Put away the how-to books for a little while. What further instruction do you need?

Read no more poetry, no eddas, and no hymns. Just throw back your head and pour out your heart.

Read no folklore, no more myths, and no sagas. Put pen to paper and compose your own.

Sing no songs or chants you already know. Sing no verses you have not made up on the spot.

Just for a little while.

Do not dance to the usual beat, pretend that you forgot the spiral dance. No more dance moves taught in a workshop or book. Dance with the wind, dance to the dripping of rain from leaves.

Do not rely on the magickal correspondences of herbs as written by another. Spend some time, and ask the plants yourself.

Forgo the script and the ritual outline. Pick up a stick, take a deep breath and just go. Shouldn’t you know what to do by now?

Forget the fancy prose and weird terminology and practised speech. Pull up a chair, pour a drink and chat with your spirits and gods like old friends for a change.

Just for a little while.

Give in and give up. Shout at the wind. Be unfettered and free.

Step out of your comfort zone. Just for a while.

Rely on your wits and the things you’ve been researching all this time. Rely on your instincts and the practice you have put in. Rely on the relationship you’ve been building with the unseen.

Summer is coming and with it the storms of the season. Give in to that rumbling rhythm in the distance.

Put down that book, come along with me. Unbind your hair, pick up your stick, lace up your boots and let’s go find some adventure out there.

Related posts:

1. Horned God Devotional
2. Wordless Wednesday: Devotional
3. To Fly By Night

I am going in a million different directions with writing and bringing back the podcast. I’d like to hear from you, dear readers/listeners: what I should focus on more. For the blog, for No Unsacred Place and for the podcast. So, ask me a question (I might answer it) or give me a suggestion. Shameless begging for encouragement and redirection, I know.

If you’ve emailed me or are waiting to hear back from me for some reason, I’m sorry. I am really terrible at never getting back to people. I’ll try to get caught up!

Cheers

Related posts:

1. Keeping Busy
2. Repost: I am Not a Real Witch
3. Wordless Wednesday

Related posts:

1. Wordless Wednesday: Boxes (and Bren reads Tolkien to the cat)
2. Wordless Wednesday: Ointment
3. Wordless Wednesday: Crow Fetish

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)