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Ever since I first got interested in magic back around 1970, I have been attracted to the props: robes, fancy wands, blasting rods, chalices, athames, swords, altars, censers, and so forth. But outside of stuff like herbs, incense, and oils, I have almost never actually gotten any, much less used them. Take wands, for instance. I’ve never seen a wand in a shop that I really wanted. Many are nice but just not me. As for the others, the found wand, as it were? Once I was out in the woods and found a neat bit of root lying right on the path. I thought what a great wand it would make. It was crooked and nicely dried out already. So I took it home and charged it. A couple times I thought about using it, but instead, as I normally do, I used my hand. I still have this root wand but I have never used it. Why? It looks fine but feels like a stick when I hold it.
When I moved into this little house in Elmira in 2007, the lilacs were full of a lot of dead wood. In cutting them back, I got a couple nice pieces that I thought would make good wands. This is very bone-like wood, silver gray with the bark worn off through endless winters and squirrel action. One is sort of straight with a nice fold. The other has an end like a claw. I worked on them some with files and rasps. But I never finished them, just kept them on top of a picture frame so I wouldn’t forget they exist. And I used only one of them, and that once. Not that it blew up in my face or anything. I just didn’t feel like using it. They didn’t feel magical, and I wasn’t all that sure how lilacky my magic is, if you know what I mean.;)
I found a nice, long piece of staghorn sumac driftwood at the lake one time. This is a native plant and I’ve always liked it. I worked that piece into a staff I could use for magic. It had potential, I thought. I did various things to it to get it to be what I wanted–rubbings with wormwood, nights absorbing moonlight, etc. I used it once. Subsequently, it committed suicide by falling over and cracking on the driveway. Obviously not meant to be.
Then there are robes. When I was doing Abramelin, I got as far as buying the plain linen fabric and the pattern for the underrobe called for in the ritual, but I never actually sewed it because I didn’t complete the operation to the point where the robe is needed. I’ve still got the fabric and the patterns, one for the underrobe, like a long tunic, and the other for a full-bore robe with a hood and big sleeves. I put them away. They are still in the cabinet.
Then a few years ago I saw a black thobe and thought it would be perfect for ritual work and didn’t require any sewing. I’ve worn it once. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s comfortable and even washable. But it’s just mediocre. Not magical. I wear my regular clothes for ritual work instead.
Some time ago I read in Viridarium Umbris about using a hood as a sort of trance aid. When you are sitting out in the woods, you pull the hood over your head so you can’t see anything and just absorb what is around you without benefit of sight. I thought this was a neat idea, and it resonated with an old-fashioned Jewish practice with a tallit, or prayer shawl, where you pull the thing over your head to completely cover your face and focus on entering prayer. Nineteenth-century prayer shawls from Eastern Europe sometimes have a square embroidered almost in the center just for that purpose. I even thought about buying a magic-dedicated tallit (I had two already for normal use that I didn’t want to hive off into magic). I saw a black one and thought perfect! But it didn’t feel magical. It felt somehow derivative and inauthentic. So I’ve just used a regular gray hoodie instead.
But lately something has changed. Now I want props and furthermore, I know exactly which ones I want. For instance, I came across a handmade blackthorn wand, very plain. I wanted it immediately, but I just bookmarked it, thinking of the forelorn root wand and lilac would-be wands still unused, and told myself “You don’t play with the toys you have, so you have no business buying new ones.” But I kept going back to look at it, and finally I bought it. It came this weekend. Holy cats! In person, it is even more magical than I surmised from the pic. It feels magical to hold, not like a stick at all.
Then I found myself on ebay cruising not for the usual antique canning jar lids or art pottery but for a box to put the wand and other small items in. I still have a cabinet sort of thing I got for Abramelin, but the wand is going to need its own little home. And a silk wrapper, as one would do with a mandrake root. It just feels right.
 Meanwhile, I got out the pattern for what was to be the Abramelin outer robe and shopped for some black material to make it. I settled on some heavyweight black linen. Ordered that and a clasp for it that’s supposed to be a Viking design–it’s even made in Norway. I bought it not for that reason but because it is decorated with three spirals, three being a divine number in many cultures and spirals just being my favorite petrolithic design–and the basis of the design of the tattoo for Hermes that I got 13 years ago. Seems like it is supposed to be on my ritual robe.
 The only times I have needed a chalice, I have used just a regular wineglass. I saw a black amethyst hobnailed glass goblet that I can really use and got it. I’ve collected antique pieces of this type of glass, so it just seems perfect. This glass is even still made in the US.
I’ve been trying to figure out what brought this streak of prop acquisition on. Partly it was the dream I had some time ago about the werewolf. I came to recognize and embrace that figure as standing for my witching self. But what did it mean? For one thing, it seemed full of energy but not especially focused. That’s actually been an aspect of my personality in general throughout much of my life, but it is especially so with magic. I think the props can function as lenses for focusing this energy and giving it better aim.
The other thing has been the recent dreams of the electric bicycle and locomotive–the familiar. The missing piece has been sent to me. I hope that does not sound too full of hubris. But it just feels like things fit now. They are all coming together at the same place: me.
Why all the black in my choices? Am I becoming like, overly serious about myself so I have to wear black? I don’t think so. In my mundane life, I actually wear a lot of green and brown, plant colors. I don’t think I am going to start wearing black all the time, not least of all because it really shows the cat hairs.:) Or perhaps all these black things are because I am getting ready to practice some really dark magic? Not in particular. But black and silver are my familiar’s colors. And going farther back, they are like the black (skin) and silver (grey clothing) of the dream teacher I dubbed the Dark Spirit of the Crossroads, and “black” is the color of the Datura Spirit who has contacted me in the past. So I think black and silver/gray are important magical colors for me.
It seems to me that most magic workers have far more props than I do. I have felt a bit jealous all this time. If you’re involved in a craft, it’s good to have the right tools for the job. If you do use props or tools, what made you choose them? I’m thinking for a lot of people, particular props jumped out at them as right for them. Do you think that kind of jumping out has to do with the particular spirits you are working with? IOW, is there something about the color and shape of the props you use that fit with your spirit comrades?
 Yutz pondering his yutziness The other day someone sent me an email complaining that my herbal flying oil didn’t work, even though he smeared 1/4 of the botttle on his body and then drank the rest. That’s right. Drank it. !!!!!And it didn’t do anything!!!!!!
I read that and thought, “I am not going to answer this stupid email. I might get stupidity cooties if I touch it.” And I went on about my work. This is a busy time of year, after all.
Couple days later I get another email from this individual informing me, as proof that I sell useless junk, that he is still alive. That’s when I snapped. I sent him a snarky email saying that the only reason why he was alive was because God watches out for fools and morons. Etc. I try never to get mad at a customer, but this yutz was too much. Does something stupid and then demands to know why he didn’t get fucked up. Words fail me (metaphorically speaking).
The magic oils I make and sell are perfume strength, which means that they contain 20-25% fragrance by volume–i.e., at least 1.5 ml of essential oil. That’s probably not enough to kill anyone who drank it, but if you have a delicate liver, it’s enough to cause liver failure with certain essential oils that are especially hard on the liver, like wormwood or pennyroyal. That’s why I have on the label of each bottle: “Do not ingest.” And I mean it. It is not there for decoration or as some kind of disclaimer. Personally, I do not believe in disclaimers and don’t use them; they do nothing to protect you legally. I also say on the bottle “Not for use on children or other animals.” They just don’t have the livers to handle even topical applications of essential oils.
I guess I am pretty amazed that someone would drink something designed to be used externally and then complain that they didn’t trip ballz (and he later emailed again demanding another bottle for free so if he could see if it really worked–did I say he was a yutz?). But having just read that kids nowadays are drinking hand sanitizer to get drunk, I guess I should not be surprised at this. I do try to keep youngsters from buying these things, but it is impossible to card people on the Internet.
I rarely get complaints such as this. And I think this is the only time in 12 years that someone told me that they drank one of my oils. The idea just gives me the willies. I got to thinking, though, that it had been a while since I tested the herbal flying oil recipe. The only herbal help to dreamwork I have been using in recent years is clary sage tincture. Maybe one of the ingredients was off or I screwed up the formula or this batch was messed up. So I decided to try it last night, rubbing a couple dabs on the sole of each foot (in the thin skin part) before getting in bed (the skin on the soles of your feet is a very ready doorway for essential oils).
It works. Not only did I have a truckload of dreams last night, one of which seemed significant, but this morning I woke up with a bona fide mugwort hangover. I am very sensitive to this herb. I rarely use it on account of its ability to make me feel awful for several days after. There isn’t a lot of mugwort in this oil, but obviously there’s enough.
Now, here’s the question. Why did a couple dabs on the sole of each foot work so well for me, but a whole bottle didn’t work for the yutz? The Witch of Forest Grove mentioned something a bit ago that might be pertinent. She said that in her experience, people who did legal (or perhaps not so legal) highs tended not to experience effects from witching formulas. This actually makes a lot of sense to me. For one thing, the one other person I have had a complaint from about this oil not working was a lucid dreamer who regularly used a lot of different supplements to attain lucidity in dreams. Mugwort is also one of those herbs that the more you use it, the less it works. You have to skip days, preferably a week between uses. But then, there are a number of things like that. Alcohol, for instance. Opiates. After a while, your body just opts out of experiencing the effects, maybe considering them unwarranted interference with normal operations and sort of locking the gate against them. Perhaps that’s what happened with the yutz and the lucid dreamer. Too much of a good thing too often.
 Wheee!!! Of course, the other thing is expectations. Using the oil met my expectations because the latter were in line with the possible effects of the oil’s ingredients and with my own willingness to work at this particular moment. I didn’t think I would fly to Elfame on the back of a goat (or in a locomotive) and have dinner and dancing with the Fae. That is not the kind of experience that can come out of a bottle. Herbs are helps; they aren’t props or magic carpets. Herbs can help you unlock your own skills, but herbs cannot supply those skills. Skills come through practice and work. You get to the Sabbat the same way you get to Carnegie Hall (practice, practice, practice).
I think part of the problem with this issue is that we live in a time so dominated by science, the theology of materialism, that we are convinced that the materialist explanation for everything is the only real, true explanation, in essence concluding that magic comes from tropane alkaloids or bad flour or malnutrition or psychological issues. I dare say No. Magic exists independently of alkaloids, bread, or the state of our physical bodies.
Herbs can be teachers, once we get to know them, but before we get to that level, it is not uncommon for us apes to use alkaloids like a tool. That’s fine. But if you want to build a house, you need more than a hammer. You need a body of knowledge and experience. It is the same with magic. All the alkaloids in the world will not create magic for you; taken on their own, they will only allow you to trip ballz. There is a difference between magic and tripping ballz. I think those of us who are involved in magic know this on some deep level but often we are afraid to admit it, as if we will be hooted at with derision if we have no “logical” explanation for the flights of the witches of yore–or for what we experience now. As if believing in magic is not appropriate for witches.
But the thing witchcraft does not need a scientific or rational “explanation.” It rejects the materialist perspective right out of the box. That is one of its strengths. That is not to say we should not study botanical medicine or horticulture as part of witchcraft, but it does mean that witchcraft is beyond those things. It is more, and that more does not need materialist justifications. Is not the irrational the very foundation of magic?
The other aspect to this belief that flying ointments are constructed to provide a physical means for us to fly to the Sabbat or trip ballz, take your choice, is that it means we don’t have to do any work. We just have to find the right vendor and we will fly. Just plunk down twenty dollars. Forget years of practice and developing skills. Forget failing, much less being injured or worse, being laughed at. In this version, witchcraft is like a light switch you just turn on–and true to the dominant values of our slowly collapsing society, that light switch is something you can just buy on the internet for not very much money.
Bah humbug. That is not magic. That is being into drugs and fantasy games.
Drugs are nice. I am not trashing them. But they are not called “recreational” for nothing. Magic is not recreational, IMO. It is more like a vocation, like writing or music or art. It is something that you feel attracted to and you feel almost impelled to do and you feel like somewhere inside you is a little hook that if you can just get that latched onto the right part of the magical stream, you will be torn from your moorings (talk about FLYING) and experience things that no drug could ever possibly show you. And you know it is so worth it to keep trying, especially when as you go along you get those little triumphs and those moments of bone-shaking horror.
At any rate, yes, alkaloids can help us. They can be a tool. But they can’t take us anywhere we don’t already know how to go.
 Sunday I spent time starting a number of seeds: wild white petunias, Black Toad (S. nigrum), clary sage, woad, weld, rue, more Chinese lanterns, some Black Cherry tomatoes, and some foxglove species to test their germination rate. I stuck two trays of belladonna, henbane, and black mandrake outside because I had to make room on my light shelves and because the weather has not been very cold. A big snowstorm was forecast for the East Coast, but I checked carefully throughout the day, and all the weather sources said it was going to pretty much skip where I’m at.
Well, it didn’t.
The next morning I woke up and thought, it’s awful bright out there considering the time. Looked out and tons of heavy, wet snow had flattened the yews out front. I threw on my robe and went out to find the dittany of Crete plants covered, and I am not sure they can take that kind of cold. The two trays of seeds were half covered, so I brought them inside. The nettles were smashed by snow. The rest I could not do anything about, so I just went back in the house.
The cable was out, which meant my internet connection was out but so was my phone. I decided right then I would indeed dump one of the digital phone lines and replace it with a landline. And that was confirmed as a good idea as I wrote in my journal and the power went out. Without power, a landline would still work. But unfortunately, the heat does not work without electricity. Although it’s gas, it needs power to light the gas and to run the thermostat.
Cranks
 This guy looks as cold as I felt The power was out all day, so I was grateful it wasn’t that cold out. The stove is gas and the stovetop doesn’t need electricity as long as you have matches (oven needs electric to regulate the temps). The stovetop can provide a little heat, although it’s not advised to run it as a heater. I turned it on a couple times throughout the day. I was surprised just how the slight cold really wore on me and sapped my energy. I have a crank radio and crank lantern for just such situations, so I can keep myself amused with music or reading even if the power is out. The crank radio lived up to its name, provided mostly cranky Jesus stations where I was informed that since I do not believe that Jesus is a god, I cannot be a good person and in fact must hate God altogether and be an atheist to boot. As an English professor friend of mine used to say in such situations, “Blow me.”
So the crank radio was providing crankery, the power was out, and I was cold and becoming cranky myself. Since no power precluded working, I figured I’d do some reading. Lately I’ve been dipping back into Viridarium Umbris, and since I had time, I took the opportunity to reread chunks and take notes. Once again, I am impressed with the depth of knowledge about plants, but this time I also noted all the ways the author outlines for us to get to know plants magically. One I decided to give a try this summer involved bones.
Bones
I’ve been real attracted to all the bone work that people do, since most bones are quite beautiful, but I just can’t see myself working with animal bones myself. I have no problem with the idea of human bones, but the human bones available make me feel a little uncomfortable, since there is every indication that they come from Chinese prisoners who thereby “pay” for their imprisonment. Brrrr… But there are plant bones, and these are much more appropriate for me to work with, since I basically never have done any magic using animal parts. It always involves plants one way or the other, so it seems silly to set off in a completely different direction just because I think bones are cool.:) I will have to leave those kinds of bones to others. At any rate, one section of VU addresses the bone issue in terms of plants: “Praxis Sylva: Calling Forth the Masques of Dust” (p. 227). This is in the section about powders. Schulke describes four classes of plant powders:
 Calcining or perhaps just cooking breakfast Living Bones (dried plant material ground and sifted to a powder): “Herein is to be found many of the virtues of the living plant, and in this form it remains as an eidolon [spirit-image of a dead person] of its parent, receptive to the direction of the sorcerer’s art” (p. 228)..
Living Ash (calcined* Living Bones): “The Living Ash contains the subtle spiritual framework of the plant, the boundary betwixt flesh and spirit, in which the genius dwells. This dust is used, in sparing quantity, for needful animation of sacraments” (p. 228). I am not sure what “needful animation of sacraments” means.
Dead Bones (plant material that has been dried by natural action, such as overwintering, IOW, brown plant material): “By Art, this dust is used for remembrance, that being the necromancy which calls back into being what has passed into the good keeping of the Dead” (p. 228).
Dead Ash (calcined Dead Bones): “The Dead Ash is the twice-sacrficed body, rendered by destructive means: its form is purely aethyric, ever aspiring unto its previous states, and used for the works of bane and decrease” (p. 228).
 Sometimes your cat will bother the crap out of you when you are calcining He recommends making these materials and observing how the plant reacts and works in each situation. Then he gives a formula for what he calls the Grand Dust of the Leaf: 27 parts Living Bones, 9 parts Living Ash, 3 parts Dead Bones, and 1 part Dead Ash. In this composition “the Genius of the Leaf [is] mirrored, and the Dust used in congress therwith” (p. 228). So I am thinking this powder, which to me in some respects resembles a spagyric preparation, is a tool for communicating with the plant spirit. For further work, he suggests producing the bones and ash of each part of the plant (aerial, flowers, roots, fruit) separately. As is true for many of the formulae in this book, the author does not give how the item is actually used. That you have to figure out for yourself.
I think this does indeed sound like an excellent way to get to know a plant. I would like to try it this year, with wormwood, datura, melissa, and most especially, the Black Toad, a plant I just have to get to know.
I am forever grateful for the gift of this book. It continues to renew my work in unexpected ways. I certainly found contemplating this work to be warming yesterday as well.
*in terms of plants, calcination means heating to the point of producing a white ash. A kiln is required to reach such high temps. Otherwise, you end up with gray ash, which means it still contains some “Feces,” as the alchemists call it. I’ve been thinking of getting a small kiln to work with precious metals clay for talisman-making, so I might as well get something I can do calcination of plant material with as well.
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The only times I have needed a chalice, I have used just a regular wineglass. I saw a black amethyst hobnailed glass goblet that I can really use and got it. I’ve collected antique pieces of this type of glass, so it just seems perfect. This glass is even still made in the US.
