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Food can be foreplay, a wonderful prelude to a night of love. I recommend consuming these aphrodisiacs for your pleasure:
• Almonds, or erotically shaped marzipan
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Did you know that your cornea – the transparent front part of the eye that covers the iris, pupil and anterior chamber – is about 78% water? That means we are constantly looking through a very thin layer of, essentially, water. If water is all one, and holds and remembers everything like a record, that means this record sits right over our eyes at all times.
I have seen very strange and interesting things when I close my eyes, and I don’t mean visualizing them in my mind. I mean what looks like completely real, moving 3D images right in front of my eyes, like a hallucination, in glowing greens against a smoky black background. It looked only what I can describe as trippy.
For a long time now I have been playing with the strange and intriguing idea of “eye scrying”, which is just what it sounds like. No tools, no mirrors, no bowl of water, just your own closed eyes, intuition and all the strange shapes and colors that unfold there behind your eyelids.
You see things like the typical floaters, you see what is probably a tiny pulsing blood vessel. But if you focus, yet also at the same time sort of unfocus, if you set the intention and just look at the backs of your eyelids. It sounds strange, but I think there is a lot that can be seen and learned when scrying into the darkness and the water of your own eyes. If we scry into pools and bowls of water and the like, why not scry into our own eyes? There is no magic that can be worked with tools and bells and whistles that can’t be worked with the human body.
Imagine the liquid and the delicate, glassy cornea being encoded with the same visions and experiences of your ancestors. Their memories are in your DNA and their vision is now your vision. You’re really looking beyond the watery cornea, beyond the backs of your eyelids. The eye or the cornea create a kind of portal into quite literally seeing very differently, potentially into other dimensions.
We shouldn’t underestimate our own abilities and bodies and parts that are actually very mystical if you think about it, such as eyes. Eyes are an amazing organ and the amount of water that makes them up is intriguing to me. Doing this exercise in a watery environment enhances the experience. The more water, the more there is to be heard, felt and seen, I have found. It is also best to cover the eyes or otherwise block out as much light as possible.
Give it a try, see what you see. Have you ever done this or experienced anything similar? Have you now tried it and had any results?
Once we dwelt in the fertile plains. Beef was our food, the milk of cows our drink.
Then we were driven out.
Into the rocky, unfertile hills we fled, which cannot sustain a cow.
We became a people of the goat, for whom the Horned wears caprine horns and hide.
Like goats, we witches are survivors.
That's why it can't help but seem to me something of a moral failing that I don't like goat's milk.
Oh, I've tried. “This chèvre has a nice, lemony tang to it,” I say hopefully.
But in my heart, I understand that it's really myself that I'm trying to talk around.
Maybe it's just a matter of what I'm used to.
Maybe I'm secretly longing for those fat days of our onetime freedom.
Happy got to experience rain, sunshine, and moonlight on the weekend he died. I spent all day Sunday with him, carrying him around and petting his beautiful black fur with its thick, light gray undercoat, and white spots on the neck and belly. Coincidentally it was the day Catholics dedicate to their cat saint, so when I lay in bed petting my napping kitty and checked social media there were an unusually large number of cat related posts. I spent a lot of my time speaking softly to Happy. I also internally spoke with Freya. She told me I couldn’t save him, and that she would welcome him to her field and her home.
That evening, he was in my bed and meowed for me to do something. I was not sure what. I carried him to his water; he didn’t want water. I carried him to his food; he didn’t want food. I carried him onto the back porch. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the moon. The white spot on his belly nearly glowed in the moonlight. I let him sit in the moonlight and checked back on him later, and discovered he had made it back inside the cat door by himself, and camped just inside the flap. When I picked him up I noticed the tip of his tail was wet. He got to trail his tail in the pool one last time, which he loved to do. He had made it all the way out to the pool deck and back, but now he was ready to be carried again. I put him back in my bed and curled up around him. I petted him and we fell asleep. He died in the morning before I woke up.
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Dear Boss Warlock:
Always check pockets first.
So: a pen got into the dryer and now there's ink all over the dryer barrel. I fielded suggestions from the coven about what to do about the ink, but here's my question for you: how many chickens should I sacrifice?
Unlucky in Utica
Dear UU:
It is a wise witch who understands that there are no purely physical issues.
Annoying as the problem may be, on the grand scale of things, the situation sounds to me to be pretty well contained. In my estimation, one chicken should do the trick.
Shells have been casting spells of fascination and enthrallment for arguably all of human history. The earliest known example of jewelry is a set of thirty-three sea snail shell beads uncovered in a cave in Morocco, dating back around 150,000 years. That’s quite a tenure for conchophilia, or the love of shells. Within that time, in different cultures around the globe, shells were valued for many uses, even currency.
A step beyond the love of shells, conchylomania is the madness for collecting sea shells. And deeper still are the mystic and esoteric uses of shells – conchomancy, or divination with shells, and a new term I have coined: conchomagia, or shell magic. Not that the use of shells in magic and ritual is new, simply this specific name that fits in nicely with the other Latin-root terms and uses.
Crystals are wildly popular across spiritual practices and more mainstream than ever, but their cousins, seashells, don’t get quite the attention in this context they deserve. As discussed previously in “Conchomancy: Messages From the Sea”,
“Just like the myriad spectral crystals that grow deep in Mother Earth’s flesh and bring us healing vibrations and messages, so too do the similarly composed shells that grow in her blood, the oceans…
Calcium carbonate, the primary compound in seashells and pearls, is also found in its more stable form, calcite, in rocks and crystals…
This scientific fact alone interestingly mirrors the nature and energies of these two different Earth treasures – the broader, original compound comprising the shells that move within the moving element, and its most stable polymorph making up the grounded, much-less-moving crystals.”
Essentially, seashells can be used in the all the same ways as crystals. But seashells have another element to them that crystals don’t; the fact that they are made and grown, almost magically, by living creatures. They have powerful life energy in this respect. I have been experimenting with shells in multiple ritualistic applications for some time and so far it seems that, like kyanite and citrine crystals, they are self-cleansing. In the case of shells, I attribute this to their inherent connection to water. Though literally rinsing them in water, more than smudging, is the best way to cleanse them if needed. This is one of many methods and practices that can be determined intuitively by the individual practitioner and might vary from person to person.
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Beltane is the sexiest high holiday for witches and one that is anticipated all year. I always look forward to having a joyful “spree” every May. Witches begin to celebrate Beltane on the last night of April, and it is traditional for the festivities to last all night. This is a time for feasting, dancing, laughter, and lots of lovemaking. The Celts of old made this day a day of wild abandon, a sexual spree, the one day of the year when it is okay to make love outside your relationship. On May Day, when the sun returns in the morning, revelers gather to erect a merrily beribboned Maypole to dance around, followed by picnicking and sensual siestas.
Ideally, celebrate outdoors, but if you are stuck indoors on Beltane Eve, pick a place with a fireplace and have a roaring blaze so celebrants can wear comfy clothing and dance barefoot. Ask them to bring spring flowers and musical instruments, including plenty of drums! Place pillows on the floor and serve a sensual feast of foods from the following list, under the title “Oral Fixations,” along with beer, wine, ciders, and honeyed mead that you can make or obtain from a microbrewery. Gather some of spring’s bounty of flowers—roses, tulips, and my favorite, freesias, in your favorite colors, or whatever is blooming with the most vitality where you live. Set out candles in spring colors—yellow, pink, red, green, white, purple. With your arms extended, point to each of the four directions and say, “To the east, to the south, to the west, and to the north,” and recite this Beltane rhyme:
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