Christmas is not the only sacred day to be cannibalized by commerce.

While the commercialized "holiday season" has created its own mythology around a jolly old elf and flying reindeer carrying a big-box sleigh full of gifts, the Halloween season has commercialized more than mythological monsters like vampires, werewolves and mummies. It's also reshaped the image of the very priestesses of the celebration — witches.

Just ask a witch if she's flown her broom lately.

"No," laughs Willow Kelly, a witch in the Shenandoah Valley Reclaiming group, a Facebook group that includes over 140 members.

She does have a broom story of sorts, though. And a broom to go with it.

But she won't be flying it to the local Samhain (pronounced "SOW-wen")/Halloween rituals this weekend in Waynesboro and Staunton. There's a Samhain ritual and spiral dance on Saturday, Oct. 27 at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Waynesboro at 3:30 p.m.

She could ride her bike to Harmony Moon in Staunton on Sunday, Oct. 28 for the Samhain ritual at 11:30 a.m.

Before you get all "Wizard of Oz" about bike-riding witches, consider how easy it was to call up those stereotypes.

Samhain rituals, traditionally celebrated at the end of the Celtic calendar to welcome in the harvest and honor ancestors, extoll the deeds of virtuous spirits and protect against the evil ones, existed a thousand years before European authorities in the middle ages began to associate pagan rituals with opposition to the Christian church and worship of the devil.

Witches didn't fare that much better in America at first. (Think Salem, Massachusetts, circa 1692.)

In Virginia apparently the pagans were of a heartier stock. The only woman convicted of witchcraft by "witch dunking" in the Commonwealth's history, Grace Sherwood, also known as "the witch of Pungo," survived being tied feet-to-hands crosswise and thrown into the Lynnehaven River in July of 1706, having been long suspected of cursing a neighbor's crops.

If she sank and drowned, her name would have been cleared. If she floated, the pure river water was rejecting her because of her evil nature, and she would be proven a witch.

Accounts differ, with an official plaque near what is now called "Witchdunk Point" bearing her story saying she floated, and another account saying she dropped beneath the surface but managed to free herself of her bonds and swim to shore.

When she pulled herself up the bank, she was considered guilty of witchcraft and sat in a local jail until 1714, when she was released, paid back taxes on her property, and lived out the rest of her life quietly until her death at 80 years of age.

Many years later, a post-colonial period governor named Timothy Kaine pronounced an official pardon upon Grace Sherwood. On the anniversary of her trial he wrote, "With 300 years of hindsight, we all certainly can agree that trial by water is an injustice. We also can celebrate the fact that woman's equality is constitutionally protected today, and women have the freedom to pursue their hopes and dreams ... Today, July 10, 2006, as 70th Governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia, I am pleased to officially restore the good name of Grace Sherwood."

There is no indication in the historical record that Grace Sherwood ever practiced witchcraft. But there are people among us who have chosen "to pursue their hopes & dreams" by becoming witches and Wiccans, and following paths other than our newer western religious traditions.

They do live among us. And their answers to some of the basic questions people have about witches — what do they believe? Can they really do magic? — might surprise you.

Walking the labyrinth, or, what's a witch?

Daybreak comes later and later in October.

After a wet summer, leaves are just starting to turn to red and amber.

And Willow Kelly walks her labyrinth, as she does every morning.

The labyrinth, a winding path with its borders of hand placed bricks, some covered with bright moss, sprawls across a backyard of wild grass and clover. Adjacent stands an old oak with a circumference of at least ten feet, looking down on Willow Kelly as she walks the path she's chosen.

"You make more turns away from the center than towards the center," she says about the labyrinth's pattern, "but end up in the center anyway."

As part of her walk, she includes drumming and chanting. Is it magic?

"Well, it's a personal practice. You could also call it a spell," she says.

Just as many people of faith begin their day in prayer, continue it in practices communal and individual, so witches have their ways of connecting daily life with spiritual life.

For Lynchburg-area Wiccan priestess Ashley Carroll, there's hardly a difference between the two.

"In my daily life, on my drive to work, or when I'm walking in between buildings, or even if it's from my car to the house, I notice my natural environment around me. And to me, the natural environment is rife with the divine."

Carroll is a third degree Wiccan priestess in the Gardnerian tradition.

"That's a specific tradition within Wicca that has spoken to me, and there are many, many Wiccan traditions. And you know, Wicca's just a subset of paganism so there are many pagan traditions as well," she says via phone from Lynchburg on Oct. 17.

"I'm one of those individuals that believes that the divine is inherent in the environment around us, you know, all the way down to the blade of grass that we walk on," says Carroll.

"Certainly, I'm just a regular person who has a job just like anybody else. But it can become that much more special if I take a moment and reflect on what I believe is the sacredness of our existence within this universe."

Both Willow and Ashley began to find their paths in their early teens after childhoods spent especially attentive to nature and the seasons.

Willow Kelly, who lives near Gypsy Hill Park and met us for her interview in the quiet park behind the Smith Center on Oct. 18, is a witch in the Reclaiming tradition.

"One of the things I love about my tradition is it doesn't dictate belief. If you read the Reclaiming principles of unity, it's pretty clear that there are values but not beliefs — we're not ascribing like, this is what you have to believe in order to do this," Willow says.

"So for some people, it's completely metaphoric. For some people. It's like Carl Jung meets Joseph Campbell with really good music and costumes," she says with a laugh.

"And for other people, it is connecting with a goddess or god, or gods. Like, there's a pantheon. People can believe in these multiple gods and goddesses. And they can be standing next to an atheist in a ritual and still not have a problem with that, because of the way that each person finds their access into the world's meaning."

"Every day sort of unfolds differently," she says. "And part of the primary tradition that I work in is we call ourselves an evolving dynamic tradition. And we say that we're ecstatic. And to me what that means is, how can I be present with what's happening in this moment? And how can I most fully be with what's happening in this moment and bring whatever kind of love or grace I can bring?

"So for me, I do have certain practices I do daily." Starting with the early morning walk through the labyrinth.

Spells of tolerance and intention

The main difference Carroll sees between traditional religion and Wicca is the difference between orthodoxy and orthopraxy.

"Meaning that Wiccans are governed by our practices, not by our beliefs," she says. "So monotheistic Christians are orthodoxy-driven individuals, they believe across the board in Jesus Christ as the Savior, whereas with Wiccans there's no way that I could ever say that all Wiccans are polytheists, or all Wiccans are pantheists. Some can be agnostic. I've even known atheistic Wiccans.

"I think the only way that you can exhibit truly who you are, and to act as a representative of your spiritual path or your religion is through right action. So if I'm going to preach tolerance of others — and you know, I would hope for the same in return — but I'm going to act tolerant of others."

That extends to anyone who believes witches and wiccans are part of an "occult" system that is itself governed by a Devil in opposition to God.

Locally, for a few years in the mid-1980s a woman who said she was a "former witch" would lecture at several Staunton churches about the dangerous allure of witchcraft. Janelle Bickel, now Janelle Wade of Just Believe Ministries, said she had turned to the dark arts as a way to escape a destructive and abusive childhood, but had gone too far.

When she tried to turn back to the light, she told those attending her lectures, demons of Satan assailed her, one throwing a car through a second-floor bedroom in her house. As a self-described "blood covenant witch," she had messed with satanic powers and barely escaped with her life, she said.

A quick search for "blood covenant witch" shows the phrase appears almost exclusively in Christian writings about witchcraft.

Carroll is not surprised at the story, or at the natural response of Christians to equate pagan rituals with devil worship.

"As far as the devil worship thing goes," Carroll says, "I certainly understand from their perspective why they would view any belief system, certainly magic or belief in any other God other than theirs, as being devil worship. That is what they're taught."

Carroll goes on to talk about the actual practices that bind some Wiccans.

"We're governed by our practices, we do similar practices." An example? "We cast circles before any sort of ritual. That is something that Wiccans tend to do.

"Gardnerian Wiccans can trace our lineage of initiation into this particular path, all the way back to Gerald Gardner," who first started initiating women and men into Wicca in the 1960s, Carroll says.

Gardnerian Wicca is "oathbound," meaning that the practices are not spoken of outside of the initiated, so Carroll cannot get into the details of specific rituals or spells. She says it's that way to protect the integrity of the practices as well as that of the tradition's members.

Despite that sense of secrecy, it's also intentionally social. While some witches, Wiccans and pagans practice a mostly solitary spiritual life, Gardnerian Wiccans celebrate together with these like practices.

"The idea is that you practice with other people, so it's community-based. So your practices, your experiences are met with others."

Those interested in learning more do not have to commit to joining a coven. There are groups called "groves" that meet where people can join in conversation with initiated Gardnerian Wiccans to learn more before making that jump, which Carroll says may not be the path for everyone.

So what is magic?

Asked to define magic in witchcraft, Willow calls up a quote attributed to early 20th century writer Dion Fortune: "Magic is the art of changing consciousness at will."

"So for me," Willow says, "it's about practices that shift my awareness, that shift my consciousness, and that bring me more into right relationship with myself, and life around me."

"I hold that intention as I walk into the labyrinth," she continues. "And when I get to the center, I do the primary working of the spell. I could give you the whole layout of it. But at the root of it is to be a force of love, that empowers, heals, creates and transforms the world around me."

"Everything can have magic in it. And often does for me. I also am constantly organizing, teaching, facilitating things like that on a daily basis, different small groups, different projects that I'm working on. Some of those are classes, workshops, and events.

Her classes are "always a combination of downloading skills, giving people something actual, like, 'here's how to do this thing'" while at the same time reminding people that a class is just "a container in the experience."

"As a teacher, you don't have to hold all the knowledge in the room. It's more like, I'm going to set up a thing. I'm going to tell you some things I know. And then we're going to experience some stuff and open it up to the whole knowledge in this room."

Carroll's answer, coming from a different tradition, has similar resonance.

"What we mean by magic is intention, and intention put out into the universe that is meant to manipulate energy in such a way that it will manifest in the way that you desire. So magic as far as Wicca is concerned, is a relatively small part of what we do. So for example, if we were to meet on one of our Sabbats, we are largely gathering to celebrate whatever that Sabbat is, and then to celebrate with our gods.

"So let's say we wanted to do magic for healing," she says. She describes the casting of a circle indoors as a kind of privacy fence that creates sacred space while also serving as protection. "Some people might believe in malignant spirits, or something of that sort. So we cast the circle to create sacred space; that's really the main point about that.

"Magic can include dancing to raise energy, or you can chant to raise energy. You can include certain types of incense, or you may want to use certain types of gemstones to enhance the effects of the energy you are creating, with a certain intention in mind."

What about other trappings of the trade? the cauldrons? the herbs? the brooms?

"Like any tools of magic, they are all just enhancement. You don't really need them to conduct magic, what's really needed with magic is the right intention, and the belief that whatever it is that you're doing will actually come to fruition."

Speaking of brooms...

At the sign of the witchiest broomstick...

Willow Kelly needed more than just a sign that she should pursue this spiritual path. So she asked for three.

"I said, Okay, I'm gonna pray for a sign, if this is supposed to be my path. I need three clear big green lights from the universe, or the multi-verse, to say, 'Go through this door, Willow.'"

She asked for three because she understood at a certain point that by choosing this path she'd be labelled as an Outsider. "I'd be choosing to wear a target that elicits negative attention." She had to be sure.

So she lay down her challenges to the universe and herself. And one of them happened to involve a broom.

The first was to find a polestar book about witchcraft and to pick the right one without much thought. The first book she picked up after acknowledging that thought was "To Ride A Silver Broomstick" by Silver RavenWolf. She felt an immediate connection with the author and took that as a positive sign.

Next, perhaps wackiest, was a sudden urge to walk into a non-witchy place and find the witchiest object she could imagine, waiting for her like a big green light from the world to keep going down this path.

The place? Her local hardware store in a small California town of just over 5,000 people. The object? The witchiest broom she could imagine.

"I walk in there, and I find the witchiest broom I've ever seen in my life. I mean, it's like actually hanging by the door when I walk in, and it's on sale for five dollars or something ridiculous like that. And I still have it," she says.

Lastly, she wanted to find a familiar, an animal companion to be her partner in this journey. She had decided on a Sheltie, and an associate just happened to have a four month old Sheltie.

She felt an immediate bond. "And he is just the most amazing dog on the planet."

Later, as she continued her study of RavenWolf's book, she came across a passage describing how the book's author had also decided to find a familiar to help her along her journey.

The familiar she found happened to be a four-month-old Sheltie.

Willow wrote to the author and the two exchanged correspondence for six months, setting the young Willow firmly on her path.

She gave herself those challenges, and what seemed like random coincidences had meaning for her. This doesn't mean that she sees everything in the world as a personal message. But these three experiences caused her to take the path seriously.

"I do believe in chance and coincidence. Absolutely. But sometimes it's like, Are you kidding me? I mean, if that's a coincidence, then I think, 'Way to go, Random, you're awesome!'"

More:Halloween was once last chance to find a husband: history

More:2018 guide to Halloween happenings in the Valley

More:A walk along Staunton's dark history