Out of the Broomcloset: Here’s to the “Covittes”

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Fancy slippers on a fancy red plaid blamket

Hooray! Another cross-quarter day is beckoning to us, attempting to entice us to step into the light and find joy and a new purpose. Beltane is the first of the fire festivals to honor a young, strong god; the sap is rising.

Ritual activity at this time revolves around protecting and encouraging this dynamism to move forward into the promise of being fully revealed. For one’s personal work, it is the time to have finished new plans, bundle up, and discard the lethargy and the vestiges of the previous season that the darkness encourages one to let pile up.

While this season is still under the sway of the Holly King, the upstart oak, which had been vanquished, at the height of summer prepares to grow again, but still needs to be concealed. As we are sauntering into a new season, this would seem to be the ideal point in the year to discuss the fact that in so many ways we have allowed ourselves to become drab hens; beige has become the new beige, and this has been a tendency in our collective cultures for quite a time. What has this protective camouflage gained us; in what way are we more safe from those who would do us an injury?

Honestly, while there might be some benefit to comprehending the genesis of the particular hates that appear to remain prevalent in real life, as well as in the blogosphere, it would appear that our collective efforts in this regard have weighed us down, enervating us more than Covid.

Indeed, let us give them a new name, say, Covidies, or better, the “Covittes”; one of their putative figureheads is fond of mangling the language to generate a catchy sound bite.

Rather than this simply being a snarky self-indulgence, there is a fine principle of magical practice underlying this. You might think of it as the Rumpelstiltskin effect. To know the true name of a thing gives you power over it, as well as does adopting or bestowing a new name.

Of course, there’s also the delight that one can take and asking someone if they really are one of those Covittes; one hears things about them, which is why I was wondering whether you are one or not.

In Western magical practice this principle extends far into the earliest strata of ancient Egyptian practice, as does the particular horror for the bottom of one’s shoe, as the punitive enemies of Egypt were often depicted on the sole of pharaoh’s sandal. You might recall when President Bush had shoes launched at him by an Iraqi journalist. I’m not suggesting that you toss your pumps, but you might be inclined to inscribe the names of various Covittes on a sticker you can apply to the bottom of them, rendering them as being downtrodden.

Allow me to suggest that we magical folk allow ourselves to indulge in some of the sartorial aspects associated with us in popular culture to counteract the brown hen effect, and in allowing ourselves to be conspicuous and act as a lightning rod for the ire of the Covittes while returning a little magic to the street.

Somehow the idea of individuals practicing magic, which used to draw the deadly ire of our society, has become domesticated. Good thing for J.K. Rowlings that she wasn’t a magic-phobe, though she wouldn’t be the first writer to disavow their work. As we move into the season, I would like to suggest that we all put our festival robes on and reaffirm how fabulous we all can be, utilizing this to distract the Covittes from their pursuit of tormenting others. Here’s to us acting as the pretty distraction.

Leon Calafiore
Leon Calafiore is a lifelon Wiccan and teacher of the occult arts. He is former Master of a New York Masonic Lodge known for the perfection of ritual. Leon conducts occult research and can be reached at Facebook at facebook.com/bigbookofmagic