This was recently published as part of a devotional to Holda called Winter Forest, which you can find here (with cover art that I was blessed with getting to contribute as well): https://www.asphodelpress.com/devotionals.html

When I started more seriously committing to a spiritual path, one of the things I offered up was my name. It was Holda who appeared to give me a new one: Brandon. While there’s a number of reasons that this name was chosen, and a number of possible translations for it, the earthy Anglo-Saxon version was the first she pointed to. There are a few places called Brandon, which is a mash-up of the Old English words “brom” (broom) and “dun” (hill). So one way to read my name is simply “a hill of brooms”, or as my grandmother jokingly put it, “a parking lot for witches”. While it more likely refers to the broom plant itself (or Cytisus scoparius if you want to be fancy about it), I can’t quite bring myself to dismiss her definition entirely.

The symbol of the household broom is a pretty universal witchy trait. It’s not only omnipresent in pop-culture depictions of witches, but also still used today in modern magical practices. It’s an item I strongly associate with Holda and her lessons of practical household magic, as it’s both a mystical tool and literally something to clean the floor with. When she gave me this name, it didn’t only spur a new interest in learning about how witches used brooms, it also came with a suggestion to start learning how to be the broom itself. Yeah, that sounds a bit silly, but I was enthusiastic and ready to find some kind of pretentiously deep, semi-metaphorical meaning in it. Instead I learned that this was already a concept long before it came to me.

Folk traditions are—thankfully—stubborn things, and when Christianity was at its height of snuffing out all the traces of Pagan practice that it could, some parts were able to fly under the radar through local traditions. One rewarding place to look for them is across Europe during the Yule and Christmas seasons, particularly in parades. Sure there’s often a Saint Nicholas, but there are many much older beings celebrated alongside him as well. This is where you’ll find Krampus, who somewhat recently became a fad hit here on the other side of the Atlantic, and even Perchta. If you look to the start of some of these parades, you’ll find people dressed in massive bundles of straw, looking like an ancient ancestor of Cousin Itt. These are the brooms, albeit with somewhat proportionally stubby handles. Like a witch sweeping the physical and energetic muck out of their home’s front door, these human brooms go ahead of the main players in the parade, brushing away the dust of the old year to make room for rebirth in the next.

It needs to be emphasized that they’re being literal brooms – they’re not clearing the way with a tool, they are the tool itself. It is by direct result of their bodies’ actions that they are doing the cleaning. When I started to look at it this way, I found that the story of Holda preserved by the old Brothers Grimm echoed this sentiment. The girl at the forefront of the story was on her own path, but was only successful in her journey because she was helping to support the ways of others in need. When her step-sister tried to walk that path, a defining factor of her failure was being unwilling to do the same service. Her path crossed a multitude of other paths, and could only be done correctly if those were cleared as well. Then through her actions, their obstacles were swept away and everyone could continue forward again. Just as a broom could serve both magical and physical purposes, clearly anthropomorphized brooms could as well.

So here’s some advice from a rather scruffy human broom. The next time you find yourself presented with a chance to help others on their path, take a moment to wonder if this is a gift (or a test) from Holda. It could directly affect their workload or help them avoid burnout. It could be something as esoteric as a magical working for someone in crisis or providing spiritual counsel, or as immanent as helping someone overwhelmed by their chores or giving a tired friend a shoulder rub. This could even be just giving money to someone in need—the folklore lessons of “mysterious old beggars” are not as lost to the past as we might think. Anything done with intent that helps someone better walk their path can be an act of magic, and if your path is headed Holda’s way, you may find your own becoming swept clear as well.