Witch Power? part 1 by Sara Wright

On my grandparent’s farm witch hazel trees were common, sprouting up around old fieldstone walls at the edges of the forest. I loved these trees that bloomed in the fall after all the leaves had fallen. Masses of buttery yellow spindles covered bare twigs. Clusters of blossoms stood out starkly against the trunks of most of the hardwoods – hickory, beech, maple and oak.

As a child I carefully inspected each clump of blossoms. On some branches I found empty seed capsules which I learned much later expelled their seeds all at once the year before. Even these bird beaked pods looked to me like a kind of flower. I also saw little round balls that I later learned were next year’s buds already formed and that the identical looking flowers were either male or female. If I stood beneath a tree, the tangled shapes of the branches wove a loose string -like tapestry above me, one that was often mirrored by a cobalt blue sky.

One day when I was about ten my mother cut a forked witch hazel branch to search for water. She often told us she was a powerful ‘witch’ that flew overhead at night. My brother and I who had very active imaginations were terrified of her ‘powers’. When the branch suddenly dipped downward, I believed my mother was using her powers as a witch.  

 When the workers arrived to dig the artesian well, they were startled to discover water so close to the surface of what seemed to be a dry field. I knew nothing of dowsing then or that witch hazel trees naturally respond to the presence of water and that some people (like me) can sense this presence.

I was brought up on European Fairy Tales and stories of animals wild and tame while my experiences on my grandparents’ farm taught me about nature from direct experience. Between the two – humans and the rest of nature – the boundaries were blurred so it was not surprising that I was open to the reality that animals and trees could speak, had unusual powers, or that a myriad of other mysteries abounded in nature.

When I discovered feminism as an adult, Starhawk was casting circles of power and called herself a witch, and I was intrigued but also disturbed. But the second wave of feminism was in full swing, and I was an enthusiastic learner so perhaps this is why the first tree I planted on my land after moving to the mountains was a witch hazel tree! At the time I never thought about my mother’s ‘magical powers’…but perhaps it was also a way to acknowledge my love for her as well as a need to claim my own power. Perhaps planting that tree was also an omen of what was to come. Maybe all three.

 That first autumn at the principal’s request I created an Indigenous program for the local elementary school, one for each of the six grades. I named my program ‘The Circle Way’ and introduced the Native American Medicine Wheel, the Powers of the Four Directions, the importance of the Elements and the Indigenous belief system that considers all nature to be alive and sentient as well as the belief that animals and birds rivers and trees, stones and mountains are our relatives, and all need our respect and protection.

 Our projects revolved around teaching about different aspects of nature while sitting in a circle, using a talking stick to share, highlighting respect and love for Nature as a living being, cultivating gratitude for all wild creatures and trees, creating personal animal totems from clay.

 The program was an astonishing success. The children loved it and so did I.

However, the night before the final program I was called to school to “speak to some of the parents because a few had questions”. When I arrived, there must have been 40 – 50 people there all sitting around the circle of chairs that I had created in one room for teaching. I was forced to enter and stand in the center of the circle as one by one each parent stood up with one accusation after another that demanded a response. The one that sticks in my mind was the allegation that I was teaching their children to worship trees or become them. All I remember now was that I negated each fanatical accusation.

The ‘trial’ lasted about 45 minutes and not one teacher including the principal of the school stood up for me. The superintendent that showed up half-way through also said nothing for a while, but he finally broke up the witch hunt for that night. This shocking betrayal unhinged me although I refused to let it show.

 When I got home there was a message from one of the children on my answering machine. “I love you Sara” the little girl said before the line went dead. I didn’t realize then that the night’s witch hunt was known by all the parents including this woman’s mother who was supposed to be my friend. Betrayal. Oh, I was so pitifully naïve.

Part 2, next week