Category Archives: Magic

Ritual actions engaged in to effect changes in the outside world.

The Theatre Ghost

Folk Belief / Supernatural Legend
Occupational Folklore — Performance / Supernatural

1. Text

According to JP, a theatre major at American University, it is widely believed among actors that every theatre is haunted. JP remarked, “There’s this idea that if a theatre doesn’t have a ghost, then it’s not a real theatre. People will talk about the ghost like it’s part of the company — like, ‘Oh, that was just Margaret, she likes to mess with the lights. Margaret is the name of the ghost at my hometown community theatre.” In the thespian experience, this belief is not treated like a horror story. Rather, it’s more matter of fact. “Even if people don’t say they believe in ghosts, they’ll still act like they do when something weird happens.” While the ghost does not inspire constant fear, its presence serves as a quiet overseer, subtly encouraging actors to stay disciplined out of concern for provoking its displeasure.

JP recounted several incidents that reinforced the belief for them and their peers. At various theatres she has performed at, she and others have reported hearing footsteps above the stage during late-night tech rehearsals, despite no one being scheduled in the catwalks. “Sometimes you’ll be alone, checking lighting cues, and you just know someone’s up there,” they said. “You feel watched. But then you look, and it’s empty. You get used to it.” Other stories involve doors closing on their own, props mysteriously going missing, and cold drafts in sealed rooms. “There’s a joke that if you forget your lines, it’s the ghost messing with you,” JP said, noting how the attribution of mistakes or malfunctions to a spectral presence creates a shared explanation — part humor, part ritual. JP emphasized that the presence of a ghost is never framed as malicious. The ghost is watching over the show. Making sure things run right and that the actors behave and respect the theatre.

2. Context

My childhood friend JP first encountered the idea that every theatre has a ghost during her early years in high school theatre. Unlike more formalized stage practices, this belief wasn’t something she read in a handbook or was taught by a director; it emerged instead from whispered stories backstage, joking warnings from older students, and the occasional unexplained flicker of a light or creak in the catwalk. The ghost lore was passed down informally, but consistently, and JP recalled being both intrigued and unsettled by how seriously some of her peers treated it.

This early exposure to theatre ghost legends served as a kind of initiation into the spiritual texture of performance space. JP explained that at first she thought it was a joke, but then
“Things in the theatre just happened. Weird things.” Her experience reflects a common pattern in folkloric transmission: belief that lives in the in-between, not quite serious, but not quite ironic either. The ghost was never officially acknowledged, but it lingered in the space as a shared understanding, subtly shaping behavior and mood. JP recalled how she and others in her community theatre would light scented candles during long rehearsals as offerings for the ghost. These actions, though never required, were widely understood as gestures of respect toward the spectral inhabitant of the space.

As JP transitioned to university theatre, she found the tradition not only persisted but deepened. “Every theatre I’ve worked in has a ghost,” she said. “And every group of actors has their own stories. Sometimes the ghost has a name, a backstory, even a favorite seat.” The ghost becomes part of the architecture — not just of the building, but of the community itself. For JP and many others, acknowledging the ghost is less about supernatural belief and more about honoring the memory and mystery that accumulate in performance spaces over time.

What makes this kind of belief so compelling is how it reflects a broader folkloric pattern: the connection between space, memory, and presence. JP noted how the ghost acts almost like a moral overseer. “You don’t want to be the one who disrespects the ghost. It’s like bad luck.” In this way, the ghost reinforces discipline and attentiveness, not through fear, but through tradition and shared reverence.

In sum, JP’s account of theatre ghosts illustrates how deeply embedded folklore is in the daily rhythms of performance life. The ghost is both metaphor and myth — a symbol of those who came before, a reminder of the theatre’s history, and a comforting, if uncanny, presence that binds the community through story and ritual.

3. Context

This belief in haunted theatres reflects a common theme in occupational and place-based folklore, where specific environments, particularly those imbued with high emotional energy, become sites of supernatural narrative. The idea that “every theatre is haunted” is both a literal superstition for some and a symbolic expression of the liminality of theatrical space. A theatre is inherently in-between: between fantasy and reality, between actor and audience, between everyday life and the world of the play. In folklore studies, such liminal spaces are often associated with the supernatural.

The ghost becomes a personification of memory and tradition within the theatre. Whether or not individuals believe in literal ghosts, the stories serve as a way of connecting the present company to past performances and performers. It offers continuity across generations and productions, creating a sense of sacredness around the theatre space. By giving the ghost a name, performers not only “own” the legend but also invite it into their communal identity — blurring the line between character, audience, and spirit.

Furthermore, attributing strange or disruptive events to the ghost provides a socially acceptable way to manage fear, stress, or uncertainty. If a light cue goes wrong or someone forgets a line, blaming “the ghost” allows the group to defuse tension and humorously redirect frustration. This aligns with the functionalist theory of folklore, where narratives and beliefs serve social and psychological purposes, even if they are not factually “true.”

Additionally, theatres make use of the “ghost light” — a single bulb left burning on stage when the theatre is dark. This is a perfect example of how ritual and practicality blend in folklore. While its technical purpose is to prevent injury in a dark space, it is widely described as a way to appease theatre ghosts and keep them from causing mischief. This convergence of utility and superstition further illustrates how deeply embedded folklore is in everyday theatrical practice.

In sum, theatre ghost stories are not just about the paranormal. They are about belonging, tradition, and emotional truth. They mark the theatre as a space set apart, one that holds memories, magic, and mystery, whether real or imagined.

No Whistling in Theatre Spaces

Folk Belief / Superstition
Occupational Folklore – Theatre / Behavioral Taboo

1. Text

JP, a theatre major at American University, described a well-established superstition within theatrical environments: the belief that whistling inside a theatre invites bad luck or misfortune. According to JP, this is not merely a stylistic or aesthetic preference, but a behavioral taboo actively enforced in rehearsal and backstage settings, especially backstage. “You might be whistling without thinking, and someone will stop you immediately,” she noted. “People treat it as disruptive, even dangerous,” JP noted that she can’t whistle either way, but believes the superstition is a little dramatic.

JP recounted watching someone in her college program reprimanded for whistling during her first year in university theatre. “I didn’t know it was a problem. This girl was humming and then started to whistle backstage during tech week, and someone cut him off — not angrily, but urgently. They told her, ‘That’s something we don’t do here.’ I laughed. I thought it was so crazy and comical, but the girl who whistled had the biggest look of shame.”

Although JP does not personally attribute supernatural consequences to the act of whistling, she adheres to the custom out of respect for the collective understanding. “I don’t believe something bad will happen, but I know it’s part of the culture. You don’t want to violate the space or distract people, especially when the stakes are high. Additionally, I don’t want conflict with other people, so even if I could whistle, I still would not.”

2. Context

JP learned this superstition informally during her early involvement in university theatre. The belief was not introduced through any institutional channel or training, but rather through peer correction, a method common in the transmission of occupational folklore. The reprimand she saw another student experience served as an entry point into the implicit behavioral norms that govern theatrical spaces — rules which are often unspoken but widely upheld. Additionally, her unfamiliarity with the superstition prior to entering this particular theatre context highlights the localized nature of folklore transmission and how such beliefs can vary significantly across different performance communities.

The belief in the danger of whistling in a theatre is historically grounded. JP informed me that in the 19th and early 20th centuries, stage riggers — many of whom had maritime backgrounds — used a system of coded whistles to signal cue changes for scenery, rigging, and fly systems. An unintentional whistle could therefore result in mistimed or hazardous movements backstage. While modern stagecraft no longer relies on such signaling systems, the associated taboo persists as a form of cultural residue, maintained more for its symbolic weight than its practical relevance.

JP explained that even though the original rationale is no longer operational, the custom remains widespread and now it has now become a very looming superstition. “People treat it as disrespectful,” she said. “It’s not just about the sound. It’s about what it implies — that you’re not actively engaged and focused in the way you should be.” As such, the act of whistling violates more than etiquette; it breaches a collectively upheld boundary of theatrical conduct.

3. Interpretation

The prohibition against whistling in a theatre functions as a behavioral taboo within the occupational folk group of stage performers and technicians. Its persistence, despite the disappearance of its original practical necessity, is a testament to the role of tradition as a mechanism of cultural continuity. In this context, the act of whistling is not inherently harmful, but it becomes symbolically charged within a space where control, precision, and attentiveness are paramount.

From a folkloristic perspective, this taboo aligns with other examples of ritual avoidance behavior — prohibitions enacted not because of empirical risk, but because of their perceived symbolic danger. The theatre, as a liminal space in which transformation and performance occur, is often surrounded by customs that reinforce spatial and emotional boundaries. Whistling, an unsolicited and uncontrolled auditory act, is viewed as an intrusion upon the ritual environment of rehearsal or performance.

Moreover, the belief plays a significant role in group boundary maintenance. Through mechanisms of correction and social enforcement, practitioners reaffirm their identity as members of a professional tradition. The act of stopping someone from whistling, particularly a novice, is both a disciplinary and didactic act: it reasserts collective values while initiating the newcomer into the shared culture of theatrical practice.

Even among those who do not interpret the act superstitiously, the continued observance of the rule suggests a broader understanding of folklore’s functional value. Customs such as this one provide structure and coherence within an otherwise unpredictable environment. The taboo against whistling operates not merely as a superstition but as a ritualized gesture of respect toward the space, the craft, and the community of practitioners who maintain it.

In sum, JP’s account illustrates how occupational folk groups preserve behavioral norms through informal transmission, even when the original rationale has been obscured or rendered obsolete. In doing so, these traditions help define the emotional architecture of performance spaces and maintain a shared sense of discipline, identity, and continuity.

Bourbon Street Tradition

Nationality: American
Age: 19
Occupation: Full-Time College Student
Residence: Los Angeles, CA
Language: English

I interviewed MW who is from New Orleans. Although born in Ohio, his family moved to New Orleans when he was 4 years old, and has lived there since.

M talked about Bourbon Street and the spirituality in New Orleans. He works at a bar on Bourbon Street and he always has to be careful. Along the street there are vendors that may tell you they can tell you your future if you tap his elbow. M emphasized that you’re never supposed to tap elbows as this induces destiny swapping. He doesn’t know the exact reason why it has to be the elbow, but he says it stems from voodoo, and that these vendors are out to get you if they sense you have “good” energy.

The folk belief that you can swap destinies is very apparent here. We see the role of the trickster at play in this situation. The power of the vendor on Bourbon Street is something that’s respected or feared. Even his everyday behavior seems to be shaped by this idea as he is cautious about running into people like that vendor. The fact that he also doesn’t know why the elbow is important indicates that he is following oral tradition without knowing where it comes from. He believes it and passes it on, something very natural in folklore.

Folk Ritual: Superstition – Evil Eye

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  1. Text: Perhaps the most iconic piece of folklore to emerge out of the Greek culture has been that of the Mati, otherwise known as the “evil eye”. The motif of the evil eye is world famous, a black pupil inside a white eye which is surrounding by another circle of royal blue. The belief about the evil eye is that it can be given to certain people as a consequence of their envy and jealousy onto them. This is where the idea of the “eye” comes from – as one person stares at another with negative connotations or emotions, they will potentially impart a curse of some kind onto them that will leave them sick. In order to deter this potential evil from other people, the Greeks actually hang the image of the evil eye around their homes, believing it will keep the dark spirits away. This is considered common practice in all Greek homes, a common folkloric concept that has not only been around for centuries but remains relevant in the culturre today.
  2. Informant’s Context: The presence of mati is very real. Mati comes from people being hateful – they will look at you and snare if they you look handsome or beautiful. They might gossip about you behind your back if they become jealous of you. You can tell if someone is jealous by how ticklish they are. If someone is very ticklish, they are jealous people. Mati isn’t always something that is given to people because they’re jealous though. Some people are just bad luck, they’re a jinx, even if they don’t mean pain by anyone. For example, they say that someone who has a unibrow, one eyebrow that connects, can give someone mati even if they don’t have jealousy. My husband would sometimes compliment people in passing, but because he had the unibrow he would give them mati. Not his fault. Once someone gets the mati though, they become very ill. They might have high fever, they might have migraines. Sometimes they go into shakes in their bed. To know for sure if one has mati, a test must be conducted called Xematiasma. This is when we take a glass of water and we say a prayer over the water. We then take multiple droplets of olive oil and put them into the water. If the olive oil rises to the top of the water, the person we are testing for mati does not have it. If the olive oil sinks or lowers, maybe disappearing in the water, then the person being tested definitely has it. Water and oil are supposed to separate – if this doesn’t occur, then its clear that the individual has been cursed. If they have mati, they must remove their clothes and put them in the wash, shower themselves and clean their bed sheets. They must wash the evil off themselves and get it out of everything around them. Once they’ve cleansed themselves and taken time to rest, the dark spirits will leave them. The only way someone can learn to perform the mati test is through ritual. I am the only one in my family who knows how to conduct it. I can only pass it onto a male member of my family on the Holy Thursday before Easter. It’s only at this time that I can teach the prayer that goes with the water and the way to apply the olive oil. I tried to pass it onto my grandson this year, but he wasn’t home for the Holy Thursday. If I passed it onto him, he would then only be able to pass it onto a female member of our family, also on the Holy Thursday before Easter. That’s how I was also taught these practices. My father taught me how to use the olive oil and water and what prayer to say alongside them.
  3. Collectors Interpretation: I believe the cultural and historical connotations behind the evil eye tradition are fascinating. So much of what the informant described is a folkloric metabolization of cultural concepts regarding envy, jealousy and vindictiveness. There has long been considered an issue of in-fighting in Greek culture, dating as far back as the Peloponnesian Wars that wreaked havoc on the nation. The evil eye is a manifestation of a culture that is deeply weary of spitefulness. As a piece of magical folklore, much of what the informant discussed about the mati lore is both homeopathic and contagious. The actual act of one person impressing the mati (evil spirits) onto another person by being jealous is clearly an example of contagious magic. Moreover, the ritual in which someone diagnoses mati through water and olive oil is an example of homeopathic magic. Not just that, but the concept of mati also implies that purity is necessary for health. In order to rid oneself of the dark spirits, they must clean themselves and everything they own, almost as if to say that jealousy, envy and spite are filthy qualities. It also implies that these hateful emotions can be spread. The deeper meaning behind this might be that misery loves company, and when one person hates another its easy for those ideas to proliferate amongst communities of people.

Fields

AGE: 85

Date_of_performance: May 5, 2025

Informant Name: Confidential (EZ)

Language: Greek/English

Nationality: Greek/Canadian

Occupation: Retired

Primary Language: Greek

Residence: Canada

Folk Ritual: Superstition – Kafemanteia

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  1. Text: In Greek culture, it is extremely common that people practice a superstitious form of fortune-telling known as Kafemanteia. The way it works is extremely simple. Firstly, Greek coffee is prepared, which is different from American coffee. This Greek drink is brewed in a briki (steel pot) but isn’t filtered, ultimately causing the grounds of the coffee to remain stuck to the bottom off the cup once you’ve finished drinking it. Once the drinking is done, the Greek places the saucer on top of the cup, makes a wish to themselves, then flips it over. While it’s flipped, the ground stuck at the bottom of the cup is forced to slide down, creating certain patterns. A reader than analyzes the symbols and interprets the future of the coffee drinker. The reading is often conducted by a normal Greek, even the drinker themselves, as the practice is so common, but oftentimes a studied reader is needed to interpret the sign at the cups bottom. That said, certain symbols mean different things about what is in store for the drinkers future – circles could mean something is completed or unified, numbers could reflect dates, direct lines imply a journey of some kind. There are a multitude of variations, but each of these reflect a fortune for the individual.
  2. Participants Context: This is a practice my mother used to engage in all the time. In fact she still does it to this day. My mother was from a small village in Greece – they weren’t educated or anything like that. They immigrated to Canada in the 60s, but these were the pieces of culture they brought with them. It might sound very cute and interesting, but I actually take it very seriously. I fully believe in it, totally. My grandmother was what was known as a kafetzou, she was fully capable of reading the fortune of any cup. She knew the different symbols, how they interrelated and what it reflected for your future. I don’t know them, all the signs, so sometimes I’ll put the symbol into ChatGPT and ask for its analysis. And then of course, my grandmothers mother before her practiced this way of fortune-telling, and so on and so forth. It almost feels partly religious to me, a way of talking to the Panagia (Virgin Mary) or perhaps other saints. That or perhaps it was something born during the Ottoman occupation – I think the wishful quality of it might’ve been something that Greeks developed during that period of darkness, when they were super restricted and were under this nasty regime. Greeks were looking for something hopeful.
  3. Collectors Interpretation: I personally believe this superstition emerged as a means of addressing anxiety, difficult questions and long-term planning. Kafemanteia in Greek culture is largely practiced in the company of other people. The actual act of drinking coffee at a cafe, like in many parts of Europe, is key to social life in Greece. Where in America people often take their coffee to go, Europeans, especially Greeks, actually make a point of drinking a single cup of coffee over the course of 2-3 hours. By creating a fortune-telling practice with coffee, Greeks give themselves the opportunity to discuss amongst others what might be in store for their futures, perhaps projecting their subconscious concerns onto the symbols of the ground coffee. It’s a practice that, perhaps through subconscious influence, allows Greeks to annex the anxieties that are plaguing them. In this way, the superstition is a very healthy practice. It’s clearly a form of social therapy that is intertwined with mythic and folkloric undertones. Sometimes discussing ones problems in the context of a greater divine spirit or supernatural force is comforting. It may even be a way to help make sense of the world when it seems to not be making sense at all. Additionally, I’ll note that this form of magic is clearly homeopathic – in order to achieve the outcome of the fortune, the Greek must drink the coffee, place the saucer over the cup, make a wish and then flip it, waiting for symbols to develop. Anecdotally, this is surely what I’ve observed by watching my family practice this fortune-telling. It’s an opportunity to address the problems of their future that they haven’t yet solved. Juxtaposing that hypothesis is the fact that it’s also an opportunity to manifest what good things people believe might be in store for their future. For example, if the coffee has numbers forming in it, that might mean the drinker has riches in their future. Ultimately, I believe that the value of Kafemanteia is rooted in community.

AGE: 53

Date_of_performance: May 5, 2025

Informant Name: Confidential KT

Language: English

Nationality: Canadian/Greek

Occupation: Lawyer

Primary Language: Greek