Thursday, April 21, 2016

Edmund Buczynski and the Welsh Tradition Lectures

My sincere thanks to whomever finally uploaded these rare gems online!

Shadows - The Witch Bottle (1975)

Shadows was a British supernatural television program from the late 1970's. I'd never heard of it before stumbling upon this little gem of 70's occult cool via a weird late night Youtube binge. This episode tells the story of a brother and sister who become drawn into the legend of a witch put to death during "the burning times." It was written by Stewart Farrar.

The other episodes were fun too, and it seems the series was marketed towards children or at least Young Adults.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016


I may have even cackled. 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Justify My Stupidity

When I was in college, I really liked this boy. Okay, okay, I was obsessed with this boy and wanted him to like me. Turns out, he didn't like me, not in that way. He probably also didn't like me in a "friend" way either, though he did like that I had money I was willing to spend on him and took lots of opportunities to spend time with me so that I could do just that. But I digress. Like Gillian Owens, I have the worst taste in men, but I didn't know that at the time. You never do. 

I'd been witching long enough to know all of the warnings about love spells and how they are very bad ideas and one really just shouldn't do them. I knew all of this, and acknowledging that knowledge, proceeded to go right ahead and do the thing I knew better than to do. 

I was also super gay. As in, away from home and able to be mega gay for the first time in life and catching up on all of that gayness I didn't get to do in high school. This lead to a lot of new musical interests and hair product. I tell you this because I took Madonna's song "Justify My Love" as inspiration for the spell I ended up working. 

Yeah, yeah, I know, wanna fucking fight about it? 

Needless to say, things did not end well. Things ended up being a huge fucking mess that I still sometimes find myself cleaning up after, especially when trying to pursue healthy relationships now that I'm an adult. (HA! and HA! again)

I tell you all of this, at the risk of much personal embarrassment, because the song came on the radio this morning as I was driving home from work. It's the first time I've listened to the song since the working. Are you hearing those lyrics? I took those words and lit candles and invited a great big pile of WTF to dump itself all over my naive twenty year old self. JUSTIFY MY LOVE? I could slap me for having been so dumb as to not grasp the desperation behind the lyrics or in myself. Sure the music and video are sexy, but fuck. 

I like to think I've learned a thing or six since then. I'll let you know when I'm forty.

Young witches - we weren't all stupid, except when we so very painfully were. 

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Imbolc 2016

Whether you celebrate it as Imbolc, Candelmas or Brignasadh, (or Lammas or Lughnasadh for our friends down under) I hope you had a nice one. And if you aren't celebrating, Happy February!

It's rather warm in Texas - the dandelions are in bloom and the birds aren't sure what to do with themselves. This doesn't mean much, it will probably ice over before March arrives, but it was nice to be able to spend some time outdoors with bare feet in the squishy grass.

The Sabbats always make me long for others to celebrate with. It's too easy to just light a candle and say "Happy Imbolc, Madame!" and go about one's business when you are the only one who will be disappointed by the lack of ritual. Still, whether we do it with a simple prayer or a full ceremony, the Wheel must be turned.

After blessing new candles for the altar and making offerings to the Gods, I named all of the things I'd like to reinvigorate on a candle, and buried it in a cauldron full of ice.  Not that it's been all that icy here, but one does like a good metaphor. It didn't take long for the ice to melt - did I mention it's warm here? I carried my little flame in a well through the house, sprinkling water and lighting candles from the fire while chanting:

By holy well 
And sacred flame
In our Lady's hallowed name
I banish winter
I welcome spring
And forge anew
Each beloved thing. 

Now I will sit with a nice pot of tea and hold vigil with my little flame until the sun rises.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Moonled and Overfed

In the mad rush of preparation, cleaning, and cooking for Thanksgiving I've made sure to make time for Craft work to keep myself sane and focused. I may have also worked a "No Bullshit Allowed" spell to keep family drama to a minimum, but that's another story for another time.

I'm observing all three nights of the Full Moon, spending formal and informal time honoring the Queen of Witches. My altar is red - red with wine and fire and reddened bones. Last night I rubbed myself down with Full of the Moon oil  and spent some time Moonbathing after my formal working. I experienced a sensation that felt like I was lifting out of myself and gliding along a cord that ran through me and connected me to the moon. My initial thought was "This is cool!" followed by "Holy fuck, I'm going to fall!" which meant the end of that little experience.

I slipped into bed, the sweet smell of the oil and incense carrying me off into sleep. This was what I dreamt:

My mother and I are en route to a local hotel, where I'll be staying. I have no idea why I'm checking into a hotel. As we pull into the parking lot, we are greeted by the sight of a group of people gathered, encircling a person who is on fire and appears to be okay with that. We rush out of the car and into the hotel lobby, trying to avoid their attention.

The concierge is handsome, boyish, but with a sinister look in his eyes. The check in process includes multiple quizzes, which he tells me I can skip "since you've done them before." No money exchanges hands and my offer to pay for my room is refused. He hands me a library card and an antique key and assures me "we have the best collection of Canaanite magical texts in the world." My mother and I are handed a map and a flashlight, since the hotel does not appear to believe in superfluous lighting, and we begin the search for my room. I was never given a room number. 

This is like no hotel I've ever seen before. Parts of it look like some old, dark mansion out of a movie. Other areas look like an underground cavern. There are movie theaters, with guards standing at the door who advise me that I "did not sign up for entertainment" and therefore cannot watch the show. There are also hoards of teenagers who appear to be in some sort of amusement park, conveniently located in the hotel. "We have to do something with them" the movie guard tells me. 

My dream self starts to think this place is shady as fuck. I turn to voice this opinion to my mother, and see that my mother is no longer herself. Instead I see a serious faced young woman dressed in a tailored black Victorian dress. She carries a single lit candle that barely provides enough light in the dark hallways of the hotel.

I wake up before I can ask to carry the candle myself. 

The woman bearing a light, serving as a psychopomp is a fairly clear reference. What any of the rest of it means, if anything, I'll have to think on. Of course, it could have been brought on by sampling my own holiday baking or a crumb of cheese, ala Mr. Scrooge.

Monday, November 23, 2015

Streghe a Convegno - Piero Umiliani

You'll recognize this as the music that underscored Eleanor Bone's ritual sequence from the occultsploitation film Witchcraft '70.

I'll take this over a bunch of uninspired singing of "We call come from the Goddess" anyday. Thanks to my friend Alder for this awesome find.