When Witches Grow Weary

"We stand, friends, at a liminal time somewhere betwixt spring and summer, between school and summer break, between one place and another. Thresholds are important for us culturally, of course, but for those of us who truck with the Unseen, there is power and melancholy in these times of shifting space and time. Hold the ragged edges of your hearts together tonight, my dears. Pull the tatters of your soul into some semblance of your sacred garment. Straighten your back, stand tall, look forward. All is exactly as it seems, and yet...everything is a shadow. Ground deeply, breathe into your belly.

Seize the power of the moment and fear not. Fear not."

The above quote was posted on social media by Byron Ballard, author of Staubs and Ditchwater, in early June. I had been feeling weary for a week or so at that point, and simply hearing another spirit worker speak of the deepness of the latest threshold we were moving through, gave me permission to pause and breathe deep. 

Hob, the talented writer and witch doctor in residence at The Orphan's Almanac had, only a week earlier, left me nodding and holding my hands up in a throwback to my church days, when he called his discomfort of the seasonal shift "threshold sickness."

"Bruised, raw, exposed, the fresh green growth and soaring chorus of renewed life came down on me like a white-noise hammer, filling my head with broken glass and radio static, and sent me, howling, down the oubliette. The Sun becomes increasingly feral as the days lengthen, and a 13-year cycle of cicadas has stirred to fill the daylight hours with a constant, machine-like droning. Already nocturnal by nature, I’ve gone full-blown “creature of the night,” grasping for the elusive stillness that blooms like jasmine in the slow hours, after midnight."

"I am not alone," I remember thinking upon reading this.

June used to be a month that allowed us here in The Valley a slow introduction to summer. We would ease in with toes dipped in the lakes, and the first small strawberries from the field. There would be breezes through open windows and long walks into the forest to pick local herbal treasures and wild mushrooms. This year has been different. 

Summer arrived nearly three weeks too soon, and it has not eased in at all.  Fierce heat broke records early in the month, and destroyed my pea crop and sent the lettuces to bolt.  There were thunder storms and heat lightening that left my ears ringing and sparked fires on the hills. The farmers market had heaps of cherries and early peaches laid out right beside the strawberries. I have never eaten peaches so early in the season. June was a whirlwind, and I tried to keep up.

But really, all I wanted to do was sleep through the sweltering daylight hours, and wake when twilight fell.

It was early June when I began sitting outside every evening and noticed the two bright stars in the western sky. Watching Venus and Jupiter moving closer to each other as dusk fell was one of the things that kept me going this past month. Stars leaning in.

I leaned in too. A new working emerged, inspired by the dance I was watching in the sky. Messages that had been fuzzy at best, were being heard more clearly. I dug deeper in my journeying practice. I was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

The delightfully magical Paige Zaferiou said this, as the solstice arrived:

"I don't know how y'all are feeling but I am weary and wrung out by this strange thin light veil time.

The land speaks and its voice is a swelling orchestra of complexity, a river that never stops flowing over and around and through me. I am caught in the flood and it bears me down and buoys me up and I like it. So help me, I like it here in the ebb and flow. I like being under water with open eyes. So help me, I love this magical fucked up life."

Preach, Sister.

Something happened in June as the doorway through spring caved under the pressure of an early summer. I felt both wrung-out, and stronger. Weary, and ever more a witch tapped into the cycles and shifts that were both uncomfortable and yet potent times for manifesting.

I've come into July feeling wild, worn-thin, and wicked. This may be a very good thing.

It has not escaped my notice that September eves and the shadows of October make magic seem always close at hand and somewhat easier to access. I wait all year for those days. But ease is not always the best path for growth.

Today I heard Sarah Lawless, in her interview on the latest episode of the Down at the Crossroads podcast, share a quote from her fabulous article "For Fear of Flying."

"Witchcraft is not safe. Witchcraft is not good and kind. Witchcraft is the domain of the trickster, the outcast, the wanderer, and the crooked.  It belongs to those who know every light casts a shadow; who have looked into the depths of darkness in their soul and accepted what they’ve seen along with all that is good.  Witchcraft requires cunning, manipulation, self-awareness, adaptable morals, and dash of madness."

To madness then.  To scorched summer days and sticky nights. To blood offerings given up begrudgingly to mosquitoes and raspberry thickets. The brief hours of darkness. The endless afternoons where bird and beast hide in whatever shade can be had. To drinking in the heat, and using that in ways that surprise you. To making friends with your sweat and your scent. To the animals of summer wherever you are. Here, there are bats beyond number feasting on bugs by the river. There are fat marmots and rattlesnakes sunning themselves, and turtles climbing out of the ponds to soak up the warmth.

To acknowledging the discomfort of 100 degree weather, and getting shit done anyway. To having a summer adventure - and then having a mojito. 

Hob said this, of embracing the challenge of summer wandering:

"There are rivers to follow, and streets to walk, and people to meet, living and dead. We will smell the salt of the ocean, the dust of strange shops, and the breath of the empty places. We will be pilgrims, seeking the roadside shrines to the lost, the forgotten, and the bygone."

To being a weary witch, and still wandering, still seeking, still making magic.






Please check out the amazing folks quoted in this post - they are all linked up to their respective websites and are worth a visit!

Blessing the Corn

Last week I gathered together a masterpiece of wild women, spanning three generations, and led them to my friend's ranch to bless the corn and shame the sunset with a grand fire.

My friend is in her third year of planting this particular variety of corn, and I've never tasted anything sweeter or more tender.  After much research, she adjusted her planting style this year and the organic crop looks fabulously healthy.  She is a plant whisperer too, my friend.  She wanders the rows each day, speaking encouragingly to the growing stalks. They are her pride and joy. She speaks of them as her children.  

Some of us walked beside her into the field that night, the others keeping guard by the fire. We gave our blessings and our compliments to the plants, inspiring them to grow strong and healthy.  They could not have a better ally than my friend.  The crop will be spectacular this year.

Once the good work was done, the fire was burning bright and there was wine to be had, and s'mores for the young ones (and the young at heart.)  I had brought herb bundles to toss on the flames, and some of us walked through the fragrant smoke to purify ourselves. It was an extra benefit that the scent kept the mosquitoes away for a good while as well.

We laughed and danced and solved all the worries we had patience enough to, and then stared long into the fire making wishes on the sparks as they floated skyward and burned themselves out.  The setting sun couldn't compete with our fete, poor thing.

When the nearly-full moon rose and the younger ones went home to warm baths and cozy beds, some of us lingered a while longer, as wine and good company is wont to have you do.

It does not pass my notice that I have been born terribly fortunate when it comes to making friends.  I used to joke that powers that be knew that I would need much help in this lifetime, and so instead of great beauty, riches, or a fantastic mind, I was instead offerred a considerable number of amazing friends.  And you know, given a choice, that is the gift I would embrace every lifetime.

Wishing you brightness and warmth, good wine, and amazing friends.

Muscle Magic?

November has sunk into the valley in a cold, wet way.  Having had a warm, sunny October, I don't feel comfortable complaining, so I wait for the dry mornings to take my walks and extend hope that the deep cloud lets a bit more light through each day.

I'm feeling myself slip into that familiar hibernation feeling that happens as the days grow shorter and the temperatures drop.  To combat the urge to curl up and not move again, I've committed to using the treadmill on the days I don't go out for a walk.  I've been having quite a bit of fun on it actually, and I've found that a good, hard pace and the steady thud of my feet on the machine begins to take me out of my body, and leads me to some interesting meditative experiences and epiphanies.  I think that this is not unlike the euphoria that is referred to as a "runners' high" - except that I'm rarely at a full run.  It may be more along the lines of what is experienced while doing ecstatic (trance) dancing or a drumming journey - the sound of my feet and the white noise of the treadmill offering up a drum-like repetition for my mind to escape in to.

The whirling Dervishes knew how to get there.

The other body-magic synergy I've been pondering is muscle-building as sympathetic magic.  

Muscle is created after first tearing down the tiny muscle fibers in the tissue.  Your body then repairs or rebuilds these little fibers and the newly generated fibers begin to create bulk.  You are essentially tearing yourself down and rebuilding yourself - stronger.  This really gets me excited when I think about combining it with activities such as "tearing down" non-beneficial habits, relationships and situations where you just didn't say "no" when you might have wanted/needed to.  Add to that some work on creating new energy or movement in certain areas of your life, while your body is literally creating new muscle cells.  Work associated with health, fertility, prosperity would all be something I'd consider here.

I've been glancing at the hand weights that have been winking at me from the corner of the room, and I've been thinking that since I'm no longer hauling dirt, plants or vegetable harvests or pushing a lawn mower anymore, it might be time to pick those little irons up again.  

And why not work a little magic while working my muscles?

* For some great reading along this topic, check out the brilliant Peter Paddon's "Visceral Magick"

* Although I'm fiercely behind on her podcasts, "Iron Powaqa" is a weight-lifting witch with sass - worth a listen!  I'm going to try to catch up on these and see what insight she has on this topic.

* art "Dancing Dervishes" by Amedeo Preziosi via Wiki Commons

Compost Magic

Whether you have been participating in Easter or Passover, or simply reveling in chocolate bunnies, I hope your long weekend has been marvelous!  And suddenly April is upon us.  Last year we were knee-deep in April showers, long before April even arrived.  This year, we are riding a heat wave that looks to last long into the week.  Taking advantage of the balmy weather, I'm trimming perennials and re-potting herbs.  I've got a few plants to move around yet, and I'm still amending a few of the beds with the gorgeous compost from my little beehive bin.

I'm working on ideas to keep myself more aware and "in the now" while out in the gardens.  Last year, my goal was to appreciate the summer, even though I'm not a fan of the intense heat that we get in The Valley.  I was pleased that I was able to concentrate more on how thankful I was for the sunlight that was growing my garden, rather than whining about the temperature.  This year, my project is "slow gardening."  The focus is on taking time with each plant or crop.  Appreciating their growth process and the journey toward my table, medicine cabinet or becoming a magical ingredient.

Here's an idea that came to me while whispering compliments to my compost bin.  (Don't you compliment your compost? )  If you are starting up a compost pile, or adding your weekly bucket of veggie scraps and yard clippings to your bin. Choose one item, or your kitchen bucket (if it isn't smelly and you are able to hold it for a time,) and find a place to sit and hold it comfortably.  

Think about something in your life you would like to transform.  Perhaps there is a habit you have that is not conducive to your well-being.  Is there is a relationship that has become complicated or neglected, and needs some "getting back to basics" energy?  The idea here, is to take the breaking down and re-forming process of composting, and apply that to your situation.

For example - I'm having a bit of a re-lapse of late with negative self-talk.  Nothing too serious - but I'm being reminded that I'm not treating myself with love and respect.  So what I'm doing is this:  I'm taking some time to sit with my compost item of choice.  (A nice long root, pulled from one of the veggie beds.)  I'm addressing the issue that I want to release - thinking about how negative self-talk feels and snowballs into treating myself poorly.  

I then think about seeing this situation decompose and become something more useful.  Instead of instantly turning to cruel words, I see myself taking a breath and having patience with myself when I do/say something that seems wrong or silly.  I see myself not cringing whenever I spy a candid photo taken of me.  I imagine that I am laughing-off something that would otherwise frustrate me.  Pour these thoughts/feelings into the item that you are holding.  See/feel/imagine the item taking on your concerns and how you see them transforming.  Keep in mind, that things will not always transform as you want them to.  If you are trying to "fix" a relationship, you can only change yourself and your contribution to it - not the other person.

When you are finished setting your intention for this process, release your compost to the bin.  Walk away knowing that while millions of micro-organisms work on the physical plane in your composter, your goals are being realized on an energetic level as well.  Keep track of your process as the season continues, adding to your compost pile, and doing your own work on breaking down and re-forming.

Composting is a way of re-imagining items we feel we don't need anymore.  What do you want to re-imaging in your life?  What can you let go of, so that it can become something rich and fertile?

(I don't really need to add a caveat here that this sort of thing doesn't replace medical assistance for serious physical or mental conditions, right?)  

What's Brewing In The Kitchen

Candles lit and glowing bright,

Herbs are strewn both left and right,

A Witch's work is never done,

Under moon or under sun.

I have to laugh as I look around the kitchen tonight.  Everywhere I look, there is something brewing.  A bowl of mixed herbs sits on the counter, waiting to be bagged and delivered to two ladies who want a little herbal power when they sweep.

 

In a make-shift burner of a leaf-shaped bowl held over a tea light, a water-based potion infuses for a house blessing I'm going to tomorrow. 

For those that care to know, each herb was chosen for it's association with "purification."  Each element was represented:
Earth - Vervain
Air - Lavender
Fire - Tobacco
Water - chamomile
Plus a pinch of sage for cleansing & a pinch of sea salt for protection.
(Of course, correspondences vary - the associations in one book may differ from another, and what says "Air" to me, may not to you.)

The infusion will be strained and bottled and used to annoint doorways and windows.

Over on the stove, a pot holds multiple herbs infusing in oil.  This will be strained and beeswax added and bottled for use on Winter-weary skin.

The kitchen smells of rose petals and lavender, beeswax and chamomile.  The flickering candles send dancing shapes across the walls and Beau-the-cat is riveted. 

I've blended, blessed and bottled, and now I think all these divine scents and lovely energy are directing me...straight to bed! 

Blessings, from my kitchen to yours!

Practical Magic Blog Party - Magic in The Garden - An Inspired Tale

The garden was empty, one September eve, when there came a sight, you'd have to see to believe.

Witches were landing in the dusky gloom,

Three sisters, each on their own broom!

One glided swiftly, one had a wild ride, and one liked to fly with her feet to one side.

A table appeared, set with flickering light, tarot cards, candy and other delights!

Each young witch, reached for a card, to see if the future held lovely rewards...

Oh yes!  The cards said life was grand!  And so, to celebrate, they each took in hand...

Midnight margaritas!  That luscious green brew!

Cheers to us!  And Cheers to you!

And off through the garden, with drinks in hand, to spread their magic across the lush land...

The witches wandered, here and there...

Until the spirits of the air, called them back, and off they bound...

Back to their brooms, and lifted off the ground!

And now the garden has returned to it's dusky still...at least until the blender is refilled!



(Special thanks to my friend's three lovely daughters for witching it up for me!)

Florida Water

My Florida Water ingredients for this year

A refreshing scent, a stirring room, linen, or body splash or spray, or a spiritual tool? Florida Water is all these things and more. Debuting in the early 1800's as a his-or-hers cologne, the stimulating liquid created by Robert I. Murray gained popularity and was eventually re-created by other enterprising companies, though the Murray & Lanman brand is still one of the most recognized. The name is said to be a nod to the old tales that the Fountain of Youth might be hidden somewhere in Florida. The base word of Florida, flor, the Spanish word for flower, also alludes to the floral qualities of the liquid.

Florida Water has a varied history of uses. It was proposed to be not only a perfume, a tonic and something that might restore youth, but medicinal and curative. I can't speak to some of those applications here (and I'd never recommend ingesting anyone's version of the water) but Florida Water has become a popular ingredient in many people's spiritual and folk practices. There is a great deal of debt owed to the southern African American spiritual communities (from practitioners of Hoodoo, Voodoo, and Lucumi, to Catholics) for bringing the devotional and magical use of the liquid to the forefront.

As a spiritual tool, Florida Water is said to be pleasing to the spirits. Its traditional floral and citrusy scent is attractive and it is often employed as a holy or blessing water. There isn’t one specific recipe for Florida Water. I've come across blends that can include any number of ingredients, including the following:

Bergamot
Rose
Lavender
Clove
Orange
Lemon
Neroli
Cinnamon
Jasmine

The process of making your own splash or spray can range from simple to complex, depending on your ability to do the work and source the ingredients. For an easy blend, combine purified or distilled water and add the essential oils of your choice from the above list until you find you have a pleasing scent. Bottle, and bless your creation according to your spiritual tradition.

One of the selling points of some personal Florida Water blends is that they have included several different waters collected from locations considered sacred, such as holy wells or specific natural or man-made fonts or streams. You may include these waters in your blend, but you will need to add a high-proof alcohol to the mixture in order to keep the blend from turning rancid.

You can also make Florida Water with plant material, which is more labour intensive but really gives you a connection to the end result. This is the way I like to make my blend. I wild-harvest local flowers, roots, and other herbal material from a well-known area (and I often add some plants that I've grown). Employing flora from areas that I have a relationship with feels good to me, and I will usually ask to be led to the plants that want to be involved the creation of my water.

I place all the herbal material in a glass jar (it should be loosely full - not stuffed) and then fill the jar with a high proof alcohol. This is my Florida Water mother tincture. I may add different items to it if I am called to. Each year my mother blend is unique. There are times I may add tree resins, or a stone or a piece of silver or gold to the mother, though this isn't considered traditional. This tincture sits on my altar, often getting moon-baths under full or auspicious moons, for at least three moon-cycles, though I've had one blend that infused for almost a year.

When I'm ready to decant the water, I strain off the solid material and save the liquid in a labeled bottle. This tincture is potent, so it is diluted by at least half with purified water when added to smaller bottles. I like the convenience of having a spray, so I use mister-caps on my bottles (pictured below). Depending on the year, I might add sacred waters that I have collected and preserved. My last act is to add to the bottle a blend of essential oils that I created, to make this spray my own. This blend ensures that, despite the differing ingredients in the mother tincture each year, the spray has the spicy, citrusy scent I desire. 

Whether you make Florida Water simply, using some of the more traditional ingredients and essential oils, or whether you forage for natural materials and create your own inspired mixture, enlisting the help of plants is very rewarding and the resulting water is truly a blessing. Use it to feed your altars or ancestors, bless spaces or tools, or simply to refresh a room or your own spirit. Enjoy!




Please note: this article was heavily edited on July 6, 2017 to reflect my current Florida Water process. Aside from a few cringe-worthy punctuation errors, the previous incarnation of this post was an accurate snapshot of my process when I first set out making this water, but I've adapted and grown over the years and my working has shifted. Because this is an often-viewed post, an update was long overdue.

If you don't want to make your own Florida Water, I sell bottles of my blend here.