Jeudi: Root Work

I have been asked on occasion whether or not the workings of root workers down through the ages are based on anything besides "mumbo-jumbo" and "oogie-googie myths." It's a fair question, really, and not a surprising one in our current anti-religious political climate. Does bayberry really draw wealth? Will rosemary water in your floor wash truly bring peace to your home? Can a white candle help one achieve healing? The questions go on and on.

There is a deeper issue at stake, of course, and that is the issue of belief. If you believe - truly believe - in the efficacy of anything, you will perceive that it has helped you. Changing your mindset is the most important part of any magickal system. On the other hand, much of root work is based on very old and, unfortunately, frequently forgotten knowledge of healing herbs, minerals and other natural formulas. Rosemary water brings peace and piece of mind to a household because its scent soothes the anxiety receptors in the brain. This has been proven by clinical research and so have a hundred other little notes in the ongoing hymn that is magick.

Another point in this discussion is the long standing use of so called "personal concerns" in root work and hoodoo. The use of bodily effluvia and things that have come in contact with same is an established tradition in these magickal disciplines. Everything from simple strands of hair to very private secretions such as menstrual blood are used. It makes sense to think that the getting of someone else's very personal items - underwear, hair, foot tracks, photographs - would allow one to have control over that person and these types of workings are certainly older than hoodoo.

One of the most effective of the "personal concerns" tricks - and one that is a clear illustration of root work being very plausible - involves keeping your dog from straying away.

Everyone knows I'm a sucker for rescuing dogs. But sometimes the dog you bring home is still pining for his or her old environment - no matter how abusive it may have been. This was certainly the case with our Saint Thor who, for a few weeks after we took him in, would find any excuse to run away looking, one has to imagine, for where he used to live. It was quite distressing, but root work gave me two options for a simple solution.

The first - and depending on your sensibilities least troublesome - is to make sure that something you have worn is spread out in the dog's chosen sleeping area(s). An old, unwashed t-shirt is the very best option. Many dogs will become very fond of sleeping on your clothes but be warned: one of the Shar-Peis we had in California took to clothing so well that he would pilfer items out of the hamper. I'm sure you can imagine the ones old Magic liked the best...

The second is an even older trick that goes back to the days when people would occasionally "borrow" good hunting and/or guard dogs from one another. For this working you'll need to go without showering and deodorant for a day. Once your body's scent has returned after its almost permanent cultural sterilization, rub a few pieces of bread under your armpits and mix them with your dog's food. This need not be repeated unless you have a particularly stubborn free spirit, then you can work the trick as often as you like. A little sweat on his bread isn't going to trouble your dog.

Both of these workings have a sound explanation for their efficacy. Dogs, like their wolf ancestors, live by their noses. Scent creates pack bonds and humans have become a dog's pack. As your new best friend becomes familiar with your scent he also becomes comfortable with being part of your pack. It's the simple use of the animal's nature to make you both happy together.

And that is the best outcome of all, no matter how you slice it.

Header: Man's Best Friend by Repin via Wikimedia

Mercredi: The Art of Beauty

Another glorious French fashion plate from the early 19th century (probably around 1807) today. The ladies on the left, who are overlooking a menu, have joined their - I have to say it - more elegant friend for ices. The problem is that the two cannot seem to make up their mind. The waiter is clearly trying to help, or make some time, but both seem utterly stumped. It's the Directoire version of going to Baskin-Robbins without a flavor in mind.

Header: L'Embarras du Choix (the embarrassment of choice) from Le Bon Genre No. 44 via A Harlot's Progress

Mardi: Herbal-Wise

The pepper tree, also known as the California pepper tree and Jesuit's Balsam, has a long history of use for healing and purification. This is true in Central America but particularly in Mexico and among Mexican-Americans.

In traditional Mexican medicine, some of which was handed down from Mayan and Aztec traditions, healers known as curanderos or curanderas use branches of the pepper tree in ritual healing. A sick person is brushed, starting at the head and working down to the feet, with the branches, which are believed to absorb the malady. The branches are then buried, or in some traditions burned, to destroy the sickness.

These rituals might involve other herbs as well, including cilantro, rue and/or rosemary. Curanderos may also use Catholic symbols and instruments, including crucifixes, statues of saints, candles and holy water. Much like hoodoo, which calls on both pagan and Christian articles and gestures, the traditions from Mexico and other places in the Americas mix their metaphors, so to speak.

The leaves of the pepper tree are used in purifying baths as well. Rumor has it that brujas, Mexican witches, cleanse themselves in water steeped with pepper tree leaves after performing jinxes.

I lived in Southern California through high school, college and into my adult work life and I've met more than one person who would advise me to carry the red, waxy berries of the pepper tree to protect me from crossed conditions. Anything that helps during a bumpy patch can't be bad and, given how easy it is to trip over a pepper tree in Cali, getting the berries was no trouble at all. Bonne chance ~

Header: An illustration from the 16th century Florentine Codex showing a Nahua healer treating smallpox patients via Wikipedia (read some of the accompanying text here)

Lundi: Recipes

Over Yuletide I had the great good fortune to receive a time machine in book form. The door stop of a book, entitled The White House Cookbook, was originally published in 1887. The authors, Hugo Ziemann and Mrs. F. L. Gillette, both cooked at the White House and the book is full to bursting with curious recipes written in old-timey paragraph form with rarely a measure in sight.

One thing that did catch my eye right away was the recipes - there are twelve of them - for catsup (or ketchup if you're my husband.) Catsup was and is a curiously American condiment that was originally made by ladies at home. It was a wonderful way to store and use tomatoes but the cookbook includes recipes for such curious variations as oyster and gooseberry. One wonders how those might turn out. I'll focus, though, on the traditional recipe for tomato catsup which, in all fairness, may be a timely thing to have handy given that Super Bowl is coming up this Sunday. Here is Mrs. Gillette's homey recipe:

Put into two quarts of tomato pulp (or two cans of canned tomatoes) one onion, cut fine, two tablespoonfuls of salt and tree tablespoonfuls of brown sugar. Boil until quite thick; then take from the fire and strain it through a sieve, working it until it is all through but the seeds. Put it back on the stove, and add tow tablespoonfuls of mustard, one of allspice, one of black pepper and one of cinnamon, one teaspoonful of ground cloves, half a teaspoonful of cayenne pepper, one grated nutmeg, one pint of good vinegar; boil it until it will just run from the mouth of a bottle. It should be watched, stirred often, that it does not burn. If sealed tight while hot, in large-mouthed bottles, it will keep good for years.

Now doesn't that sound delicious? It would certainly be more flavorful than the stuff one gets in squeeze bottles at the modern market. But it is a deal of work and surely not a task for a hot day. Since it is 0 degrees on my front porch, perhaps I should foray into catsup making this afternoon.

More from The White House Cookbook another time. Until then, you can find it online here.

Header: Family dining room at the White House c 1900 via The White House Museum website

Dimanche: Swimming

Beauty by the Sea by Henry Clive via American Gallery

Vendredi: Chthonian Histories

But first, on earth as vampire sent,
Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent:
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife
At midnight drain the stream of life...
Wet with thine own best blood shall drip
Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip;
Then stalking to thy sullen grave
Go - and with the ghouls and afreets rave,
Till these in horror shrink away
From spectre more accursed than they!

~ from "The Giaour" by George Gordon Lord Byron, first published in The Unbeliever, London, 1813

Header: A ring with a quote from this poem from Mostly Making Memories on Etsy

Mercredi: The Art of Beauty

Today, a picture far more powerful than any written word. "A Sea Coast Promenade Fashion" from about 1812. Probably a British fashion print. Oh to be by the sea in that lovely ensemble. Thanks to A Harlot's Progress for the original posting.