there whenever you purify a space, adding power to the inherent energy of the plant itself.
It’s best to make first contact with Grandmother Mugwort through her smoke, but once you’ve done that, you can also make a tea with a few bits of mugwort leaf brewed with it. Drinking herb tea literally brings the stuff of that plant into your body and allows the spirit to speak to you directly. As you drink the tea, relax and imagine her silvery energy moving through you. Ask her for her wisdom and her aid in opening your inner eyes at times when you are stressed and unclear. If she speaks to you and agrees to help, you can ask her for advice on what you can do to help your own signal clarity. She will likely have something to say on the matter . . . but if you ask, be prepared to grit your teeth and take her advice.