I suspect that in writing this piece for T.O.F.U., I am preaching to the choir. I suspect that its readership, and of this issue in particular, would not be the type to recommend a forest reiki retreat as the answer to a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, for example.

However, assuming that many are on the same page as I when it comes to unsolicited woo, I thought it would be interesting to explore the rather new phenomenon of more ‘informed’ use of traditionally maligned ‘wellness’ activities, particularly among women and femmes (link and link). (N.B. I’m now aware of how problematic it is to use the phrase ‘women and femmes’ but I wanted to leave this as originally published and to show that I am always learning.)

I’m a lifelong atheist (though can I make it perfectly clear that I am not in Dicky Dawkins’ camp), and I have a wonderfully eclectic collection of treasured items that most of my fellow non-believers would regard as anomalous. There’s the Ouija board (above) that belonged to my Mum back when she attended the haunted English countryside boarding school in the early 1960s (my Nana remembers buying it knowing full well she shouldn’t have, and my Mum got in big trouble with the resident nuns…) There’s the Rider Waite tarot deck gifted to me by a very dear family friend more than two decades ago. There’s my wonderful collection of Catholic kitsch knick-knacks and artworks, including a foot tall wooden crucifix that I picked up in an Amsterdam flea market during one of my many hazy visits in the early 2000s. I still have all the wonderful crystals and semi-precious stones that are so commonly sold in the gift shops of rural England and Ireland for some reason. I love my crescent moon earrings, and my faded copy of Zolar’s It’s All In the Stars, which I simply had to have after I saw Little Edie squinting through a magnifying glass at her own copy in Grey Gardens.

Over the years, I’ve settled on what I feel is probably the right explanation for this strange hobby of mine. I’ve always had an intense aesthetic appreciation of anything curious or unusual. Catholic imagery in particular I find arresting and beautiful, and at the same time I find the Catholic Church to be a harmful and regressive institutional power.

Perhaps in much the same way I feel attached, reassured, and aesthetically pleasured by my variously acquired curios, maybe these objects and rituals hold a potent purpose for those who make use of them.

Putting these contradictions aside, I’d like to look at the adoption of non-conventional wellness activities as a form of self-care, used by folks who may well “know better” [1] [2] [3] [4]. As someone who opposes vehemently any person or organisation that knowingly and purposely sells, by whatever means, ‘cures’ that are not evidenced as successful by pretty hard science, this has been a challenging exercise. But I’ve seen writers and academics and bloggers I admire embrace elements of astrology, lunar cycles, tarot, crystals, and similar esoterica. Perhaps in much the same way I feel attached, reassured, and aesthetically pleasured by my variously acquired curios, maybe these objects and rituals hold a potent purpose for those who make use of them. Perhaps in the same way that words can carry immense power (is there anything you find very hard to say?) there is a different kind of magic we can seek from these activities or ideologies.

There is a very generous part of me that delights in the reclamation (particularly by women or femmes) of traditions and/or beliefs that have traditionally been used to deride or punish (witchcraft, anyone?).

Above all, no matter what we seek, I feel that any wellness activity (whether conventional or otherwise) should not seek to exploit, harm, or deceive its adherents. Self-care should empower, soothe, and protect practitioners, but not at the expense of the wellness of others. It should be an honest and informed endeavour, but it should not claim to be for everyone.

In many ways, veganism is presented as a quasi-mystical transformer of physical health. To promise that veganism will ‘cure’ diabetes, heart disease, cancer, or even mental illness, is as irresponsible to me as TV spiritualists. Unsolicited advice-giving is rarely, if ever, the route to offering effective and genuine support.

Whether that advice is hemp milk spinach smoothies, crystal-charged cannabis, or forest walks, we should all have respect for the ability of any one of us human animals to seek out what sustains and empowers us.

I really wanted to have an issue with the rise of the crystal-charge flat-lay. I wanted to have an issue with astrology-loving badasses who Should Know Better. But I’m also helpless to resist the aesthetic, and there’s a part of me that loves the shameless and knowing appropriation of an activity that might have once been (or still is) reason to exploit or mock, but is now used to empower and reassure. Coincidentally, much in the same way I love appropriating condiments intended for use with meat, as I marinade tofu with them instead…

I can’t speak for all the 21st century alternative-wellness lovers out there. I don’t know the true nature of their beliefs; whether their appreciation is aesthetic or spiritual, and that’s probably none of my business. I feel that we should all engage in non-harmful activities that bring us peace, comfort, and power. Who am I to stop anyone from visiting that karaoke bar in Tibet? But please, let’s not make wild promises about veganism. Let’s not presume to know what’s best for sufferers of physical or mental ill-health.

For sure the world is full of magic, like science, nature, words, feelings, and love. My favourite kind might just be compassion. What’s yours?