Yes, That Plant is a Witch.

While formulating a new oil, one of the potential ingredients stood out to me very prominently.  In fact, I’ve grown that plant before in a koi pond. It’s impossible to get dried or preserved in any way, and increasingly harder to find potted. No, you’ve got to get it in small tissue culture cups specifically for planted aquaria. 

In short: The only way I will get the quantity needed for the oil is to order a fussy and temperamental ornamental aquatic plant, and grow it for god knows how long  - assuming I even can. And that’s sort of how it ought to be.

. • .

It’s incredibly easy to just buy a big, bulk, vacuum-packed bag of Wormwood or Mugwort from an online retailer and stuff something full of it without really ever engaging with the plant. Given that I’ve now been blogging for over ten years I’m not sure if I ever posted about my “Process”, but if this is a duplicate post, blame my neuroatypical brain, because I certainly will (the traitorous bastard). 

When I brush against a “new” plant or material I first try to learn about it in a broad-strokes generic way. Where is it from, what is its conservation status, how ethical is it to obtain, toxicity, etc. Then I dig deeper into “associations”, historical use or lore, whether or not it’s something that’s culturally specific, how common it is in cultivation, where it can be purchased reasonably/ethically, and a bit about its life cycle. If I ever acquire any, the first thing I do is a ritual act of introduction. 

This is something I have actually gone into deeper in the long-suffering “familiar book”, but a general gloss would be this:

I, and my plant familiar intermediary, reach out to a presiding spirit of that plant. We make formal introductions of who I am, what I do, what I am offering and what I am seeking. The presiding spirit usually communicates via my plant familiar at first - I get a filtered version of “do not do these things, but please make sure that other things are done.” or maybe “call me by this name, or in this way” or maybe “Leave me alone.” - in which case I dispose of the material I have as safely as I can. I don’t think most people do any of that, or anything even remotely close to that, and that kinda… sits weirdly with me?

The Disclaimer: Obviously each person’s Craft is going to be different, and that’s a good thing. In no way am I saying one way is “wrong” (I mean there are some wrong ways but if you emerge unscathed, congrats on your epic caper). But I wonder to myself whether simply using herbs like components might actually be a contributing factor in cutting off access to the “deepening” of that Craft that so many people seem to be looking for.  

For me… it’s sort of like: What is the point of all of this if it’s not forming meaningful connections to the unseen? Isn’t it highly practical to form a meaningful exchange with a powerful spirit who is ready, willing, able, and enthusiastic about contributing to the Work? 

Consider that the herb in a jar on a shelf, that bead on your strand, that shew-stone on your conjuration table all came from thinking, feeling, ensouled, creatures (“O thou creature of salt…”). Creatures whose “bodies” produce power for magic by way of their mere existence (much as you do). Consider how it might aid things if you had not only their dismembered bodies, not only their perforce presence, but their ongoing and enthusiastic participation. Not just a herb in a jar, but rather a witch who happens to be a herb in a jar, joining in the unseen coven. 

In a lot of ways that’s what people ought to mean when they describe plants as “allies”, but they often don’t. Where I find it I usually find it as a short-hand for “mind-altering” and very little about “partnership”. Rarely do I see acknowledgement of a specific plant having a specific spirit, or any reference to that relationship and how it may differ from others. 

I don't want to be part of Woo that places humanity on top of the mountain, lording over. I don't want to be the guy on the mountaintop. I want to be part of a community of beings - embodied, disembodied, never-bodied… etc. Working together. 

I work in this sphere - the meaty, bright, earthy, world of whatever we inhabit - and have been given the gift to see and feel and know and love my neighbors in other spheres that overlap this one (does my logo make sense now?). I have been given the gift of hands and flesh with which to DO things; The physical acts my nonphysical compatriots cannot accomplish without great personal cost. Through mutually beneficial and mutually cooperative work we can both achieve our goals.

I will not "rise above" this meat and earth. I will bring my internal godhead down into myself and work wonders from the earth, in the earth, for the earth. I will return to it what it has given me. If not... Get me off this ride, this ride’s going somewhere I don’t wanna be.

. • .

Long ago I had my attention yanked in the direction of Dandelions due to the rising popularity of them being used as an ad-hoc “mannekin”/mandragore. I did a full blog post about it after I’d settled in with the plant, and I find them (on the whole) to be one of the unsung heroes of the Viridarium/Green/Mythotypal Grove.

Working with not only Dandelion as a material, or as a concept, but as a specific presiding spirit has intensified and deepened my relationship with the plant and plant spirit/s greatly. In our relationship I now know another witch who is keenly attuned to specific tasks that I find otherwise difficult. In return all I need to do is kick dandelion seed heads a reasonable amount, and not mow them until they’ve gone to seed.  The spirit and I have worked out how best to “interface” to accomplish the work, and the work goes very well indeed.

Dandelion is a psychopomp in reverse. It’s a well that burrows deep and brings up what is hidden. It is indispensable, and even though it’s hated and forsaken… there it is. You’re never going to get rid of it so you might as well get to know it.

Since I began to really pay attention, keep up and work with plants (animals, rocks, locations, etc.) in this way I have found that everything flowed more easily. And imagine my utter shock when one of them (and then more) showed up to circles or dream-sabbats in their finery. So, yes of course ... I'll get the little tissue cultured cup. I will grow the fussy plant. It deserves it. And I will welcome it, if and when it decides to join in.

. • .

And before you go: I've begun working on an as-yet unnamed Lenormand deck. If you hop over to https://ko-fi.com/rootandrock you'll be able to drop a few bucks in the tip jar to follow along with the creation process.

Ol' Bent and Bowed.

This morning (1) I had my snoot in a snip. I could list all the ten thousand things that resulted in a snipped snoot, but bottom line I was perturbed.

When I am in no fit state for man or beast I tend to go take a walk. Usually these walks are to think on my feet, visit the locals and be able to cuss and mutter aloud where no one can hear me. It gets shit out of my system, and lets in fresh air and land-energy to fill that void and prevent the re-entry of a bad mood for at least a while.

Bonework And The Wrathful.

Various Familiar vessels and Figurines by Scylla. "Ladyfrog" figure by Erin Nightwalker.

This entry has been languishing in my "Drafts" for a long time now. A long, long, time. Re-reading this entry in repeated attempts to finish it I broke down crying quite often. I would shelve it for a few weeks, then a few months, and now... ah... it's been a while. Because it involves stories of spirits who deeply impacted me, and who set the tone for the way I deal with the Animal Dead as well as the Human Dead.

This is also about animals in general, and expands on HTTAS: Permissions - About the need for a working relationship and consent when engaging with others in that relationship.

TW: Animal Death, descriptions thereof. Bone work, bloody bits, witchcraft, emotions.

This post is a letter of love and fondness to Wrathful (especially), and to all of the spirits I have known. It has been my privilege to serve as their psychopomp and friend.

This is not a how-to post, this is another example of why I tell people that my blog is a travelogue and journal rather than an instructional guide.

Re:Blogging Familiar altar.

Familiar Altar - Originally posted on Tumblr on 3/11/2014

The old setup of my familiar altar.  This is how it was for a few years, on the lower portion of my gigantic oak altar.

The urns are hand sculpted and painted by me using a combination of native clay slip and commercial under-glazes with lots of scraping.

However, the toadfrog lady smiling benignly at you (and her tiny green bottle) is by Erin Nightwalker, and was inspired by the toadfroglady spirit in the urn between her and the deer skull.

Since this photo was taken the altar was completely redone, and Ladyfrog acquired several more trinkets and statues.

Posting photos of ritual regalia and familiar Things always takes a lot of arguing with myself and struggling in order to finally manage it. Because, to me, it feels rather like posting photos of one's friend or lover in the nude and possibly in a compromising position.

But over time my familiars have explicitly stated that they desire to be photographed and posted, so I do. Yes, I airbrush out names and sigils, but at least viewers can still get a feel for things.

Offering Recipes 1 - “Wildlife Friendly ‘cakes’”

These cakes are low on “additives”, making them safer for wildlife, and low on salt (which can be omitted entirely) - additions and subtractions can be made. They are not a “dog biscuit” recipe, so you don’t have to worry about that hanging around in the back of your head, either.

Wet Ingredients:
1/2c Honey
2 Md/Lg Eggs.
1/2c Oil

Dry Ingredients:
1c Nuts (Sunflower, Pumpkin, Sterile Hempseed) - if you do not intend to eat them, feel free to substitute any wildlife friendly blend, including songbird seed blends. Dried fruits, BUT NOT RAISINS, may be used. Avoid raisins and chocolate as they are deadly to a lot of animals. 
1 1/2c Wheat flour (have yet to try the gluten-free flour on this one)
1/4tsp Salt.
Mix your wet first, add the dry. Combine.  If it's still too sloppy, add more flour, or more crunchy bits. 

Grease a baking sheet and zap ‘em at 350 for about ten minutes. Cool on racks. They will be soft, chewy, puffy, mountains of joy. If you use a human-and-wildlife-friendly blend of seeds you can chow down too. When made with flaxseed, pumpkin seeds and sunflower kernels these things are filling, and delicious.

The Finer Lines.

Spirit are Real, Spirits are People too.

I had a task that a spirit needed to be sent on, and went to my most-trusted Familiar (DB) for this task. I made my offer, he made his counter-offer, and after that brief negotiation I found the terms good enough to shake on it.

          Contention: I should've simply asserted my Mastery over the spirit, told him he'd do as I say, or he'd get the hose again.

          Response: No. Not how I work, wouldn't be successful. I would not call up a friend of numerous years and say "Go do what I tell you to do or I'll subject you to unholy, supernatural, torture." I'd say "Hey, bruh... if you have the time there's something I need help with. I'll buy you a six-pack if you come help me." and he'd said "Make it a twelve and we're good.", "Well, it's important, so that's no skin off my ass. You're happy, I'm happy. Gravy."

So, Familiar went off and did what needed doing. And my god, he did it like a champ. What I thought was impossible he handled in three hours and practically left a fuckin' mint on my pillow after. He deserved an extra treat for doing such an above-and-beyond job... so I asked him what he'd like.

          Contention: A familiar is never "Treated" - it got it's pay and it'll get greedy and/or lazy if you over-spoil it.

          Response: Each spirit has a different mind, and nature. One spirit would laugh his ass off if I approached him in the manner of a Solomonic rite, and then get very cross with me. Another will simply shoot me the finger if I approach with anything less than precious resin fumes and Latin incantations. Some are new - we're still in the process of my leaving bits of raw meat lying around, and making reassuring noises. Apparently some resident familiars find it funny to scare the newbies.

But I'm Still the Damn Magus 'Round Here.

"We don’t know anything spiritual is real for absolutely sure. [snip] If, for example, a spirit in a tanned hide says it wants to go back to the earth, I refuse and offer it other options, because I don’t want the residues from the tanning chemicals going into the soil or water. Sometimes we have to tell the spirits to suck it up. We can’t let ourselves be terrorized into doing stupid shit by the fear some angry spirit will ruin our lives." - Lupa

 I remember working with Deadboy a number of years back, when he asked for something a bit untoward. Y'see, he wanted me to find some poor, unsuspecting, schmuck to let him slide into and work like a puppet for a while. I said "No." He said "I will get pissed and wreck shit." I said "If you do, -I- will get pissed and wreck shit, bub. Pick. Something. Else."  We negotiated a bit of fun for the both of us, problem solved.

Another spirit felt that it's jar wasn't large enough - the jar it had specifically begged and pleaded for - and would cause a racket. I could hear it all night long - the sound of a moth trapped in a jar. I politely informed it that it would have to wait for a larger jar, and if it did not like the arrangements it could either be patient or I'd put it's current jar outside. No more noise.

It's a finer line than most people like, between "Acceptable" and "Unacceptable" - and that line becomes fuzzy when you involve more than one opinion. In short: 90% of what I do is directed by experience with the spirits, and I tend to think (I mean, I would, right?) that this is the way to go. Don't be a push-over, but don't treat your disembodied friends like shit - safe advice.

How I Accidentally Became A Toadwitch.

An additional Disclaimer as of 2/2018. 

Some of these "toad" posts, like this one, were made in 2011. To you they may be "new", but to me they may or may not even represent how I feel about what I am involved in today (I don't post much about this topic any longer, because folks are cruel and it's not worth the hassle). I don't 'retcon' my own blog, other than disclaimers like this.  Here’s my current view of the toadly topic, as excerpted from my personal notes:

All rites have a headwater and through diverse channels results arrive in a myriad of forms. There are variations and permutations of any and every rite ranging from the benign to monstrous, and from harmless to treacherous. […]
I am reluctant these days to call what I did “the” rite for these very reasons; The waters here are different than those that flow through Anglia. […]

I’ll get back to you if I ever take a trip to Cornwall and find a dead natterjack. Until then? I know what happens when that symbol-set surfaces in this place, with these spirits and this witch.

•   •   •

This season is, I am not ashamed to admit, the most sacred time of year for me. It has always been during this time of year that things "happened" for me, and so that has informed decisions and timing for a long stretch of years. It's also the time of year where I get free-er with my tongue, and tell stories I would not ordinarily tell. 

On the Menu are three stories, starting with the strangest, and ending with the most reasonable. 

I Want To Post A Clear Disclaimer Here.

I am not posting about this to brag, nor encourage. I've removed details, spirit-guidance, and waymarks that are necessary to making anything happen. I have done this so that only those who are called may come. 

I doubt many people who have claimed to perform this rite really have. The actions of this rite shape themselves - details emerge that are not spoken of by even Chumbley, but are consistent with those who have performed it.

Of those who went through the actions, I doubt many did the inner work. This rite cannot be performed in actions alone. The spirit work behind it is required for it to have any effect, any success, and any impact.

Of those that actually did the actions, and the inner work - I doubt many actually had success. They speak of it too fondly, to gently, and too lazily. This rite is not to be played with- if you do not have the stars right, and the permissions in place, it will exact a serious toll on you. If you are not secured like a vault, impervious to the assaults that come with this rite, it will devour you. IF you are not mentally balanced, it will unhinge you (when the insects in the night start to speak to you, good sirs, I challenge you to keep your shit all in a row).

There are a million other ways to get the same "results" - all of them a far better, safer, saner, and more accommodating to not getting your world wrecked.  Once it is started, it cannot be aborted. It has to be seen through until IT, not the witch, the rite itself, decides that it has concluded. This rite is best described as Lovecraftian in nature. It is a crash course, a hard-wiring, and a quick butcher job to jack someone in. It is utterly, utterly, unfriendly.

The Vessels and Their Contents.

I turn the small clay pots in my hands. They are weighty, hand-sculpted (rather than thrown), and still bear the marks of fingerprints. I worked the clay hard, and it speaks softly. Spirit is woven into each press and smoothing. I shape the bodies, the physical houses, for the spirits I will care for. I handle them as gently as I would handle paper-thin glass. I whisper words into their hollow, and stroke power into the surface.

"I bathe you in the sacred smoke, and nourish you with the breath of my mouth. I re-awaken you. This is the cradle of your skull, and the hollow of your chest - your heart rests here."

This all started a long time ago, and sometimes I do my absolute best to forget about the whole mess for a while, just so that the room doesn't slowly fill with greedy raccoons making grabbyhands, or hissing opossum with cataract-white eyes.

Grumpbutt The Alraun.

Meet Grumpbutt - the grumpiest Alraun. This is a Dandelion, out of the ground about 10hrs. It’s not fully dry yet (and won’t be for some time). It hasn’t been shaped beyond cutting off the greens. It had that face right out of the ground. The grumpy, sullen, slightly pervy face.

On the opposite side? It has an ass. Two, tiny, dandelion-root, buttcheeks. Hence the name “Grumpbutt”.  This guy won’t be for sale, but some of the others (admittedly, less… er… animated) will be.

The Waters of The Moon.

I was up to my elbows in the muck. It was black as coal, made of decomposing leaves and rotten meat, and the roots of water lilies. Something softer than leaves, and cooler than the black water, brushed my arm. I twisted, and gripped, and out it came - it's back was black as the shadowy moon, it's belly as bright as the full.

It was all empty inside, water flowing from the nose and mouth. And into this emptiness I called to something, and it became full. With thorns I pinned it down on a hill, crucified, and covered from prying eyes. And then I waited for the Little Ones in the Hill to take away the flesh.

And then came secret things, and dealings here unfit.

Familiars Part Three - Servitors.

In every nearly every article or book I've found concerning the Familiar in the practice of modern "Witchcraft Revivalists" there is made some sort of mention of a "created" familiar. Back in my youth, and hell - to this day, we called this a "servitor".

Servitors, as my mentor reckoned them (and thus how I "learned" them), are entities, either created whole cloth by the Practitioner, or assembled from the energetic remains (or "cloned" parts) of other entities. These entities are created specifically to carry out a single task, and be resorbed, dismantled, or destroyed.

Some practitioners extend the life of a servitor indefinitely, but this has it's risks. The longer an entity exists, feeding or being fed upon various kinds of energy, the greater chance it has to escape the Will of the person/s who created it. It would still be attached to that person, however, providing a rogue link to the Practitioner that could backfire spectacularly, or provide a point of entry for unwanted energies.

The key difference between the "servitor-familiar" and the Familiar-Spirit is that one is created (the servitor) and one is a pre-existing spirit, who is usually given to the witch by either another witch, or the sabbat-lord.

How this effects the entity is in it's range of influence. A servitor cannot (initially) do anything you cannot do yourself. Familiars, by nature, are designed to do things that the witch can never do on their own. So, expecting one to work as the other is ineffective at best.

When Categories Get Fuzzy.

My favored servitor/s, the baneye, were out of my hands about a year or two after I first created one. These little beings were part fish, part pig, part bird, and covered in eyeballs. They were inspired by an old woodcut illustration, and spawned to keep a look-out, and fend off any unwanted trespassers. They would replicate when more of them were needed, and slowly re-devour each-other when times were less hectic, designed to be a self-sustaining alarm system on "the astral".

Today they breed on their own, and have varied forms. Some are the original "pig-sized" servitors, while others are epic war-mount size. Still others are simply swarms of single eye-balls on nerve endings which serve as rudimentary legs. Not a single one of them, however, is beholden to my command alone. How did this happen? I made the mistake of lending one of them to a being in the between-world. He made his own tinkering modifications to his new little pet, and they changed. All of them. Permanently.They are now more his children than mine, and though exceedingly good at their job - have minds very much their own.

"I Don't Want to "Drive" Anything With a Mind of It's Own."
- my uncle, on the topic of Horses.

These instances of Servitor going rogue, or being "lifted up" are sporadic. You can't count on the being you've willed into existence being favored by your gods, guides or guardians, and to suggest this as a common mode of practice sets the practitioner up for disappointment.

Beyond this, when you create a servitor it is created with specific things in mind. You want the being to be a part of you, wholly under your control, and able to be recalled (or totally dissolved) when the operation is complete. Allowing this link to yourself out of your hands has heavy consequences.

Early in my "career" as a practitioner, I created a servitor designed to collect knowledge and energy, and bring it back to me. This was supposed to manifest as both startling internal revelations, and happening upon just the info I was looking for in books, or articles.

At some point, he simply went missing. Against my better judgment, I did not "nix" the Servitor, convincing myself he was just off on a mission that was more difficult than I'd realized. One night, I thought I sensed his presence outside of my room. Unfortunately, it was not "just" him. Either he had consumed the wrong thing, or the wrong thing had consumed him, and resulted in a "brundlefly" - something that was neither being, both beings, and exceedingly worse than either alone.

The "other" being was a decidedly malevolent one, and over the course of many months consumed it's way through my servitor, and came after me. Through the servitor it had access to me in a way it shouldn't have. I should have dismantled my servitor the second it went missing. Instead, I treated a servitor as though it were an independent entity and suffered the consequences.

I Created it... I think...
...It's possible I didn't... it could have been pre-existing. I got distracted.
AKA "Adhesion"

Occasionally, when creating a servitor, people get lazy. They internally visualize what they want, but they do not pull that out of themselves and give it form. They sort of let it coalesce, or "show up". Sometimes these are Servitors, sometimes they aren't.

A long time ago, there existed a group dedicated to "role playing" characters in the setting of the Jim Henson film "Labyrinth". Here there were a myriad of fantasies played out from people switching genders, to one-night-stands with rock stars. But above-all, reigned the character of Jareth - A Fairly-like creature that shapeshifts into the form of a barn owl, and is the "Goblin King".

For those unfamiliar with the film (firstly, shame on you, go watch it) the plot of the film is that a hormonal, self-centered, teenaged girl - angry at a younger sibling, decides to "wish him away" (jokingly) to the realm of the Goblin King - called "The Underground". Unfortunately for her, he actually shows up, and takes the baby. The teenaged girl is given thirteen hours to travel through the massive, county-sized, labyrinth erected around the Goblin King's castle, in the heart of "The Goblin City" to retreive her little brother before he is turned into a goblin forever.

Scenes of the film depict the young girl, lost in a seemingly unending (and constantly shifting) labyrinth in the underworld (er... I mean underground!) set against intercuts of her baby brother at the center of a goblin reverie, lead by their king.

Jareth, as a character is beautiful, able to re-order space and time, king of his own realm and perfectly capable of doing absolutely awful things to get what he wants. In short - he is a Fae. The group of fans I had encountered were all spending so much time focusing on this character, his world, his traits... that something got a little hinky.

A few nights after joining this chat for the first time, while working a candle-spell at my open window, I saw a large barn owl swoop by. I chuckled to myself, and later mentioned the sighting to my newfound friends. Their reaction was instant - Stay away from the owl.

Understandably I was confused, it was just an owl. I live in the woods, and Barn owls are pretty common. NO, they said... this wasn't a barn owl, this was Jareth. I had to stay away from him, because the "real" Jareth wasn't as nice as he was in the movies. "The Real Jareth"? It was laughable. He was a damned fictional character portrayed by an already aging rock-star.

Except... As time went on things got weird. I would dream of this character, who was exceedingly like the film character - and yet clearly something far older. He had wants, desires, and motives of his own. And eventually his presence moved from interactions in dreams to people's lives getting very messed up when they said or did unkind things toward the character in the game.

Their devotion, their attention - their worship, had called something very real out of the aethers. Something close enough to that fantasy depiction that it could adhere to their wishes and desires, and manifest through an unintentional gateway. This being existed on the cusp - it was a real entity, using a fictional mask to get it's due.

Summarizing

Servitors can be lifted up to the status of a Familiar, but the process is mostly by chance, and very unpredictable. Existing entities can be "netted in" or adhere to thought forms and servitors, leading to very unpredictable results. Using a Servitor long-term can lead to unexpected results.

If you're prepared to accept the unexpected results, and suffer the consequences (and believe me, there'll be some suffering) - fine und dandy. But a very poor choice for new pagans, and it would be very irresponsible for someone to advise otherwise.

Familiars - Part Two.

On a forum, another Hedge-crafter took exception to some of my comments about Familiars, and I can certainly understand why they might. It made me realize that I might have been somewhat unclear in some of my thoughts. What I said was a direct reflection of my own experiences, and of the research I've done. Though, I suppose I ought to have been more clear in the first place (sad is the day when a forum of Hedgewitches have to resort to mincing words).

In the trial of the Pendle Witches, Alizon was compelled to accept a familiar by Old Demdike while the pair were walking home. The process of the Familiar feeding on her left a mark which lasted six months afterward. In all of my experiences concerning beings feeding upon a person, if it leaves a mark that lasts such a long time - well... that's not exactly a "deep, loving, relationship". It hurt, it was probably frightening, and at that moment it was more parasite than life-partner.

Some Witches did, and do, doubtlessly deal with gentler beings, while some will have other kinds of work, for which neither gentle beings nor gentle partnerships are appropriate. Their interactions will be different. No two witches are alike, nor should they be, and as such their perspectives will be different. No one should expect (or demand, as some do) otherwise.

As was one point of contention - at best, one can expect to have a symbiotic relationship, a mutually beneficial, and even loving one. At worst, one may find that they are the prey, and foodsource, of a much stronger and less gentle being than they had assumed (or been lead to believe by white-washed source material). To me, this is no more controversial than saying "At best you can expect to have an awesome day, at worst you can expect to die". Both statements are unflinchingly honest, however uncomfortable they may be to hear.

The second point of contention was the Familiar leaving the Witch. Well... when/if there is nothing for them to gain anymore, they will leave... the same as any being. I have also stated that in my experience, sometimes they can get annoyed enough to simply leave.

My original post had also stated that the more pleasant the familiar, the more pleasant the partnership as long as the Witch is pleasant too. Sometimes, no one in the relationship is pleasant, or nice, or gentle. For some instances that's rather the point.

A Tale of The Blackedogge.

Alizon Device met with a pedler on the highway, and demanded that the peddler sell her some pins. He refused, and Alizon, leaving the scene of the altercation, met again the black dog who had suckled at her, leaving a mark which lasted six months. The Dog said "What wouldst thou have me do unto yonder man?" Alizon asked "What canst thou do to him?"
The dog answered "Lame him". The man didn't make it more than 200 feet down the road before he fell down, lame.
Five days later, the Black Dog appeared to her again, compelling her to stay and speak with it. She refused, and did not see the Black Dog again.

Alizon Device, amongst a long line of witches real and accused, would likely laugh very hard at the idea that familiars are relegated to ONLY being gentle, loving, beings.

Familiar Spirits

In 1612, Alizon Device, grand-daughter of Old Demdike, came to trial for witchcraft. In the records of the trial she is supposed to have said that she was approached by a Familiar-Spirit in the form of a dog and that by the persuasion of her grandmother, allowed it to suckle on her blood (from just beneath her breasts), thus inheriting it as her own Familiar. Though the archaic use of English in the records is a bit much at the best of times, it's also apparent that the Familiar did not remain constantly with the woman, but came and go at rather lengthy intervals. The trial records also note some involvement of selling, or bargaining, one's soul.

In this same trial, a spirit appearing as an intensely lovely young man, or sometimes as a brown dog, is also mentioned. In this case, coming for both Alizon's mother, and brother.

When my eye looks toward this, and other accounts (though none so thoroughly accounted as the Pendle Trials, IMO), I see a trend and a deeper meaning in very white-washed confessions.

1: Familiars come and go as they please. You don't own them, and they aren't a "pet" who helps you do harm-none-wicca.
2: Familiars must subsist upon blood, spiritual essence (the aforementioned "soul") , your personal energy, or a combination of all three in order to remain effective. They will require more for bigger tasks - pray you can provide.
3: You don't chose one, it chooses you. Once it's chosen you, it won't leave unless you starve it, chip away at it's strength and THEN banish it. Or, if you simply piss it off hard enough.
4: Familiar-association runs in families rather strongly. Grandma may curse you to feed a quasi-parasitic being who can perform marvelous acts.
5: M., one of the first spirit-beings I ever met, fit precisely the role of a witch-craze-era Familiar, and I didn't really get it until recently.

A Brief Bit on Practical Experiences with a Familiar-Spirit

In the late 1990's I was approached by a spirit who appeared like an incredibly tall man with the mouth of a reptile, and the eyes of a reptile, and for hands he had the talons of raptors. To describe it in modern vernacular: His mouth was exceptionally thin and wide, his eyes were slit-pupil, and he had very long, curved, finger-nails which had pronounced cyanosis at the beds.

In exchange for showing me my past, all manner of hidden knowledge, and teaching me to foretell the future, he only needed energy. My energy. Obtained in dreams like a vampire biting a victim, and in the waking world associated with prickling pain, and often physical marks. He fed upon sexual pleasure as well.

The rewards -far- outweighed the costs, and he was a remarkably loyal spirit. Befriending and aiding friends of mine as well. Over time we grew incredibly close, and then something changed.

I can't tell you what changed, more than likely he simply got saturated on the energy I had to offer, or got pissed off because he no longer occupied the central place in my worldview (he was a bit of a primadonna). His visits became further apart, then stopped entirely. He still visits friends occasionally, but by and large I hear not a damned word about him, or from him. Perhaps he's passed into a partnership with someone else, and if so... they're damned lucky to have him.

Gaining a Familiar

You don't exactly just get to call one up and command it to do your dirty work. Firstly, it doesn't work like that, secondly anything that easy to boss around in that manner is probably not very "strong", and may be more of a drain than a boon.

There are, however, ways of enticing a being to consider a partnership. In Raven Grimassi's work he suggests using guided meditations to cross into a particularly fertile batch of otherworld and choose a being which becomes interested in your presence. This is a good starting point for the task, but I'd be very leery of accepting the services of "just anything" I meet on the otherside. I think it would be far more advantageous for both parties to develop a friendship through visitation. Though, the visitation can begin through meditative work such as the aforementioned work suggests.

In my night-flights I often see a small spirit that's similar to a Satyr or Faun, though rather small, and a little more goaty. Whenever I'm compounding incenses, or doing Work, he seems rather keen on what I'm doing and will often fetch some novel ingredient (usually at lightening speed) that is just what I need. Also, if anything is handed to me, he is the one to do it. If I must hand something to someone else, he passes it to them. In short, he acts as something of an intermediary, is a pre-existing spirit, and is interested in my work.

Were I to consider acquiring another Familiar-Spirit-Proper, this would be the one I would consider. He's never shown me malice, always seems interested, and is already involved in my goings-on. I would suggest that anyone else take a similar route: Gain a friend first, and then ask the friend for a partnership, rather than meeting a stranger and assuming intimacy.

Creating A Being

Yes, it can be done. The internets are filled with accounts and instructions on the creation of beings called Servitors.

Ask anyone who's Worked with me? They'll instantly comment on the Baneyes. One of my first magickal experiments in created entities, and the longest-lived. Having long-since evolved from a Servitor into their own, independent, self-breeding, race. They've also formed variations on their original design, becoming caste-like in nature (with large broodmares down to single-eyeball-on-an-optic-nerve swarms). However, I got lucky. I worked hard enough at shaping the initial generations that the beings aren't rogue, they have no desire to attack, only defend and maintain. Had I not been so studious, gods know what monsters my teen dabbling may've created.

The unconscious mind, the wellspring of our internal landscape, can be filled with self-defeating ideas. Creating a Familiar from a Servitor would likely be more fraught with danger than adopting a being from the otherside.

This will not be the last blog about Familiars. I intend to follow Mr. Grimassi's methods of enticing a Familiar (probably one of the smarter Baneyes at first) to get back into the saddle. And I'm sure my experiments will unfold here, across the months.

The Night Flight

I'm running, and I know there is no way I could be moving at this speed. I have a bad knee, and a heart complaint that will usually floor me well before this. The trees are whipping by me, they blur into shadows.

As I reach the edge of the deep wood, coming out on the scrub and younger growth, I leap. It is not simply that I jump, feet leaving the ground. There is a magnetic repulsion, a sense of a pull being broken, and turning to resistance. I fly.

I am rushing at great speed over the meadows, the little trailer houses below. Over vast lakes, until the world changes. The colors shift, and the air no longer stings my eyes. The world beneath me glows with a light I cannot locate. I see below me spirits, they stretch and writhe beneath the moonlight, anchored with their feet in the earth - Wort-devas. Others fill the sky with me, further and nearer. Some wear nothing, some fly on their own, some are animals or with animals. Some are astride instruments like brooms and distaffs (among them I am pleased to discover a Nimbus 2000). One rides a hobby-horse with coal-red eyes and dangling, articulated, legs.

I see a fire below, it whips with every color, and smells sweeter than any incense. In it I detect notes of Oak, of Pomegranate, and sweet gum. I smell blood, and meat, and spices. Nothing in the world of my birth has ever smelled this alluring, or sweet.

I settle to the ground, feeling the push become pull and the world accept my feet again. Here there are beasts dancing. Some are witches like myself, wearing masks or strange costumes, some are spirits who have never known flesh, clad in a manner that is designed to shock, and frighten. These people are my kenfolk (not KINfolk, KENfolk.). I join the music-making, slapping along to the rhythm on my knees. My body is my body, and is not my body. I'm neither sex, and yet both.

Someone passes a pot filled with incense. I feel it with my fingers, identifying it's contents. I know that if, when I return to my flesh, I burn this on a woodfire, I will cut a much simpler door. I won't have to fly so far, or run for so long. I will be able to stay longer, and dance more. I cast a handful into the fire, and it sparks brilliantly. A whooping cry goes up from the Host. I've made a contract, an agreement to return.

We dance, and run, and play games. I am offered wine and food which I decline. Here, I cannot eat, not that I don't want to. Everything smells so perfect, so delicious. I swear I've been offered curry - the bastards. What I eat here would disgust (if not anger) even the Kindly Host, who's appetites shock humans with ease.

Soon, off in to the West (WEST?! ... Yes, West) I see the sky begin to pale, the night is rewinding into day. So this is how we may remain here for years, and not age? Funny, I'd never noticed. This is the signal that we all need to depart. Some fall through the soil, some rise to the air on tools. Some take wing or paw. I run, run with wolves, deer, and hares. A firefly has hitched a ride on my head, flashing and laughing (clickityclick!). A howler-monkey swings from tree to tree. Our rag-tag pride enters the wood, we run until the field clears and one by one - pop -, we awaken, panting and laughing.

Who would not risk death by fire, for life by the fireside?

Farewell, Green Lady.

The Wormwood plant I've had for nearly as long as I've been a witch seems to have passed away. I've had the pleasure of knowing her company for about twelve years, and at her peak of growth she was nearly six feet across, and almost nine feet high.

In my old home (she has been transplanted) I could lean out of my octagonal window (about eight feet off of the ground) and pick leaves. During windy nights her smell would waft in, keeping away bugs, and inviting stranger things (like the owl who once flapped right in my window!)

Every spring, summer, and fall, I would harvest leaves for incenses and washes. She was one of my closest allies, and verged on what I would call "familiar" territory. She had a voice, she spoke. She shared wisdom. Her spirit was vibrant, if jealous and hasty.

By this time of year she should've already been about an 8-12" puffball, and I see no sprouts. I don't -feel- life in her anymore. She's gone quiet. I'll wait until Beltane-eve, and if she has not sprouted I will send her off in the ritual fire. Hopefully, freeing whatever of her might still be bound in the stems of the previous season.

I believe that when you name something, you give it individuality. Not that humans have this high and mighty power, but rather... the Naming of a thing begins it's awakening, stretching, coming alive in senses, even to it's spirit. When we speak to plants, and name them, we begin to awaken them and if we are good to them they will speak back.

I believe that each plant can share in a pool-spirit ("Deva"), but that when we cultivate a plant, or honor it with Craft, it's Deva becomes unique. She was still a Grand Wormwood, but she was also Green Lady. My scrying mirrors rest on a bed of her, my runes nest like eggs in her, my ritual dagger is kept gleaming and free of rust by oils infused with her.

I am going to miss the old gal.