Dimanche: Swimming

A Mermaid by Anna Maria Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann c 1868 via Old Paint

Vendredi: Chthonian Histories

All cultures have folklore that tells of the psychopomp. This figure is the guide to the dead who, often quite literally, harvests souls and takes them to the next world. Sometimes the psychopomp is no more than a harbinger, like the willow-the-wisp that floats above the swamp and, when seen, foretells death. More often, though, the psychopomp has a personality of his or her own. He or she not only takes the soul to its perdition or reward, but it chooses who shall die and who shall live. Sometimes, too, the psychopomp has a bit of a temper.

All this is the case in Celtic legend. Many of the psychopomps of the Celts, who covered territory from the Iberian Peninsula to the British Isles, remain in various forms. One such is the Ankou, a Death figure who is best known in the French province of Brittany.

The Bretons, much like the Irish and Welsh in Great Britain, held on to their Celtic culture well into the 19th century. Even their language was colored by ancient Celtic. So much so that Paul Gauguin, who painted in the region for a short time, complained that he could hardly understand the local farmers at all. And it was among those locals that the legends of the Ankou were whispered, and are still considered to this day.

The Ankou, or rightly Ankous, of Brittany are generally imagined as tall, skeletal men who are seen only at night. They wear either a long, monkish robe or old work clothes and often the wide-brimmed hat curious to the Breton regions. The Ankou plods along next to a rickety cart pulled by one or three skinny and invariably black horses. More often than not, the Ankou carries a scythe. In most of the mythology, each cemetery in Brittany has its own Ankou.

It is not hard to imagine that the scythe is for reaping the dead, and the cart is for hauling the souls off to eternity.

The Ankou, it is important to note, is never thought of as Death in the flesh - or lack thereof. He - and the Ankou is always male - is considered to be only Death's assistant. In almost all stories he is sent to collect the dead soul, not angered or displeased to the point of killing someone outright as some psychopomps can be.

Various origin stories surround the Ankou but the two most prominent are that he is Cain, the fratricidal son of Adam and Eve who was, according to mythology, doomed to walk the Earth for eternity. More commonly though, the Ankou is said to be either the last or first to die in any given year, returned in a new form to collect the souls of his friends, family and neighbors.

The Ankou can also be a harbinger of death to come. When he is seen on the road, the person who sights him is considered a lost soul. Time and place are important to these sightings. The closer the Ankou is to the cemetery when seen, the sooner the seer will die. Those who see the Ankou at dusk or dawn may have years yet to live. But woe to those who are out late at night; in the blackness of midnight, the Ankou is an omen of sudden and virtually immediate death.

Legend has it that the creaking of the Ankou's ungreased cart wheels, though not necessarily foretelling death, is a sure portent of ill luck. And not a soul in Brittany would peak past the curtains once the sun had set. Why, after all, tempt the Ankou and fate?

Header: Medieval carving from La Roche-Maurice in Brittany thought to be a depiction of the Ankou via Wikipedia

Jeudi: Root Work

Knot spells are probably as old as human beings. The magick of the knot is easy to perform as all you need is your intention, your words and something to tie consecutive knots in. A strand of hair, a blade of grass, a flower stalk, the list continues ad nauseum and makes the relative ease of knot work so very obvious.

I think it is this easy, with its lack of fancy ingredients that sound like something out of Faust, that makes knot work a relatively untouched subject among modern spell book writers. Believe me, I own a book or two on the subject across a range of magickal disciplines and there are only a few that include knot magick. Silver RavenWolf stands out as a modern Wiccan who discusses the practice in detail in more than one of her books - To Ride A Silver Broomstick, for instance.

The formula for a knot spell is to tie a series of knots - generally but not always in multiples of three - in a length of thread, string or ribbon. The knots should be relatively equadistant from one another so the length of the thread is important; you don't want to run out of material before your work is done. Another broad generalization is that knot work is done to bind something or someone: keep illness at bay, drive off unwanted attentions or make a partner faithful in love, for instance. This follows the like-makes-like philosophy of magick and, though it makes sense, you should not limit yourself if knot work particularly appeals to you. Once you get good at it, you can use these spells for virtually anything and with surprising success.

Once the working is done, the knotted item should always be stored somewhere safe. No one else should see or most importantly touch the knots or the working will lose power. If you should decide that you no longer wish to apply the power of your knot work, simply reverse the process: with intention and while speaking the knots out loud, take the knots out of the item and dispose of it. Burning, burying or release in running water is best to ensure that all of your spell has been undone.

Speaking the knots is one of the largest parts of this type of spell. It allows the worker to focus on their goal and say out loud the intention of the working. This is particularly important for those who are knew to root work. Focus can be the most difficult part of successfully working magick, and all of us - regardless of our intentions - should take a little bit of time away from the constant distractions of our day to meditate, pray or focus somewhere quiet.

All knot spells follow the numbering formula and the best way for me to express that is to give an example. Here are the spoken words for each knot in a spell to keep an unwanted suitor at bay:

By knot of one it is begun;
By knot of two I'm done with you;
By knot of three you forget me;
By knot of four I close the door;
By knot of five ardor cannot survive;
By knot of six you find a new fix;
By knot of seven away from me you're driven;
By knot of eight no love, no hate;
By knot of nine freedom from you is mine.

You would tie each knot as you speak it's number. The rhyming is not a necessity but it is certainly an aid to focus as well as part of the knot work tradition. You may want to write down your speaking before you do your working. Most of us aren't good at coming up with this kind of thing off the top of our heads, particularly when we are dealing with something in which we are emotionally invested.

This brings me to two final points. If you can get something the person you are doing the knot work about and/or for to put knots in, or even have he or she touch the thread or sting that you will use, so much the better. Neither of these points are ablsolute necessities but they do help. Also, speaking of writing things down, it always helps to keep a working journal of your magick - call it a Book of Shadows or Grimoire if you have to but keep some kind of record of your spells and how they manifested. It will help you learn not only from your mistakes, but from your successes as well... Bonne chance ~

Header: Painting by William Stott via Old Paint

Mardi: Herbal-Wise

I am so glad that it is finally election day here in the U.S. that I can't express my joy. This has been a miserable, divisive, contentious year of campaigning all the way around. And I'm tired of it. Sick and bloody tired.

In case you're wondering, I am personally an Independent who advocates for fiscal responsibility (do my kid's kid's kids really need to be paying off a debt currently rivaled on the world stage only by that of Greece?) and social reform (why is it that same-sex couples can't have a legally recognized partnership like marriage?). I don't believe anyone will take my guns away from me or deny my daughters the right to a safe, legal abortion. Regardless of who is elected President. Yet I am called names by both sides - racist, hater, and oh yeah, I'm going to Hell - because I can think for myself and will not follow a major party like a blind goat on a lead.

To put it mildly, I am fed up with being anxious, angry, confused and, well, the list goes on and on.

So I'm changing up today's post and introducing all of the HQ readers to the special magick of something that is not exactly an herb: honey.

Honey is used for sweetening work in hoodoo. Through the doctrine of like-makes-like, it is believed that honey will calm the home, stop gossip, reconcile you with a lover, make a judge smile on you in a court case and so forth. Here is a powerful piece of root work utilizing honey and candle magick that you can use for all that and more.

Take a small jar that has a wide enough top to set a candle holder on. Write your name on a small piece of brown paper and put it at the bottom of the jar along with a strand or two of your hair (clippings from a razor will work if you're bald). Now, fill the jar with any type of honey you have on hand. Cap the jar tightly - you may be using it for a while and you don't want it to attract pests.

Place the jar in a central area of your home where it is safe to burn candles on. I personally like either the fireplace mantel or somewhere in the kitchen for this one. Now, put a candle holder on top of the jar and choose a candle color that matches your need:

Blue: peace in the home (for this one, you may want to add a name paper/hair strand for each person living in your house - include pets if you like)
Yellow: stop malicious gossip or lies being told about you or a family member (here, you may wish to add name papers - at the very least and hair if possible - for the family member being victimized and the bully)
Pink: draw new love/friendship or to reconcile with a lover or friend (again, if you are looking to reconcile, add a name paper for the person you have been estranged from)
Red: encourage lust (do I even need to mention adding a name paper and strand of hair here?)
Purple: revive health (a name paper for the person you wish to heal - if it is not yourself - is a must)
Brown: for a favorable outcome in court (a name paper for the judge couldn't hurt...)
Green: to draw money and/or get approval for a loan (this one works wonders when trying to get a mortgage; try adding a "name" paper with your future home's address on it)

Dress your candle, as always, with olive oil and light it with intention. Keep your need or desire in the back of your mind while allowing the candle to burn down and out. Bury any remaining wax on your property or, in the case of court, health or money issues, carry it with you in a mojo or conjure bag to appointments, trials, etc.

You can increase the power of your name paper(s) by using ink the same color as your candle. Using other sticky, liquid sweeteners - such as cane syrup or molasses - will work just as well should you be unable to use honey. You can also reuse your honey for other influencing work if you don't mind fishing name papers and hair out of it when needed.

For particularly difficult issues - like clearing away all this negative political energy - burn new candles on three, six or even nine consecutive days. Watching the moon face can help you here, too. To carry something away, do this ritual during a waning or dark moon; to draw something to you, choose a waxing or full moon.

Stay calm and carry on and remember that sometimes accepting what we can't change while working graciously to change what we can is always a better solution than calling each other names. Bonne chance ~

Header: It's Up to You by Gil Elvgren via American Gallery

Dimanche: Swimming

This photo from Hoquiam, Washington, USA was taken in 1929. The lovely ladies pictured are wearing bathing attire made of spruce veneer in honor of Hoquiam's annual "Wood Week" and the four of them are noted as the "Spruce Girls". Hoquiam, where my mother was born just a year before this photo was snapped, was run by logging and shipping at the town's largest employer, the Gray's Harbor Mill and Shipyard where my grandfather worked. Well, worked the main one of his three jobs... The lady on the far right, though my Mom cannot remember her name, was evidently a close friend of my grandmother's. Curiously, I found this photo over at Black & WTF and, when I asked her about it, found that Mom also had a copy. Small world.

Vendredi: Chthonian Histories

Yesterday was the Feast of All Saints, and today is the Feast of All Souls. Remembering the exalted and the humble alike, the two feasts combine nicely in the person of Maximilian Maria Kolbe. The priest who is now a saint in the Catholic Church walked through the underworld as surely as Agnes the miller's daughter. But his suffering has a completely different feeling about it. Perhaps it is the immediacy of modernity; or perhaps it is the way that the martyr took the mantel of darkness willingly and came out shining.

Kolbe was born on January 8,1894 in Zdunska Wola, Poland. By all accounts he was a sickly child and contracted tuberculosis at a young age. Long months in sanitariums allowed him time for contemplation and he was just out of boyhood when he joined the Franciscan order at the age of 16. Kolbe, whose middle name may give a hint at his predilection, had a passionate devotion to the Virgin Mary. In his book Maximilian Kolbe: No Greater Love, the saint's biographer and fellow prelate Boniface Hanley called him "animated by pious zeal" so that, despite his infirmities, Kolbe was always able to serve.

To this religious end, Kolbe formed the Knights of Mary Immaculate through which he hoped to revive the Medieval Marian devotion that had always been a feature of Catholicism in his native county. He then began an order of friars known as the City of the Immaculate which quickly grew in size to the larges religious community of men at the time. He took his love of the Virgin on a mission to Japan where he organized a branch of his order called the Garden of the Immaculate.

Kolbe was not one to rest on his laurels, despite growing bouts of tubercular incapacity. He returned to Poland in 1936 with the intent of expanding the City of the Immaculate and the journal that he had started before leaving for Japan. These goals were never to be fulfilled; the Nazis took over Poland in 1939.

History is rarely what we are taught. Unlike the belief of most modern school children, the Nazi's systematic genocide did not fall only upon the Jews. Homosexuals, Gypsies and Catholics - particularly those who had taken vows of any kind - were also on Hitler's list for eradication. Kolbe knew what awaited him under the Nazi boot and quietly prepared himself. He wrote:

I would like to suffer and die in a knightly manner, even to the shedding of the last drop of my blood, to hasten the day of gaining the whole world for the Immaculate Mother of God.

Kolbe was arrested and shipped off to Auschwitz in February of 1941. He was not allowed camp issued garments, but left in his thin cassock to shiver in the winter cold. Put to hard labor, he suffered brutal beatings due to his inability to keep up with the work. His condition worsened; every cough wracked his bruised, skeletal body and brought up clots of blood.

Through it all, Kolbe remained a light of cheerfulness to his fellow prisoners. He helped who he could and encouraged all of them, regardless of background or religion. Those who survived would remember him praying with them, joking and reminding them not to despair.

Yet more misery awaited when a prisoner from Kolbe's cell block managed to escape in July. As a punishment, the commandant picked 10 men who would be immured in a bunker and starved to death. One, Francis Gajowniczek, broke down in tears pleading that he could not die as he had a wife and child. It was then that Father Kolbe stepped forward and volunteered to take Gajowniczek's place. The commandant obliged; the ten men were marched into the underground room and sealed up behind a metal door.

The prisoners managed to get along for a time, drinking their own urine as long as they could. Kolbe became the group's defacto leader, praying, offering what succor he could and sitting with them as they faded away. The group was walled up on July 30 and by August 14, only four men - including Father Kolbe - were still clinging bitterly to life. The commandant, who had been monitoring the torture via cameras, became enraged at this refusal to simply die. He also wanted the bunker emptied for the holding of yet more prisoners. He ordered it opened and the four miserable, immobile stick-figures were injected with carbolic acid. This was administered intravenously, causing death by embolism. All ten bodies were incinerated in the camp's ovens.

In 1982, Maximilian Maria Kolbe was canonized by the Catholic Church. The man whose life he had literally saved, Francis Gajowniczek, was present at the ceremony. Pope John Paul II read from the Gospel of John: "Greater love hath no man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends."

Rest in peace, Father Kolbe. Like Agnes, you've earned it.

Header: 1939 photograph of Maximilian Kolbe via Wikipedia

Mercredi: Happy Hallowe'en!

No time for a "real" post today but that's no reason at all not to wish you all a Happy Hallowe'en with a bewitching witch by the talented Jay Scott Pike. I hope you all enjoy a frightfully good holiday evening! A bientot ~

Header: Be Witching by Jay Scott Pike via American Gallery