Superstition: Everyday Things We Forgot Was Witchcraft

Anonymous Crone Podcast: Welcome back, my witches. It's September. And you know what that means? It's spooky season. Okay, not quite, but we're getting there. And in honor of it being September, we're gonna take this episode in a little bit different of a direction. And I know you're like, ⁓ every one of your episodes are a little weird. I get it. But hey, here we are. Welcome to Anonymous Crone. I'm your hostess with the Mostess, the Anonymous Crone herself. And tonight, we're talking about superstitions. Superstition! Superstitions. Not the watered-down versions though. We're not going to where someone tells you you're gonna get seven years of bad luck if you break that mirror. Nah. We're gonna dig a little bit deeper. We're gonna go underneath the superstition and look at the magical machinery hiding beneath it. We're gonna talk about the little acts of folk magic that we've inherited so completely that we don't even recognize them as magic anymore. You know, as seasoned witches, we already understood something that the average person doesn't really think about. Magic isn't always theatrics with fire and a little bit of glitter. Magic doesn't always involve an altar covered in candles, or a beautifully prepared circle, or a ritual performed underneath a full moon. Sometimes magic is tiny. Sometimes it's a reflex. Sometimes magic is just one motion, one word, or one gesture. Sometimes it's just throwing salt over your shoulder while you're muttering, ⁓ for fuck's sake. And somewhere along the way, We stopped calling that magic and we started calling it superstition. So tonight we're gonna ask a slightly different question. What if superstition is what happens when magic survives after people forget the theory? So before we actually jump into the deep end of the cauldron, there's something I just want to point out real quick. Because there's a shitty habit in modern paganism of taking an old custom, giving it a vaguely Celtic label, adding the words ancient tradition. And calling it a historical fact. No, sometimes we do have evidence, sometimes we just have the folklore. And sometimes we do have written words. Sometimes we have comparative traditions. And sometimes some asshole on the internet made shit up in 2019. And we need to know the difference between all that. Not every superstition is pagan. Not every piece of folk magic is witchcraft. And not every old custom comes from pre-Christian religions. Some traditions were Christianized. Some were absorbed from neighboring cultures. Some came from just practical concerns. And some are pretty modern. Some have multiple possible origins, and that doesn't make them anything less. Because regardless of the original religious labels, these traditions tell us something about how human beings have always tried to interact with the unseen. And that's witchy as fuck. So let's jump in and start with salt. Now, if you've been practicing for any length of time, You probably don't need me to tell you that salt has a long, magical resume. Salt has been used for cleansing, purification, protection, preservation, boundary work, banishing, blessings, consecration. It's one of those substances that seem almost ridiculously ordinary until you start looking at what people have done with it throughout history. Salt preserves what would otherwise decay. It changes food. It draws moisture. It can make an environment hostile to certain forms of life. It's literally transformative. And humans noticed that a long time ago. Salt became associated with purity, hospitality, and value, protection across numerous cultures. So when somebody spills salt and immediately throws a pinch over their shoulder, that's not an entirely random little twitch of superstition. It fits into a much larger magical pattern. Something has gone wrong, so we perform a counteraction. And that's the part witches should recognize. The ritual isn't necessarily about the physical salt anymore. It's about correction. You create an imbalance and you immediately restore that balance. I mean, you don't sit there and say, well shit, I guess I'm doomed. No, you intervene, because that's magic. That's what we do as witches. Maybe it's not a formal ceremonial magic. Maybe it's not a spell you'd write in your book of shadows. But it's absolutely ritualized behavior designed to influence an anticipated outcome. And why over the shoulder? Here's where things get a little murky, but that's okay, I like murky. The left side has been associated with negative or dangerous forces in various cultures and religious traditions. But there's not one universal historical explanation for why salt goes specifically over the left shoulder. You'll find a lot of confident explanations online, but confidence isn't evidence. And that's one of those things that I want to encourage you. Don't be afraid of unanswered questions. Mystery is not failure. Sometimes, when we say, we don't know, that's the most honest and magical answer available. What we can see is the underlying pattern though. Something considered potentially unlucky happens, and a substance associated with protection is deliberately thrown behind the body. The superstition contains an act of magical reversal. And if you ever worked a banishing, you know exactly what that feels like. Something unwanted enters, you identify it, you remove it. You close the door behind it. Except Grandma did it with table salt. So let's talk about wood. Knock on wood. That one is everywhere. You say something positive, and suddenly somebody reaches over and knocks on the nearest wooden surface as though they just heard the universe clearing their throat. You get Angela saying, I never had an STD. Don't tempt fate, knock on wood. And witches understand that phrase. Don't tempt fate. Better than most people because we're constantly working with timing. intention, symbolism, omens, and consequences. The origins of knocking on wood really aren't settled. And I want to emphasize that because the internet loves saying, Ancient Celts believe spirits lived in trees, so they knocked on wood to ask for protection. I mean, you know, that's a cool ass story. It may even fit certain older European ideas about sacred trees and, you know, the Fey and tree spirits, but historians, we don't have a neat little Celtic instruction manual saying, Step 1, knock on tree. There are multiple theories. One connects it to beliefs about the Fey and the like being associated with trees, like I was saying, but another possibility involves the protection symbolism of wood and later Christian associations with the cross. Folklorist Steve Roud has also connected the modern practice with a 19th-century children's game called Tiggy Touchwood, in which touching wood could provide immunity from being caught. So no, I'm not gonna tell you that the Celts of old definitely knocked on oak trees every time they bragged about their health. But you know what? They might have. We just don't have the evidence to make that claim. But the magical logic behind touching wood is familiar. You said something that could attract unwanted attention. You've acknowledged it. Then you perform a protective gesture. And that, my witches, is an apotropaic action. Apotropaic simply means intended to ward off evil or harm. Which is, we know this territory. We ward, we protect, we redirect, we conceal, we obscure, we bind, we banish, we shield. And yes, your great aunt may accomplish a tiny version of the same impulse by tapping on the coffee table after announcing that her life is going suspiciously well. Same human instinct. It's just different vocabulary. So let's talk about horseshoes. Now this one is quaint because it's sitting right there in plain sight. An iron horseshoe above the door. It's lucky, protective, traditional, decorative. Whatever word the homeowner uses, the symbolization is doing a lot of work. Iron has a long history of being regarded as protective against supernatural forces in European folklore. I mean, horses themselves carry enormous symbolic importance. They have strength, movement. They bring wealth, agriculture, warfare, transportation, and yes, status. Then you take that powerful animal association and combine it with iron. You've got an object with some serious magical baggage, and then you put it on your threshold. Because of course you do, because witches understand thresholds. A doorway isn't simply an opening to the house, it's a boundary, inside and outside, known and unknown, protected and exposed, home and world. A threshold is where one condition becomes another. That's why magical traditions all over the world have developed rules and rituals surrounding doors, gates, windows, entrances, and boundaries. You don't just protect the house. You protect the places where the outside world can enter. And that's why charms over doors are just so common. A horseshoe, a wreath, a bundle of herbs, a protective symbol, a religious image, a charm bag, a broom, a bell, a piece of iron, a stone, a nail, a talisman. A witch doesn't look at the object and say, What is it? We ask, huh, what does it do? And function matters. If an object is deliberately placed at a threshold to repel unwanted forces or attract luck or protect inhabitants or establish a boundary, we're entering magical territory. Whether the person hanging it there calls himself a witch or not. Now which way should a horseshoe face? Yeah, here we go. Point it up, it catches the luck. Point it down, the luck pours all over you. And of course, both sides are gonna tell you that their version is the correct one. Because apparently the magical community has been arguing about this since the beginning of time. My answer? Just know your tradition. Know what the symbol means to you. Know what you're asking it to do, and then hang it intentionally. Because if you're gonna use a charm, you need to know what that charm's for. Have you ever heard Don't walk under ladders? Yeah, well, the practical explanation is obvious. Don't walk underneath a ladder because someone might drop a hammer on your head. But superstition. Often grows around practical danger. And the latter also creates a triangular shape, which has acquired symbolic significance in Christian, esoteric, and magical traditions. But again, I'm not going to tell you that ancient pagans definitely considered walking under a ladder an offense against the gods. We don't have very concrete evidence of that, but there is something happening here. A dangerous physical action becomes a forbidden action. The forbidden action becomes associated with bad luck. And eventually, nobody remembers whether the original concern was falling paint or of supernatural consequence. But that's how folklore evolves. And we should pay attention to that process because a ritual can survive long after the explanation changes. Think about how many practices you perform because somebody taught you that's just what we do. Now ask yourself: what was this originally protecting? What was it originally preventing? And those are the real questions, not just asking whether something is a pagan tradition or not. Now let's talk about mirrors. Mirrors! Break one, and suddenly, apparently you're gonna be serving a seven-year sentence handed down by the Cosmic Department of Bad Luck. Seven fucking years. Yeah, so apparently the universe keeps track of all that, I don't know. But mirrors really are fascinating magical objects. Before modern mirrors became cheap and common, reflective surfaces were very limited. Still water, polished metal, highly reflective materials. And a reflection is strange. Yeah, it it looks like you. It moves when you move, but it isn't physically you. That uncanny quality made reflective services significant in folklore, divination, magic, and superstition. I'm your mirror. I simply notice things you ignore. And witches, we understand that instinctively, because we scry, we use reflective surfaces, we gaze into water. We work with mirrors. We use reflection symbolically. We understand the mirror as a surface that can be used for seeing and projecting and reflecting, concealing, revealing, and transforming. The seven-year superstition thing is later folklore. It's not some universal ancient pagan law, but the older magical fascination with reflections is much deeper. A reflection raises questions about identity. Where does a self end? What is this relationship between body and its image? Can something of you be captured? Can something see you through the reflective surface? Can you see something that isn't physically present? Those are magical questions. And the mirror itself doesn't have to be inherently magical. You're not alone. The mirror sees everything. So moving on to black cats, poor little furballs. A black cat crosses the road and suddenly somebody acts like they just received a death omen. And meanwhile, the cat's just thinking, I'm just trying to get across the road, you asshole. Cats have a very complicated history with human magic. In some cultures, they've been revered, in others, they've been feared. In European witchcraft folklore, cats became associated with witches and supernatural forces, and the familiar became one of the most enduring images in witch lore. But we know better than the cartoon version. A familiar isn't simply a witch's pet. Historical accounts of familiars, they're complicated. They're varied, deeply entangled with the witchcraft accusations of modern Europe. Still the association between witches and animals? Yeah, it's still there. And today many witches have animal companions they consider spiritually significant. Does that mean every cat is a familiar? Well, no. But does your cat know things that you don't? Well, obviously. I'm not here to insult that evidence. So what do you do if you see a lucky penny? You find a coin, you pick it up, you keep it, maybe it's heads up, maybe you have your own rules, maybe you carry a coin for luck. Maybe someone gave you one before an important event. And this is where the magical concept of the charm becomes incredibly useful. A charm is not powerful just because it's physically valuable. Its meaning matters. The object becomes associated with intention. You carry it, you touch it, you remember why you have it, and it becomes your anchor. Seasoned practitioners already know this. We don't need a $75 crystal to hold an intention. Sometimes the best magical object is the thing that already has history attached to it: a coin from your grandfather, a button from your mother's coat, a stone from a meaningful place, a ring, a key, a feather, a piece of wood, a shell. The magic is partly in the object, but it's also in the relationship that you have with it. Let's cross our fingers. We're hoping that something good happens. We want luck, protection. We don't want to jinx the outcome. So we physically create a symbol. The history of crossfingers is pretty complicated and includes Christian symbolism, folk practice, and later associations with luck. But once again, look what's happening. The body becomes a magical tool. You don't need an altar, you don't need a wand. Your hand becomes the symbol. This is one of the oldest forms of magic there is. Gesture, movement, posture, sign, words, breath, the body itself becomes part of the spell. Bless you! Somebody sneezes, and immediately somebody offers a blessing. There are numerous explanations for this custom. A lot of times it involves illness or fear of disease, or the soul protection. I've heard it say when you sneeze your soul leaves the body for a second. But it also has historical religious beliefs. But whatever exact explanation you favor, The underlying structure is unmistakable. Something unusual happens to the body, the community responds with protective language, and that's ritual. It becomes so ordinary that nobody thinks twice about it, which is exactly what makes this so interesting. Because that's how magical customs survive. They become manners, they become etiquette, they become family tradition, and they become something you do without even thinking. So let's talk about birthday candles. This one is pretty cool from a witch's perspective, because we light candles. We gather around fire. We focus on desire. We make a wish. We often keep the wish secret. Then we use breath to extinguish the flame. And somehow we're surprised that witches see magical symbolism everywhere. Now, no, the modern birthday candle ritual isn't simply an ancient pagan spell that survived intact. That's not historically responsible. But the structure is familiar though. We got fire, intention. Breath, desire, secrecy, transformation, repetition. And well, those are pretty magical ingredients. You concentrate on something you want. You combine intention with breath. You extinguish the flame, and then you wait. And while that's not necessarily witchcraft, but it certainly resembles the structure of magical practice, don't you think? As you wish, sir. So maybe the question isn't, was this pagan? Maybe the better question is What need does this ritual express? Because people have always wanted the same things. You know, protection and luck, health, love, money, fertility, safety, a safe journey, a healthy child, a successful marriage. And maybe just a little control over an unpredictable world. And when the world feels uncertain, humans create rituals. That's just what we've done since the dawn of time. Have you ever thrown a coin into a fountain and made a wish? Well, of course you have. And technically, you just throw money into water while asking the universe for something. That's an offering. Offerings to water have deep and ancient histories in many, many cultures. Sacred springs, wells, rivers, lakes, bodies of water have been treated as spiritually significant places. People do leave things like coins and pins, jewelry, food, ribbons, flowers, objects. And why do we do that? Because water is life. Water moves between places. It disappears underground. It falls from the sky. It reflects. It cleanses. It carries things away. Water has always been an obvious place for us to locate mystery. And I know you know exactly what I'm talking about. You don't need me to tell you what a powerful magical medium water can be. So when somebody tosses a coin into a fountain and makes a wish, I see the ghost of old human impulse. Give something, ask something, make a request. Trust the unseen, and that's an exchange. Dressing up and flipping. What about weddings? Yeah, weddings are absolutely stuffed with ritual. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Then you have your rings, your flowers, your veils, your thresholds, promises, blessings, toasts, special clothing, specific words, objects that symbolize continuity, objects that symbolize fertility, objects that symbolize prosperity. Things being thrown, things being carried, people gathered as witnesses. You can remove the modern romantic packaging and still recognize their ritual structure immediately. A wedding marks transition. One identity becomes another. Two households may become one. A public declaration is made. The community is there to witness it. Objects carry symbolic meaning. And suddenly, the whole damn thing looks a whole lot like ritual magic. And again, that doesn't mean weddings in general or pagan. It means that we've always used ritual to mark major life transitions. And witches understand liminal spaces, the space between what was and what will be, because that's where magic likes to hang out. Now here's one that you don't hear too often. Don't put your purse on the floor or you'll lose money. Okay, so your purse contains money. The purse touches the floor. Therefore, your money is symbolically going down. The idea that things connected symbolically can't influence one another. So somebody's grandmother says, get your purse off the floor. And you do it because you don't want to lose your money. I mean, is that witchcraft though? Well, maybe not, but it is operating on magical logic. And then there's the evil eye. This one deserves respect because it isn't some cute little modern pagan invention. Belief in harming or envious gazes is ancient and widespread. Across cultures, people have developed protective symbols. In amulets, gestures, prayers, objects intended to guard against the evil eye or the harmful gaze of the enemy. And the eye of Horus is one of the most famous ancient examples of protective symbolism from Egypt. The Hamsa became another widely recognized protective symbol in traditions across the Middle East and North Africa. The exact beliefs vary, the cultures vary, the religious context vary, but the magical principle is familiar. Something harmful can be transmitted through attention. Therefore, protection is necessary. And that's witchcraft territory. Not because the symbol is pagan, because the function is magical. Protection. That word makes every witch sit up a little straighter. Protection is one of the oldest and most universal forms of magic. And I want to make the distinction between superstition and witchcraft. Superstition often says Do this because otherwise something bad might happen. But magic says, I understand what I'm doing, why I'm doing it, and what outcome I'm directing this toward. I mean it's not a perfect distinction, but intention matters, knowledge matters, context matters, traditions matter, and agency matters. The person who throws assault over their shoulder because grandma told them to is participating in inherited folklore. The witch Who deliberately uses salt as part of a cleansing or protective working is practicing intentional magic. I mean, same substance, but it's different framework. That's why we shouldn't laugh about some superstitions. Some of it is silly, some of it's actually quite hilarious. Some of it's pretty contradictory. Some of it's complete bullshit. But underneath much of it is an ancient human desire to interact with the forces that we don't understand. We just tend to be more deliberate about it. Or at least we like to think we are, because, well, let's be honest, every witch has at least one ridiculous superstition that we carry with us. You can perform planetary magic and still knock on wood. You can know perfectly well that that number 13 isn't inherently dangerous, and still get that little tiny feeling when something happens on Friday the 13th. You can understand probability and still wear your lucky necklace, because knowing better doesn't necessarily erase the ritual, and maybe it shouldn't. Because ritual isn't only about controlling an outcome, it's about connection. Connection to your family, to your ancestors, to places, to traditions. It's a connection to memory. It's also a connection to ourselves. Sometimes we keep a superstition because we don't want to lose the person who taught it to us. And that's where superstition becomes something more than a fear of bad luck. It becomes ancestral folklore. And if you dig far enough into folklore, you'll discover that our ancestors were not stupid. They were observant, they noticed patterns, they didn't have modern explanations for everything. They developed symbolic systems. Some of them were religious, some of them were magical, a lot of them were practical, some of them were psychological, and some of them were actually all those at once. And then the stories were passed down, generation after generation, until that explanation just disappeared. But the action itself survived. And that's how magic can become superstition. The ritual remains, the meanings change, but Sometimes the belief fades. So why do we keep doing these things? Why does a modern person surrounded by science and technology and instant communication still knock on wood? Why does somebody still hang an iron horseshoe over a door? Why do people still carry lucky coins? Why do we still cross our fingers? Why do we still make wishes? Why do we still throw coins in water? And why do we still avoid certain numbers? Because humans haven't changed as much as we like to think. We still want protection, we still want love, we want health and money. We still want our children to be safe. We still want the person we love to come home. We still want tomorrow to be better. And when we can't control the outcome, we create ritual. Sometimes people call it religion. Sometimes we call it magic. Sometimes we just call it superstition. Sometimes we call it tradition. And sometimes we just say, because that is something my grandmother used to do. But underneath all the names is the same ancient human impulse. We reach toward the unseen. And maybe that's why seasoned witches should be fascinated by superstition, because it's a living fossil of magical thought. Not always accurate, not always pagan, not always ancient. But it's alive, still being practiced, still being passed down, still changing, still adapting, and occasionally still fucking weird. So think about what you've heard. Think about what you've inherited. What do you carry with you? What do you refuse to do? What did your grandmother do? What did your mother do? What did your father believe? What strange rule exists in your house that nobody could explain? And then ask yourself, why? Because you might discover that the answer isn't simply superstition. It might be folk magic. It might be ancestral practice. It might be a protective charm. Or it might be an omen. Or it might be complete bullshit, and that's okay too. Because being a witch doesn't mean you believe everything. Quite the opposite, actually. A good witch learns to investigate. We question, we research, we compare sources. We learn our history. We distinguish folklore from documented practice. We know when something is tradition and when something is reconstruction. We don't have to make the past prettier than it was. And we don't have to make it more magical than it was. Because the real history is magical enough. So the next time you spill salt, don't just throw it over your shoulder automatically. Pause. Ask yourself what you're doing. You're recognizing a rupture. You're responding with protection. You're performing a tiny ritual of correction. When you knock on wood, recognizing that you're acknowledging fate and attempting to redirect the possibility of harm. When you hang iron above your door, recognize the ancient human instinct to protect the threshold. When you carry a lucky coin, recognize the power of the charm. When you cross your fingers, recognize the body as a magical instrument. And when somebody tells you that they're not superstitious, Wait, because they're gonna knock on wood, they always do. And when they do, smile and say, ⁓ honey, you're already doing magic. So next time you guys have a little meetup, if you get with like minded individuals, whether it's a coven or just a group of friends, superstition is a wonderful topic. And if you guys sit around and just talk about different things you do, the stories get so good. Maybe there's an old tradition hiding inside their story. Maybe there's a cultural practice. Maybe there's a bit of folk magic. Maybe there's historical explanation. Or maybe Grandma was just absolutely convinced that putting new shoes on the bed would summon Satan. Yeah, we won't judge Grandma. At least she had standards. And that's why I just love talking to people about superstition. Because every family has its own little magical ecosystem. Every culture has its own rules. Every household has things that are simply not done. And those little rules tell us something about what people feared. What they valued, what they hoped for, and what they believe they could influence. And that's the deeper story. Superstition really isn't about whether we're stupid enough to believe that knocking on wood changes reality. It's about why humans need to knock on wood in the first place. We live in a world that there is so much that's beyond our control. And magic, religion, ritual, and superstition all offer different ways of negotiating that uncertainty. The seasoned witch knows that a spell doesn't guarantee an outcome. Magic is not a vending machine. You don't put in three candles and get your desired results delivered by Friday. What ritual can do though is create relationship with ourselves and our ancestors, with nature and the divine. And sometimes that's enough. Alright, now it's time for question answers. This is the part of the pod where I answer your questions that you've sent to me. And if you have any questions out there or any comments or any stories, you can email me at acronepodcast at gmail.com. And please tell me what part of the world you're writing in from. I mean, if you're comfortable sharing. Folk magic changes dramatically from place to place, and those differences are pretty cool. Today's question comes from Maggie from Indiana. Maggie says, Hello. I just found your podcast and saw you were taking questions on superstition. I've always wondered this, why do we make wishes at 1111? And more importantly, how much more likely is that wish to actually come true over just a regular wish? And if you answer on the podcast, I will be so happy. Brightest blessings from Maggie. Thank you so much for writing in, Maggie. And 1111? That's the universe's favorite little digital wink. And there really isn't an ancient witchy tradition that says, when the clock strikes 1111, make a wish. That part is fairly modern. The fascination with 1111 really began gaining popularity in the late 20th century, particularly with the rise of numerology and the new age movement. Then, you know, once digital clocks became a thing, people started noticing that wonderfully symmetrical 1111 staring back at them. In numerology, Eleven is often considered a master number. It's associated with intuition, spiritual awareness, inspiration, synchronicity. Seeing 1111 repeatedly became interpreted by a lot of people as a little nudge from the universe, as a moment to pay attention, set an intention, or make a wish. Now is your wish more likely to come true because you made it at 1111? Well, I mean, the real magic is intention. You do stop, you focus, You decide what you want. And sometimes that simple act of putting your desire into words makes you more likely to notice opportunities and take actions toward it. So when you see 1111, make your wish. Don't just whisper it to the universe and sit on your broom waiting. Give the universe a little help. So thank you again, Maggie, for writing in. And I hope I answered your question. And if any of you out there have any questions for this old crone, please email me at A Crone Podcast at gmail.com So as customary on the podcast, I am leaving you with tonight's Crohn's blessing. Salt at your shoulder, luck at your door, iron to guard you as it did before. Knock once for wisdom, twice for night, three times for keeping the darkness in flight. May charms hold steady, may old ward stand true. May what you cast outward return blessed to you. May wood keep secrets, may candles burn bright. May omens speak softly and guide you all right. Walk through each threshold with courage and grace. Leave what no longer serves you and claim your own space. So maybe superstition is nothing more than forgotten magic, but it's still breathing quietly beneath the ordinary rituals that we've inherited. So next time you knock on wood, throw salt over your shoulder, or touch the charm above your door, remember Sometimes the old ways don't die. They simply become so familiar that we forget that they are magic. Until next time, my witches, keep your words strong, your questions sharper, and your curiosity dangerous. See you next week here at Anonymous Chrome.