Mama Cacao

Friday, September 22, 2017

Cacao Woman
Theo


Theobroma, known affectionately by the her nickname, Cocoa, is the bittersweet younger sister of the bunch.  She wont expand your mind in a haze of smoke, nor will she dance you into divine madness, but she will comfort and warm you and fill your bellies with satisfaction when her sisters are done with you.  Her power lies in stimulation, education, in joy and euphoria, and in transforming herself from bitter dark to sugary white depending on her mood.  Her spirit is uplifting and unafraid.  For a woman on her period, Cacao is a sacred saint, like her sisters, and seeks only to ease the pain.  She keeps her own friends very close to her; vanilla, damiana, chili and allspice- they know who runs the show and they all love to stop the world and melt with her.  Her skin comes in every shade; from dark to milk brown to white, even ruby.  Too much of her pure essence will poison you, too little will sadden you.
With damiana flowers in her hair and glass beads on her arms, gold hoops in her ears, with a bowl of chili and allspice, and her supply of red, green and yellow cacao pods, she is ready for the ceremony.
Her tastes run expensive; she lives for the finer things and prefers offerings in cups of gold, in ornate terracotta pots, or wrapped up with a golden ticket.  Just the smell of her makes men smile, and the taste of her has earned her a reputation as an aphrodisiac, a seductress of senses. Alone, she can be a tad bitter, but with friends she sweetens and spices up just fine.  In her most refined form, she is worshiped on birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Halloween- any day of joy, she'll be found giving her offerings and receiving sacrifices in the form of rotten teeth and tummy aches. 



damiana grows from her gown, a companion herb used in cacao aphrodisiacs
When you've worshiped Mary Jane, your mind grows full but your mouth runs dry, and so you turn to Vino for libations and sacraments, which invigorates your mouth but hollows your stomach.  This is where Cacao casts her holy power; that of savoy truffles and salty balls.  She fills the heart, just as wine fills the spirit and sativa fills the imagination.  The trifecta of natural pain relief is made whole by Cacao in all her forms. 


"Cool my brains and soothe my head
Stimulate me my Co-co-co
Sneak into my empty bed
And educate me my Co-co-co"

-
stellastarr*

This Is Here. This Is Home

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Cascades, North.  The water up north can be a clear turquoise blue due to the sediment run-off from the mountain's glacial waters.  I only go North of Seattle for places like this, for the raw beauty of Washington. 
Riverton view of South Cascades in winter.  Beyond those trees is the Tukwila Valley, Renton and Kent.  In winter this place really is a hilly death trap, but it's beautifully quiet in the snow.  This is my home.
Downtown Seattle, Needle.  I spend some of my free time down by the Bay, in the mystic scene.  Beyond that summer smog and dark blue bay is a volcano waiting to destroy the valley of  Takoma, Tahoma, Puyallup, Enumclaw, Kent, Auburn and probably South Renton too.  We Tukwilians and Highlanders are poised for survival, while some of the Downtownies will probably slough off into the Sound.  Adios fam...
Skagit River, the coldest damn waters I've ever known. 
Across the Sound are the San Juan Islands, Neah Bay (Makah territory) and the Olympic Range. You can see for miles from Downtown Seattle, especially if you can get up to the Needle or Columbia Tower. 
Lake Union, Gasworks, Fremont, Mt Baker and the U-District are out beyond those low strange buildings (our pop culture museum).  Over the hills on the right is Lake Washington and Bellevue (where the rich kids live), and to the left is Queen Anne and Ballard (where the rich kids live). What you don't see is the copious amounts of homeless people, the parks filled with transients living among refuse, the endless lines of people waiting for work, for homes, for hope.  Yes, it's a beautiful place... ruled by a sneering elite who spend more on sports arenas, Starbucks and beautification programs for the upper-class neighborhoods than they do on opening up land and buildings and opportunities for our swelling population of impoverished peoples.  It's easy to ignore on your commute ... tent-city bridges and makeshift favelas beneath every bridge in Georgetown, under every overpass in the I-District.  
This is the actual coast of Washington; not an estuary like the Sound or a massive lake like Lake Washington.  This is down in Quinault territory.  The national rain-forest a few miles north of this beach is a mossy wonderland, with springs and marmots and nursing logs bigger than school buses.
Skagit country.  Too far north for my tastes, but there's no better place to find eagles tearing salmon from the chilly rivers, deer leaping from trail to trail.

South Puget Sound.  This is my territory, where I do my green work, beside the Sound and Rivers and Hills and Wetlands, in the shadow of the the God-Mountain.

helpful tips..

Tukwila- Tuh-QUILL-uh
Puyallup- Pew-Al-up
Skagit- SKA (short A as in Ash)- Jit
Quinault- Quinn-ALT
Makah- Ma- KAH
Neah Bay- Knee-UH bay
Takoma- Tuh-Coma
Tahoma- Tuh- HOME-uh
Enumclaw- EEn- Uhm- Claw
Puget Sound- Pew-jit Sound

A Tarot Collection

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Mantegna, Sola Busca, Golden Renaissance, Bosch, Botticelli, Klimt, Byzantine, Del Fuego, Native American, Dame Darcy Mermaid, Etruscan, Alchemical, Bastard, Dark Exact, Golden Thread, Chelsea, Pixie's, Golden Universal, Hoi Polloi, Waite-Smith, Morgan Greer, Leporcalia. Favorites from my collection.


 When you read with the Leporcalia Tarot, my favorite parlor-reading deck, you ought to try a tea blend of rosehips and clovers, maybe a little oat-straw and honey brush if you like, tea with this deck is a spiritual union.


My favorite decks.  I didn't notice the trend of blue and orange backs until I laid them all out...  The Dame Darcy Mermaid is a new edition but already touches my heart.  The Morgan Greer is among the very first decks I ever received.  My Klimt is my baby, it has never once failed me.  The Etruscan is the deck of war, and is probably my favorite artistic aesthetic.  The Chelsea Lenormand is absolute 70's throw-back art movement glory, a must have for any serious collection.




Messages Given and Received

Wednesday, August 23, 2017




DUAN AN DAOIL
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday?
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday?
Little beetle, little beetle,
Rememberest thou yesterday
The Son of God went by?

The seeds split, their shiny polished sacks cracked and then gnawed.  They've lived in the dark for so long, with the other curios and friends.  They've been fed on secret words and the warm and the quiet.  They emerge, ushered into the world among thorns and nightshade. Slick and black, they unfurl their wings and stretch their legs and with all my blessings they go off into the world, carrying with them the word I send out into the world, to those distant places, on air and in darkness.

The red poppy seeds (right) will attend the red sandalwood, dragonsblood and cinnamon; her dreams bring messages of lust; dreams that are warm and wet and wonderful.  The blue belongs with storax and blonde sandalwood, the orris and opium oil; it helps the mind cope with the wonders of the otherworldly messages our nightmares bring us (strangely, when burned on coals this batch smelled like baked honey). The brown and black and ash colored bottle repels dreams when they become inconvenient, especially when accompanied by wormwood,  fresh keif and a dose of clove (they smell cold and musky when burned, they've been aged 11 years), but the brown and gold, they draw dreams with wildness and wealth in the company of cedar, ground rose buds and a drop of olibanum. 
Pendell wrote in the correspondences of the poppy that her discipline was that of the "leechdom and perfumery", her element is air and her metaphor is dreams.  The seeds are my favorite part to use personally, for my own dream incense.  They produce odd scents and unexpected flavors, and in the art of ritual incense making, I've had a fair deal of luck with adding small quantities of poppy seeds processed in a number of ways; from tinctures to fine powders to fermented grounds and simple oils.
  

  I've been in a flurry ever since I started having these dreams of the poppies and dry fields and crackling leaves, and with the dreams came the inspiration to start sculpting again. Putting my hands back into the clay and giving birth to ideas was so cathartic.  I don't think I'll accept commissions again any time soon, but I do like making and trading whatever comes to me in my thoughts, in my dreams.  Soon, I'll share them, but for now, I'm just following the messages and trust in my messengers.


referenced...

Dale Pendell's Phamako Gnosis
Carmina Gadelica Vol 1 &2 by Alexander Carmicheal

Thorns, Poppys and Living Things Within

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Poppy, the Chinese "plant of joy".... Aphrodite's Tears, Demeter's Gift, Milk of Morpheus, Hypnos' Hypnotic, Minoa's Crown.  Feminine, saturn, sun, moon, air, water, love and dreams, the poppy (particularly the California poppy) is sacred to my immediate family.   It's an emblem, a tutelary spirit and a personification of an ideal resilience and beauty.  Back home in the desert, poppy flowers of mixed varieties populate every road side and hillside for stretches of miles all summer and they wind up on the altars of Our Lady and Corn Woman alike. They grow under the orange trees, in the willows and along the tall grass.  Papaver sominiferum, oriental and common poppy and all other related ones receive the same adoration and favoritism in our personal gardens and art.

"There was another species of Capnomancy which consisted in observing the smokeraising from poppy and jessamin seed, cast upon burning coals."Demonologia, Or, Natural Knowledge Revealed: Being an Exposé of Ancient and Modern Superstition (1831) by J. S. Forsythe

While the flowers get put to use in my work for the benefit of phila, the seeds and pods are used in dream work, to invoke or purify, to deliver messages or even confusion.  I use poppy seed to receive messages in dream, while the pods can be used as protective amulets, in bone sets or even to store herbs.  Mostly, they're to house the oneric spirits on the altar who seem to enjoy the dreamy smell and cool shade of the poppy.  In my collection is eleven bottles, each with a different year of poppy from my sister's garden on my mother's property.  Eleven years worth, all for the benefit of honoring our ancestors and familial spirits come the autumn each year, when the dead move.  As the seeds age and their smells evolve, they get added to the batch in small increments.  The smoke is used in a form of capnomancy after dream work.

"To know the future, or how any event will turn out, or whether or not you will win in a lottery, get a dry poppy pod, and, making a hole, let out all the seeds. Place a paper inside, on which your question is written then put it beneath your pillow and repeat: ""In the name of the heavens and the stars, and the moon, May I now dream, and that full soon, If this I see. (Here tell you wish)Pray tell to me!"" You will surely dream all you wish to know."-Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World by Cora Linn Daniels

The Dame Darcy Mermaid Tarot is a treasure.  It reminds me of a fortune teller under a dock in Atlantic City or Coney Island.  It's diverse and oceanic and contemporary... I'm a fan.  Blessing it with seaweed infused salt, storax, sandalwood and oceanspray incense, rue and mugwort, and Aphrodite oil was the right move.  This will function as my new public deck, and I'll be retiring my art decks to the private parlor. 


The thing about thorns and nails is that they aren't inherently tied to curses, but they are the averting factor for a spell.  I don't get much use from iron nails in my work unless its commissions for other people, but hawthorns, rose thorns and brambles are a staple in most martian and saturnain work geared towards amulets of aversion and repellent charms.  Thorns in an apple kissed by a jealous lover and fed to the mistress/interloper will sicken them.

A charm to cause someone to sicken with discomfort and apprehension, to fill them with anxiety and paranoia, was shared with me by local seawitch Chelsea P., and involves the creation of a dolly/simulacrum of thin hemp cloth, filled with vetch pods, flowers and seeds, as well as slippery elm, thistle fluff, and the volts of your intended.  You would hide this on the grounds of your enemy, under the porch or house or a stone in their garden.  As the seeds shift and birth the beetles, they will crawl through the poppet, eventually eating through the thin cloth and emerging out, causing your intended to confess.  Vetch is for revenge on a lover, otherwise, the scotch broom, being under the rulership of mars and air, also attracts a beetle that is equally discomforting. 
Vetch, Oak gall and Snails are a particularly fun part of summer hexes and charm lore.  Did you know that charms "to cause living things to grow in the body" are found across the world?  I'm most fond of African American hoodoo and English folk magic where jinx, hex and curse folklore is concerned, I like seeing how both these strains of my ancestors viewed this mysticism.  They say in hoodoo, to cause snails and slugs to squirm in the body and slither up the throat, one must collect, desiccate and feed a snail or slug to one's intended victim.  Interesting stuff...

Vetch isn't well known in magic for anything other than its properties to bind and ensnare lovers, to ensure fidelity and to inspire beauty, this is found in local plant medicine and magic as well as English flower folklore.  The root and flower are the main culprits in these works, but the seed comes with a skin-crawling magic of its own.  The seed of hairy vetch is known to attract a beetle which lives as larvae in the center of the seed, and when they have consumed the innards of the seed they burrow their way out, leaving behind hollow husks which would make any trypophobe shudder.  You can usually tell when the seed is infected from it's odd coloring, small pinprick holes and/or soft pliancy.  A firm black seed is most often the best if you're looking to avoid an infected seed.


In this way, vetch and broom are much like oak gall, which acts as a vessel for insects who are most often associated with malady, war and revenge.  Unlike the seeds which are prey to the beetles themselves, oak galls are an immune response from the tree, and is in this way, born of conflict and from these emerge a wasp, worm and sometimes even spiders which can be messengers or can signify illness.  Both are infections to their host; parasites using the plant world to the benefit of their species.  Brilliant.  And magical.  And exactly what makes my skin crawl.  I'm not much for hexes, but I do like knowing how to respect every plant spirit in my arsenal, especially the ones that help usher other forms of life into the world.  Seeds, pods, that which holds the potentum of life, summer is ripe with it.

Further Reading...

Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World by Cora Linn Daniels
Hoodoo Herb and Root Magic by Catherine Yronwode
Plants of Love by Christian Rätsch
Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs

A Full Moon's Day

Thursday, August 10, 2017


Vicia spirit gourd, blessed by a fullmoon hidden behind smoke
It was a battle moon this time, one made of smoke and worry.  There's a million battles being fought all around me and I've chosen mine.  Right now, my battle is in finding my balance.  This Moon's Day hosted a full moon during a time of fire.  It was a moon of rage, a moon of heat and forging.  It was a perfect time to think deeply about the imbalances that seem to have taken the fire and fight out of me.  It was a moon to cleanse myself and my house, to eat differently and move my body.   

Have you ever been so terribly upset about something that you responded by simply refusing to entertain it?  It's empowering isn't it?  To give so little power to any situation or person who is harming you by not engaging.  It isn't running, it isn't shutting down, it isn't denial.  It's peace.  It's looking past trying to entertain people's miseries and being disinterested in playing the game.  You start to see how much suffering around us is self inflicted and how much we don't have to participate in the cycles around us.  There are a lot of people trapped in negative cycles in my life, I don't get involved or interact with it.  

It's a toxic magic they're practicing.  When people put their intentions to nothing but bile and hate, or revenge and hypocrisy, or even just to insecurity, those intentions manifest in all aspects of their lives.  We create these waves of suffering that dominate our work lives, friendships and more.  The worst is the impact it can have on you spiritually, how much it can affect your work with the spirits.  I don't like these cycles, I prefer to wander around in my empathy and leave everyone else to their own devices.  Sometimes that's the best way to love people and the world, is to let them be and go your own way.  I've enjoyed my time away from people; I'm sculpting again, I'm back on track with my health and I'm gaining no grudges by indulging no misery.  I respect compassion and individuality above all other qualities, and those are my intentions, and what magic is made of that will be reflected.

Purification takes a lot of forms.  I was waiting until the full moon because I needed to clear my head before filling a gourd with of binding love. There were offerings to the spirits, and homemade rosewater cascarilla laid down.  I placed the gourd on a bed of vetch flower on a wax healing tablet and prayed.  When I read for myself, I saw exactly what was binding me, and when I threw the pearwood healing runes, there was a map of tension and misery laid out for me to trace my way out.  Labyrinth magic is sometimes just following the clues out of the maze of your own mind.
 It's been isolating and solitary, but then, that's every summer.  It's just not my time of year.  This year is a tad harder than the last few have been.   I don't do well with family and friend emotional baggage.  It's hard for me to keep up with all these social interactions and expectations.  I don't do well under social pressure, I much prefer to just be on my own and in my own space, and I don't think much about how anyone around me feels about it.  I wish I could indulge it, but I know better.  Never let people change you just because they're desperate to connect to you; not everyone needs to connect the same way, maybe for some people the silence is more deeply connecting than the chatter.

When it all becomes too intense, when there's too many feelings and emotions coming my way from the outside, I recede deep into my work and the woods.  The balance of silence and distance is where I thrive creatively, emotionally and spiritually.  When autumn comes, I'll again be thrust back into the constant miasma of other humans, but while the sun is high in the summer sky, I get peace.


High Summer has come and past and next the harvest season brings the browning and redding of everything.  Things once green wither to blackness, pods twist and snap in the heat, the berries rot on the vine and fall.  I was born in Autumn, right after the Autumnal Equinox, and I've always felt affectionate for the colors and tastes of the season.  There's corn husk cigars to roll and oat cakes and to make and blackberry ale to check on; there's tall yellowed grass to get lost in and all those delicious smells.  

It's time to go collect dried galls and fresh acorns, and time to cut roses and smoke long into the afternoon.  It's golden out, even with the smoke wafting down from British Columbia, and so so warm, it's almost like being back in Los Angeles, among the smog and smoke and dry air.  Sometimes, through the stresses of life, you just have to stop moving so much and be still, listen, lick your wounds or whatever, just take the time to keep up that which animates you... your spirit.

First Fruits

Saturday, August 5, 2017





Binding Birdsfoot

Friday, August 4, 2017


Binding, binding, entwining, I adore the vicia vetch that Pliny called the "binder".  Vetch's local traditional applications according to Turner and Gunther were love magic, love drawing, fidelity charms and charms of beauty.  In the language of flowers according to Powell, vetch means "shyness", and to Cunningham, "fidelity".   She is ruled by  the star of Venus and seeks to ensnare, binding all things in her path, sowing as she goes.  Her pods can be used as a rattle component to send away the spirits who follow usurpers and mistresses.  I have several vetch spirit gourds in my collection and they bring the essence of attachment to my Binding two poppets in vicia villosa and ipomea will create a bond of deep fidelity and fascination, and can be woven in a pattern of knots or twisted and wound, and then gifted to newly weds on their commitment day.  


Gather all materials on Fridays in the hour of mercury, in the sun.  Gather from a romantic place preferably.  Fill two dollies with the black and green seeds of your favored vetch, as well as the dried flowers and dual-twisted pod shell (only use ones which are split in two, never single).  In one doll place the hair of one intended, and in the other, the hair of the partner.  Have each partner give their blood to a vine each and then twist those two vines together in a tight rope, then bind that rope around the arms of the two dolls in a heart knot or bow.  Give these to the intended to bury in the far yard of their very first home or at the front gate of their home.  When they bury the seed-filled doll, bound and bonded, they should consecrate the act by consummating their love.


There are a lot of varieties around here and many in the world.  I've got a few vicia in my collection and I try to keep them separated and cataloged for specific work; sativa for large marital charming, common for poppets, hairy for fidelity and attraction.  There are braids for binding charms and nests for blessing candles and vessels to sort the virtues of one vine of vetch from another.  I'm trying to stay organized these days... heh.


In addition to my vetch, I enjoy trefoil to act as a sister to vetch.  See, vicia doesn't do well alone.  That's not her style.  She despises to be without a companion of equal neediness; it thrills her to tangle and weave and choke and strangle.  It's an intense relationship that requires some personal distance or it becomes a tad dependent.  Vetch pairs well with morning glory, thistle, broom , but most of all, I've found the synchronicity between vetch and trefoil; they like each others company a lot and share in their sexual and somber symbolism.  In the language of flowers, this trefoil is associated with "revenge" according to C. Daniels, and is also ruled by Mercury. Imagine what a binder herb meant to ensnare an errant lover and an herb associated with sex, stability and revenge might do if they worked together...


Fair Flower Sorceress

Monday, July 31, 2017



I think the best love spells use flowers; they are the sexual and aesthetic virtue of the herb.   There's a million meanings for flowers, a million different names and uses, values and cautions.  The best flowers are the ones that bloom fat and warm in summer time- those are my favorite; the morning glories and roses, the poppy, lunaria, magnolias and clematis.  I suppose, because I prefer to dance in the Garden of Venus, it would make sense that I find a deep kinship in flowers.  The floral component to love magic is ancient, probably among the first forms of superstitious actions taken by humans to draw love.

In most classical examples, the creator of philters (love potions), powders and food- all of which are vehicles for the delivery of erotic/romantic magic, is female, and often regarded as a sorceress (like enchanting Kirki who seduced Odysseus), a witch (like Medea of Colchis, pharmakis and priestess of Hekate), an enchantress (like beautiful Namo, the flower sorceress) or even as simple maids beguiled into the black arts by desperation for love and beauty, as are attested to mainly in the European witch-trial documents.  However, The Picatrix and other older occult material make it very clear that both sexes were more than willing to turn to floral mixtures to achieve their ends.  The famous so-called grimoire of Marie Laveau, better known as  17th century occult charm collection, Le Petit Albert, gives us a floral enchantment "For Causing a Girl to Dance Undressed To Her Underwear" and lists the components (to be gathered on the St. John's eve, before sunrise) as:

Wild marjoram, 
sweet marjoram, 
wild thyme, 
vervain, 

myrtle leaves, 
three walnut leaves, 
three small stems of fennel

Marjoram's simple phrase is "blushes" (Powell, p. 146), a flower of girlish grace ruled by air, mercurial qualities and associated with Aphrodite.  In Greek symbolism, thyme flower symbolized activity, bees and restored energy, and it corresponds to Venus and water, its flowers vary in shades of pink and mauve and carry a pungent, slightly bitter and warm scent.  Vervain is just as pungent and bitter as thyme flower, only cooler and  represented enchantment as well as a warning of ill news. Myrtle, though not floral, has always been a Venusian herb associated with love and Aphrodite's servants, a sign of willingness.  By contrast, the symbolism of  warm, dry, sweet fennel in the language of herbs (from Roman origin) give us the fennel as a source of force and strength.  Walnut is associated with intellect and granted wishes.  Together, these herbs and flowers when finely powdered represent exactly what it is they are intended to do; cause a girl to be compelled to do some activity which one deems erotic.  I for one don't find pungent tones very erotic, and so my mixes tend to have more floral and earthy sweet and musky tones, or spicy and warm; scents that turn me on and attract the kind of people I would desire.  I desire people who like the smell of moon flowers and cinnamon, cloves and roses, violets and opium.


"The number 3 plays a prominent part in many ancients recipes.  3 red rose leaves, 3 white rose leaves, 3 forget-me-nots, 3 leaves of veronica enter into the composition of ancient philters."
- Cora Linn Daniels & C. M. Stevans, Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World: Vol 1 1903

Of the famous flowers of magic are is of course queenly Red Rose who's virtues being numerous and far reaching is revered for her secrecy, powers over lust, remarkable beauty and intoxicating smell.  All parts of the rose are used in love, sex, secret, war, death and healing magic, and each rose by variety carries its own magic virtues.


Another of honorable mention would have to be a favorite of early alchemists the periwinkle or vinca major/minor, also known as "sorcerer's violet" used in Western European cosmetic and love charms for some time, though also used in magic relating to magic of the sea (probably due to the plant's association with the nymph Thetis).   Discordes, Galen and Culpepper all remarked upon the 'binding' nature of vinca and given the nature of periwinkles to creep and bind all over plants it touches, the association is apt.  Periwikle is symbolic of fidelity, friendship and peace in French flower lore.  In other sources we find charms and superstitions regarding periwinkle as a powder additive to charms which will reconcile man and wife.   Apuleius's Herbarium describes periwinkle as a useful wort against bedevilment, snakes, beasts of the wild, poisons, but also useful for the granting of wishes, to calm envy and terror, to offer prosperity and grace.  It is recommended to gather this plant with the utmost cleanliness of body, when the moon is 9 nights old.


Lilly of the Valley is an old fairy herb which adores to be preserved in almond oils or red wines, and is among chief plants for the love sorceress.  Of lily of the valley, a staple of the British pharmakopoeia, Paul Huson said; "The scent of the lily of the valley provides feelings of abundance and well being.  It enhances all friendships and provides affection and love."  Culpepper remarked on the medicinal qualities of the flower for improving memory and focus of mind.  Funny, like many herbs gathered specifically to ensnare or bond, the lily of the valley is poisonous, or at least the leaves and berries are, leaving the floral element safe to use in magic powders and strewing blends.

"Perhaps not surprisingly many of the Lily kin are poisonous despite their unearthly beauty, such as Convallaria, poisoning by which is characterized by dilated pupils, delirium, and cardiac arrest.  With this particular Lily, it is the crimson berries that possess the concentrated poison." - Daniel A. Schulke, Viridarium Umbris (p.93)

When blended with lavender and honeysuckle, here lies a powder to strew about a bedroom where lovers have quarreled.  When powdered and blended with gourd husk, slippery elm, black pepper and pollen, lily of the valley will cause gossipers to sicken and sneeze when they speak ill of the witch.  When the juice of the flowers are spread over tools, she will purify and enchant these objects. When the juice of the berries are rubbed over working tools in autumn, those tools will be enchanted and sanctified.  Eastern folklore paints the lily as sacred and lucky, gifted from the fairies (Daniels p.10391) with the ability to multiply good fortune for whoever grows a fairy-given bulb.
"Witches also found a use for the plant. The stems, wrapped around a person nine times, were thought to be effective in casting a wicked spell.  This magic was particularly strong if the plant was used three days before a full moon." 
-Laura C. Martin, Garden Flower Folklore 
Morning Glory will bind and ensnare with very little effort.  She adores attention and desires many lovers, ones she can slowly choke and smother and love to death if she can.  In my garden of affinity, Morning Glory shares the spotlight with creeping rose, ivy and slomanum as the guardians of the gate.  The rose of passion, the ivy of wisdom, the nightshade of death, the bindweed of sight, each one sacred to the arts of love charming and hex binding.  She adores shade and sun, she casts spells over bees and gives shade to rabbits in their thickets.  If you give her an inch, she'll take a foot.  Morning Glory stands out among these ones as the key of the mind traveler.  The extraction method of her psychedelic virtues takes work if you care to do it the long way, but the lsd-like seeds have long been taken for the purpose of sacred sight and divine hallucinations in some Mexican shamanic traditions.  It's use in psychedelic culture today is a pretty new import, and you'll find it more common that people commune more often with MG's cousin, the baby woodrose seed, which produces a second day euphoria I would describe as nothing less than a harmony hang over.

Tomorrow the dreams and the flowers will fade...

In Thomas Moore's "In the Light of the Harem" from Lalla Rookh there exists a beautiful vision of floral sorcery, flower enchantress Namouna; a woman well-versed in charms, amulets and talismans especially those of love.  In the poem, this sorceress gathers her blossoms; including those of rosemary, amaranth, musk rose, anemones, woodbine, clove-tree, moonflower and basil, by midnight and weaves them into a wreath.  Wreath magic is a large part of my summer work, and are a tradition among many peoples.  My wreathes tend to be flowers of summer woven with charms of love, talismans and sachets that contain everything that captures or draws love, sex, romance, frenzy, sleep, drunkenness- any manner of my favorite things.   Namouna is an inspiration, an erotic herbalist who puts love and desire into every blossom picked, recounting love and becoming one with her bounty through prayer, song and sheer affinity.  The enchantress in this narrative ensnares with flowers and sweet words, a common motif of the witch in romantic poetry and prose over the centuries.

"With what delight the enchantress views
so many buds, 
bathed with the dews 
and beams of that blessed hour!- her glance 
Spoke something past all mortal pleasures, 
As if a kind of holy trance, 
She hung above the fragrant treasures, 

Bending to drink their balmy airs, 
As if she mixed her soul with theirs, 
And twas indeed, the perfume shed 
From flowers and scented flame that fed--"
-Moore

Namouna, with a lengthy incantation summons the virtues of loving herbs, among them, the jasmine.  In the language of flowers, jasmine is described pleasantly by most sources.

"The image of love, that nightly flies to visit the bashful maid, 
steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs Its soul, like hers, in the shade 
The dream of a future, or happier hour, That alights on misery's brow, 
Springs out of the almond silvery flower, That bloom on a leafless bough."
In the Light of the Harem, Moore

Powell describes the jasmine as symbolic of amiability, sensuality, grace, elegance and attachment. The creeping jasmine blossoms early in spring in my town, and withers as soon as the days grow warm.


In my garden of floral sorcery there grows bluebells, magnolias and hyacinths for grief; red roses, morning glory, solanum, creeping jasmine, swamp rose and periwinkle for binding; hellebore for madness and trilium for beauty.   I love the lazy nodding of lily and the bitter sting of blackberry flower thorns.  There's magic in the preserved essence of a sweet violet in syrup, and the preserved scent of lily in almond oil.  Mock orange flowers and lavender will make magic that smells like expensive soap, melissa and basil flowers when gathered fresh and hung in doorways will send raging spirits to sleep and lure satyrs to bed.  I'm a fair flower sorceress, in my own way.


Further Reading

  • Culpepper's Herbal
  • Mastering Herbalism by Paul Huson
  • Encyclopedia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World: Vol 1 by Cora Linn Daniels & C. M. Stevans
  • The Spellbook of Marie Laveau: The Petit Albert by Talia Felix
  • A Floral Grimoire: Plant Charms, Spells, Recipes, and Rituals by Patricia Telesco
  • Garden Flower Folklore by Laura C. Martin
  • The Meaning of Flowers by Claire Powell
  • A Modern Herbal Vol 2 by Margaret Grieve
  • Viridarium Umbris by Daniel Schulke
  • Collected works of Thomas Moore

All Your Grandmas: Ancestor Veneration, Mixed-raced Identity and the A word

Monday, July 24, 2017


"Five Goddesses Walk Into  a Bar..." by Andrew G. Jimenez, 2017
Me, The Morrigan, Brigid the Healer, Oshun and Spider Grandmother walk into a bar...
Morrighan orders a whiskey, Brighid orders a scotch.
Oshun orders a Cuban rum, Spider Grandmother orders tequila.
I order a shot of each in a glass just for me.  I like mixed drinks.

The Meeting of Rivers...

There are a lot of dimensions when it comes to identity.  Some people would be very uncomfortable with the idea of mixed people mixing spiritualities.  Some people don't have strong enough ties to any of their cultures to feel like part of the community.  That's the tricky part about being American; often we are not surrounded by people who share the same ethnicity or culture, but we share the greater culture of being American, which in and of itself is a mixed-raced experience and can manifest in a number of ways.

When I think about myself, I don't see a native-white-black-latino-plus or a mulatto.  I see a little bit of everywhere and everything. I see my Irish and French and English ancestors, I see my West African ancestors, I see my Indigenous ancestors, I see the little bits and pieces that all come together to make me look the way I am, but does not define me.  Mostly, I see the struggle and accomplishments of all the women who came before me.  I don't necessarily envision oppression and triumph- I see humanity.

I suppose that's what makes the green path so easy for me; it is a universal among my ancestry, it is a universal among peoples, utilizing plants and their virtues for the benefit of life.  The ewe veneration of Santeria, the medicine of the American Southwest, Pacific Northwest indigenous herbalism, English wortcunning, Greek pharmakaeia; it's all a source of goodly, godly wisdom to me, and it transcends each culture and the boundaries of land and race, and extends out towards all people, urging us to commune with the garden of life.  The green path has no race, no culture, no god; it encompasses many and all; a legion of beliefs and an eternity of mysteries in between.  Whether a yerbera, osainista, cunning man, medicine woman or herbalist; whether a shaman, spiritual naturalist or hard animist, the green road rises in every direction and leads always to the heart of the woods.  By whatever name we walk and on whatever road we take, the path is verdant, alive, green.

Syncretic means blended, and that's what happened when people immigrated to America and condensed in different regions.  Curanderismo isn't Spanish and it isn't Indigenous, it isn't Catholic and it isn't spiritism- it's all of that and more.  Hoodoo isn't voodoo or Ifá, it isn't indigenous medicine, it isn't Christianity- it's all that and more and less depending on where you go.  Southwest witchcraft is one thing in Santa Fe and a completely different thing in Los Angeles.  American syncretic religious systems like Louisiana voodoo, hoodoo, conjure, granny, New English witchcraft, bruja- only exist BECAUSE of multiple cultures mixing religious beliefs and folklore.  The syncretic religious systems of the South are rooted in Afro indigenous spirituality, European Catholic symbolism, Indigenous American Medicine and various other bits and pieces; for example, Arabic medicine in Curanderismo, Chinese divination used in Cuban Santeria, or the influence of Filipino Catholicism in Louisiana Voodoo, or Basque, Jewish and African folk charms and remedies in Mexican brujeria.

When the rivers meet, where the compass converges, you get the magic of the New World.  You get hundreds of strains of multicultural intersectionality and developed religious traditions to reflect this complex, tumultuous history.  Since the colonization of this continent; the cultures and ethnicities of Europe, Asia, West Africa and America have mixed, assimilated, blended and warred.  It's everywhere.  It's part of American story telling and folklore and it's a part of you. Americans ARE a culture- full of cultures and subcultures and countercultures. Magic in the New World is unique because it no longer resembles the people who delivered this wisdom, rather, it reflects the merging of peoples.

Maybe rather than focusing exclusively on the great seas of divide between our ancestors and the complexities of culture and colonization, take some time to explore the common threads in their folk magic?  Animism, Funereal rites, Agrarian rites, Ancestor Veneration & Propitiatory Rites, Divination, Apotropaic charms, Anathemic charms, Herbalism- Medical and Mystical, Oral Traditions and Story Telling- there's a whole hell of a lot of magical principles and metaphysical ideologies in common between peoples' folklore.  Shape-shifting, dowsing, charming, conjuring, placation of spirits, laws of silence and spirit-retrieval- you can find it in Indigenous animism, Afro-American spirituality, European folklore, Southwestern witchery, East Asian shamanic systems- the mystic has some very basic commonalities, and it makes sense how these things derived from one another, emulate or conflate with one another.

The Boundaries Between Trees...

There are people who are not ethnically related to the culture in which they grew up or live.  There are people who do not resemble the dominant culture to which they belong.  There are people who are mixed with two or more different and distinct ethnicities and displaced and they are not immersed in a single culture.  There are people who come from families where nobody looks like each other, nobody is genetically related and everyone shares their cultures and faith in an amalgam, a very American thing to happen in "new normal" families. The latter is where I'm from. There are hundreds of different dynamics to culture and race, our perceptions of ownership and sovereignty- nobody has a monopoly on the situation.

All that can be said as a universal truth on this matter is that culture is a shifting and complex thing.  This is especially true in meltingpot countries like the Americas; our identity IS mixed raced, it IS blended, and not every single instance of that is a product of rape and assimilation and colonization.  Some exchanges in the world are natural happenstance with humble beginnings.  I think we Americans can obsess over identity politics to the degree that we ignore the common human curiosity that made our ancestors travel, intermarry, share religions and customs without force; that curiosity that drives people together rather than apart... we forget that the story is bigger than our shores, and more human than our historical demons.

We are so uncomfortable with being comfortable with being multicultural sometimes that it impacts our spiritual development. We literally have to question if we are allowed to enjoy our own cultures or explore our own identity.  We have to question if we're somehow being disloyal to one side or the other when the truth is this anxiety is an illusion; there is only you and your faith, far transcending culture and race. There are often no black and white areas when it comes to the transmission of spirituality across the world; each and every instance of emulation, assimilation, dissemination and yes, appropriation, must be judged on an individual level with some rational reasoning.

Not all cultural exchange is inherently appropriation, especially not faith and spirituality.  When we throw around complex terms like appropriation in the pagan community, most of the time we're talking about the legitimate problem of adopting cultural spiritual beliefs while knowing little of and contributing nothing to that culture; when one exoticizes a culture and wears a costume to fit in while having the privilege to take the costume off and leave that culture in times of struggle.  We're usually talking about someone in a place of privilege banking off the intellectual property of the people disenfranchised by the dominant group.  It's a matter of authenticity and respecting boundaries. But these days it's a term sometimes used to reinforce colorism, ethnic stereotypes and to insinuate that mixed-raced multiculturals must choose their religious identity according to shade of skin, roundness of eye, accent of voice.  It's tricky and touchy and nobody agrees on the matter, which is why it's important to be authentic to yourself and have thick skin against people who see you as a traitor to their own ideals.

It's one thing to pretense at the customs and faith of a culture you know little of and contribute nothing to and have the power to simply dismiss when needed, it's entirely another to be multiracial and multicultural following a respectful relationship with the old ways of your grandmothers.  Taking issue with mixed people blending their cultural religious systems delegitimizes and invalidates the perspectives of mixed people as well as adoptees and our unique experiences.

Take joy in who and what you are.  Take joy in your community and what you represent.  If you're a native/black/white/Latino mixed kid, go see what those cross cultural exchanges have made in the magical world around you.  Seek out and explore this uncomfortable realm if you're uncomfortable with it.  Don't be afraid that you're skin is too light to research your Orisha ancestors, don't be afraid your skin is too dark to honor your Irish or French ancestors.  Don't let that fair hair or wavy kink make you feel like you're supposed to follow gods who look like you.  Follow gods or spirits who love you; whom you love and respect.  You can do that as a mixed American without resorting to appropriating or co-opting from distant and unfamiliar sources.  Be authentic to the experiences that have shaped your entire world.  Know thyself, learn about where you live and be respectful of your limitations, of your own ignorance- hell, just acknowledge your ignorance and go from there.  You know who you are.  You know what you are.  So if the pagan path leads you to take the different roads of your ancestors, then maybe that's exactly the path you should follow.  Let no one tell you to choose between your grandmothers.

Strange Fruit...
"As a black person in America, living with the legacy of slavery and all that it entails it has been difficult for me to honor my European ancestors.  How to I honor ancestors who most likely became ancestors by raping my other ancestors?  How do I, as a priestess, honor certain ancestors while ignoring others who are also responsible for my existence?" - Szmeralda Shanel, My Blood Song, from  Shades of Ritual: Minority Voices in Practice edited by Crystal Blanton

Every time I read about her experiences with Brigid and her difficulties reconciling her loyalty to Afro diasporic ancestors and their oppressors, I am reminded at the privilege I have knowing my mixed ancestry and having a positive experience with it.  Sometimes I'm not nearly as woke as I'd like to think I am, and when it comes to mixed people, sometimes I forget not everybody is as happy about it as me.  Not everyone has a reason to be...

How do we honor a bloody history?  That's for each of us to answer for ourselves.  I was lucky to come from a place where history can be reconciled for me; it's never been a problem for me to feel the love between my ancestors through me.  This may not be the typical black American pagan experience. Maybe for a lot of melanated American mystics, there's absolutely no reason to acknowledge some parts of their ancestry, or maybe, only enough room for a little bit of influence.  Not everyone gets the privilege of being in a position where they can reconcile their ancestry with such ease, and I'm aware of that stark difference the more I speak with young mixed black women trying to find a balance spiritually between all their ancestors.

In the black pagan community I've encountered, there's a definite question as to how one can honor their African ancestors while at the same time acknowledging the ancestors who bought, sold, worked and raped those African ancestors. How do we deal with the dissonance of history?  It depends entirely on you, your familial history, your culture- but ultimately, why don't you just ask the spirits? Is there room at the altar for all of your grandmothers, or do some grandmothers need to be quietly relegated to the pages of history?  Maybe, just maybe, there isn't room at every altar for every grandma, and that's okay.

Room At The Altar.

The spirits I come from and deal in are beyond the cruelties of their past lives.  They stare across the expanses at each other, in agreement that whatever it is they were and are, they live through me.  And they love me.  And I love them.  And that bond, that contagion has formed between them through their mutual interest in their descendants.  You'd be surprised what differences can be set aside when a common goal unites you.

There's room at my altar for all of my grandmothers, I know this because they share something wonderful in common that extends beyond the scope of space and time and history.  They have me.  They have the culmination of their bloodlines, they have the reflection of their deeds and lives all personified in a single person, and that's me and my siblings.  There is no bad blood between Brigid and Oshun in my house, or between Grandmother Spider and An Morrigan.

Your grandmothers came from Europe, they sailed hellish seas and they had names.  Your grandmothers came from Africa, they were beautiful and stolen, and they had names.  Your grandmothers came from the East, from Islands and Archipelagos and continents far distant, and they had names.  Your grandmothers were in the New World when the others came, and they had names.  Your grandmothers' skin was gold, and copper, and milk white, and clay brown.  The blood of their trials and tumult runs through your veins, and while your ancestors may have warred and fought, you are their legacy united in a single form, and many are bound to love you.  Do you love you?

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