Making Your Ancestor Altar

Maybe you spent a quiet day of reflection, or maybe you choked down greasy food while your uncle ranted in his MAGA hat. Even when our living and known ancestors aren't people we easily love, ancestors are the best source of spiritual connection.

An ancestor altar can be large or small, in an out-of-the-way corner or in a prominent spot. Someone with roommates or privacy concerns could have something as simple as a picture of a departed loved one with a candle.

There are no rules, except not to mingle things of the living on the ancestor altar, less the ones who have passed on call to the living and bring them over too soon.

My altar recently grew, partly with the addition of some great art. Spending money and having artwork isn't needed--an altar can be simpler or even feature your own artwork. Besides the work I bought from an artist--and supporting artists and rootworkers is important to me--most items on the altar are things I already had.

This lovely shoe artwork is the center of my altar. It represents justice and diversity, and was made by the wonderful Auntie Sindy at Todomojo, who offers lots of reliquaries, artwork, and readings. The mirror with shells around it  was made by my Grandpa and is positioned to help show off the back of the shoe. All animal products were humanely gathered from naturally-deceased animals. 

The back of the shoe has vertebrae (again, humanely collected). It reminds me of my need to work on my root chakra and remain mindful of the needs of my spine, a particular challenge through my life. The scarf belonged to my grandma. 

Both sides of the shoe are gorgeous. My deceased protector/familiar dog watches over from behind.

The front of the shoe pushes forward, the dollies representing diversity. My husband's family is more highlighted on one side of the altar (mine on the other--but they are not strictly segregated), and we use battery-operated candles for a 24-hour burning without fire worries when we are gone or asleep. 

Our altar is the top of an entertainment center. The dolly to the right is made of my Grandma's old scarves. The tin cup belonged to my grandparents and sat by their sink; I use it for liquid offerings. We honor human family, but also our deceased animal companions and musicians (such as the print of John Lennon's Little Flower Princess lyrics). 

From Missing Member to Missing: Penis Spell

I recently posted a spell I used to remove someone's penis after he used sexual threat and innuendo on a repeated basis to intimidate my client.

Of all the spells and work that I do, this one tends to get the most attention. It is serious--one wouldn't use this spell because someone stole a parking space or was late for dinner. In fact, in the case where I used it, the spell was not my technique of first resort. I tried negotiating, reasoning, using the legal process, and simpler, positive-outcome and truth-focused spells first.

The spell was effective, and my client made great gains. The sexual harasser's behavior came to light, even in open court. We won the case!

However, more interesting, the harasser has closed up shop. This attorney, who was going to let me keep my license and not get sanctions only if I was a good girl and dropped the case, is going to be no more.

The power of the spells should not be underestimated. As here, words and works can be used to the greater good!

From the sublime to the delicious, there are many ways to incorporate penis magik into your life!

It's Monday -- Don't Forget to Whip Out Your Craft!

Some people just need a little witchcraft!

Penis Pendants

BOGO! Buying amulets and other props isn't required, but it can help cement intentions. This penis amulet would be great for sex magic or for the penis removal spell--charge with your intention!

Following links on this page may cause filthy lucre to appear in my pockets.

We made it to Friday! Hope you didn't have to unleash the monkeys too many times this week! Time to accessorize for the weekend . . . and upcoming Halloween! This is a great image and greeting for the witches and bitches in your life:

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!

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.

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!)