Ex Penna

So I meet a witch and we begin to engage in that most sacred of magical rituals, the Intellect Dance. Who knows more? Who's read more books? What spells have you cast? What was your most impressive success?

We weave around each other offering tiny boasts, sprinkling the exchange with quizzes and minor tricks.

And in the midst of this--especially when it's painfully obvious that there's no need for it--I offer up too much information.  I say something that gives away what took me years to discover. Or maybe I reveal my ignorance of a popular practice. Or brag that my collection contains illegal items and then spend the rest of our conversation wondering if I can trust you to keep that to yourself.


Then there are the times I've found a conversant who thrills at the topic of magic but has very little knowledge of it. I should take it slow, lay out something soft and easy to digest, but instead, my excitement overrides my judgement and suddenly I'm chatting about my history with coercive love spells. Or I launch into a passionate rant about the value of demonic evocations. Or gossip about the trouble I've had with covenmates in the past.

Yep, I've said too much again.

As you know, I'm a firm believer that all practitioners, as to their desire, should be honest with themselves and others. We have the right to openly discuss our knowledge, abilities, and practices on the same level as any other person, and to use our magic in whatever way we choose. That being said, there is a definite point when things can go too far and that which should have been better guarded is allowed to land in front of those utterly unprepared to receive it. The one hurt by a reveal like this could be either party, or both.

So the question becomes, is there is a limit and, if so, can it be perfectly predicted?  Is there a way to prevent spilling secrets to those with whom we don't share a magical intimacy?

To this end I've devised a simple method--SCRIBE

 

 

SETTING

Does this information fit this time and place? Should I save it for a more private occasion? Would it be best shared after I've gotten to know this person better?

CONTEXT

Does this information fit the current conversation? Am I rerouting its direction just to talk about witchcraft?

RESPONSE

Is this a conversation? Will the other person have anything to add to this topic?

INTEREST

If I consider this informative, has this person expressed interest or am I just spouting facts?

BREVITY

Do I have already in mind the best way to express this concept to this person? Am I able to explain it without slowing down the give-and-take of our conversation?

EGO

(As honest as you can) Is this just bragging? What do I hope to gain by sharing this?

Some Life Experience

As often happens to those of us who inhabit a counterculture, I've been faced with circumstances that give me only a moment's pause to consider whether or not to open up to a certain person about my occult life. Sometimes it has proven to be the wisest choice.

An example that I often return to is a story that Silver RavenWolf told in her book "To Ride a Silver Broomstick" wherein she told a job interviewer that she was a witch--before she even got the job. That, to me, is the absolute wrong time, wrong person, wrong place kind of scenario. How many of the SCRIBE items did she forget to check before she came out with this information?  

Keeping Perspective

Magic is a big, emotional topic and it seems that everyone--even non-practitioners--have big, emotional opinions about it. Keep this in mind when you're talking to others, especially if you stray into the more controversial corners.  If you keep facts clearly separate from opinions, maintain a strong take-away message, and hold onto a "quick escape" statement in case you need to wrap things up quickly (especially if the other person is getting upset at your choice of discussion), and all will be well.

Remember that sharing of all kinds is about letting people in on the real you. This means that anyone from your sister to the coworker you've been hanging out with after work can hear about this part of your life and it isn't going to ruin everything. Naturally, too, other witches should hear about your take on magic.  The secretive nature of the occult really does us a disservice when we try to hide from fellow practitioners.



So go on--share! But do it like all your magic: with care, skill, and no more than is required.






Images from:

empowher.com/adult-living/content/do-i-talk-too-much
pontosdeumbanda.com.br/category/omulu
commons.wikimedia.org/wiki
relate.org.uk/relationship-help/help-relationships/making-your-relationship-stronger/talking-friends-about-relationship-problems

Let's play a little make-believe.

Say you make talismans.  You've made some for friends and family, sold a few to acquaintances, but are generally unknown.  Your work is beautiful and you feel really strongly about sharing your unique take on a classic art; you just need to be where the people are.

Or maybe you design clothes.

Or you're a tea leaf reader. 

You teach witchcraft to students. 

You write magazine articles. 

You host open circle events. 

You lead social justice events. 

You lead a coven. 

You're in a band. 

These things don't have to be a money-making venture, but they're a big part of YOU.  Expressing that on a large scale is the ideal way to live the big, beautiful life of your dreams.  But first, people need to know that you exist.

Our community is generally insulated against non-magical folk but friendly and highly vocal once you come inside.  This can mean an open door to expressing some of those amazing characteristics that don't get to come out at any other time.  In addition to its general sense of welcome, we also have a unique take on topics that mainstream society handles quite differently:

• We support pop-up business
• We put money into independent ventures and small business
• Our social interactions are rarely aligned by social class, affluence, or upbringing
• Learning is our prime status symbol and authors are our celebrities

So there's the word right in there.  I don't mean the in-crowd, only your crowd.  What type of people would really get what you're promoting?  Find out the kind of online groups, social media platforms, and sites have the largest gathering of those types.  Think of the ideal age and background for your most receptive audience.  Though it may make things seem a little too clinical, here's a helpful chart to reference:
You can further narrow your scope by choosing the kind of interaction that best showcases your work.  Authors and teachers (*ahem*) do well with Blogger and WordPress; visual arts grab attention on Instagram, deviantArt, and Pinterest; performers and teachers can make YouTube videos or vlog independently; and designers, musicians, and artists can find their outlets through places like TeeSprings and CD Baby.

Of course, being social isn't just about the internet.  The whole world is your Facebook if you do it right!  Find opportunities to meet people, even if you have to arrange them yourself.  Find or create a book club, join meet-and-greets, go to workshops.  Regularly doing spontaneous things, too, can inspire connections, like talking to people you meet in the Metaphysical section of a bookshop or tucking your business card under the wiper blade of a car with a pentagram bumper sticker. 

#2 Know What You Want to Gain

"No, I can't cast Fireball, a**hole. I do magick with a k."  Cue scowl and hair toss.



What I'm about to say might shock you:

I don't side with this kind of attitude.

In fact, I'm against most of such snarky remarks that are designed to separate us.

We can't deny the correlation between fantasy and reality in what we do, and we should really stop trying.  Not only is it a never ceasing task that renews every time a magic-centered book or movie rises to fame, but it also works against our best interests as casters. 

We can refrain from describing ourselves as wizards so that no one mistakes us for overzealous Harry Potter fans, but we can't ever forget the thrill we felt following him into Hogwarts for the first time and imagining ourselves amid an entire society of magic users.

We can insist on alternate spellings (magick, majick, magik), but since no one can hear the difference in our meaning--ya know, being the same dang word and all--it means very little except in print. This might seem like enough of a distinction since, of course, the occult is a scholarly pursuit for many of us, but it is certainly not enough in practice. In the coven, at the festivals, in the spell, and in our heads and hearts we still use the shared language of the fantastic.

Belief in Magic is Beneficial, Even to Non-Spellcasters

And what's so wrong with that? Scientists have already proven that there is a genuine benefit in superstition and other forms of what is known as "magical thinking." The numbers aren't small, either.  Even though this information is often presented in the context of magic being make-believe and a mild form of delusion, the fact remains that everyone from athletes to exam-takers, small children just exploring their new world to adults with life-altering anxiety gain a huge advantage by trusting in luck, magic, and their own ability to control circumstances.

Fantasy literature can help us be more creative, as well.  Those who embrace it understand concepts that make navigating life much easier: how heroes feel and act, compassion for wildly different types of people, respect for experiences we perceive as ordinary, and finding commonality in a diverse world.  This leads to better problem-solving and decreased stress.  Sounds pretty good to me.

So what does this all mean for those of us practicing the genuine art of magic? Well, first we must put aside the concern that our magic is accepted only on the condition that it's fake. We've seen that it has real world merit, even before we start casting genuine spells. The personal opinion of others, especially those outside of our community, don't have a strong enough bearing on what we do to require our attention.  In other words--don't sweat it. Live well on that shared respect for the supernatural and don't bother to speculate on what exactly it means to the other person.

This Witch's Story

What Fantasy Does to Spellcasting

Acceptance Will Bring You More Than Intolerance

Images from:
images8.alphacoders.com
abstract.desktopnexus.com (King Arthur II)

It's been overstated how little occultists are interested in converting others and understated how important personal expression really is.  Speaking our minds and trying to modify those of others are not the same thing.

My early years as a practitioner were fun for me because I didn't have any limits.  I kept staunch secrecy (even to the guy I was dating at the time who was a dabbler and very open about it!) so no one questioned me--my decisions, the books I chose to read, the spells I cast, all of it was up to my own inspiration.  No one condemned me.

But that meant that no one challenged me, either.

No one made me examine those decisions and really work through the processes in my head.  I was happy not to have anyone's influence, but it would have been helpful to have their insight.

And then there was the time, many years later, when I was standing among a group of new acquaintances--who did not yet know I practiced--as they bonded over their mutual distaste for a co-worker who was Wiccan.  Their mockery of him was based on his general awkwardness coupled with what little they knew of his beliefs.  It displayed more about them being pointlessly aggressive and elitist than showing anything negative about Wicca.  That could have been a perfect time for me to chime in and clear up some misconceptions, as well as shut down what could be considered hate speech.

But I was not in a position that I felt was strong enough to speak up.  When the perfect moment had passed, I realized how important a moment it was, not because I needed to correct these women or because I wanted to make the guy better liked, but because we deserve a strong defense.

As you can see, I completely understand the kinds of thoughts that prevent the magical community from being open to outsider discussions.  Besides the assumption that we should remain an insular group, there are some really unappealing images that many of us fear we project when speaking up.  Rather than try to dissuade you from thinking that way, let's bring those images out in the light.

Street Corner Preacher

You open your mouth to spread a bit of enlightenment but in your head you must certainly be screaming through a bullhorn and wearing a sandwich sign.  It's okay, you're (probably) not actually doing that.

Combat it with:

• Short, clear statements
• Terms we all understand--don't say things like "paradigm shift" 
• If you're asked a question, answer only that.  Don't complicate things

Rebellious Teen

Flower Child

When you're the first actual spellcaster someone has met--and don't laugh, that has happened to me several times--you might be surprised to find out what they're expecting to see.  It's okay not to normalize witchcraft; it is indeed special and different.  Plus, you'll probably have no choice but to describe certain topics in a fanciful way, but that doesn't mean you'll lose cred doing so.

Combat it with:

• Be authentic. Show the side of your personality that comes out most with magic
• Remember how it felt when this was new to you and speak in a way that is reminiscent of that
• Be descriptive, liken one thing to another, explain and express.  Paint an emotional picture.  It's okay to wax a bit poetic if the conversation is going deep
• Project a balanced, realistic image.  Magic doesn't send you off into other realms; it's for the here and now

The Pretentious Nonconformist

It’s a quiet night at home.  I pass by the window on my way to sit with another cup of tea and catch a brief glimpse of the world outside.  Dark streets are painted a glossy ebony black with the rain that has been falling in silent sheets all day.  Jewel-like studs of color pop from shop signs, traffic lights and give a heartbeat to the otherwise lifeless, motionless scene. 

To be blunt, your magic is your own and no one has the right to tell you what you can and can't do with it.  Your teacher will instruct you according to your age and advancement based on their tradition; your coven leader will guide and your elders will advise.  But in the end--maybe now or maybe years from now when no one is there to give instruction--you will make the decision and you will do what you want.

• I've cast curses, love spells, and other sprawling manipulations
• I've done so for pay and often on people I've never met
• I've turned down "good cause" magic because the individual wasn't willing to meet my fees
• I've taught minors how to cast their own spells
• I've published secrets and shared my BoS publicly

And I'm still here.  There were no lightning bolts from the sky and no divine decree was read out to me to dispute what I felt were--and still fully support--completely logical reasons.  I am a professional spellcaster and that means that I won't always be doing the sweetie-pie spells to make two puppies be best friends and junk.  Sometimes I'll be asked to make an enemy lose their job or move to a different town.  Some clients want to have another man's wife or to humiliate a rival.  I have to be ready to say yes or no to these requests, and as a professional, the more times I say "yes," the more business I get.  So I've made my decision on what I will and won't do, and for how much.  That's how this game is played.

But, you know, it's also something I do for personal reasons, as well, and I've been just as determined to use my own judgment in private as I am to the public.  To this end, I've cast spells that were totally ruled by my own amusement.  I've made sure annoying people were made to look foolish in public; I've won contests and prize drawings just because I wanted free stuff; I've made people call me on the phone, apologize first, and compliment me when I'm feeling blue.  I've done silly little things like making people trip or blurt out a secret, just because I felt like it.  One a more pleasant note, I once met a woman who looked at my then 8 months pregnant belly with a bittersweet expression because of how much she longed for a child of her own.  So I touched her belly and used my skills to make it ready for a new occupant.  She didn't ask for a spell, I didn't have to cast it, and some would say I shouldn't have done it at all.  But I wanted to, and it brought a good dose of magic to her life as well as my own.  This isn't so deadly serious, folks; it's as much a work as it is play!

So this is me hereby giving you complete permission to use your own inner set of rules to use your magic as you see fit.  If you mess up, you'll learn.  As you learn, you change.   If you run afoul of a stronger spellcaster, you'll hurt.  If someone else tries to run afoul of you (which seems to be the real fear behind all these rules), you have no choice but to become the stronger spellcaster. 

Now that you know you are free, get out there and play!

Professional spellcasters are in a unique position.  First, we're able to be helpful in a way that other social guides can't be.  Many of us are also trained in other methods to help our clients, including counseling skills, to offer a more holistic approach to the client's issue.  Yet because of the nature of our work of giving non-tangible resources and assistance in a world expecting physical goods in exchange for physical pay, we are often viewed with suspicion.

Our work is different than other markets and so requires a unique approach.  Our clients are often the disenfranchised people of society.  Troubles are heavy on the person who comes seeking a professional spellcaster and oftentimes they have ideas--based on varying levels of actual knowledge--on what is causing their misfortune, voiced possibly for the first time to one they expect to be wholly sympathetic, regardless of validity.

Sadly, this combination breeds confusion, irritation, and respect issues.  Without proper and accepted guidelines for our interactions, we often find out the hard way that we're lacking in necessary boundaries.  It pains me to think of the number of clients who have stepped past my line for lack of understanding that I try to be more professional and less personal than other casters they had previously hired.  It's not because I don't like a person; it's that I want them to take back their life the very instant I'm done fixing it.

As you can imagine, when all this comes together with the unpredictable public, a caster stands to interact with quite a number of interesting characters.  Sometimes it's amusing, sometimes painfully aggravating, sometimes I hang up the phone and just flop on the couch, hoping that no one asks anything from me for the next 8 hours.

What follows is some of the true stories of my years as a professional spellcaster.  Names and identifying details, of course, have been changed to protect the privacy of my clients.  Naturally, many of these are so common to the job that if you also cast for pay, you've been there and handled them based on your own levels of patience.   As this is a confidential article, my answers in the moment were much more tactful than what's here, but I guarantee this is what was going through my mind.


"Stop sabotaging my work!"

Oh dear, how awful it feels to want to say this!  It's as though everything was going just fine until the client shows up.  How can that be?  It's their life--don't they automatically want what's best for themselves?  Well, no, not always.  Some folks are so bogged down in months or years of the bad that they're totally shocked by the good.  They run from it, shun it, and do everything they can to get back to that old familiar misery.  Weird, I know.

What comes first to memory was a separation spell I did for a woman who was utterly done with her freeloading boyfriend.  Linda and Bill had been together for only a short time before he'd worked his way into taking his share of her life and giving back nothing.  He moved into her home and used her money for all his expenses.  Being the caretaker-type, she put up with it.  When she had finally had enough, she came to me.

We decided on a straightforward separation to make Bill leave without trouble.  Two days later, Linda came home to him walking out the door, arms full of suitcases.  Bill was ready to just disappear without a word and without a thought for what he would do next.  That should have been that, but instead she collapsed on him and begged him to stay.

When she told me I was caught between rolling my eyes and wanting to choke her.  We were so close, and then she undid all my hard work!

Another incident was a love spell in the other direction.  A lovelorn young man was hopelessly smitten over Jessica, the local beauty who barely knew he existed.  He'd tried everything to get her attention to no avail.  He wanted her to be as crazy about him as he was about her.  So I gave him not only a powerful love spell but also plenty of advice on how to play it cool so she'd give chase.  I felt like it was in the bag.

Little hints showed improvement from the spell but instead of heeding my advice, he hounded on her with twice as much enthusiasm.  She was disgusted.  I worked and worked to no avail.  He was determined to prove that Jessica would only respond to his insistent pressure.   It didn't matter to him that he was making things much worse.  In the end, as things were getting on the obsessive side, I was only too glad to leave this train wreck behind.


"This isn't a forever thing."

This one seems to happen all too often, to myself and other casters I've talked to about their clients.  What is the nicest way to say "You don't have me on retainer"?

That's right, one spell cast and suddenly they're e-mailing you every day about the minutiae of the spell's outcome, dreams they had about the situation, conversations with other people, worries, possible roadblocks in the future...on and on.  Do you really believe that I--or anyone else, for that matter--could cast one spell and you whole life would be perfect forever?  Did you think that's what you paid me to do?  Or are you just enjoying having someone at your beck and call?

Devin was a good guy but with a terrible habit of assuming that I have nothing else going on in my life.  Several times I had to talk him down from the anxiety he'd spun himself into over a simple spell I'd worked for him to protect him from the law.  He was, as they say, as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  Every little change or unfamiliar sound, every new neighbor or stranger walking his dog, terrified him.  And so he wrote me.  All the time.

It didn't seem to matter that the danger had passed, that no one was actually doing anything to threaten him or his future.  In fact, it seemed like he was being well left alone.  Just to be sure, however, I agreed to add on some more work--new formulas, a talisman or two, some charms for him to recite if things looked grim, and protections for his home.  By this point, he'd racked up quite a bill, but he just couldn't make the jump back into the lead role in his own life.  He had grown painfully, insufferably attached to having me as his adviser.  I couldn't take it anymore.  I did my best for him for several months but in the end, I told him that our time together was over and stopped answering his letters.

Devin wasn't actually in need of magic.  That's usually what you discover with clingy types like that.  What they need is security and a social base that can provide it.  That's rather tragic, but at least I can say that my work didn't fail him.

Another client had a particular idea of spells lasting forever, and it was one that I found equal parts horrible and hilarious.

James was terrified that his now emotionally-distant wife was soon going to leave him.  With visions of all the younger, richer men she must surely be seeing behind his back, he needed a spell to keep her at home with him where he was sure she belonged.  So I did a strong commanding spell to hold her tight to her husband and be loving towards him.  And she stayed and was good to him.  Everything seemed like it was their first year of marriage...for a while.  After s few weeks of blissful union, she left James and she didn't come back.

What I didn't know (and what he neglected to mention somehow) was that James was a lousy husband.  Oblivious to her needs, there were no hugs or kisses, no "I love you's".  Disconnected from her physically and emotionally, he couldn't be bothered with even acknowledging her on her birthdays.  It's no wonder she wanted out.

James' wife did indeed respond to the spell, but it was never reinforced with the kind of behavior that would make her want to stick around afterwards.  Love spells can get things moving, can inspire feelings, can drive the passions, but it is you and your day-to-day actions that will make those things last.  The only way I could have made this marriage work for him was if I cast spells continuously on his wife, resubmitting every day an image of him in her mind that simply wasn't real.  That I won't do to anyone.  She deserved to get away from him and make a new start with someone who cared.  I hope she did.


"If You're So Great, Why are You Asking for My Help?"

This is an old favorite.  I've met many casters over the years and a good deal of them are braggarts.  In some respects, you can't really blame us.  This is a business that is perfect for the big ego: fixing huge problems, garnering the respect of others, doing what seemed impossible, and using arcane wisdom to accomplish it.  The magical community has some real big-mouths and they all want you to know they're great.

And that's just fine as long as no one ever calls your bluff.

That's just what happened about 15 years ago to an occultist extraordinaire I met through a newbie I knew in the area.  She called me with exciting news of having met someone so wonderful, brilliant, and talented that she was certain I would just adore him.  They'd met online where she was bowled over by his genius.  I rolled my eyes in a way that you do when you're on the phone and not in person.  I did agree to meet him, though, just in case my eye roll was premature.  It was not.

When I talked to him--or rather when I sat in his audience, considering that one could not get a word in edgewise with this guy--he spoke in a long, rambling way about all the vaguely metaphysical things he studied.  Every one of those things were what we now term UPG (Unverified Personal Gnosis).  He didn't believe in reading books or learning from teachers.  I guess you could say that listening was just not his thing.  He would ask questions and then interrupt your answers to speak for you.  He offered, unasked, to read my thoughts.  He bragged about meeting a psychic dog.  He said that he already knew me better than I knew myself.  His attitude was patronizing and self-absorbed.  In short, he was an asshole.

So I left and refused to talk to him anymore, even lessening my time around our intermediary who still thought the sun rose and set upon this creep.  Then the day came about a month later when I got a phone call with both of them on the line.  Would I please help him out of a jam?

Now this is where I should have said no.  I should have made fun of him for not being able to handle his own life despite his constant claims of being the biggest name in magic since Aleister Crowley.  I should have.  But I didn't.  Instead, I helped.  And I did it so that I could rub his face in it later.  (Hey, I never said I was a saint!)

And that is just what happened.  It was very little effort on my part, but the rewards felt especially decadent.  He needed a place to live as he was getting kicked out of his old place and had nowhere to go.  He wanted to move in with the newbie who had introduced us, but there were hindrances preventing it.  It was quite simple: remove the blocks that prevented the move and change the minds set against his arrival.  I originally told him to just use a push, to which he admitted knowing nothing about that.  I explained in detail, and he was shocked that such a thing could be done.  Another eye-roll.

It was probably a week after I cast the spell for him and the way was all smooth for him to move in.  He seemed in a state of shock when he told me how wonderfully the situation had changed.  "Everything just sort of happened.  It was like..."  I finished his trailing thought, "Like magic?" "Yes!" he replied, almost exploding the word.  I got the distinct feeling that for all his talk about the occult, this was his first actual interaction with it.  It was a freebie I gave him to teach a lesson, to open his eyes, and--most definitely--to shut his mouth.  All of those things were accomplished.  From that point until our final parting soon after, there was a distinct change in his attitude toward me.  Gone were the days of endless bragging; instead, he was meek and quiet, chastened.   I enjoyed it immensely!


"There are Reasons that I Don't Work for Free and I'm Not in Competition with Those who Do"

This one is an ongoing issue, but the key is being firm.  Not all practitioners are the same, not everyone abides by the same rules, and not everyone feels the same way about getting paid.  Some witches abhor the idea of exchanging magic for money, others insist that you give your cash to a charity instead; or you can give your caster items in lieu of legal tender; and then there's me and my kind--pay me in whatever way we both agree upon.  Sometimes I do barter, other times it's straight cash, occasionally I'll do a kindness with no strings attached for those in a desperate situation.  Just do us both a favor--expect to pay and be surprised if we end up arriving at some other plan.

I recently got a phone call from a local woman pleading for help.  She was in all kinds of (unspecified) legal trouble and knew that only magic could save her from jail.  We had never met before, I knew nothing of her exact situation, and there was no reason for me to suppose that she wasn't guilty of the charge against her.  It's not that any of that would have changed my mind on helping her, only that it made me disinterested in doing it for free.  So I calmed her as best I could and explained my fees.  She thanked me and promised to call back.  That call never arrived.

Despite what some might think, this didn't bother me.  She made a decision based on what was best for her.  It might be a calculated risk, forgoing the help she felt was her only savior, and all for the sake of money, but it was her choice to do so.  I get that from time to time, although most folks who come to me already know how the game is played and are fully ready to compensate their caster.  Then there are those who don't know, those who are certain that with the right amount of cajoling and shaming, I can be swayed to do their bidding free of charge.  I'm sure you know how well that turns out!

Susan contacted me through a witchcraft message board where we were both members.  She had a simple proposition: cast a spell for her that she was too busy to cast for herself.  She was, naturally, a witch of much experience and many years in the craft, but at the moment, so short on time that she was forced to outsource.  I asked what I was to get in return.  "The good karma, of course", was the reply.  I literally laughed out loud.  I explained that I'm not interested in karma and I don't believe it has anything to do with magic.  If she wants something done for her, I'm willing to exchange good for good, but being only a casual acquaintance, I'm not doing it for something I don't want.

That seemed to turn Susan's switch!  Evidently I'm no true Wiccan (well, no, I'm not) to turn away someone in need just to make filthy money.  I should be proud that she chose me.  How could I go against the moral imperative to cast free spells for whomever requires them (I would like to see where any tradition has written this law)?  All the casters who are free, so she said, were certainly better than me.  It was a brief exchange, to say the least.  I told her that as this was my experience, my tools, my time, and my components, the cost was mine as well.  After 15 (at the time) years of constant casting, I reserve the right to name my price.  She quietly ducked out after admitting that she'd never actually cast a spell before.  Good luck to you, Susan, you're gonna need it.


"Just the Facts, Ma'am"

How many thousand occasions have I wanted to say this?  I don't need to know what you thought the other person's reasons are, what your cousin said about the problem, how it affected your cat, your dreams, nor your latest bowel movements.  Just tell me the problem and what you want to happen.

A far-flung family member who was known for trying to weasel free tarot readings and spells out of me, contacted me out of the blue one day with a conundrum: should he pick Girl A or Girl B.  For some unknown reason, he didn't have enough emotional connection to either one for the answer to be simple.  Also odd was how each girl was willing to wait around for him to pick.  This guy is just not that great, ladies.

So he's telling me about each one, the pros and cons of choosing A over B and vice versa.  I got the distinct feeling that he could just as easily be talking about choosing a new car.  "This one has side airbags but the one on the other lot has a better stereo..."

I began to wonder what he was driving at, but his side of the conversation seemed far from over.  Instead of being patient, however, I found myself just blurting out, "So, what do you want me to do about it?"  I was fully ready to either turn him down or insist on a hefty fee.

"Oh, nothing.  Just telling you what's new."

Huh.  I think that was a first.  To this day, I'm not quite sure if the truth of the matter was that he was too surprised to say what he really expected or if he had, in fact, called me for the first time ever just to make conversation and not to get some freebies.  What do you think?





If you, too, have been in the strange position of being a customer’s therapist, nanny, and mafia hitman, you know just what I’ve been talking about.  The work of a professional spellcaster is not a simple one. For those of us who do this job, it’s rewarding in a way unmeasurable and frustrating in a way that seems to only increase its value. 

      

Wow, I don't know if you've ever been in this position, but if you haven't yet, you will someday.  In a life lived half in the magical and half in the mundane, stuff gets forgotten about, plans get mixed up, and problems run unchecked until that mystical light bulb appears.  Sometimes it's comedic, sometimes tragic.  Of course, that is the nature of a busy (or stressed, aging, or forgetful) person; perfection is just not part of the deal.

In my own practice, the goal is to fit in as much per day as possible.  While this applies to my mundane life, too, in magic it's actually quite specific.  I'm a shop owner (of course), teacher, writer, tarot reader, professional spellcaster, and coven leader while also working for my own desires on the side.  That means a lot of plans with varying levels of urgency and a lot of lists to keep them straight.  As you can imagine, this rarely runs smoothly.  Custom work, rituals, paid readings, and writing magazine articles on a deadline are a must; everything else is on a sliding scale.

Maybe to spare you the same fate or maybe to help me reroute the disturbing regularity of my bad habit, I'd like to share with you the patterns of my forgotten magic.  Perhaps you'll recognize words that have come out of your mouth or that of someone you know.  Feel free to make fun of all three.


"I need to witch this!"

So many projects, so little time.  There truly is nothing under the sun that can't be enhanced, smoothed, or improved by the addition of a spell or two.  Sadly, we don't always remember to get to work at the first opportunity like we should (and sometimes not even at the last opportunity.  I always work spells for job interviews but rarely have I remembered to work for a similarly good impression when making new friends.  I cast for the good health of others but forget to do the same for myself.

The right time to start planning your magic is at the moment when new situations pop up--any new situation.  Don't save your work just for the bad things; make the good things even better, open up new opportunities, take your skills to the next level!  
Once you know what magic would be a good fit, pick a date to work on it.  It's so easy to let it slide if you have nothing solid in place yet know at the back of your mind that you'd like to "take care of that problem" or "do a spell for that one of these nights."  That couldn't be more vague!  If you--and I--hope to get anything done, it will have to be through the art of planning ahead.

This is something I wish I'd thought of when I was first presenting my classes on successful spellcasting in a strictly local setting.  I knew I'd have a difficult time of it because of the small town I live in and the general lack of progressive thought.  There are, of course, practitioners around here but presenting yourself in an arena they all would notice is a real challenge.

I put quite a bit of effort into arranging advertising and meetup sessions but, unfortunately, very little to no magic.  What a shame.  That first run could have been a whole lot bigger!  Of course, that weak turn out is what inspired me to put them online instead, saving me considerable amounts of time and effort than can now be put into other projects.


"Oh Yeah, that's considered magic.  Should have written that down..."

I do this with the little things like "pushes" or other mind magic, charms that I recite so often that I barely notice that I'm doing it, bits of folk magic and superstition, and petitions to the Gods.  If you count all those things, I do a ton of spellwork every day.  But don't ask me to recount it; I probably won't remember half of it without paper and pencil and a calender.

A lot of charms come out of me when I'm driving--to get there on time, not to get a ticket, to make the gas in my tank last, finding parking spaces, to avoid hitting animals, and to be safe while driving in snow and rain.   Other than that I change the minds and attitudes of others for various reasons, make delicious the food I'm cooking or make it cook faster, make projects go smoothly, be fearless in the face of phobias, become eloquent when talking to others, and on and on.  That kind of thing should be preserved and yet rarely is.

Right along with this is the sheer volume of work that I put on my familiar.  He has a lot of tasks to complete in any given day and yet my BoS doesn't reflect this.  Perhaps I should put more effort into giving him his just credits.

"I'm glad this problem worked out but I'm a little bummed I didn't get to get it by magic."

Is there anything more depressing than pages of now-pointless research?  I've got my share of them.  Especially when the situation resolved itself, I have felt very torn about the work I almost did--that I was ready to do--but didn't get done in time to make any difference.  It's no wonder that some casters say that the magic begins not at the point that the spell is cast but at the time we start planning and working towards its casting.  It's a big fat cheat but at least that way we can say the effort we put in did something.

"I'd better write this down"

Updating my BoS is an exercise in memory and wrist strength.  Entries are long and involved, often spanning months of work.  As I sort through my recollections the finer details seem to get lost in the dust: the source of the spells I just cast, the outcome of spellwork, important divination answers, what that little bottle contains....

Really should have written that down right away, dontcha think? It's one of those funny tricks that your mind plays on you from time to time that you think you'll remember up to some distant time when you can commit it to paper.  I know this about myself: it's impossible for me to have time for updating after every spell or even on a weekly basis.  My BoS leaps ahead randomly by long spans and short, usually based on a sudden quiet space in my schedule where I can commit to working on it.  In the meantime, though, should be a lot of smaller bits of writing, even if it's just a post-it note.

You know, I think I've got this one solved.  I can write down such information on note paper, date it, and stick it on a spindle or in a mail sorter.  There, problem fixed.  Until then, though, there are two post-it notes stuck to jars sitting on my desk with lists of what I think are the ingredients to the oils inside (based on either scent or careful examination of the tiny flecks of herbs at the bottom).  Where was this great idea back when I made these things?


"I'm going to have to make time to kick your ass"

Have you ever had this happen?  There's a person who is doing all the wrong things, irritating and infuriating everyone around them.  Maybe they're even ruining the situation so badly that you know without a doubt that they have to be stopped.  Unfortunately, damage control is keeping you quite busy already and by the time you're done with that, you don't even want to hear their name let alone focus on them for spellwork.

Or maybe you're just too busy in general.  You're swamped at work, the baby's teething, and the pipes just froze again (this has all happened to me).  You don't have time for anything other than your immediate surroundings.  That can of whoop-ass will just have to remain unopened.

This may be one of the real reasons that there aren't more curses being cast.

I still have a little bag in my desk that contains the signature and an old ring from a person who owes me a sizable amount of money from several years ago.  He's wily and stubborn so attempts to recover my cash were not easy.  I keep these items, however, because what I'd really like to do is to ruin him, to absolutely devastate his life and make sure he knows who made it happen.  It's not the money so much as the fact that he's a just terrible person.  He should probably count himself fortunate that I don't have the time.  Anyone out there need a guinea pig to try out some black magic?



From all of this it's easy to suppose that I never get any spellwork done, but that is far from the truth.  It is a simple fact that the longer you've been in the magical community, the broader your base of knowledge, the greater your aspirations, the more you will have to arrange your life to fit it all.  The fact that some good habits fall to the side, some plans go unfulfilled, some bits of information seem to blow away on the wind only means that your life is full to bursting.  I will happily accept what quirks and flaws must come of that because I can't think of a better way to live.

So there I sat in the front seat of my car, shoulders slumped yet every muscle tense and quivering.  I stared off blankly, looking into the rest of my evening, the rest of my week, with guilt and remorse, apologies and excuses.  The lights flashed in a chaotic display around me.  Yep, I was gonna get a ticket.

Now this may not seem like a big deal to some of you but I was in a tight jam and couldn't afford to give away any extra money.  Before you say it, yes, this was giving money away.  It was after 11:00 PM and as I was leaving my day job to start my night job, I went under a very fast yellow light at the end of a high arched bridge.  I passed under it just as it was turning red.  My ticket was over $250.00.

That's not to say that I didn't do my very best to avoid it.  As soon as I stopped, I grabbed the pentacle from around my neck and held it tight, clutching to a hope that in a few minutes everything would be fine.  I asked the Gods--nay, begged, pleaded, cried--to help me, to be kind to me, to fix this however a divine being can and I'd be so, so grateful.  By then, the cop was walking up to my car.  I tucked away my pentacle (just in case it mattered to him), dried my eyes, and tried to look casual as I rolled down the window.  I hoped the Gods were working on it.

They were not.

I know they weren't because I wouldn't have either.  I acted like a baby.  I begged for mommy and daddy to come outside and make the mean neighbor kid go away.  The gods aren't interested in us that way and they don't want us humiliating ourselves.  They don't care about our whims--and this, sadly, was a complete whim--anymore than we care about those of strangers.  They watch us for fun, they walk among us to learn and to teach, but they interact with us on a personal basis for their own purposes and not ours.  Unless you have become a pet favorite of a god or goddess, you are no more special than any other voice crying their name.  If, like me, you were extra whiny about it, prepare to be a lot less special.

So the gods didn't help me.  They didn't even look up from their ambrosia.  There I sat, sad and sorrowful, wishing for a miracle that wasn't going to come.  And why should it?  I was pathetic!  They might pity me, sure, but most likely they were disgusted.

And you know what happened?  That cop threw the book at me.  He got some notion in his head that I was the bust that would make him Sergent and took me out of my car, searched it, searched my purse, and was about to pat me down until I refused (remember, ladies, females can't get the pat down from male cops).  Just about then, another cruiser stopped by to check things out.  Now there were two cars--with all lights ablaze--and four cops looking me over like I was a mafia kingpin.  I was four months pregnant at the time.

They rolled up the tube of lipstick in my purse and flipped through my notebook.  They opened the positive pregnancy test that I still carried around with me.  I started to feel very exposed.  Then my boss drove by and I could see his wide eyes as we recognized each other.  The cops found nothing and I was horribly late to work where I then had to explain to my boss what happened and why he shouldn't count this against me.  This was a terrible night.



Okay, so we all have bad times.  We all have experiences that were going to be horrible no matter what we did or said, but that doesn't mean that some well-placed magic can't still help.  Had I been prepared and not frozen with worry, I would have seen an opportunity to use the right kinds of magic in the right places to soften the blow that was being dealt to me.  Had I stopped whimpering and offered something real, maybe the gods would have taken an interest.

All this happened when I had just turned 20, so I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on myself.  But it took me years to realize that what really stood in my way was the desperation I felt in the situation.  I don't like cops already and getting pulled over sends me into the closest thing I've ever come to panic attacks.  I was grasping at straws when I called on my patron deities.  Thing is, though, that they don't like being your straws.  They, like mortals, want to be treated respectfully.  They do things for you because they want to, not because you're so pitiful they feel sorry for your blubbering mess.  If you want something, you better use an extra large dose of respect and decorum--and that includes presents.  The gods enjoy promised gifts and if you know the kinds of things they like best, you're definitely going to get noticed.  Make a bargain with them.  Be kind and persuasive; be enticing, but be strong.  Show them that you are a business partner as well as your other roles as student, worshipper, disciple, and--occasionally--groupie.

Had I had the wherewithal to do things right, this is how I would've turned the whole night around:

1. Brief, straightforward prayer to my patrons with a promise of an offering if they help

2. Brief prayer to a god/dess, ancestor, or spirit who is specifically linked with my problem

3.  Spoken charm to Retain the Right

4. (As soon as the cop's face is in view) A mental push on him to recognize me as the kind of person deserving a second chance (exceedingly good, noble, or sexy--your choice)

5. (Before speaking) Charm to be eloquent

If I had done all that, I might not now be able to recall that night with such sickening clarity.  Sure, this all may seem trivial to some but giving up that money (and the insurance money paid out because it was a 3 point offense) was a very big deal at that time.  Even to this day, tossing away $250 for any reason would be insanity and I can't think of a soul who can afford it.

The point is that being prepared will save you from panic and panic is the kind of things that absolutely kills magic.  The Gods won't touch it, the spirits see the weakness and won't obey, that great flow that usually surges up through you when you cast will only trickle--if it even comes at all.