One of the several reasons that I decided to start writing publically again about my work is the loneliness that can sometimes come with it. Even in occult spaces–maybe even especially in occult spaces–there can be a sense of being isolated or misunderstood. This phenomenon made me clam up for many years and refuse to share any details about what I do. But conversely, as I’ve pushed myself to try and open up and speak more freely about the work to others, I find occasional moments of true community. When you speak openly about conversing with spirits, people will surprise you, over and over again, by opening up to you in turn.
Recently, I’ve been dedicating quite a lot of time to one specific spirit who was brought and more-or-less entrusted to me. I usually work with spirits on more even terms, inviting them in and getting to know them before committing to any sort of long-term relationship. This spirit was brought to me by my ancestors, and so I have been building this relationship after the fact. I have spent much of this past month introducing the spirit around, to the house and the plants and my allies and so forth.
As the summer grows hotter, I spend more and more time inside, and have less and less bandwidth for the garden. By the time I’m up and about, it’s usually already too hot to spend much time out there; I have several that could use a transplant that I haven’t been able to get to. One of the small delightful relationships I’ve been enjoying is speaking with the plants who watch my front door. Most of the plants I have arranged as protectors or so forth are fairly quiet “sentries” who rarely have much to say. My succulents by the doorway, though, are becoming huge gossips. When I leave in the morning I touch them and tell them to watch the house for me and let me know of anything interesting. When I return, I press my ear to the vines and listen (or “listen”). Sometimes I get very little. Often I get a bright sense of enjoyment of the day, a feeling of the weather. Once I was told about a solicitor, a couple times I have heard gossip about the neighbors, and once I was warned very sharply about nearby yellowjackets (which is one of those tiny “psychic” experiences that really kind of sticks with you). My work with the front door plants is very different from my work in the garden: It benefits from being daily and on a schedule, like greeting the person at the front desk when you walk into an apartment building, but doesn’t benefit from the hands-on deep work I do with the herbs in the back where I come to know them by the top and underside of every leaf.
Despite my inability to spend as much time in the garden lately, every time I go out I am delighted by the sheer amount of animal and pollinator life that we have cultivated this year. The featured photo is one of many tiny toads found resting in the basil in our raised bed, and I’ve watched this year as well the life cycle of the native Carolina anoles as they became comfortable with me puttering around and watering the soil. The bees are delighted to be here. There are insects everywhere. We see birds here that we’ve never seen in our area before. I can’t imagine anything more rewarding.
I’ve started some new small embroidery projects as well. Embroidery is a great way to weave power, and one of the great spirits I’ve been working with recently is a weaving spirit, so the tasks go hand-in-hand. I have suffumigated needles that I use, and when I have the supplies I’ll bless and dye my own embroidery thread. Needlework can be somewhat difficult for me due to my physical limitations and disabilities, but I work at the pace I can manage, and I believe my efforts please the weavers regardless.
It’s also been a good season for reading. I’ve been chewing on Cavender’s Folk Medicine in Southern Appalachia, but I’ve also been working my way through several folk herbals and contemporary herbalism handbooks. I’m very much looking forward to getting to my new annotated copy of Sauer’s Herbal Cures, edited and commentated by William Woys Weaver. One of the challenges of reading folk herbals is the difficulty that can come with understanding them in a contemporary setting. (I’ve made a million jokes about Culpeper starting obscure herbal entries with verbiage like “Everyone knows what this is, so I’m not going to waste my time.”) I’d love to see more annotated folk texts and am looking forward to this one. I enjoyed Hyldyr’s edition of The Long Hidden Friend for similar reasons.
Finally, I am happy to say that I have officially been conferred a Master of Science degree. It is a bizarre feeling. I love academia, even though academia has not always loved me back. I love having more time for things like what I described above, but I might end up writing some more formal cited work purely to feed the academic impulse. A friend has encouraged me to put on some workshops, and I’ve gone back and forth quite a bit on whether I want to put myself into the space of “witch teacher” again, and the extent to which that would be good for me. Some of my notes on those workshops might find themselves here in the near future.
In the meantime, I’ve been engaging with the witchcraft community over on Mastodon, and trying to connect with more likeminded people. If you’re on Mastodon, send me a link and I’d love to talk with more folk magicians and spirit workers.