Ex Penna

This story has been a long time coming but I really wanted to be able to tell it properly.  On Monday I told you about something that happened to me earlier this month but now we're going to go way back and talk about a experience I had last September that I thought might never be possible.  Please note that absolutely none of this is in chronological order, but perhaps if you too have visited New Orleans you'll understand why that isn't important at all.

On a long-awaited day that seemed to arrive quite suddenly, I and my sister and niece took the long highway trail that leads from north to south, from Pennsylvania to Louisiana, and the bright, hot, magic-infused city of New Orleans.  Being a northerner through and through, NOLA seemed as distant as the moon so when the opportunity came up, I leapt at it.  Without any expectations (which is my favorite way to travel), I packed my things and hopped in the van to spend a week under the influence of the bayou and its ways.  I was not disappointed.

First, I'd like to note that though I am a witch and have been driven primarily by magic and Pagan thought since I was an early teenager, I chose not to explore the city in the standard way.  So I passed up the magical shopping (I'm already well-stocked so to do so would have been just the lookie-lou shopping that is a waste), I took no ghost tours, and I didn't have my fortune told.  There were, of course, a multitude of opportunities for each of these, but I enjoyed coming to the experience with an eye to find magic in the places that presented themselves to me without being bidden.

To that end, I took in the city as best I could in one week.  We saw both the rich and poor neighborhoods.  We walked quietly through the cemeteries.  We enjoyed street performers and jazz parades, ate at small restaurants, and talked with locals.  It was a scavenger hunt for all the particulars that make New Orleans its own beast.

What was most surprising to me was that even without hitting the standard magical scene, the city itself hums with magic.  Though the look of the place was fairly modern, the feeling one gets is that of the often yearned-for past ages when magic was accepted as obvious and ever-present.  Voodoo, Hoodoo, talismans for every purpose, spells, curses, occult symbols...they are everywhere.  Like my first trip to Salem, MA, I was confronted at every turn by images that I previously felt were so individual to my sub-set of society that it was a delightful shock to view them openly.


The juxtaposition of tall, sleek hotels and tiny mom-and-pop shops; the modern facades and old wrought iron railings and decorated window casings; icons of African diaspora and Catholicism, the well known business brands next to houses painted with touches of shocking tangerine and turquoise details.  Everywhere were bits of the profane and the sacred, the mundane and the magical, the thrill of a party town and the peace of classic Southern repose.  Though they surprised me at first, they never came across as contradictions, as though NOLA never learned who she was, but rather a sign of the variety and combined cultures who formed the city and grew with her.

The House of Blues was a temple to music.  What seemed like a simple venue from without quickly revealed itself within as an homage to the blues, jazz, and the kind of camaraderie that both seem to evoke from its fans.  We spent an evening in the parish and the signs of the building's former life
were like little eyes peeking from the shadows.  The likenesses of saints looked on from their alcoves lined with Hoodoo novena candles, the parchment colored walls and painted ceiling accommodating modern stage lighting, the stage itself festooned
with the painted inscription "Unity in Diversity."  I've never been in a lovelier church.

The other house of worship on our tour was Bourbon Street.  I'm not much of a drinker but the ever-present party spirit was enough to change my mind for the week.  Naturally, this lead to a case of too much too fast and I found myself regretting the pleasure I took in choosing the biggest and most colorful drinks available.  I couldn't have been alone in that state, though I saw only happy faces as we moved through the throng that filled the streets.  The scent was quite another matter.  In the halls of decadence are many pleasures and, I would suppose, few bathrooms.  We were told that the whole area had to be hosed down every night to wash away the vomit and urine, and the pungent evidence of this hung in the warm air.  Always the optimist, I prefer to think of this as one more inhibition shed: society forces us into a nearly constant state of discomfort that only a good party can properly loosen.  I kept myself within arm's reach of societal norms on my visit, but I don't mind those who didn't.

To me, the most important stop on our journey was a visit to what seemed to me to be the very heart of the city, the cemeteries.  Easily the second most recognizable "attraction" of New Orleans (right
after Marti Gras), the cemeteries are a lovely reminder of how this city has suffered but also how it has absorbed such suffering and made it beautiful.  The magic that feels like lifeblood in NOLA pulses through these places.  A respect for the dead, and death itself, is a permanent aspect of events.  The lurking underworld
spirit is actively invited into daily life, talked about, talked to, painted and sung, honored, even loved.

Walking in the gates at St. Louis #1 was strange mainly because it was so popular--great clusters of people regularly filtered through, a man at the gate was selling cold drinks, the tour guides proclaimed loudly to their wards.  A cheerful lady asked us as we were leaving if we knew where to find the tomb of the mass murderer Madame LaLaurie.  It was all too much.  Much like I feel in the local city library where "library voice" has been completely abandoned-- even by the librarians--I felt compelled to be extra quiet and meek to make up for the bustle.  But then we went to one of
the smaller cemeteries and found ourselves completely alone.  There the silence present needed no help from me.  I wandered silently in that still place, as though I had entered a painting.  I took sparse photos only out of hopes to capture that uncanniness, though with every snap I felt as though I shouldn't.   It was lovely, though, and so easy to make beautiful in film that I couldn't help myself.  Everywhere was whitewash and black wrought iron, potted plants on the steps of tended tombs and scruffy wildflowers growing atop those untended, all stretching out in the bright sunshine of a cornflower blue sky.  If this was a painting, someone had done a masterful job.

Coming back out again was a weird experience.  The rest of the city was so busy, even in the back alleys, that the contrast of the peaceful cemeteries felt impossible.  I don't recall hearing the traffic from the nearby streets while we were inside those gates.  Perhaps that's part of the mystique of such a place--it entombs you with all the rest and while yet living you may understand the peace of the dead.

Indeed, coming back to Pennsylvania after this trip seemed much the same.  There is a rich history and blend of cultures in my own home state but nothing quite so vivid as what I discovered in Louisiana.   I had entered the gates a student of experience and emerged again no scholar but certainly wiser and with one eye open to the underworld.

In our extremely proud and self-governed community, Pagans take a range of viewpoints on a holiday dear to us, the one with which we share the most in common with the Christian calender--Yule.  Some choose to quietly reflect on its meaning or hold a ritual in its honor, as they do the other Sabbats.  Others simply remember it as a special time with a lit candle or bit of incense.  With these folks, Yule will always be the preamble to the larger holiday, the one of their youth, the one remembered in song and TV specials--Christmas.  Rarely have I encountered a Pagan who forgoes the date of Christmas and focuses entirely upon our Pagan Sabbat.

It's hard to blame a person for this; Christmas is declared everywhere--in shop windows, lamppost decorations, every form of media, and classrooms across the country.  There's Christmas trees, Christmas carols, Christmas shopping, and Christmas cookies.  We cannot escape the 25th of December as being the date upon which to pin all hopes and dreams, even if our own were fulfilled on the 21st.  But Yule is not just "Christmas Jr."  Whether or not you celebrate the Winter Solstice as the grandest day of the year or just a part of the Christmas season, making it an independent entity is possible, desirable, and easier than you may think.

Bringing Yule into Its Own 

You can create Yule celebrations that are unique, meaningful, and fun for all ages.  "Christmas is for children," as they say, but Yule is for everyone.  The simple methods described here will do just that and in such a way that you can bring them home this year, for this Yule.

Make your Yule it's own distinctive celebration by considering the following:

• Understand the relationship and separation of Yule and Christmas
• Highlight your favorite traditions from the usual stuff
• Play them up in a big way
• Create new traditions
• Integrate ritual into the entertainment

Dissecting the Holidays

Decide first which you will celebrate and how much importance you will give to each. Because most of the secular parts of Christmas are shared by Pagan celebrations, you might want to choose one or the other to host the majority of those images.  My goal has always been to show Yule as the premier winter holiday event and to make it the most special and meaningful, far ahead of Christmas.  There are many ways to create separation between them--if only to give each their own space--so feel free to adjust these suggestions to fit with your idea of the perfect holiday.

In my home, we keep Yule as the special day within our home and Christmas is for traveling to visit friends and family who live elsewhere.  This means that the events of Yule are at home, and while visitors are always welcome, we don't leave home for work or school.  Nor do we ever celebrate elsewhere or leave to do things individually.  This keeps the two celebrations separate and allows our day to remain our own special event.  Consider what you can do that will have the same effect in your situation.  What individual options will you take to make it work for your own family?

This can be handled in many ways.  Will you follow the exact Solstice day from year to year (December 20, 21, or 22) or pick a standard date to make planning easier?  Will you arrange to have the day off of school and work for all family members?  Will you accept visitors or keep it private? These choices may change for you after years of celebrating, so allow yourself to stay flexible.  


The Wheat from the Chaff

Separate from the usual stuff your very favorite traditions.  It's simple to remove the religious overtones of Christian theology that goes along with some parts of the holidays--no religious carols, no time spent in church, no passages from the Bible in your cards--but it also goes far beyond that to the aspects that you continue to promote but don't actually enjoy or with which you feel little connection.  You may know right away what this means to you or you may have to take time to contemplate it or journal on the concept.

For me, it was Santa.  I love the idea of his generosity and kindhearted nature, but I wasn't interested in making an entire day in honor of getting presents from a stranger and not our children's hardworking and loving parents.  So our family has only sparse connection with Santa and lets other aspects take the spotlight.


Play Up What You Love

Through this introspection, you will also discover those aspects that you love most of all, those things that speak loudest to you of happiness, togetherness, and festivity.  This is what you should play up in your holiday.  There are a wide array of sights, sounds, scents, and events that coincide with the month of December.  Some are strictly religious, most are secular, and some are only of a seasonal nature.  Don't overthink this part; answer the simple question--what comes to mind when you think of the holidays?  This is your treasure; work with that and do it big.

For example, if you are really moved by holiday music, make Yule a day for music and fill the entire season with it as well.  Gather musicians to entertain during parties.  Play a selection of your favorite carols all day on Yule.  Make a yearly trip to see The Nutcracker or other live theater.  Look in the newspaper for productions of holiday themed musicals in local playhouses or go big and travel to New York City for the Radio City Music Hall show.

If you are a singer or musician yourself, this can be the perfect holiday to show off your talents.  Take part in a show, arrange a small ensemble to play for charity at schools or nursing homes, or gather all your friends for caroling.  I have toyed with the idea for the past few years of getting some fellow Pagans together to offer our services wassailing at the many apple orchards in my area.  Wassailing is a traditional blessing at midwinter for the health of fruit trees and would look beautiful with a group in Victorian dress.  It includes singing and sprinkling the trees with a special infusion of hard apple cider, brandy, and heady spices.  If you know of orchards that host winter events to drum up out-of-season business, this could be a perfect addition.

If you love all things Santa Claus, make a special day of visiting him at the nicest local place available.  Ask around to find a Santa with a real beard, the most plush costume, or who is at place that has other special features like craft sales, wreath making, or free hot chocolate.  There is so much more out there beyond the mall!

Also note that there are many classic movies, songs, and stories about Santa that can play their part in your festivities.  Create a special moment before bed to recite "Twas the Night Before Christmas" in a lavish style.  Many versions of a Pagan rendition of this classic poem can be found online, as well.  Ask a friend to dress up and visit your children or to be available for photos at your party.

You could even organize the main thrust of your day around what you don't want, like cooking.  Host a potluck dinner or take everyone to a favorite restaurant.  If you have a friend who does enjoy cooking, offer to bring the holiday to their house while they are busy cooking.  You will surely be a hero providing tablecloths, candles, centerpiece, music, flowers, and special decorations.


Make Your Own Traditions



Integrate Ritual into the Holiday

Don't think that rituals must be separate from the fun.  The best rituals have an element of fun that is all their own.  Ideally, everyone will be looking forward to the ritual the same way they look forward to other elements of the day, so let your events flow into the rite and then back out of it with interesting things to do before, during, and after.

So what can you add to your rite that will make it something its participants eagerly await?  How can you integrate into it your talents and style?  If there was ever a rite that can sustain a little loosening, it's this one.  The weeks leading up to Yule carry with them a feeling of peacefulness and awareness of the human exchanges and natural world changes going on in the season.  The spirit of the holiday is acknowledged in a variety of small ways over a long period of time.  Let your ritual be a celebration of that, not just a summary of it.

To keep your ritual entertaining and enjoyable, make it something that has recognizable features.  Stimulate all the senses at once with lights and candles, music, incense, colors and textures, and food or drink.  Let these things come together in an active and upbeat way.  Give your participants something to do--especially as a group effort--and keep the different elements moving along, flowing from one part to the next.

The final word on rituals is that they should be somewhat brief.  It is up to you to decide what this will look like for your coven or family, but the event should be long enough to be enjoyable (and worth getting dressed up for!) but short enough that young ones don't become restless.  Give your rite a big finish and then send them on their way.  They will remember a rollicing parade of color and laughter, spice and poetry that can sustain any heart through the long winter.


Starting and Continuing

It was 15 years ago that my husband and I decided that it made more sense to honor the Winter Solstice than Christmas.  We were newlyweds and eager to give our new life its own unique stamp.  I had been Pagan for two years and he was just coming to the path, but we knew that switching could make a much more meaningful celebration for us.  We started that year, wondering if we would notice that we were waking early to exchange presents on a "not Christmas" day.  But on Yule morning, with the milky sun rising through our apartment window, a Bing Crosby record playing loudly, and the two of us sitting under the tree like children, we realized that the dates don't matter.  We were spending the day focusing on love, generosity, and the adoration of our spirituality.  For us, Yule has remained a perfect expression of that ever since.

If you decide to switch, do it completely.  Give yourself over to a new practice and put your all into making it something special for you and those you love.  It can quickly become your favorite holiday for many more reasons than the presents, for Yule is a whole day of good things: time for frivolity and pleasure, the remembrance of friends and family, and the celebration of all the good in your life.  To wake on a day that holds all this in store is surely the greatest present of all.

Happy Yule to you and yours!



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Cloaks, bell-sleeves, ruffles, lace, ribbons, and crushed velvet.  Gem tone colors billow in the incense-heavy breeze at a Pagan festival...or fairie festival...or Renaissance Faire.  Who can tell?

Magical folk are largely well aware of the number of eye-rolls that these clothes now garner.  Traditionalists seem the most disapproving, mainly because fancy dress was not a part of what our ancestors would have done.  But, then again, there is a lot that we do differently from the older generations.  That's just part of working within a living tradition.

And, conversely, witches know of very few reasons for the modern practice to continue. Most of us are not practicing magic in a way that deeply resonates with that era and the fabric, cut, and colors of our current clothes have very little to do with what would have been available at the time.  But that is not to say that there is no sense in wearing garb to your next magical celebration.  Here are the real reasons that this trend has lasted so long and why it will go on:


It's fun

Though it may seem obvious, this aspect is easily overlooked.  Fun seems to be the number one reason for Ren-Faire clothes in every Circle.  The look is dressy and festive, showing that one has put effort into getting ready for the event as well as letting others know that they value the event and its participants enough to bring out the special clothes. And with the generous cut, flattering shape, and floaty layers, it's easy to be proud of your reflection no matter your figure.


It's a brand

Of course, this may be an unpopular attitude, but it's a valuable part of the equation.  As a subculture we have the need to build a "look" that is our own.  Clothing is a common identifier for any group and this has become a signature for our people.  When you see a group of folks in this dress, you can reasonably approach them as possible practitioners. Then with a few well-placed words you will know if these are witches or no.  That's more than can be said for a gathering of plain-clothes individuals.
Also of note is the point made at the opening of this post--we share festival circuits with other groups that have nothing to do with magic.  Though you would expect this to make things more difficult it is actually to our benefit.  Events intended strictly for practitioners are usually put on by individual groups or covens and are localized in cities that stand to bring in the largest crowd.  Because of the great expense, time, work, and coordination needed, they are generally held once a year or less.  On top of this is the cost of advertising which means that much of the information is passed by word of mouth and social media--both systems which can unintentionally miss huge numbers of otherwise interested people.  This means that your chances of living within driving distance of such a festival, hearing about it in time, and being available for that one specific period of time are not very good.

But Ren Faire and other historical, fantasy, and bohemian events have corporate sponsors, organized and paid groups of workers, and advertising teams.  So we piggy-back on this and work our own festival inside the larger one.  The newcomer to witchcraft (or those who are interested in becoming one) are especially heartened by this innocent way to dip ones toes into a larger magical ocean.

It's a history we miss

No, I don't think anyone misses the Inquisition, spectral evidence, or Bubonic Plague, but we certainly miss the days when everyone knew witchcraft existed.  With the overwhelming amount of people favoring either a materialistic philosophy or a religious--but no more mystical--view of the world's belts and gears, one is not likely to find the common man believing in, let alone working with, magic.  Some would say this is the work of the rational minds that have taken us from superstition to science, but at what cost?  Have we forsaken the beauty and the fables of antiquity when we said all spells were but wishes, prayers, vain fancy?  Some even call it now by scientific theories of a plastic universe, a receiving and reflecting force in nature that feeds us back our own thoughts.  And that is how a wish is granted, that is how a prayer is fulfilled, a spell works, and even idle dreams become our good or bad reality.  But isn't this all just a gentrified way to say "magic"?

When we gear up in our garb, we can forget for a time that there are swarms of people in every corner waiting to tell you what cannot be done.  It is as though there is something personally at stake for them; they must make you aware that you're living a lie, even if it is one that troubles no one but them.  When we tighten our corsets, we armor ourselves against the useless insistence of common thought.  We lace boots to walk where they fear to tread.  We shrug under wool cloaks to be braced against the storm of a thousand cries of "no," "never," and "impossible."  And sometimes, these storms come from within.  They are the most restless and the most damaging.

We stand in a Circle, we sit by a fire, we walk into the night or do our work at a candlelit table indoors.  We are clothed and prepared.  We have taken preparation seriously and have all our wits available to create something far beyond the physical items before us.  We are great beings and yet no different than thousands, millions of others; we will work our will and it will reorder the world like a doll's house at the hands of a child.  There is nothing silly here and nothing serious.



While not everyone indulges in the wearing of garb, those that choose to do so with good reason and deeply persuasive results. If this describes you, I say proudly don your velvet and lace.



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This is a question that I've been pondering for some time.  I find that it becomes all the more important at this time of year as we rapidly approach November and the National Novel Writer's Month (NaNoWriMo).

I have completed the challenge three times so far and with each manuscript I felt (as does every author, I'm sure) that it was the perfect remedy for what passes as literature on the lifeless bookstore shelves.  Now that I'm in the middle of seeking a publisher (yes, still) I'm wondering if I could have been horribly wrong.  So I think the best thing is to ask the book-hungry masses themselves--what is it you really want to see in print?  Where are you in your practice that hasn't been addressed?  What books need to be written?

I normally don't divulge information about my books, even to those who know me fairly well in person, but I'll give you here all that I can say.  My first NaNo win was with the manuscript I'm currently trying to get published.  I'm changing the title to something with a little more spice, so I don't even have one to offer you at the moment.  It's non-fiction, of course, about 250 pages plus illustrations.  The crux of the book is as a guide for intermediate to advanced practitioners who want to be connected to their surroundings, the land and its resources, and their communities both magical and mundane.  And all this is to further their magic. But we're not talking mental exercises and meditations to meet with the fairy queen; I prefer real-life instructions, getting your hands dirty, and actively working with everything available to you.

It's definitely a biased statement but I think this manuscript is amazing and needs to be on every occultist's shelf from the city walk-up to the country farmhouse.  I've been working on it, refining it, adding, subtracting, and shifting since I completed it in 2011.  But its information goes all the way back to the beginnings of my practice in 1996.  I would dearly love to see it in print, not so much for me but to see if my ideas might raise the level of discourse about advanced practices.

My second manuscript--which was, oddly enough, the first thing I wrote back in 2001--is a spellbook, The Book of Brass Mirrors.  It's 150 pages of all-new and unique spells, formulas, and charms.

I originally wrote it to pass down to my children.  That is still a worthy cause in my eyes and I would like to see my personal works remain in our family even if our children choose to stop practicing once they become adults.  But after this book was underway I began to think a little wider: I would share it with our coven...I would self-publish it and distribute it to our covenmates...I would make it the standard text of our coven...I would sell it to witches I know and travel to meet with new ones...--and finally--I would try to have it published and distributed by a real publishing house.

As you can see, my delusions grew to the point of so many other writers--"You will, nay, must love and adore and crave my book!  You will stare at the blank ceiling at night, sleepless without it!"  With a generous eye-roll to my former self, and maybe a little pat on her wildly optimistic head, I can say now that this is not at all the case.  I still think it's interesting, maybe even discussion-provoking, and I know firsthand that all of the spells in it work quite well, but it's not about to be one of those books that claims to be the only one you need.  I don't think any book in the world can truly manage that.

My third win was just last year and was a first for me--a 140 page work of fiction.  I wrote a selection of all new magical fairy tales, but with the same feel of the classics, called The Thousand Fruit Tree.  I can't say very much about it as a whole because each of the stories are so different that it's becoming something of an unruly collection.  I don't read fiction, either, so the likelihood for error in fundamental story construction may be dangerously high.  But the stories were great fun to write and, in true non-fiction writer fashion, each contains a unique and helpful magical moral.  I don't like things without a point.

But now summer is ticking away and fall is filling in its leftover spaces, making me think more and more about what my project will be this November.  I have several ideas in various stages of organization, but nothing that dazzles me right now.  And then I thought of it.  Perhaps you can tell me if it sounds worthy.

Many years ago I had a strange occurrence.  I was staying up late reading and working at magic, as I often did then, and I felt compelled to make a simple little book of folded paper and staple it.  Now here's something about me that you would only know if we met and managed to be under particular circumstances together: I absolutely love blank notebooks.  The idea that it's a book not written, a journal of experiences not yet felt, just thrills me.  It's like the missing eye of Wodan/Odin that sees the unmanifest of the world.  It's such a wonderful thought that I often keep a new notebook untouched for weeks before doing anything besides running a hand across its cover.

So, there I was, brand-new book in hand with nothing to put in it.  I laid it aside for another day but then suddenly picked it up again.  I flipped it open and started to write.  It all sounded great (which usually means that it will be, in the harsh light of day, absolute garbage) and I wrote without stopping for more than an hour. Then I went to bed.  When I woke up the next day I remembered the book and opened it to see how comical it might be.  But I was surprised to see that it was still decent information: multiple lists of exactly how to go about a complex task--attaining a preeminent status in the magical community.  When I had finished it the night before, I'd written with a flourish its title on the front: On Becoming a Legend.

This is definitely an overblown title--and may turn out to be an equally overblown book--but I think it's something to get the mind working.  Though the original is only 10 or so pages long, it might be a fun project to expand into this year's NaNoWriMo.  But now I leave it to you, reader.  I don't know if I'm really interested in continuing to write and write with no clear plans of what to do with the results.  It's pretty standard to see publishers openly state their disinterest in "revealed text," as this may be.  But I don't know what else to do with it besides sit on it.  So what do you think?  Are you interested in becoming a legend? Do you know a legend and are ready to prove me wrong?  I'm open to all opinions and suggestions, here and elsewhere.  And, naturally, I'm open to accepting writing partner requests from fellow NaNo-ers as I traverse the rocky road to November.




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Today the bus arrived at the edge of our snowy yard promptly at 3:30 and I expected Gigi to leap promptly through the door and declare herself home from the forced labor camp that is middle school.  Instead she quietly slunk in, with a red face and redder eyes, her shoulders drooping so low I couldn't believe she was still upright.

Somehow this bold, smart, friendly girl had been viciously bullied on the bus.  Now I take the middle-of-the-road approach to school bullies.  One one hand, bullying has happened since the time of the cavemen and continues the be an issue, in one way or another, for adults as well as kids (pushy relatives telling you how to live your life, that jerk who's out to get your job, etc.).  If we're able, standing up to these people can be a real breakthrough.  Can we (should we?) really eradicate something that is old as time and that many accept as part of learning one's own strength?  On the other hand, bullying is a painful, unnecessary expression of pointless hate (or repressed desire, jealousy, fear, etc.).  How can we pretend that isn't a problem?  How can we accept it without showing our kids that we condone them becoming victims...or monsters?

Like any mother seeing her child hurt by another, I was ready for blood.  While I simmered, Gigi's dad sensibly called the school to let them know what happened. I probed Gigi for more information: no, it wasn't provoked; yes, others saw and they can be trusted to tell the truth if asked; yes, the bus driver saw but, no, it didn't make her stop.  It had begun with the other girl calling names and shrieking  (can you believe this??) "You're a witch!"  Gigi did as I said before and ignored her, but it only escalated now that she wasn't getting any reaction.  It ended with the girl taking scissors from her bag and trying to cut off Gigi's hair.  Hearing that, I wanted to march right over to that girl's house and shave her head bald and her mother's too, for good measure!

Gigi was upset for quite a while and especially embarrassed at having cried in front of older kids.  I explained things as best I could about how embarrassing things happen to everyone and that, to others, we usually don't look as bad as we think we do.  "It'll fade away and pretty soon, no one will remember a thing about it," I said.  But is that so?  Did it feel like that to me when I was her age?  My optimistic "mom talk" wasn't working.  I needed stronger medicine.  I needed magic.

Up until now (read Dreams and Curses), Gigi has learned and long worked with little magic -- healing, rain making, etc. -- and mostly in her own way, not formulated spells.  It has been time, in my estimation, to begin the work in earnest but it's been slow going without a clear focus to begin.  Was this a good focus?  Can curses properly propel a magical career?

In the end, it's up to every parent, teacher, guide, whathaveyou, to determine when the student is ready and how best to help them cross into the magical life.  If it "takes", great.  If not, try again another time, another way and hope for better success.  Some may disagree with my methods but the timing couldn't have been better.  She was totally ready.

I went to my work room and picked out my favorite spellbook.  Gigi sat sniffling on the couch as I opened the heavy book and sat it between us.  "Now, we're gonna fix this," I said.  "And we're gonna fix her, too!"


We looked through all sorts of curses, Gigi asked questions and I explained, we talked about herbs with bizarre properties, we cracked jokes and cackled at our own wickedness.  I looked at Gigi and her eyes weren't red anymore.  Her body was relaxed but her face was alive with curiosity.

We worked magic together--mother and child, fighting fire with fire.  Our visualizations fed one another, our chanting blending perfectly, growing rich and deep.  The candles burned brightly and reflected in her eyes, her smile.  I talked about having faith in the work because you put your all into it, and about letting that power unfold in its own way because it's on your side and knows just what to do.  I told her of the importance of faith in yourself because you will be the only one certain to always be there for you.  She sat up straight and looked proud, listening more intently than I've seen since she was a wee little girl and thought mommy was a genius.  The work done, we laughed and relaxed.  We washed our hands in special salts and had a hug before bed.  She fell asleep calmly, breathing deeply.

This isn't over and there are things yet to happen between me, this girl's parents, and the school.  But what happens next rests largely on what we did tonight.  There will be no "getting away with it" and no similar events in the future.  But, best of all, what this taught Gigi isn't over and never will be.  She's tougher than any opponent because she's got the will to be.  If it takes a little revenge to teach her that, then I say it's worth it.

Who says that black magic only brings sorrow?  All magic is done for the betterment of someone, somewhere.  The better is here and now--mother, daughter, partners and protectors.  The worse is with our enemies.  What they have asked for, they now receive.  Who are we to deny such a fervent request?

For reasons unknown, I would love to be lazy.  Maybe it's the cold weather now settling in.  Maybe it's the long to-do list which faces me every year from October to February.  Or maybe it's the very thought of such delicious sloth that tantalizes me into a recurring daydream of doing absolutely nothing.

There I am, front and center, ready for the world.

If I were to do nothing, it would look quite impressive: sleeping in every day until I was bored with sleeping, eating oatmeal every morning, playing video games until my eyes hurt, watching old movies and seeing every moment uninterrupted and without occupying my hands, lounging in a hot bath for hours, flipping through books just to see the pretty pictures, daydreaming, falling asleep on the carpet, going out for a midnight drive, and dropping my dirty clothes on the floor.  Boy, would that be sweet.

But I don't think I would be very happy after a day or two (especially since, even in a fantasy with nothing to do, I've managed to make a fairly long to-do list for myself).  With nothing to work for, there is no purpose, no point to anything.  And soon leisure becomes as drab and colorless as the most tedious chore.  Where is the pleasure without the effort?  Where is the triumph without the struggle?  So, instead, I'm going to work hard and keep going.  I'm going to be posting new items on my shop (stay tuned!), making many more that will excite you all once they are complete, dip candles and refill other stock, while also keeping our household chugging along smoothly and preparing for our huge Yule celebrations that begin December first and don't quit until we all fall down exhausted on the 22nd.  As a bustling, busy, productivity-loving Capricorn, I doubt I could enjoy life any other way.

Best to you all as we enter the holiday season!

Quill

See? I'm even too lazy to provide a picture

•  They say that multi-tasking actually leads to one doing each of the tasks worse than if they'd been performed alone.  Think about that next time you're ironing shirts and making waffles at the same time.

• Stress does not make you more productive.  It may seem like that wired feeling means you're working hard, but it actually means you're about to pop.
• Overworked bodies express stress through physical symptoms: rashes, headaches, illness, etc. 
• Overworked minds express stress mentally and emotionally: irritability, depression, forgetfulness, muddled thinking. 
• When nothing can be done to further a project at this time, anything else you add now is either obsessing or redundancy.  Both are a waste of your energy.
• Stressing over one area of your life means that you're missing out on others.  Or worse, you may be looking at the other parts of your life as getting in the way of your stressing!
• Everyone needs time off.  Work hard but when work is done, rest deeply.  This means also taking the time to enjoy accomplishments instead of checking them off a list and moving on.
• You're not a machine.  Choose to err on the side of humanity.  Relax when you need to, even if doing so will let someone down.