From: joedees@bellsouth.net
Date: Sun Jul 28 2002 - 21:56:30 MDT
                   Wicca, Esotericism and Living 
                     Nature: Assessing Wicca as 
                          Nature Religion
                           by Jo Pearson
                         The Open University
           This article was first presented as a paper at the recent 
               International Association for the History of Religion 
               (IAHR) XVIII Quinquennial Congress, held in Durban in 
              August 2000. The theme of the congress was 'History of 
                                   Religions: Origins and Visions'. 
          For the first time, the IAHR congress included a series of 
                                                        sessions on 
                  Nature Religion, organised by Bron Taylor and also 
                                                including papers by 
                 Graham Harvey, Tim Jensen, Bron Taylor, and Michael 
                                                                York.
                              ABSTRACT
        'Living Nature', whereby "Nature is seen, known, and 
      experienced as essentially alive in all its parts, often 
         inhabited and traversed by a light or hidden fire 
      circulating through it", is one of the four fundamental 
         characteristics of the Western Esoteric Tradition 
      identified by Antoine Faivre (1994:11), and delineates a 
        certain Hermetic view of the world. In this paper we 
           consider Alexandrian and Gardnerian Wicca (as 
       practiced in the UK) as a current manifestation of the 
       Western Esoteric Tradition, outlining Wicca's magical 
      heritage and indicating the affinities between Wicca and 
      esotericism. We then proceed to an investigation of the 
        application of central esoteric doctrines concerning 
       nature in contemporary Wicca, in order to assess Wicca 
                         as nature religion.
    During the 1970s, environmentalism itself 
    became a kind of religion, significant in that 
    it points, according to Seyyed Nasr, 'to the 
    need in the souls of human beings for the 
    religious understanding of nature eclipsed in 
    the West by modern science and neglected 
    until quite recently by the mainstream 
    religions' (1996: 194-5). This turning of 
    environmentalism into religion has affected 
    not only traditional religions but also the 
    development of Wicca and Paganism, and 
    so-called 'nature religions'. 'Nature Religion' 
    is a relatively recent academic construct 
    under which a variety of religions have been 
    grouped including, for example, Paganism, 
    eco-spirituality, and indigenous religions. It 
    is also popular with Wiccans --103 out of 
    the 120 (86%) Wiccans represented in my 
    1995 survey told me that they regarded their 
    religion as 'nature religion'.
    
    Yet at present, 'nature religion' is a contested 
    designation, and is, like Wicca and 
    Paganism, an emerging field of study. The 
    current academic use of the term 'nature 
    religion' stems most often from Catherine 
    Albanese's usage in her book Nature 
    Religion in America (1990), in which nature 
    religion is defined as beliefs, behaviours and 
    values which make nature a 'symbolic 
    centre'. Whilst recognising the value of the 
    construct in bringing to light the diversity of 
    religious practices which do take nature as a 
    symbolic referent, Albanese's term has been 
    criticised as too broad to be of practical use. 
    Bron Taylor suggests instead that we use 
    phrases such as 'the natural dimension of 
    religion', or 'nature influenced religion' to 
    distinguish those religions which see nature 
    as important but not sacred, and keep 'nature 
    religion' exclusively for reference to 
    religions which regard nature as sacred.
    
    But what exactly do we mean by this 
    phrase, 'nature as sacred'? What is 'nature as 
    symbolic centre'? The questions so far seem 
    to miss a whole dimension of the religious 
    understanding of nature, and to dismiss the 
    difference in perception between nature 
    (small 'n') and Nature (capitalised); or, as 
    Seyyed Nasr would have it, fail to grasp that 
    'nexus between the order of nature as 
    ordinarily understood and the Divine 
    Nature, Infinite and Eternal, that 
    encompasses the order of nature and is yet 
    ubiquitous at every point of cosmic 
    manifestation' (1996: 104).
    
    Wiccans do regard nature as sacred, as we 
    shall see later in this paper. However, their 
    response to nature is often confused, 
    revealing both intimacy and distance as they 
    shape nature with the Wheel of the Year, 
    sacred circles and ritual to suit their own 
    needs for relationship with the earth. The 
    nature/culture duality thus persists in nature 
    religion, reflecting a turn to nature as a 
    source of revitalisation, attempting to re-
    engage with a nature from which 
    participants feel estranged, to re-enchant the 
    natural world which has been exploited and 
    dominated. Since Wicca is not a salvation 
    religion, it does not reject the world or the 
    everyday reality of living in the world, but 
    seeks rather to enhance life on earth. Earthly 
    existence is not regarded as fundamentally 
    sinful or binding, with a need for salvation 
    or escape. But how much one takes this as a 
    need to defend and protect the earth is open 
    to question.
    
    Whilst Wicca claims an almost primordial 
    relationship with nature and markets itself 
    as 'green religion', the disjunction between 
    sign and signified remains very real. Nature, 
    as Nasr reminds us, 'is not only a symbol of 
    spiritual realities but is those realities not by 
    a reduction of the spiritual essences to 
    material forms but by an inner identity 
    among those who share the primordial 
    perspective between the symbol and the 
    symbolized. Hence, in such worlds nature 
    herself is the supreme cathedral. Her order is 
    the Divine Order and her laws divine laws 
    without there being in any sense a 
    naturalism or animism in the pejorative 
    sense of those terms ' (1996: 21). Do 
    Wiccan attitudes and practices concerning 
    Nature, then, reflect this perspective, a 
    perspective reflected in esoteric influences 
    or, as Wouter Hanegraaff has suggested 
    with reference to the New Age, does Wicca 
    'produce merely shallow caricatures of 
    profound teachings'? (1998: 31).
    The Categorisation of Wicca
    
    As a brief aside, it might be worth touching 
    on the ways in which Wicca is categorised 
    at this point in the paper. Wicca occupies a 
    somewhat ambiguous position vis à vis 
    contemporary religiosity, yet it has appeared 
    to be easily assimilable to the so-called 
    'sociology of the occult', the New Age 
    Movement, and NRMs, as well as new 
    designations such as 'revived religion' and 
    'nature religion', which may in time prove to 
    be more applicable as terms of 
    categorisation. There are forms of witchcraft 
    which claim to predate the emergence of 
    Wicca in England, most notably Traditional 
    and Hereditary witchcraft. However, since 
    there is no evidence to support these claims, 
    we follow Ronald Hutton's assertion that 
    Wicca is the classic, earliest known form of 
    modern witchcraft (Hutton 1999). 
    Concentrating on the combined 
    Alexandrian/Gardnerian version of Wicca as 
    it has emerged in the UK in the 1990s, I 
    have assessed Wicca as a form of esoteric 
    spirituality, which I regard as an appropriate 
    category for this specific type. In particular, 
    I engaged with the field of western 
    esotericism as delineated by Antoine Faivre 
    and, following him, Wouter Hanegraaff. It 
    is as a means of taking this research further 
    that this paper seeks to question the 
    application of esoteric doctrines on nature 
    within this specific branch of Wicca.
    Academic Understandings of Esotericism
    
    Antoine Faivre, the foremost scholar in the 
    field of western esotericism, defines 
    esotericism as a form of thought expressed 
    through exemplifying currents, rather than a 
    specific genre (1994: 4). Faivre identifies 
    six components of esotericism, which he has 
    identified from the corpus of writings 
    attributed to Hermes Trismegistus: 
    correspondences, living nature, imagination 
    and meditations, experience of 
    transmutation, the praxis of concordance, 
    and transmission (ibid.: 10-15). Of these, 
    the first four are essential to a definition of a 
    tradition as esoteric whilst the latter two 
    Faivre considers to be 'relative' elements, 
    frequently occurring in combination with 
    the four fundamental characteristics but 
    unnecessary to the categorisation of a 
    practice as esoteric (1994: 14). Due to the 
    constraints of time, this paper will engage 
    only with the four fundamental 
    characteristics, which contain esoteric 
    doctrines concerning nature. Indeed, we 
    should remember that the division of these 
    characteristics into four is artificial, merely 
    an academic device; rather, they need to be 
    read as one.
    
    Real and symbolic correspondences are 
    believed to exist throughout all parts of the 
    universe, both visible and invisible: '[t]hese 
    correspondences, considered more or less 
    veiled at first sight, are intended to be read 
    and deciphered. The entire universe is a 
    huge theater [sic] of mirrors, an ensemble of 
    hieroglyphs to be decoded. Everything is a 
    sign; everything conceals and exudes 
    mystery; every object hides a secret' (Faivre 
    1994: 10). The fifth characteristic, the 
    praxis of the concordance, is understood as 
    a 'consistent tendency to try to establish 
    common denominators between two 
    different traditions or even more, among all 
    traditions, in the hope of obtaining an 
    illumination, a gnosis, of superior quality' 
    (Faivre 1994: 14). This characteristic is 
    taken to its extreme in the discourse of the 
    perennialists who postulate the existence of 
    a primordial tradition which overarches all 
    other religious or esoteric traditions of 
    humanity. This philosophia perennis 
    became the 'Tradition', constituted by a 
    chain of mythical or historical 
    representatives including Moses, Zoroaster, 
    Hermes Trimegistus, Orpheus, the Sibyls, 
    Pythagoras and Plato. The sixth 
    characteristic is transmission, which refers 
    to the possibility or necessity of teaching 
    being transmitted from master to disciple 
    following a pre-established channel. 
    Inherent in this characteristic is the 
    insistence that 'a person cannot initiate 
    himself any way he chooses but must go 
    through the hands of an initiator', and that 
    both the initiator and the initiate must be 
    attached to an authentic tradition (Faivre 
    1994: 14-15). But, Faivre warns, the 
    presence of correspondences alone does not 
    necessarily indicate esotericism, for 
    doctrines of correspondence can be found in 
    many philosophical and religious currents.
    
    The notion of correspondences was also, of 
    course, popular in fin de siècle writings, for 
    example, Baudelaire's sonnet, 
    'Correspondences' which, 'reassigns to the 
    poet his ancient role of vates, of soothsayer, 
    who by his intuition of the concrete, of 
    immediately perceived things, is led to the 
    idea of these things, to the intricate system 
    of "correspondences"' (Fowlie 1990: 29). 
    Freeman (1999: 139) points out that Arthur 
    Symons, in London: A Book of Aspects 
    (1909), works along similar lines, 'picking 
    his way through what Baudelaire termed 
    'des forêts de symboles' in order to perceive 
    deeper truths'. In accordance with the theory 
    of correspondences, the cosmos is regarded 
    as complex, plural and hierarchical, and 
    nature, or living nature, thus occupies an 
    essential place within it: 'Nature is seen, 
    known, and experienced as essentially alive 
    in all its parts, often inhabited and traversed 
    by a light or hidden fire circulating through 
    it' (ibid.: 11). This spiritual force permeating 
    nature is exemplified in the Renaissance 
    understanding of magia naturalis, a 
    'complex notion at the crossroads of magic 
    and science' by which both knowledge of 
    the networks of sympathies and antipathies 
    that link the things of Nature and the 
    concrete operation of this knowledge is 
    indicated.
    
    It is the imaginative faculty in humans that 
    allows the use of intermediaries such as 
    symbols and images 'to develop a gnosis, to 
    penetrate the hieroglyphs of Nature, to put 
    the theory of correspondences into active 
    practice and to uncover, to see, and to know 
    the mediating entities between Nature and 
    the divine world' (ibid.: 12). The 
    imagination is therefore regarded as far 
    more than mere fantasy-it is the 'organ of 
    the soul, thanks to which humanity can 
    establish a cognitive and visionary 
    relationship with an intermediary world', 
    what Henry Corbin called the mundus 
    imaginalis. The eventual consequence of 
    working with the first three characteristics is 
    the experience of transmutation. The 
    alchemical term 'transmutation' is used to 
    define the initiatory path of development by 
    which 'the esotericist gains insight into the 
    hidden mysteries of cosmos, self and God' 
    (Hanegraaff 1995: 112). As transmutation 
    implies a change in the very substance of a 
    thing or person (As opposed to mere 
    'transformation', which implies a change 
    more or less limited to outward appearance), 
    there is, according to Faivre, no separation 
    between knowledge (gnosis) and inner 
    experience, or between intellectual activity 
    and active imagination (1994: 13).
    The Importance of Historical Continuity
    
    The six characteristics, according to Faivre, 
    are not doctrinal but serve rather as 
    receptacles into which various types of 
    experiences are distributed. Although the six 
    components can be positioned unequally, 
    the first four must all be simultaneously 
    present in order for something to be 
    considered esoteric. Yet this alone is not 
    enough. According to Hanegraaff (1995: 
    121), it is also crucial that we demonstrate 
    how the original contents and associations 
    of esotericism that originated in the 
    Renaissance are reinterpreted. Following 
    and developing Faivre's work, Hanegraaff 
    defines an esoteric tradition as an 'historical 
    continuity in which individuals and/or 
    groups are demonstrably influenced in their 
    life and thinking by the esoteric ideas 
    formulated earlier, which they use and 
    develop according to the specific demands 
    and cultural context of their own period' 
    (1995: 118). Hanegraaff outlines the 
    historical perspective of esotericism as a 
    'container concept encompassing a complex 
    of interrelated currents and traditions from 
    the early modern period up to the present 
    day, the historical origin and foundation of 
    which lies in the syncretistic phenomenon of 
    Renaissance hermeticism' (1999: 4). He 
    goes on to trace this esotericism through the 
    later developments of alchemy, 
    Paracelsianism, Rosicrucianism, kabbalah, 
    Theosophical and Illuminist currents, and 
    'various occultist and related developments 
    during the 19th and 20th century' (ibid.: 4) 
    many of which, I have argued, are the direct 
    precursors of Wicca. So how has 
    contemporary Wicca, after Hanegraaff 
    (1995: 118), used and developed the esoteric 
    ideas formulated earlier according to the 
    specific demands and cultural context of 
    their own period? And how did Wicca come 
    to be regarded as Nature Religion in the first 
    place?
    How did Wicca come to be regarded 
    as Nature Religion?
    
    Perhaps the most obvious answer to this 
    question lies in Wicca's associations with 
    contemporary Paganism. 'Pagan' has often 
    been taken to refer to 'country-dweller', an 
    interpretation which seems to have 
    developed mainly with the Romantic 
    literature of the 19th century and Victorian 
    urban growth. However, as Robin Lane Fox 
    and Pierre Chuvin have pointed out, most 
    town-dwellers were in fact pagan at the time 
    the term 'pagan' was coined. Thabit ibn 
    Qurra, a Sabian from Harran (835-901CE) 
    praised ancient paganism to the Caliph of 
    Baghdad with the following words, which 
    clearly have nothing to do with a rustic 
    existence:
    Who else have civilised the world, and built 
    the cities, if not the nobles and kings of 
    Paganism? They have filled the earth with 
    settled forms of government, and with 
    wisdom, which is the highest good. Without 
    Paganism the world would be empty and 
    miserable (Scott 1985: 105).
    Furthermore, Freeman (1999: 11) stresses 
    that 'the majority of major Victorian poets 
    and artists confronted the modern city with 
    a marked lack of enthusiasm-it was a filthy 
    and dehumanising environment and poor 
    soil for their sensitive plants'. He cites 
    Browning's willingness to provide 
    representations of Renaissance urbanisation 
    whilst largely avoiding the Victorian 
    conurbation, and the artistic radicals of the 
    1860s (such as Swinburne, Rossetti and 
    William Morris) who forsook their own time 
    for a largely imaginary past.
    
    According to the Census of 1851, the 
    English urban population outnumbered the 
    rural for the first time. Between 1821 and 
    1841, the population of London rose by 
    20%, Manchester, Leeds and Sheffield 
    increased by 40%, while Bradford rose by 
    an incredible 65% (Williams 1975: 188). As 
    Nick Freeman has pointed out, 'no London 
    memoirist from the Victorian period (or 
    indeed, ever since) can resist lamenting the 
    disappearance of the 'countryside' in and 
    around the city' (1999: 13). The growing 
    interest in the environment, and the urge to 
    leave behind the towns and cities and enter 
    once more into communion with 'nature' as 
    'the countryside' encouraged popular usage 
    of the term 'pagan' as one who dwells in the 
    rustic areas. Ronald Hutton, overstating the 
    case somewhat, suggests that the growth of 
    urban areas during the Victorian era caused 
    'an almost hysterical celebration of rural 
    England' from the 1870s onwards. Pan as 
    great god of nature became one of the most 
    prevalent ancient images to be drawn upon. 
    We might cite as examples Arthur Machen's 
    1894 novel The Great God Pan, and Saki's 
    The Music on the Hill (1911), both of which 
    feature Pan as a central figure, whilst 
    Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the 
    Willows (1907), and J. M. Barrie's Peter 
    Pan made Pan accessible to children.
    Russell (1990: 137) interprets Pan, god of 
    wild nature, as a deliberately chosen symbol 
    of opposition to Christianity among 
    occultists, due to Christian associations of 
    Pan's characteristics (cloven hooves, horns) 
    with their image of the Devil. Certainly this 
    is true of the infamous Aleister Crowley, 
    whose Hymn to Pan provoked storms of 
    outrage when it was read out at his funeral 
    in 1947. At the same time, enthusiasm for 
    Gaia as Mother Nature and Mother Earth 
    was such that by 1900, 'the poetic vision of 
    the English, when contemplating the rural 
    world, was dominated as never before by 
    the great goddess and the horned god' 
    (Hutton 1996: 9), and the great goddess 
    (Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter) and 
    the horned god (Herne, Pan, Cernunnos) 
    have remained deities of central importance 
    within today's Wicca and Paganism.
    
    That there is little evidence for the kind of 
    mass appeal Hutton describes does not 
    detract from the engagement of poets and 
    authors with the country/city opposition, and 
    this certainly influenced the development of 
    Wicca. However, we should not forget that 
    it is the very growth of the city which 
    accounts for what is primarily urban Wicca, 
    at the same time as it provides a focus for 
    discontent and an opposition to idealised 
    nature. We can see in Wicca a nostalgia for 
    something never known, and might do well 
    to question the role of imaginative fiction in 
    turning people on to nature. In an urbanised 
    life, does Tolkein's description of the woods 
    of Lothlórien in The Fellowship of the Ring 
    (1954), for instance, provide a more real 
    experience of the magic of a woodland than 
    a walk in the real woods? It is, I think, a 
    valid question but not one I intend to answer 
    at the present time.
    
    In terms of recent decades, Vivianne 
    Crowley has outlined a change in emphasis 
    within Wicca from nature veneration to 
    nature preservation in her chapter 'Wicca as 
    Nature Religion' in Nature Religion Today. 
    Crowley asserts the centrality of the 
    veneration of nature, which is 'considered to 
    be ensouled, alive, 'divine' The divine [being 
    seen] as a 'force' or 'energy' and as manifest 
    in the world of nature' (1998: 170). She 
    further points out that the processes of 
    nature-'conception, birth, mating, 
    parenthood, maturation, death'-are portrayed 
    in the seasonal myth cycle known as the 
    Wheel of the Year; thus, '[t]hemes and 
    symbols drawn from nature are central to 
    Wiccan belief and practice' (ibid.: 170).
    
    Initially, we are told, Gardner's Wicca was 
    described as a fertility cult rather than as 
    'nature religion' but, as the opening 
    declamation of this paper shows, direct links 
    existed between the Wiccan perception of 
    the goddess and the world of nature. The 
    late Doreen Valiente, Gardner's one-time 
    High Priestess and collaborator, pointed out 
    that Wicca is concerned, not so much with 
    literal fertility as with vitality, and with 
    finding one's harmony with Nature. 'What 
    witches seek for in celebrating these 
    seasonal festivals is a sense of oneness with 
    Nature ... People today need this because 
    they are aware of the tendency of modern 
    life to cut them off from their kinship with 
    the world of living Nature ... They want to 
    get back to Nature, and be human beings 
    again' (in Crowley 1998: 173-5).
    
    This cutting off from nature as a part of 
    modern life has certainly had its part to play 
    in attracting people to Wicca in the last 30 
    years, largely as a result of environmental 
    awareness. 'A nature religion implies a 
    nature to worship', claims Crowley, and 'in 
    the 1970s environmental pollution became 
    the rallying cause. Nature was on the 
    agenda' (1998: 176). With this influx of 
    environmentally aware people, the ethos of 
    Wicca began to evolve from nature 
    veneration to nature preservation: 'Wicca 
    had moved out of the darkness, the occult 
    world of witchery, to occupy the moral high 
    ground-environmentalism' (ibid: 177).
    
    But going behind environmentalism, back to 
    this need to feel again that contact with 
    nature which, according to Valiente, makes 
    us 'human beings', how does Wicca interact 
    with nature? Both Crowley and Valiente 
    point to the most obvious interaction, that of 
    ritual, and particularly those rituals which 
    make up the mythic cycle of the Wheel of 
    the Year. Certainly, the Wheel of the Year 
    with its eight sabbats reflects the turning 
    cycle of nature, but to what extent does the 
    Wheel turn the seasons instead of the 
    seasons turning the Wheel? There are some 
    Wiccans who celebrate Imbolc, for example, 
    only once the first snowdrops have 
    appeared; but chaotic nature has her own 
    timing, and is not regarded as conducive to 
    modern life and its responsibilities. The 
    practicalities of getting a group of people 
    together thus takes precedence over nature's 
    timing of the seasons, and in order to 
    facilitate Wicca a grid of external 
    references-the eight-spoked Wheel of the 
    Year-is dropped onto nature. Thus, Wicca 
    imposes correspondences rather than 
    allowing correspondences to emerge from 
    living nature and then reading them back 
    into it, and these correspondences become 
    merely standardised lists, memorised 
    information rather than any true gnosis 
    gleaned from the hieroglyphs of nature 
    through imagination and meditation.
    
    Such formalisation may provide a means to 
    increased intimacy with nature for some 
    practitioners, but it surely operates as a 
    distancing mechanism for many others, and 
    it certainly removes from Wicca the 
    influence of its esoteric heritage. If 
    figurative language and ritual are used 
    always to point to something beyond human 
    experience-if a walk in the woods always 
    necessitates a glimpse of dryads and 
    nymphs, if rituals always necessitate a 
    yearning towards the divine-does this then 
    risk removing the awe and wonder from 
    nature herself? The Wiccan circle, it is 
    claimed, exists as a space 'between the 
    worlds', between the divine realm and the 
    human. An over-emphasis on that which lies 
    beyond, that which is above, i.e. the divine, 
    may therefore miss the means by which that 
    beyond might be approached, decoded, and 
    known (in the sense of gnosis), i.e. through 
    nature, through that which is below. Too 
    much 'heaven' and not enough 'earth' 
    encompasses far more than a superficial 
    response to the environmental crises 
    affecting both us and nature. As Nasr goes 
    to some lengths to point out:
    There is need to rediscover those laws and 
    principles governing human ethics as well 
    as the cosmos, to bring out the 
    interconnectedness between man and nature 
    in the light of the Divine, an interaction not 
    based on sentimentality or even ethical 
    concern related to the realm of action 
    alone, but one founded upon a knowledge 
    whose forgetting has now brought human 
    beings to the edge of the precipice of 
    annihilation of both the natural order and 
    themselves (1996: 223).
    Activism, it seems, is not enough -- Wicca 
    needs to go deeper and have a knowledge 
    base of the natural order to which it so often 
    only pays lip service. So, to paraphrase 
    Hanegraaff's question posed earlier in this 
    paper, does Wicca produce merely a shallow 
    caricature of profound teachings? How is 
    living Nature actually manifest in Wiccan 
    understanding and practice?
    
    How does Nature manifest itself 
    in Wiccan understanding?
    
    The veneration of nature in Wicca, the 
    concern for the earth as deity, and the 
    pantheism of seeing the divine in all of 
    nature has led Wiccans to maintain an 
    attitude of reverence for the wild, untamed 
    countryside on the one hand, and of sadness 
    or revulsion at human estrangement from 
    this ideal, living in towns and cities away 
    from the land, on the other.
    
    For some Wiccans, veneration of nature and 
    identification as 'Wiccan' and/or 'Pagan' 
    manifests as a romantic attachment to the 
    countryside, a dream of living away from 
    the towns and nurturing a closer relationship 
    with nature. For a few, direct action against 
    the destruction of the environment-at road 
    protests, proposed building sites, 
    Manchester Airport's second runway, or 
    simply to protect an old tree-is the favoured 
    means of expressing their concern for nature 
    and their belief that nature is divine, 
    ensouled, or, at the very least, alive. Others, 
    however, see nature as all-inclusive, 
    regarding all that we do as 'natural' for we, 
    as humans, are also part of nature. However, 
    it remains a fact that most Pagans live in 
    urban areas, and very few depend directly 
    upon the land for their living: as Jeffrey 
    Russell (1991: 171) pointed out, 'most are 
    urban, as is usually true of those who love 
    nature (the farmers are too busy fighting it)'.
    
    Wiccan use of nature imagery appears to be 
    on a cosmological scale rather than located 
    in a particular environment. There appears 
    to be a resistance to putting boundaries 
    around nature, yet at the same time British 
    Wiccans try to link themselves with the 
    energy of the land at quite a local level. 
    However, this only goes so far-few seem to 
    involve themselves with road protests and 
    other areas of environmental activism, and 
    Wicca is thus not heavily represented at 
    environmental protests. A Wiccan view was 
    expressed by a priestess in her early 30s, 
    who told me:
    I do resent the occasional implication that 
    unless you've spent time up a tree to protect 
    it, you are not a true Witch Craft is one 
    thing, eco-activism is another I do not think 
    they automatically go hand in hand 
    (Hweorfa, 15th October 1998).
    Dalua, a Norwegian Gardnerian/ 
    Alexandrian High Priest, told me (personal 
    comment, October 1998), 'I personally 
    prefer not to go as far as, for example, 
    Starhawk has done, making the Craft into 
    some sort of action group for political, 
    environmental or humanitarian purposes (in 
    most cases we have good choices outside of 
    the Craft)'. Environmentalism as a part of 
    Wiccan spirituality, then, is not high on the 
    agenda. It seems to be regarded as quite 
    distinct from religion.
    
    However, the portrayal of nature in Pagan 
    and Wiccan rituals is often nothing more 
    than imagery-of idealised nature, or of 
    cosmological nature. This romantic ideal on 
    the part of urban Wiccans has little in 
    common with the reality of living on the 
    land, where nature is anything but romantic. 
    The Pagan/Wiccan ideal of nature thus often 
    seems to stem from a genuine desire to be in 
    harmony with nature and, to an extent, to 
    preserve nature, whilst at the same time the 
    cosmology suggests that nature is but a 
    reflection of a greater divine reality. This is 
    in keeping with the Hermetic maxim 'As 
    above, so below', yet the impact of 
    environmental awareness and activism begs 
    the question as to whether Wiccan attitudes 
    towards nature are relevant to the esoteric 
    concept of 'living nature', or whether they 
    are merely a religious rendering of secular 
    concerns. In any case, the concept of 'nature' 
    is itself diffuse and fractured, and it may be 
    for this reason that Wiccan attitudes to 
    nature as sacred incorporates nature as the 
    universe/cosmos, nature as deity, and also 
    human as part of nature. The refusal to place 
    boundaries around a constructed 'nature' 
    necessarily leaves the observer with the 
    impression of a confused and ill thought-out 
    response to the natural world.
    Conclusion
    
    To return to the role of imaginative fiction 
    which I mentioned earlier, I would like to 
    read you a passage from a book called Lolly 
    Willowes, or The Loving Huntsman by 
    Sylvia Townsend-Warner, published in 
    1926. In this book, Lolly has moved to 
    Great Mop. She is a witch, not a Wiccan, 
    since Wicca per se did not exist at this time 
    (although Margaret Murray's book The 
    Witch Cult in Western Europe (1921) 
    certainly did, and Townsend- Warner may 
    well have read this). Lolly doesn't attend the 
    sabbats because they are not sophisticated 
    enough, they don't give her what she needs, 
    and instead she goes to the essence of 
    witchcraft which, for her, is nature. In this 
    passage, she has been joined in Great Mop 
    by her nephew, Titus. It is a rather long 
    passage, but I make no apologies for that: I 
    think the whole passage is relevant and 
    helps to illustrate the points I have made in 
    this paper.
    When they went for walks together he 
    would sometimes fall silent, turning his 
    head from side to side to browse the warm 
    scent of a clover field. Once, as they stood 
    on the ridge that guarded the valley from 
    the south-east, he said: 'I should like to 
    stroke it'-and he waved his hand towards 
    the pattern of rounded hills embossed with 
    rounded beech-woods. She felt a cold 
    shiver at his words, and turned away her 
    eyes from the landscape that she loved so 
    jealously. Titus could never have spoken so 
    if he had not loved it too. Love it as he 
    might, with all the deep Willowes love for 
    country sights and smells, love he never so 
    intimately and soberly, his love must be a 
    horror to her. It was different in kind from 
    hers. It was comfortable, it was portable, it 
    was a reasonable, appreciative appetite, a 
    possessive and masculine love. It almost 
    estranged her from Great Mop that he 
    should be able to love it so well, and 
    express his love so easily. He loved the 
    countryside as though it were a body.
    
    She had not loved it so. For days at a time 
    she had been unconscious of its outward 
    aspect, for long before she saw it she had 
    loved it and blessed it. With no earnest but 
    a name, a few lines and letters on a map, 
    and a spray of beech-leaves, she had trusted 
    the place and staked everything on her trust. 
    She had struggled to come, but there had 
    been no such struggle for Titus. It was as 
    easy for him to quit Bloomsbury for the 
    Chilterns as for a cat to jump from a hard 
    chair to a soft. Now, after a little scrabbling 
    and exploration,he was curled up in the 
    green lap and purring over the landscape. 
    The green lap was comfortable. He meant 
    to stay in it, for he knew where he was well 
    off. It was so comfortable that he could 
    afford to wax loving, praise its kindly 
    slopes, stretch out a discriminating paw and 
    pat it. But Great Mop was no more to him 
    than any other likable country lap. He liked 
    it because he was in possession. His 
    comfort apart, it was a place like any other 
    place.
    
    Laura hated him for daring to love it so. She 
    hated him for daring to love it at all. Most 
    of all she hated him for daring to impose 
    his kind of love on her. Since he had come 
    to Great Mop she had not been allowed to 
    love in her own way. Commenting, pointing 
    out, appreciating, Titus tweaked her senses 
    one after another as if they were so many 
    bell-ropes. He was a good judge of country 
    things; little escaped him, he understood the 
    points of a landscape as James his father 
    had understood the points of a horse. This 
    was not her way. She was ashamed at 
    paying the countryside these horse-coping 
    compliments. Day by day the spirit of the 
    place withdrew itself further from her. The 
    woods judged her by her company, and 
    hushed their talk as she passed by with 
    Titus. Silence heard them coming, and fled 
    out of the fields, the hills locked up their 
    thoughts, and became so many grassy 
    mounds to be walked up and walked down. 
    She was being boycotted, and she knew it. 
    Presently she would not know it anymore. 
    For her too, Great Mop would be a place 
    like any other place, a pastoral landscape 
    where an aunt walked out with her nephew. 
    (Townsend-Warner, [1926], 2000: 159-
    162).
    
    Now, I do not intend to suggest that there is 
    a male/female divide in responses to nature, 
    though for all I know that may be the case. 
    Neither do I want to suggest that all 
    Wiccans respond to nature in the way that 
    Titus does. Rather, the passage highlights 
    two different responses to nature, perhaps 
    one to nature with a small 'n', and one to 
    Nature with a capital 'N'. Undoubtedly, 
    some Wiccans respond to nature as Titus 
    does, and some do not. It is a vexing but 
    nevertheless exciting fact that Wiccan 
    covens and practitioners are extremely 
    different from each other, and therefore 
    generalisations are not easy to either 
    discover or to sustain. Yet, in studying 
    particular forms of Wicca, we cannot help 
    but take note of those questions which do 
    not appear to be being asked, of those areas 
    which seem to be taken for granted. Nature, 
    I would argue, is one of these areas. As I 
    have suggested, the Wiccan response to 
    Nature is often ill thought-out and confused, 
    and as academics we must ask those 
    questions which are not always necessarily 
    welcome. In this paper, I have asked far 
    more questions that I have provided 
    answers. In so doing, I hope to have opened 
    up another area for debate, and to perhaps 
    answer some of my own questions where 
    time and space allows, in published form.
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[Available from http://www.esoteric. msu.edu/].
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study of esotericism' in Method and Theory in the Study 
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                  {PRIVATE "TYPE=PICT;ALT=Virtual"}
    Jo Pearson has a PhD in Religious Studies from 
    Lancaster University, UK, and is Research 
    Lecturer in the Department of Religious Studies at 
    The Open University, UK. She is co-editor (with 
    Professors Richard Roberts and Geoffrey Samuel) 
    of Nature Religion Today: Paganism in the 
    Modern World (Edinburgh UP, 1998), and is 
    particularly interested in the continual 
    development of Wicca and in the relationship 
    between religion and magic. She is currently 
    working on Wicca: Witchcraft in Britain, to be 
    published by Routledge, and completing A 
    Popular Dictionary of Paganism for Curzon Press.
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