On Catching Covid

A few weeks ago I caught Covid-19. The tell-tale double line of the lateral flow test slowly emerged to confirm what I could feel happening. This was the closing of a time-loop that I recall beginning in late 2019. Nikki Wyrd and I had been keeping an eye on an emerging novel disease in China and once the first few cases started turning up elsewhere it was pretty obvious that we were headed towards a global phenomenon. In my office, before First Lock Down, I showed a graph of the infections from the influenza pandemic of 1918 to a colleague and opined that this new disease would likely follow a similar course. Taking the long view of matters like this is one I find tremendously helpful, it is said with some truth that those who forget the past are are doomed to repeat it. The history of pandemics, from HIV to the Black Death, unsurprisingly contains many of the same human behaviours; denial of the reality of the disease, the deluded or unscrupulous making money with bogus cures, overreach in social control by institutions desperately grappling with an enemy within, and so on. There is, as they say, nothing new under the sun. Back through history we can see similar patterns and we can also seek a wider context for what we are experiencing now. For example, one might consider the similarities and differences between SARS-CoV-2 infection and other communicable diseases, for instance, poliomyelitis. Many people infected with polio have no symptoms, and the infection has a high recovery rate. However both polio and Covid-19 are potentially lethal for some and can cause significant ongoing health problems for many.

I remember sitting in my garden on that first Thursday in the British Isles where, with the lock down in place, there was a solidarity action called ‘clap for our carers’. That was the evening that I decided to do some magic in response to Covid-19. Using a significant dose of psychedelic medicine I made my way into the Web of Wyrd, trying to follow the patterns of the universe into the narrative of the pandemic. I found a brilliant bright light that was both the spirit of the virus and the lightning fast calculations of the computing systems, such as Summit, which were being used to sequence the virus genome. As a police helicopter hovered over the town and applause rose from each garden, the dystopian strangeness of ‘clapping for our carers’ was not lost on me. At that time a magical colleague was stepping much closer to the virus than I. They wore the Hearty Sigil, designed by a magician in North America, as a protective talisman as they nursed Covid patients in the first wave of the illness.

Some two years on from all of this, and thousands of miles away from the origin point, I find myself meeting the direct descendants of the viruses that caused those first reported cases. Shivering, coughing, sniffing and with a splitting headache which nothing in the way of non-dissociative pain relief seems to touch. For three days the symptoms are significant and then begin to slowly abate. A further 10 days on and my lateral flow test is negative. I am in the privileged position of being able to pause all my appointments and focus on the work of convalescence. I can feel that the illness has taken the energy out of me, but as I write, some three weeks after the infection began, my appetite and energy levels are returning to normal. The warm sunshine in my garden helped, as did my lovely and less affected partner who was able to arrange deliveries of tasty food from local supermarkets, and the many kind get well messages.

Quite a lot of the practice that I do is focused around interoception. This is the ability to feel the internal processes of the body. Training interoception is useful when it comes not only to knowing what’s happening within our physical form but also what’s going on in our social and wider ecological context. People who are good at interoception are better informed when they make choices by making use of their ‘gut instinct’. A high degree of interoceptive awareness (which can be measured using a variety of techniques) can be observed in people such as hostage negotiators. In the contexts of complex, fast moving situations the excellent negotiator is using not only data gathered through spoken or written language but is also listening to the deep body ( or ‘unconscious’) knowledge of what is going on. The psychedelic experience of course is a great example of a powerful interoceptive experience, where the changes of chemistry in the body resolve themselves into a range of perceivable mental phenomena. (Of course there is no real dividing line between mind and body; the distinction between the two is an unfortunate artefact of current language). Illness is another opportunity to focus our attention in an interoceptive manner. Pain and discomfort are interoceptive experiences that call us to action; to address infection, decay or injury . A interoceptive metaphor provided by a friend about Covid echoed my experience; they said it felt as if the virus was moving round the body like a burglar, trying the windows and doors, figuring out where the least well guarded points of entry were to be found. This impression of the virus makes sense when it comes to the wide range of signs and symptoms that it seem able to provoke. Whether directly as a result of the virus, or the subsequent cascade of inflammatory processes that it precipitates, Covid has effects that range from mental confusion through to inflammation in the muscular-skeletal system. Covid isn’t ‘just ‘flu‘.

For me the journey of Covid convalescence has been relatively easy. As I recovered I’ve been able to enjoy books, music and film. (I’ve particularly enjoyed the charming and intelligent travel documentaries of Rick Steves and the excellent A Brief History of Nakedness by Philp Carr-Gomm). Covid has been a good reminder of my own mortality and therefore the need to get on with those major projects I want to complete over the next few years. It’s been a reminder of the fact that I need to spend time gently cultivating my wellbeing and of the importance of making time to nourish, replenish, rest and review my life.

The naked magician

Friends have died from Covid and still others have found that this illness has hit them very hard. A few friends, disturbed by the pandemic, have taken refuge in understanding this outbreak in ways that make little sense to me. These are strange days, and while the story is globally shared the individual ways we meet it and try to make sense of it are endlessly diverse.

It’s easy to think of Covid as an invading enemy and in some sense, as it stalks the structures of the body looking for weakness, that is an accurate and useful way of understanding what is going on. But for the magician it is also important to discover how the lead of disease might be transmuted into the gold of renewed health, of expanded compassion for ourselves and others, and into insight.

Covid-19 has given me a renewed appreciation of the importance of interoception; of being sensitive to the foods, rest, exercise and other practices that I felt were helping me through this journey. The experience of being properly ill reminded me of my childhood, of those dreamy off-school days with chicken soup, of strange daytime TV and wearing pyjamas all day long while speckled with chickenpox. Having rarely had any major infections since those days Covid helped me slip into that nostalgic space and, acting much like a psychedelic experience, moments of long-lost memory would come drifting into awareness. In this way the experience of Covid was a re-collection of myself, a chance for re-connection and regeneration.

Stepping back from my own experience to a wider perspective, I’m reminded of the previous pandemic; the emergence of HIV in the late 20th century. In those days groups of magicians cast their spells in the hope of witnessing reductions in the fatalities from the virus and towards the development of new medicines to combat it. Decades later, HIV is much better understood, much easier to treat and those treatments are much more accessible for many who become infected. HIV, like Covid, caused much suffering. It also helped open up honest conversations about sexuality and drug use. Covid likewise has and will continue to be a source of pain for many and at the moment perhaps it’s hard to see much good that has come from this most recent pandemic. But rest assured that there is gold to be found even in the most unprepossessing of lead if we can listen to our bodies; the personal body, the body of culture and biosphere as a whole. There is a teaching in this virus for all of us; as its effects reveal those points of weakness that need attention, the enemy may serve as an ally.

Julian Vayne


Coming Up Next…

The next few months includes a packed program of events I’m presenting or hosting at Treadwell’s Books of London. There are online workshops and magical conversations in which you can take part in live or join later with a delayed viewing ticket. There’s also two in-person workshops in the program too! I’m really looking forward to being physically back at Treadwell’s and hope to see you in the store or online, soon!

The Magick of Aleister Crowley – Workshop 12 May, 19:00 – 21:00 online

Lon Milo DuQuette Thelema, Qabalah and Thoth – A Magical Conversation with Julian Vayne 19 May, 19:00 – 20:30 BST online

Damh The Bard – A Magical Conversation with Julian Vayne 24 May, 19:00 – 20:30 BST online

The Magical Qabalah Introduced – Workshop 26 May, 19:00 – 21:00 BST online

Psychedelic Magic – In-person Workshop 18 Jun, 11:00 – 17:00 at Treadwell’s Books, 33 Store St, London WC1E 7BS, UK

Meeting Baphomet – In-person Workshop 19 Jun, 11:00 – 17:00 at Treadwell’s Books, 33 Store St, London WC1E 7BS, UK

Mentoring – I work with a wide variety of people, from those who are newly exploring magic, experienced practitioners who want an ally to support their process, people working in the field of psychedelic therapy and those seeking integration of psychedelic experience. Some people I work with I see weekly, some for a defined period or time, and others check in occasionally when it feels right. If you’d like to explore the possibility of working together please send an email to contactdeepmagic@gmail.com

I also provide tarot readings, usually of 1 hour long, using either the Thoth or Smith-Waite decks. Please drop me an email if you’d like to discuss a consultation.

Don’t forget you can sign up to my mailing list to find out about retreats and other projects first.

Wishing you well 🙏

The Meaning of Witchcraft

Around two decades ago I moved from Brighton on the south coast of England to rural North Devon. I recall searching online in an effort to learn about the place where I’d decided to raise my family and put down roots. Through this research I discovered the tale of the ‘Bideford witches’. Their story, the tale of the last people of England to be executed for the crime of witchcraft, haunted me. The trial of 1682, in common with many others, was the result of a perfect storm of factors and, like most witch trials of the early modern period, was far from a rural mob lynching. Rather, the Bideford witch trial unfolds at a time when our modern society is beginning to take shape, one in which both the inception and execution of the witch-hunt are led by the then cultural elites. 

Soon after my arrival in North Devon I was among a group of occultists who performed a ritual in memory of those three executed women; Mary Trembles, Susannah Edwards and Temperance Lloyd. We processed through the town on a rainy day, laying flowers at places these ladies would have known; the steep lane in which the Devil was said to have appeared to one of them, and the medieval bridge which spans the turbulent river Torridge. Our ceremony is documented in my book Magick Works. The observant reader will notice that the cover of the book shows a red rose of the type we offered. The artwork also includes the seals of the Pomba Gira spirits, beings often associated with the outcast, the dispossessed and with ‘fallen’ women. One material result of this ritual was the painting that adorns my living room by Greg Humphries entitled ‘Southwestern Arrow’ also known as ‘Truth and Reconciliation’.

Many years later I found myself working alongside colleagues in the local museum installing a display about the Bideford trial. Our installation was opened to coincide with the publication of a new book The Last Witches of England: A tragedy of Sorcery and Superstition by John Callow of the University of Suffolk. At the end of this page there is a link to the interview I filmed with John on the occasion of his book launch at The Burton Art Gallery and Museum. I was pleased to assist John with his research and honoured to see a quote from Magick Works in a chapter where he discusses the legacy of the trial. The Last Witches of England is both an engaging page-turner of a read, as well as a landmark text in the study of the Bideford case and its wider implications.

Pondering an orb at The Burton Art Gallery & Museum with curator Nicole Hickin and author John Callow

The word ‘witch’ has a multiplicity of meanings, many of which are elegantly defined in Ronald Hutton’s masterfully and wide ranging book The Witch: A History of Fear from Ancient Times to the Present. As Ronald explains, for the vast majority of its history ‘witch’ meant a person who deployed malicious magic. This evil supernatural power might be enacted through the agency of the animal-shaped familiar spirits of English witch trials. Alternatively, on the European mainland, witches were believed to cast malevolent spells as agents of an underground satanic conspiracy, which met at blasphemous sabbats to plot the overthrow of the Christian State.

The narratives behind witch-hunting, such as who gets accused of being a witch, vary across time and culture. That’s the reason the Bideford museum installation includes a black mirror, beneath which visitors may read the following:

Black mirror
Black mirrors, crystal balls and other reflective surfaces are traditionally used for ‘scrying’; the practice of looking into an object in the hope of detecting significant messages or visions.
In many places witches are imagined as older women. However, in other locations people persecuted as witches may be predominantly male (Russia and Iceland), red-haired (medieval Europe), LGBTQ+ (Tanzania), albino (Southern Africa), or children (Nigeria).
Sometimes wealthy people are accused of being witches, more commonly the poor are singled out.
Our reflection in the black mirror might remind us that potentially anyone could be accused of being a dangerous witch.
Even you.

Black Mirror

The black mirror on the case was actually manufactured by a witch, but a witch in the modern sense of the word. Levannah Morgan is one of the most well-respected members of the witchcraft community in Britain. The depth of her practice is beautifully conveyed in her book A Witch’s Mirror: The Craft of Magic released by Nikki Wyrd’s publishing house The Universe Machine. This much sought after text, out of print since the first edition of 2013, will be a valuable addition to the library of experienced and aspiring witches alike. The new edition contains glorious full colour photographs of the magical objects that Levannah creates and an invitation for readers to discover their own creative approach to magic..

This modern conception of witchcraft is very different from its previous malign meanings. Levannah Morgan writes:

What is witchcraft? Witchcraft is worshipping the Old
Gods on a moonlit night, on a high tor on Dartmoor. Witchcraft
is tying nine knots in a red thread. Witchcraft is walking in the
spirit world. Witchcraft is catching the moon in a mirror.
Witchcraft is collecting rowan berries. Witchcraft is living with
familiar spirits. Witchcraft is making a circle of holed stones.
Witchcraft is dancing with the Horned God. Witchcraft is
sitting on a deserted beach as the tides ebb and flow. Witchcraft
is the oldest thing there is. Witchcraft is all of these things and
much more.

While the meaning of ‘witchcraft’ varies across time and culture, there are undoubtedly points of contact between the notion of witchcraft understood as malefica and witchcraft in the modern Pagan sense. One of these is the feminine or female quality of witchcraft; with women being understood, particularly in early modern European cultures, as inherently sinful; tainted with unruly wildness and sexuality, and therefore to be commonly excluded from religious office and temporal power. In contrast, modern forms of neopagan witchcraft often celebrate the dark, the mysterious, the feminine, and accordingly depict the sacred as a Goddess and in those circles women often take a leading role.

Another relationship is perhaps a sense of solidarity felt by modern witches for victims of ancient, historic and indeed modern witchcraft persecutions. The social processes whereby unfounded accusations, whether of impoverished, abandoned women (as in the Bideford case) or of modern Pagans (as in ‘Satanic Panic’ phenomena) in both cases can lead to exclusion, scapegoating and to violence.

These days, whilst witch-hunts may be framed in language other than of the Biblical injunction ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’, an identical process of false allegations and cultural othering is played out again and again. Certainly we need systems, services and cultures in place where actual harms can be disclosed, where people can be safeguarded and appropriate action taken, but we need also be mindful of the witch-hunting pattern, whatever new vocabulary it comes clothed in.

While witch-hunting seems common to many cultures (though by no means all, as Ronald Hutton’s book explores) there are are ways in which we might mitigate this behaviour. We might, for instance, insist on the requirement for verifiable evidence rather than relying only on hear-say or, as in the Salem trials, ‘spectral evidence’. (As an example of the importance of evidence in the legal process check out this early article on this blog to discover how this requirement changed the course of the witch-hunts in 17th century Spain.)

A second strategy is to consider the possibility that the vociferous accuser may be mentally unwell, deluded, or simply a bully attempting to bolster their social significance within society, often at the expense of a minority community. (Making false allegations against marginalised groups, and occasionally elites, is a common social process. The conflation of Jews with witches in early modern Europe is one example of this.)

A third, also important in relation to the Basque witch trials, is that it helps to involve someone from outside a community to evaluate what’s going on. (The relative absence of a functioning judiciary during the English Civil War was what gave Matthew Hopkins the opportunity to find and execute witches for money).

And perhaps one of the most important points; to realise that just because someone in authority asserts the reality of (malefic) witchcraft, or the ‘scientifically demonstrable’ sub-human nature of Jews or homosexuals, the inherent criminality of refugees, or whatever, that doesn’t mean they’re right. It’s wise to remember that cultural othering and dehumanization is just as likely to develop top down as bottom up, and that when it emerges from cultural elites that dehumanization can include legal and sometimes lethal force. (History is full of examples and pretty much every war between nations is dependant on the process of dehumanizing the enemy.)

There is perhaps no single strategy that might stop us from dehumanizing people and vilifying, imprisoning or even murdering ‘witches’ but certain measures – insisting on verifiable evidence, considering the intentions behind allegations, inviting impartial observers to be present, and being prepared to challenge authority – all play a role in putting the brakes on cultural othering. However, these strategies only work if we can also deeply remember our shared humanity, even with those whom we might perceive as ‘bad people’, and to cultivate our compassion and kindness. Perhaps if we can do this we might see the realisation of the aspiration engraved on a stone plaque in Exeter dedicated to the memory of those three Bideford women: ‘In the hope of an end to persecution & intolerance’.

Julian Vayne