Here Comes Friday!

HERE COMES FRIDAY . . . BREW UP SOMETHING GREAT!

Witching Hours and Holy Days!

Even though the cool winds of fall aren't really here yet (with some of us having an unusually warm fall), it is time to plan ahead for next years sabbats! These are two calendars I used (and loved) in 2017! The datebook has kept me on time (and centered) in court and meetings, and the wall version has provided my family with daily magickal reminders!

Three Gnarled Fingers Pointing Back at You

Royalty-free image from http://www.publicdomainpictures.net.

Of course, not all witches have gnarled fingers. This is a stereotype, and stereotypes are inconsistent with the deep truth-telling that is the work of most witches and other spiritual people. Perhaps as an indicator of this, the most-viewed post on this blog is, by far, about racism in the magick community. It recounts a visit I made to a lecture by a witch I admire, only to have a fellow attendee unload with comments that the surrounding, majority African-American, neighborhoods were "dangerous." She held forth about fear of driving through, much less parking in, such an area. 

While these attitudes, often unconscious, are ugly and deserve examination, most of us work on these issues--on our own or in community. I recently came across an inspiring example of examining and taking responsibility for race-based perceptions. It was the opposite of the ugly attitudes grasped in the previous post. 

Gary, Indiana is 80 percent African-American. It was devastated by white flight, largely in retaliation for electing the first black mayor (concurrent with Cleveland, Ohio). A good summary is here, although Mayor Hatcher, interviewed in the article, has his own viewpoint. 

Around the Northwest Indiana area, Gary is a proxy for (synonymous with) race. For example, a white politician in neighboring Merrillville once gloated in a public meeting he removed basketball hoops from a local park after seeing "people from Gary" playing basketball at the park. Pressed on how he knew the players were "from Gary," he admitted this assumption was based on their being black. Without fail, the local "press" reports crimes by black suspects with more certainty and venom than those by white suspects, and a notable effort is made to tie crimes back to Gary and to scream "Gary" from the headlines. The two "news"papers were early white-flighters, so perhaps they seek a post hoc justification of their bigotry or seek to offer the same succor for their suburban readership.

Against this backdrop, many of the all-white towns are an intimidating, judgmental backdrop for Gary residents who venture forth for food and goods due to the blight in the city. In one such foray, I reluctantly befriended a gifted spiritual teacher who has 20 years experience in Earth-based study and began taking classes from her. It never hurts to sharpen one's anthame, even when it is usually one's finger. As I settled into relaxed, weekly discussions, there was often an edge of discomfort about my hometown. As with everything, friendships wore the edges down, and people became comfortable sharing their experiences. 

During one particularly frank session, my friend revealed the complexity of her feelings about Gary. She had had a bad experience there as a teen, being shot at while in a speeding car. This is not an unusual story among those in the towns surrounding Gary, many of whom believe Mayor Hatcher installed stop signs purposefully to allow black people to attack white people with bats and rob them when the cars came to a halt. Further complicating matters, my friend currently lives in a small town where the town council, considering whether to merge their sewer system with Gary's, had an open, public debate about whether mixing white people's poop with that of black people would make Jesus cry. (I do not think she has an opinion on Jesus' opinion, but have made a note to inquire.)

However, the discussion with my friend took a turn unheard of in the towns surrounding Gary: rather than pointing fingers at the "people from Gary" involved in the shooting, she looked at her own involvement. Perhaps, we agreed, her likelihood of being involved in a chase and shoot-out was influenced less by geography and more by the fact her boyfriend, with whom she rode in the shoot out, was a Latin King. While, certainly, a gang member or associate no more deserves to be hurt than anyone else, it seems likely that keeping this company would expose one to more bullets than would tamer conquests. 

This discussion is on sharp contrast to the woman who would not turn off her fear-o-meter after having seen a few black people during her commute. Looking inside and breaking down the reason for our fears is a far better answer, even in matters or real or perceived personal safety, than pointing fingers. Christoper Pike is thought to have said that when you point at someone else, there are three fingers pointing back at you. You can give yourself a big thumbs up if you can identify your own Latin King. And, we all have work to do on understanding how our world came to be, and remains, a sometimes divided and wounded place. 

Not that into you . . .

My dog likes to say, "You have to drag me everywhere on a leash to keep me from running away. Maybe that's what they call a HINT, lady!" And here is the perfect witchy illustration:

Does the W in Witch Mean White?

Trigger warning: I don't respect your path if you are racist, you delicate little white flower, you!

In AHS Coven, Kathy Bates plays a resurrected slave-owning racist (like the ones we have on this plain at this time aren't enough!) and Angela Bassett's Marie Leveux gets revenge!

A few years ago, a talented musician--the one-man band Earwig Spectre--had a hit called "What Does W Stand For?" The possible answers, in the song, were "wealth, waste, war," but ultimately the fascist (now beacon of liberal hope by comparison) George W. Bush.

(For a view on times our community got it right, please see my subsequent post.)

Two more widely-used words starting with w are witch and wiccan. For some, these paths include "white magik," which sometimes includes liberal application of white light and white salt. As I mentioned in a previous post, this isn't my path, but it is a respected and valid one. The question is, do all these "w" words mean this path is only for white people?

Last night, I attended an event for a witch I have long admired. I am leaving her name and the group name out of this post, because this is not about one personality--in fact, she could little have controlled the venue and audience. The event was in a gentrified, largely white (58 percent in 2015) area of a city (a major city that isn't as major as it thinks it is).

Upon parking, I saw a woman in a black, floral-print skirt and jacket that was colorful and heavily beaded. She was looking around a bit lost, so I asked if she was okay. We had a shared concern about parking and whether there was a meter to pay and identified the entrance to the event.

Upstairs, I asked the woman about a second foray she had made to be sure about the parking issue. (This was worth doing, since this is in a city where they will tow your car for no reason whatsoever, unless you are black--in which case they shoot you and then send your estate tickets for the car.) Not having known me for 10 minutes, the woman quickly shared that the parking was okay, but she had been really worried for her safety. In fact, she has passed "slums" on her way to the venue and thought she might not be safe to park and walk to the venue. I tried to redirect her by rather gently suggesting that this was actually an area that was problematic because of gentrification and that there was nothing to fear from the surrounding, predominantly African-American neighborhoods in this hypersegregated city (whether a place is still a "city" when its residents embrace such parochial--and vile--practices as segregation is another question). The woman persisted, despite my cues, in making inappropriate comments about black people and the neighborhoods around the event, so I ended the conversation, stating that perhaps she should fear the bankers who live in her suburban oasis (which, based on census data, contains about 23 total black people).

The event itself was white. Out of about 50 people, one woman identified herself (saying she supported diversity in her comments) as indigenous American. The group is holding a festival this weekend in an area that is 67 percent white (.07 percent indigenous). Of course, they cite cost concerns, but one has to wonder if all urban neighborhoods were included in the cost analysis, or just the "safe" ones.

In contrast, I recently attended Conjure Fest in Detroit. There, I was not only in (near) a diverse city, but among a group with black people in the leadership and a consciousness of celebrating diversity. The incomparable organizer pointed to diversity as a reason for the festival--creating a culture of celebrating, not just tolerating. The efforts at inclusion were successful, blogged up beautifully here (the post that convince me to make the trip to the Fest).

White people--witch, wiccan, pagan and other--have a huge, unfulfilled obligation to stop engaging in--and tolerating--assumptions that majority-minority neighborhoods are unsafe and other racists tropes. These comments are entirely out of place in a system built on diversity and respect. As a group, we can make a big step forward by actively seeking to hold events in diverse venues. On an individual level, expressing the truth that all kinds of communities--including predominantly African-American ones--are safe, welcoming, and fulfilling places to be challenges the ethos of protecting whiteness with layer upon layer of whiteness, with white women's perception of safety being paramount (even unto the lynching of blacks who--allegedly--whistle at them). Otherwise, we might as well just bring the kindling and burn ourselves, howling our righteous whiteness as we burn.

It's Friday Witches! Booze before blog!

Tomorrow's Friday . . . Get Out Your Witchy Stuff and Your Booze

Hexing Hitler or Tricking Trump?

Mannequin dressed in Hitler uniform at a Hexing Hitler party. (How cool does that sentence look in bright pink?!)

Now and again, there are reports of modern witches getting together to curse Donald Trump. Then, there is a lot of finger-pointing and Wiccan Rede stuff, which is all fine and good when you are conjuring a knitting circle. (No hate on the Wiccans--it is a wonderful path, and I certainly don't think "Voodoo unto other's before they Voodoo unto you" works as every witch's motto.) But the finger-pointing gets a little gaggy--you might as well just crawl up on your cross and join the dominant religion if you are going to be all judgy and a downer all the time.

While cursing Trump may seem a little redundant (another witch has already been there if you go by the skin and the hair), it is not new. During World War II, people had Hexing Hitler parties. One famous one was reported on by time, partly because of the belief the target had to know about the Voodoo for it to work. Time was a print magazine; today we could just Instagram it!

The Time article is here: http://time.com/3879261/putting-a-hex-on-hitler-black-magic-party-1941/

The leader of the hexing party covered by Time was a man name Seabrook, who became famous for eating human flesh. (Humanely-harvested, naturally-dead, hospital variety.) The incident took place long before Bob's Burgers was a thing, but I'm sure it caused IRL (not just animated) outrage.

Enraged Wonder Wharf citizens storm Bob's Burgers after the burgers are found to possibly contain human flesh.

But, ultimately, the question of putting a trick on Trump gets to why this blog is here: there are some varieties of evil that do not yield to good intentions, live-and-let-live ethics, and the occasional sprinkling of protective salt. For many, that kind of evil is embodied in Trump, bringing witchcraft into play.

Observing the legal system, I see this kind of evil every day. For many reasons, we have a system that does not yield to justice. People are locked out by the high cost of hiring lawyers or even filing pleadings. Everyday wrongs often do not meet the requirements for various torts, and there is, as of this writing, no tort of general piss-offery. Judges routinely scorn damages claimed by wrongly evicted people, unwilling to allow any damages for the loss of appliances (which may have been used or alley finds) without a receipt (which landlords routinely take in the course of throwing out all of someone's stuff). Lawyers can work to actively obstruct justice, leaving litigants with almost no recourse when straightforward cases are subject to lengthy, and expensive, discovery and motion practice.

For those times, magik is an appealing alternative. It is time-tested, designed to bring about change, and is accessible to even the very poor. One need not even have a home to send some directed intentions. And, Hitler did come to a notoriously bad end.

Whether one chooses to hex Hitler or trick Trump, magik remains democratic--accessible to all.

Tomorrow's the Full Moon -- Party Down!

If the Creek Don't Rise (Book Review)

CONTAINS SPOILERS

If the Creek Don't Rise isn't a "witchy" book, unless you consider the high level of faith it takes to keep going with absolutely nothing. The title sentiment was also expressed by my Grandma as, "If I live . . . ". (Perhaps hearing, "If I live, we'll . . . " as the condition under which we would do things as mundane as making cornmeal mush made me prone to reach for a protection amulet and some lavender salt!)

However, magik is more expressly present in the book in the voice of Birdie Rocas, the neighbor (and protector) of the protagonist, Sadie Blue. Sadie Blue is in an abusive marriage, and, as such, needs a bit of help with details like delivering the baby her husband killed in utero or whipping up some hemlock root poison for . . . those who need it. Birdie Rocas tells us that her last name means crow, and that some folks call her a witch--a good thing for hunting ginseng (apparently because her appearance scares those who would steal her valuable harvest). When Birdie scrys for a dead body and the killer turns up dead himself, one begins to suspect she uses her magik for more than hunting ginseng.

Magik is sprinkled throughout the book as charms, amulets, potions, and folk wisdom. However, Birdie does share her scrying method:

--Fetch shallow bowl the color of blood

--Put on tree stump

--Pour spring water one finger width deep

--Kiss and put on personal amulet (Birdie's is a horn-shaped amulet)

--Make repeated "X" with thumb on forehead until coated with oil from skin

--Rub oil on item belonging to person you seek (handy to have crows to retrieve these for you!)

--Drop item into water

--Watch for answer to form

Although Birdie seems to get her answers, she leaves us with some lingering questions and an observation:

"Why are young girls dumb and men surprised?

"What does evil look like to crows from up in the sky?

"They're brave to play hide-and-seek with the dead."

While by no means a craft "how-to" book, this novel includes a few pages worthy of any book of shadows. It is a respectful window into the misunderstood and sometimes-popular world of granny magik or hoodoo, and deserves to be read.

The dialect in the book is southern Appalachian. It will sound "off" to readers from Kentucky or West Virginia. It does not seem to be intended disrespectfully.

Those of us not apt to find a hag stone shaped like a horn might appreciate a commercially-produced amulet like Birdie's:




(Note: links are designed to make me richer than a moonshiner with a revenuer cousin!)

Spelled Success!

Spells are tricky! It can be hard to see the work being done, the desired outcome, and timing as outcomes of magik. Often, the spell is cast and an outcome may take weeks or months to manifest--sometimes by design, sometimes because our timing is not the same as the universe's timing.

This past week though, I got to see a spell come through perfectly . . . on time, unexpected, and as requested. If drive-through windows at fast-food restaurants were as efficient as the universe was this past week, they wouldn't need those spaces for people to pull off and wait for orders! In my case, my fries were hot, fresh, and perfectly golden.

The spell was cast on August 21, the solar eclipse, with the intention of bringing truth to light. The supplies and incantations are set forth here.

In less than two weeks, a person who slandered me, the target of the spell, retired. The joy was complete and immediate, with friends making such dramatic declarationa] as that the person "can't hurt you anymore."

In gratitude, I provided Hekate and the other gods on my altar) with some apple and a lit white candle.

This is, or is very close to, the statue of the goddess on my altar:




I cannot find an image of the apple I use, but an apple cut in half horizontally will reveal a pentagram inside.

I keep a small, hollow wooden apple--something like this one:



Hekate (and other gods and goddesses) are always at work! Magik is one way of communicating with them . . . and they do answer!