Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Gate Thirteen
Here, let me tell you something about the flying ointment—the witch's salve, the ungentum sabbati—that you probably didn't know.
You use your off-hand to apply it.
Why, you ask? Well, there are reasons and reasons, some of which I can't write. But here are some that I can.
For most of us, using our off-hand means using the left hand, and that's Old Hornie's side.
(As Red God of Animals, he's Left-Hand Twin to his Green Brother's Right.)
But if, with Him, you're a leftie, it's your right hand that you use for the ointment.
(What the truly ambidexterous—literally “both-righted”—do, I couldn't tell you; you'll have to ask one.)
But in witchery, symbolism never stands alone: there's always the practical, standing close by.
Now, what you do with your off-hand, you do with a greater thoughtfulness, and that's part of the matter.
And here's another: that the lifting balm is a toxin, external use only. So though, at the Sabbat, they'll offer you ointment and a linen after for wiping the hand with, it makes it all the more likely that when the time for eating comes—and this is the Sabbat, there will be food—your eating hand will be clean of it.
So here's the dwale, and here's the towel. Use wisely.
All Air Paganistan flights to the Sabbat now departing, Gate Thirteen.
Note to Reader:
Traditional flying ointments contain dangerous plant-derived alkaloids.
Used wrongly, they can kill.
For gods' sakes, be smart.
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