It had been a busy couple of weeks. I finally finished the manuscript for the third book in my new fiction series, Witches of the New Forest. I also had another book published with Llewellyn Worldwide released on Saturday, which quickly hit the top of the charts in its category. I was absolutely thrilled, but I also needed some downtime.

I went to my special reading/relaxation room (our spare room is a devoted, sacred space) and rearranged my altar. I do so every few weeks, to match both my mood and my needs, and what I see reflected around me in nature. After I had settled down, I meditated for a while just to reset myself and find my centre. And then I opened my eyes.

I was instantly struck by the beauty and wonder of my spiritual path, of my religion. There on my altar, the candles flickering, the statues of my deities gathered round, the plants, stones, and tools of my Craft were laid out before me. The aesthetics of its hit me like a ton of bricks. And it was then that I realized the huge importance of aesthetics in both Witchcraft and Druidry, and how it shouldn’t be dismissed so easily.

Because too often we can dismiss these things as superficiality. “It’s all just surface, and the real stuff, the real work is what matters most.” But right then and there, I got it.

I got it.

It was what drew me to Witchcraft and Druidry in the first place. The tools, the beauty of the natural world, the images of deity, the rocks, stones, and crystals collected on my journeys, the sight of a plant sprouting new leaves, the flicker of a candle flame, the scent of the oil burner, the music gently playing in the background: I understood the importance of these things on a visceral level.

Because we need beauty in our lives. We need joy, and wonder, and creativity. We need that which makes our hearts sing, in order to continue this journey through life.

Many of us in the Western world are still under the influence of Protestant Christianity. Buddhists have their temples and incense, Roman Catholics have their mass and cathedrals, First Nations peoples have their art and their ceremonies. But the austerity found in many sects of Protestantism has been passed down through generation upon generation here in Britian and also throughout North America. The churches are stripped down to bare essentials, the incense is gone, the choirs are absent. The beauty of the rituals is harder to see with the naked eye, and stripping away all of that, I believe, has led us towards a reunification and a deep longing to reconnect with beauty and aesthetics. Much as I adore the beauty and simplicity of the functional Shaker style, my heart still years for more. More ceremony, more ritual, more pageantry.

We can get just as much out of these things as we can in one to one communication with our deities, the spirits, the land, or whatever it is that we work with and have deep relationship. While my own tradition still favours simplicity in all things, I can still appreciate the robed rituals, the poetic words chanted under the full moon, the drift of the incense smoke on the wind. These are the things that first caught my eye when I was seeking a religious and spiritual path that resonated with my soul. These are the things that still draw me back, time and again.

We are visual creatures; we cannot deny that. We see in colour. We need to indulge in that sense sometimes, to make our hearts sing once again. We need to feel the rich textures, to taste the indulgent flavours, to hear the sweet music, to smell the scents that fill us with passion.

There is nothing wrong with enjoying a ritual simply because it was visually stunning. What our eyes see, also goes to our hearts. Those memories will carry us through hard times. They will bring us back when we’ve lost our way. They will connect us to like-minded people. The aesthetics of our Craft and our tradition are not just surface value: they are essential.

Does that mean that every ritual has to be filled with these things? Of course not. We do what we can, when we can, and however we can. But in our hearts, we carry the feeling of those beautiful rituals into every other ritual that we do, that sense of wonderment and enchantment when we were truly moved in a previous experience. Although not every ritual will have that same result, we still have that within us, and can still seek it out, in both ritual and in our lives.

It’s not shallow to love the aesthetics of our tradition. It’s a part of our heritage, and instead, we should celebrate it, in all its various forms.