Magic and I don’t really get along very well. My spells tend to flop a lot of the time. The problem lies entirely with me. I used to believe that it was because I was surrounded by negativity, back when I was married. That was… well, a negative situation all around and a story in a different place. and then, I thought it was because of the negative situations that always ended up happening when I was around the EM. All of my spell capacity went to her instead of me.
However, time has passed since then and I’ve done a lot of thinking about it.
I’ve come to realize that the whole problem is me. After all, the situations have changed but the only thing that’s stayed the same is me. I believe the problem stems from how analytical and logical I am. I mean, I’ll be writing some spell and in the back of my head, I hear: you’re writing a poem in iambic pentameter, going to burn it in the name of whom- or whatever and this is going to fix shit? Magic, my ass!
My brain is always on. It’s a big problem, actually. I mean, it’s why I can’t meditate or ground myself. I’m always using my brain. Like, when I try to ground myself, I can’t visualize anything for shit. I write it in my mind’s eye as a story or scene in a play. I do this often: hell, I wrote and re-wrote this entry twenty to thirty times on my walk this morning. It’s like I can’t shut it off. I do the same thing when I meditate because I try to use the image of a darkened theater to get the ball rolling. I spend so much time on creating the theater in my mind’s eye with words than I do in actually visualizing it.
I don’t know exactly how this ended up this way.
As a child, I believed heavily in magic things: magic and fairies and dragons and unicorns (SO DID THE UNICORNS–ZOMG). I can clearly remember thinking that I’d never see those things because I lived in the city and none of those magic creatures want to live in the city. But, I believed in those things. I believed that I would see them and feel them, one day. I had to wait until I was older before I could get a hold of them. And now that I’m older…
A lot of times I think that the main problem is the story-writing aspect of my head. However, the scene/story writing in my head stems back from my youth, as well. I remember escaping reality a lot (watching your dad die sucks) by fantasizing in story form in my head. Realistic story meets fantasy and romance in my head, or thereabouts. But, I don’t think this gift (for it is one; it’s where my stories come from) is the problem. Or at least, the entire issue going on around here.
Maybe it’s just that I’ve grown up under a lot of fucked up circumstances and they’ve fucked my head, hard-core. I don’t know.
So, with all that in mind, when I say that I performed magic, we should all see this as the miracle it is.
Last night was the zenith of the full moon. I had been percolating for weeks about doing something in celebration. I mean, magic and the moon correlate a lot of the time. Also, as I recall, the full moon is the most powerful time of the month. This particular full moon was associated with release and letting go. Highly apropos considering my manic obsession with just those two things in recent weeks. It seemed… fitting that I do something.
Originally, The Sister and I were supposed to get together to do something together. We’re both of the mindset that we should get back into magic, although both of us are at a complete loss as to how. So, I recommended doing something for the full moon and she was all about it. We were going to go outside, you know, somewhere and do something. (Solidifying plans has never been our forté, but I think that makes for rituals to be that much more fun.) However, the head cold that I had for all of a day decided to travel into my chest the night before last. So, yeah, I wasn’t going anywhere or doing anything.
It seemed ridiculous and pointless to not do something in celebration. I had all of these ideas about release rituals and whatnot. I had been looking up various ideas for almost two weeks by then, so it seemed completely dumb to just not go ahead and do something along the lines of release and letting go. I kind of felt like this is it; it’s now or never for some reason. I may not be the most intuitive woman around–unless it means knowing when my kid is acting up behind my back–but I knew that I had to listen to this.
So, about an hour before midnight, I sat down and wrote down about six or seven items of things that I want to release from my life. I’ve debated about whether or not I want to write them down here and have decided that a lot of them are very personal. I don’t feel write telling anyone, specifically, what I wanted to release. Suffice it to say, though, that I really and truly do want those items out of my life. I don’t want anything untoward to impact anyone or anything else or myself in releasing these things, but since most of them were negative emotions that were either impacting me or directed at someone/-thing specific that was impacting me, I don’t think anything untoward should happen.
Let me rephrase that: Nothing bad will come of this. It will only be awesome all of the way.
After I wrote out my ‘laundry list,’ I placed it on my altar beneath the newly placed kyphi candle that replaced the dead and gone white pillar candle on there. I placed this list in front of Sekhmet and Hwt-Hrw since it was at the behest of the two of them, I feel, that this came about. I’d like to think that I would have gone about this (at some point; sooner as opposed to later) in my own time. However, it was Hwt-Hrw and Sekhmet both who have prompted me with all of the “forgive and forget” messages all over the fucking place. I left it there until pretty damn close to midnight before I got down to business.
Since I was at a complete loss on how to cast a circle* I decided that I should just smudge the area around my altar for cleansing purposes. I had bought a small smudge stick some months back, but never used it. I was always weary of smudging only because I know it’s a bitch to keep them lit. I also know that the “pot-like” smell of burning white sage is more concentrated in smudge stick form than it is when I simple burn the leaves. I managed to keep the stick lit long enough to clear out the kitchen and part of the dining area. It was all I needed.
After that, I cut up all of the things I wanted to release myself from and staged them beside my “cauldron.” (It’s a cast iron fondue pot. It’s fucking awesome, especially for ten bucks.)
I turned to look at my gods thoughtfully. It was through them that this began so it was through them that I would end all of the anger that these things had stirred inside of me. I took each piece of paper that I had inscribed and using the kyphi candle on the altar, lit each one after silently reading it to myself. After it would burst into flames, I would turn around to my cauldron and lay it in there to burn. And boy, oh boy, did they fucking burn. The only piece of paper that didn’t burn up didn’t have anything written on it. Everything else was a white-hot mass of ash at the bottom of my cauldron.
I was quickly flagging at this point. It was late and I haven’t been staying up excessively late like I was before the massive power outage. During that week, we were all in bed by nine o’clock and I’ve tried to stick to that. It makes my life easier with my son and it’s healthier, too. So, I decided that this was it: I was burning those negative items and then I was going to cast the ashes into the wind. However, I quickly realized two things. The first being that whenever I cast ashes into the wind, they invariably scatter back at me even if I am standing back properly. And secondly, there was something else I had to do to these ashes.
I realized that as I was out the door to scatter.
So, I turned around and placed my cauldron back on its little stand. I felt like I needed some herbs of something or other to end all of this. So, I opened up my jam-packed herb cabinet and grabbed the lavender and the rosemary. I’ve always had a special affinity with these herbs. Both of them tend to end up in my sachets at any given moment. When I own my own home, I plan on having planted lavender for luck and rosemary at my gate. (I hope my black thumb has long since disappeared by then.) So, I scattered both of them over the ashes and felt that, yes, it was finally done. Then, I went back outside and instead of scattering the ashes to the wind (since, as I mentioned, this never turns out right for me) I scattered them at the base of the crab apple tree in the yard.
As I was going back inside, the wind was starting to pick up.
This is one of the first times that I’ve actively practiced any form of magic and felt that it ended well. It’s also the first time that I’ve done it by myself. Even though The Sister, the EM, and I were mostly separated by numerous states for the majority of the time that our coven was together, we were still together when we cast magic together. Even though it was through the telephone lines, we were still working it together. So, I think that in doing this on my own, I’ve really started to grip the horns of my uncertainty and started to really wrestle it down. Even though I really miss having The Sister beside me when we work magic, I think that at first, I have to do this on my own.
And I think she does, too.
This morning, I was feeling particularly care-free and yet, worn at the same time. I know the worn feeling stems from staying up so late for the first time in a very long time. I’m usually exhausted by ten o’clock and happily reading no later than fifteen past. I, however, was not the only groggy person in the house. Sekhmet asked me for a big, ole cup of black coffee. At first Hwt-Hrw was all about this caffeinated beverage as well, but then changed her mind when I told them that my altar wasn’t big enough for two huge cups of coffee and my money doesn’t stretch long enough to have two cooling cups of coffee on my altar. She decided that she would drink from me, as in through me. I don’t think she liked the coffee, even though I make it very sweet. Sekhmet, of course, loved the hell out of her black coffee.
A quick unrelated note: I started walking all over hell and creation in an effort to get healthy and thinner. In the morning, both the son and I go for a walk. The other day, when we were walking, we literally stumbled over this big, long, curving stick that really tugged at me. He, of course, is a boy so all sticks are fucking awesome as far as he is concerned. I asked him if he wanted to “take the magic wand home.” I never once called it a stick or anything along those lines: it was instantly a “magic wand.” He of course thought this was the greatest thing since sliced bread and we brought it home.
* You may be wondering why I said that I was at a complete loss on how to cast a circle. I’ve mentioned before that I have cast them and I still (vaguely) recall the words that I used to cast them. However, as I’ve said, I never felt very comfortable when I was casting my circle. I didn’t like how The Sister cast hers and I sure as shit didn’t like how the EM cast hers. (I think this is normal of all students, though. The Sister mentioned she changed it up from the EM’s way the second she could.) I also didn’t like the ‘Kemetic’ version I found in a book once. However, it’s what I went with.
Since I’ve refused to utilize any of those three ways, listed above, I don’t really know how to go about casting a circle. Another problem, as I mentioned, is that I have a very difficult time grounding, centering, and focusing on these acts. And yet another problem is the fact that my analytical mind won’t shut off long enough for me to envision casting the circle. So, not only is the problem I face the exact wording that I find comfortable with, but also the whole MY BRAIN WON’T STFU LONG ENOUGH for it to take effect.