This one got shelved for a while for various reasons including stupid ones like “What would the cute boy think?” and “I don’t feel like dealing with ignorant blog comments right now” … but you know what? Whatever, fuck. People can accept me or piss off. Then I saw a fellow blogger whom I respect catching hell for posting things along these lines and I felt the need to stand in solidarity.

If you don’t know about my casting collection, you might want to read about it a bit first.

Also, squeamish idiots should not be reading this. If you are easily offended, don’t like pain or bodily fluids, or don’t want to picture me messy and naked, go fuck off now.

*

Back at harvest time I brought a bottle of English bitter (along with a few other things) to a small potluck feast of the Pagan variety (I am Pagan for the potlucks). I wound up giving that bottle as an offering and pocketed the bottle cap. When I looked at it later I saw that it has a crow (or a raven) with a key in a doorway on it.

This was on a weekend that I spent with some wonderful ladies roughing it *wink* in a run-down cabin. It was a bottle I had brought as an offering and it wasn’t cheap beer. I put the bottle cap in the bag of bits. Offerings, sacrifice, acts/terms of service, the actual work.

Then the little mortar and pestle disappeared from the bag. It was accounted for while I was putting the set away and the next time I opened to bag it was gone. I’m 99.99% sure of this. I’m not crazy, really. I was sad because this was a newer piece, one that I picked out of some of my favourite charms. But it was a piece that I picked out of a bunch of stuff that I already had, rather than a piece that found me or that I really searched for.

While unpacking a box of kitchen items and knick knacks I came across a small, red, glass marble. The second I pulled it out of the box and saw it I thought of a brilliant and perfect sphere of blood. This thought came with a kind of physical reaction (somewhat like shivers down the spine but not quite) that I’ve learned to pay attention to.

The marble comes from one a little fairy-witch figurine, it’s supposed to be her blood-red crystal ball, or some such. Or possibly the diminutive little witch-fairy collects drops of blood, like a sugar plum fairy gone mad? It has wound up replacing the mortar and pestle charm for symbolizing health and healing … and now also blood apparently.

To keep the marble from rolling away the way marbles do, I dripped some beeswax from a candle on one side. It’s pale and looks like, well it adds to the gore factor. Makes me think of a scab that been partially washed away or white blood cells or something.

So, as a commenter pointed out on another post, the new healing piece is more about the actual body itself, rather than treatment. We will see how that goes.

The black stone with the silver stripe was lost to tall grass during Lughnasadh. I intended to replace it with a small silver nugget bead. Mmmmmm, real silver. When I opened the packaging it came in, a piece was dropped (I’m clumsy) and that one went into the set. Gifts, treasure, the silver lining, and the things we wish/hope for.

I got a few in the order and one came out wonky. It had to go in, my roommate Grey called it: unexpected gifts/treasures, things you didn’t know you needed/wanted, the diamond in the rough, that sort of thing.

The Silver Twins. Being a Gemini, I am tickled pink.

So the old pieces found their way out and the new pieces found their way in. I still continued to work with the set as this happened. It’s a natural process. Pieces come and go, often around the same time. Once we were closing in on the solstice season, I decided it was time for a break. Starting after Samhain I gradually worked the set less and less, whilst gradually increasing goodies. It’s hard to call the gifts/goodies I give the set offerings. It’s more like giving your pet hedgehog an extra meal worm. That probably sounds terrible.

For the last little bit, it enjoyed being spread out in the craft room, on the old metal TV tray, a nice silk scarf for an “altar cloth”. The collection got incense and mulled wine and sugar cookies and all kind of goodies. Including some diviner’s smoke, which I do intent to write a good review of.

As the solstice came and the moon waned, it was time to get the set back in action. I decided that I wasn’t going to be prissy about it. I waited until my moontime had started.

So, in the depth of the winter night time, I set to work. My roommate Grey cuddled up and sleeping in her room down the hall. Crash-the-dog choose not to join me, but laid out in the hallway instead.

I lit candles and got the incense coal burning. A towel was laid out on the floor for me to sit on, the collection in its bag, the casting cloth beside it. Also there was a bowl of warm water with sea salt and a soft cloth beside it. I placed offerings upon my shrines and called to my spirits to bear witness. I stripped down and sat naked upon the dark brown towel.

With great care I filled by little stone pipe with diviner’s smoke, which I had purchased from Sarah’s botanica with money earned by doing a reading with my collection. (When I told my roommate Grey that I had ordered some diviner’s smoke from Stang and Cauldron she gleefully accused me of trying to reverse engineer Sarah’s secret sauce, which isn’t entirely true.) I slowly filled my lungs and gave up smoke and energy to my spirits, each in turn.

I blessed the casting cloth with smoke, incense and a nice mulled wine. Then I gave smoke to the collection itself, filling my lungs and then gently blowing smoke into the bag. I watched the smoke rise up out of the collection’s bag and knocked on the floor three times.

Quietly and with great care, I stated my purpose and then knelt upon the towel. From the bag I pulled out, at random, the first piece. I greeted it with a kiss and spoke its story. How I found it, how it came to be in the set, what lessons I had learned from it. What it speaks of, what its meaning is when I perform readings or use it for spellwork. Gently I reached into my body and then marked the piece with my womb’s blood. I named the piece and held it, and celebrated its renewal. I feed it some of the stout to bring it strength. Then using the sea water and the soft cloth, I bathed it. Like the new born puppies and other animals whom I have helped bring into this world. Then I laid it out on the casting cloth.

I did this with each piece in turn.

I was about a third of the way through when I realized what I was doing. I might have said something along the lines of “Aw, shit”

That’s when the cramps hit like a taloned fist. I nearly doubled over from the pain. My moons blood no longer a sluggish brown smear, but suddenly coming in great dark clots.

Hullo, my name is Juniper and I am an idiot who doesn’t always fully think things through to their final conclusion, even when they are glaringly obvious.

With a resigned sigh, I continued to give (re)birth to a small collection of random objects and the spirit/thought-form/instrument that resides within. Which includes such glorious and impressive pieces as a bottle cap and three matches tied together with string.

In front of silent and unseen witnesses.

By candlelight.

My dog lying out in the hallway, her nose at the crack between door and floor.

Sorry for the visuals, guys. If it makes it any easier, I look good naked.

Sometimes, I find myself thinking just how crazy this all is. How absolutely nuts practising witchcraft can be. How ridiculous I must seem to outsiders. When this feeling comes to me, all I can do is shrug, grin like a lunatic, and carry on.

It felt like it took forever. There are more than 30 pieces in the set and each took at least ten minutes to be cared for properly. No rushing allowed. No shortcuts. Sweat poured down my shaking and aching body as I laboured over a bizarre collection of random objects that act as a universal translator between myself and my spirit (among other things).

Finally it was done. The room was filled with smoke and stench and the thick, weighty feel of the unseen. I thanked the spirits and put away my implements, leaving the set out on the cloth to soak up some moonlight and sunrise. A long shower later and I crawled into bed shortly before the sun rose.

The next morning, I lifted my little “babies” and tucked them back into their bag.

Stay tuned for updates of how damned well the set has been working for me since Yule. There is one reading posted on the blog from since then, if you are interested.

Related posts:

1. Dem Bones and Bits and Sticks and Stones
2. New Addition 2
3. Path Reading for a Client

I feel funny. Light headed. Pupils not dilated but seeing tracers. Very thirsty. Bad taste in my mouth. Lips are numb. I smell like a dead duck. Difficult to form proper words (ok, not that difficult).

Big bonus is having a friend to lovingly wash grease off your back for you. Tip: use dish soap.

Difficult to type coherently, yay for spell check. Fully expect my journey to continue in my sleep. Weird dreams tonight. Texting the cute boy right now is probably a bad idea. Doing it anyway.

Good night.

Related posts:

1. To Tread Lightly
2. The Red Velvet Altar Cloth
3. Dragged into Dream Walking

1)      Grey is not an idiot

2)      Grey is not interested in recreational drugs and getting high (that’s my job in our household)

3)      Grey is not a newbie

4)      Grey is doing it for all the right reasons

Grey is a Hearthwitch, so ointment was the way to go. Hearthwitches like making things on the stove.  Since Grey is an experienced Witch with brains in her head, I acted more as a consultant in her quest to make ointment.  I directed her to some books on my shelf and talked about the various possibilities for ingredients, rituals and such. Then I left her to her research.

For the whole of the winter she studied, took notes, asked questions and weighed her options. She considered her purpose, contemplated symbolism, meditated, talked it out with her spirits … you know, all the things you’re supposed to do before you take your first step on the poison path.

When All snakes Day (such as it is) rolled around, she purchased a duck and brought it home. Appropriate offerings were made before she skinned it. I gave her my sharp knife to use, because it’s better than our regular kitchen knives for such purposes. I went to bed while she was still rendering fat. The smell of the duck fat filled the house and I wound up closing my bedroom door and spraying my bed with scent to cover it up, just so I could get some sleep. I’m not a fan of bird-cooking aromas.

The next morning, Grey was ready to start making the actual ointments. I ran about our house, digging through various boxes and shelves for the dried plant matter and red ochre to be used. I am not an organized Witch. Half my stuff will be in the basement, the other half in the Craft room, whatever.

I had advised Grey that colouring your ointment makes it easier not only to place it on your body using sigils and symbols, but also much easier to get it off afterwards. You know, because it can clearly be seen upon your skin. We already had red ochre in the house, and it’s a personal favourite. And … well you know, red ochre. (If you don’t know, you should know, so go learn about red ochre.)

We sained the herbs, made offerings and I left Grey to mind the hearth while I went exploring the woods near our home with a boy. After dinner (we ate most of the duck), the ointments were placed in their cute little jam jars.

There are two batches made and ready to go. One is a mild version which will be good for someone who has never used entheogens before. The other is for the more experienced Witch in the house. No, you aren’t getting our recipes.

A few days later we packed up a few items that needed to be given to the land. This included a broken goddess statue (I leave a trail of broken goddess statues), a couple of old offering dishes and the bones of the duck.

We headed out to the bit of urban forest near our home and found just the right spot along the creek, a place that I had come across while on a hike with a friend a few days earlier. I had seen the spot in summers before but from the other side of the creek. This spot features a nice little whirpool right at the curve of the creek.

While Grey lit some incense and took off her shoes, I (rather unceremoniously) tossed the pieces of the broken goddess statue. Then I broke my old clay offering dishes (I’m a Celt, you’re supposed to break things and put them in water) and threw those in as well. Grey waded in a little ways and said some nice words, then placed the duck’s remains into the whirlpool, along with some rose petals.

We watched the bits Grey had given swirl around. My offerings, being pottery, had sunk and will eventually become part of the creek bottom. Some of the pieces of duck and such did float around however. I stood there watching the pieces float around and around and found myself thinking how this would be the perfect place for the toad bone rite (not that I have any desire to do it). One large, white object kept swirling around and coming back to us. I pointed it out the first and then the second time it came by. Reluctantly, Grey pulled it out as it made the second pass. We were both somewhat relieved when it turned out to be nothing more than some random garbage. It must have gotten dislodged when I was tossing in my heavier pieces into the creek.

Our work done, and Grey’s shoes put back on, we climbed the hill back home.

Patch tests have been done. Plans have been made. Many preliminary offerings have gone to the gods, spirits and ancestors all through out this week. Everything is set.

This weekend, we will take turns watching over the other while we cross the great hedge. For myself, this will be yet another jaunt and I may or may not share with you. For Grey, this is will something of an initiation. Her experiences will certainly not be any of your businesses, dear readers.

EDITED TO ADD: Just an FYI all ingredients are perfectly natural, ethically gotten, and totally legal. Don’t be an idiot, folks.

Related posts:

1. Path Reading for a Client
2. To Fly By Night
3. A Few Things That Work (and other things)

Related posts:

1. Wordless Wednesday: Boxes (and Bren reads Tolkien to the cat)
2. Wordless Wednesday: I Crocheted a Plant Holder
3. Wordless Wednesday: Woof

Let’s fuck with someone, shall we? Time to hone your defence against the dark arts skills.

In a 13^th century Icelandic text called the Poetic Edda, we find a long poem called Hávamál, and in that poem the god Odin recites a list of Rune-spells he has learned while hanging upon the World Tree (axis mundi). This part of the Hávamál has come to be called the Song of Spells. There are many translations of this verse; here are four of them.

From these translations we can infer that a Hedgewitch or Hedgerider is thus a person with some shamanic qualities. They can ‘ride’, as in travel through and over, the boundary of this world and into the Otherworld. They can leave the “enclosure” or “hedge” of their own body, experience soul-flight and send their spirits to wander in the night.

Odin brags that he can interrupt a Witch mid-flight and confuse her, even send back home and trap her within her body. No crossing the Hedge for you, bitch!

But how would we go about this? How would we render another Witch incapable of Flight?

We know that the spell Odin speaks of is “the tenth”. The tenth rune in the Elder futhark is Naudiz (also known by many spelling, including Nauthiz, Nauðr and so forth). This rune is often said to mean need, want, desire and reverse-ably distress, confinement, compulsion, deprivation.

Let’s a take a look at a couple of rune poems where Naudiz is mentioned:

Naudhr (old Norwegian)

Constraint gives scant choice;
a naked man is chilled by the frost.

Naud (old Icelandic)

Constraint is grief of the bond-maid
and state of oppression
and toilsome work.

Nyd (Anglo-Saxon)

Trouble is oppressive to the heart;
yet often it proves a source of help and salvation
to the children of men, to everyone who heeds it betimes.

Constraint, being left in the cold, oppression … yep, Naudiz seems to be rune for our purpose.

Another useful rune would be Raidô, the 5^th rune. (10^th and 5^th, how convenient) this rune is the one that speaks of riding, travel, horses and so forth.

Now armed with our appropriate runes, let’s get to work.

We start with some symbol, rune or image that symbolizes our victim. Perhaps a photograph, a piece of hair, or a rune stave of their name. This is our indicator and we place it in the centre.

Then we want to surround the indicator with a circle to symbolize their body. We might want to go with something like sea salt for this. Since salt water is one of the main components of the human body. Or perhaps some nice blood (got goat?), or red magic marker, or red lipstick, maybe add a few additional strands of hair or fingernail clippings or some such if have you them.

To add to our enclosure, we can utilize Mannaz, which is commonly used to denote a person, a man or the body.

Now we want to create a crossroads emanating from the enclosure we have created. Four directions are good, but six or eight might be better. We want cover all our bases.

Upon our crossroads, we want to place Naudiz and Raidô. For added effect, we might want to cross or scratch out Raidô, since we are trying to avoid travel.

Adding a nice stopping point to the end of our crossroads is also a big help. Something circular, that symbolizes being sent back they way they came.

Outside of all this, we can add one more enclosure. Redundancy can be your friend when working magick.

Placing this onto some kind of threshold can add that extra oomph. How about a window or mirror? Not only a threshold but also reflective. Very nice.

Now it’s time to empower our spell. I really shouldn’t need to walk you through energy raising, visualization and all that stuff. If you don’t have magick 101 down, you shouldn’t be throwing around shit like this.

One could try a few things like swearing, getting angry, stomping your feet, or spitting. If you can do it without breaking into a fit of giggles, you could thump your staff or stang a few times and shout “You shall not pass!”

Remember we’re using runes for this. They have names, and names have power.

You’ll want to keep this one active for some time. It’s not as if a Witch tries to jump the Hedge everyday.

A rough sketch, you can make it prettier.

But Juniper, you say, what if someone uses this against ME? Well, I have a plan for that my dear. Or rather, a challenge. Put on your thinking cap and figure out how you would go about releasing yourself from the tenth rune spell. Work it out, it’s not that difficult and there’s more than one way to skin a cat (or break a curse). Once you have it worked out, post it on your blog and then put a link to that post in the comments for this post.

I’ll give you a month to do it. At the end of that month (deadline is March 25) I will put the names of the participants in a hat and randomly draw one name. The winner gets a free copy of “To Fly by Night: Craft of the Hedgewitch”

Sound like fun? Okay … go!

The tenth Rune-spell I do know

Is to gaze deep into the murky night

And spy the Hedgewitches flying high,

Sending their spirits far and wide

I see their true forms

I can confuse their wandering souls

Then turn them ‘round and send them home

Back into their bodies, back within their own skins

Update: the winner is

http://witchingstepford.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/breaking-spells-and-kicking-arse

Yay! Email me your mailing address, please!

Related posts:

1. The Tenth
2. The Song of Spells
3. It’s Not Done Yet

“Happy Lupercalia!” I said to my roommate Grey once she had gotten home from work and settled in for the evening.

“What’s Lupercalia?” she asked.

“Far superior to Valentine’s Day” I replied, then grinned with delight as she read the Wikipedia entry.

“Too bad we don’t have any goat skin to wear and run around in.” said Grey.

“I have goat skin.”

“That’s right … you DO have goat skin.”

And so the plotting began. There was much giggling in our house that night. It’s all about celebrating how awesome life is, after all.

The next night we saw a man about harp and visited someone dear for Valentine’s Day. On the drive back home, we declared ourselves to be on a Valentine’s Day/Lupercalia quest.

One Witch said to the other: “Don’t worry, no matter what happens, we have a harp in the trunk.”

On the last day of Lupercalia, we headed into the countryside.

Grey and I put on our newly made goat skin garters, winter boots and warm cloaks (and not much else).  We trucked along down the path towards the forest and once out of sight of any neighbours, we gave the boys our cloaks to carry. Then, giggling like lunatics, Grey and I processed down the snow covered “yellow brick” road. Shaking rattles and shouting blessing at the land. An attempt was made to sing “Hoof and Horn” but running about in the snow whilst naked takes your breath away. We also couldn’t stop laughing long enough to sing properly.

We picked a birch tree we liked and stooped there. While the boys watched and smoked cigarettes, I stood a large and dark phallus in the snow. Grey and I surrounded it with the stems of tulips, lilies and daffodils, as well as the blossoms of pure white carnations. We announced the coming of spring and declared the land to be blessed. Sacred smoke was burned to entice Faunus to come along and play, bringing spring time with Him.

We turned about and holding hands, Grey and I skipped back down the road. Crash the dog followed along, far too busy finding good smells to care what we were up to. Once we reached the end of the trees that hid us from the neighbours, we waited for the boys to catch up and give us our cloaks.

Back in the house and warmed by a good fire and real clothes, I asked permission to burn the sacred cakes in the fire. If a man builds you a fire, you ought to respect him enough to ask before you start tossing stuff into it.

We settled in for the night to watch movies, drink wine and make merry. All acts of love and pleasure are Her rituals, right?

I hope you had a good Lupercalia, folks!

Related posts:

1. Sassy the Tambourine
2. The Red Velvet Altar Cloth
3. A Few Things That Work (and other things)