Author: Beweaver
Now mind you, I’ve been asked to do magic for folks over the years. But none have ever followed through. They think it sounds good but for one reason or the other they bail. Don’t know if it’s because they become afraid or can’t get their act together enough or what. So it’s never happened. I’ve always been nervous at the thought. Those days are gone. And it came to me as naturally as snapping my fingers.

Some of you might remember the difficult wounding of a tender, fairly new friendship back in December. It kind of blew up and kind of healed. But we have not met outside of a meeting nor talked on the phone nor walked around the lake since that day. I have missed her terribly. Missed her and her daughter. But I did make a pact with myself, because of all the challenges I was having regarding all friendships, that I would seek out those who seek me. That it was time I stopped pursuing people who, when left to their own devices, did not pursue me.

I wanted her to have the time she needed, I didn’t want to push myself on her. I had told her I loved her and that I wanted her in my life. I hoped that something might happen, not holding my breath, detachment has been mine, and last week it happened.

She contacted me to ask if paying her psychic $500 to cleanse her house was a reasonable thing given what I know about magic. That the psychic said someone was trying to take her house away, that they were watching her house. Now I don’t know if this was truth or if the person was trying to scare her into spending a bundle on “magical” remedies. I told her my truth. That no witch I know would charge anyone $500 for any magic of any kind. That I would be very happy to come and do some work on her house for her but I would prefer it if she helped. For no charge, that witches in my tradition don’t charge for their services although they were allowed to accept gifts of thanks.

I suggested that her 13-year-old daughter would be very welcome but only if my friend, as her mother, approved. I felt that she needed this cleansing as much as her mother did. And to spend $500 on a new front door if she felt she needed to spend it. Tongue in cheek of course.

She said, oh yes please. I wrote up a ritual, sent her a shopping list, worked out the best day, and called my High Priestess for direction. Like my friend my high priestess is Jewish. She suggested that instead of pentagrams we use the Mogen David. The Shield of David. Yes, that six-pointed star, like our pentagram, is a shield. A shield used by God to protect his people. Perfect. I am not a squeamish witch; I embrace all the good, spiritual tools available to me. To be able to help them with symbols and a language that spoke to them was such an honor.

My friend said that she barely got it all out when her daughter excitedly said, “YES! I want to do this with you.” Awesome.

I actually got a little lost on my way there. When I got my new phone and they transferred the sim card info, I lost all addresses but hadn’t realized until I got lost that I needed theirs. When I finally found it I realized that I had driven right past it twice. I didn’t recognize the place. My friend had already begun to renew her home and her life. The lights from the windows, the colors of the walls radiating out, was so welcoming, quite beautiful. The inside had changed even more. She was half way there instinctively, intuitively. Moving furniture out, moving it about, changing the flow of energy, those are powerful tools. New locks on doors and windows.

So three women and a dog talked about what we would be doing, toured the house, and explained grounding and some of the tools we would be using. I gently suggested that she remove her ex-husband’s things from the house as soon as she could. That is was time. He is still around but he is severely disabled due to an allergic reaction to a medication and has no interest or use for what is left. That she buys herself and her daughter new sheets and physically cleanses their rooms to remove the sadness and depression that they had experienced in their beds for the past 3 years. That the house had always felt sad to me and that it wasn’t just their sadness, that it felt older to me. She said the neighbors had told her that a woman like Throw Mama From A Train had lived there with her children. Neglect, pain, sadness. I was so glad she was doing this.

I explained grounding and we began. We tried to start from a standing position, forming a triangle with our bodies to represent the female half of the Mogen David but the dog thought we wanted to dance and kept jumping up and licking faces. We had to sit. I walked them through a guided meditation for grounding and I felt them both ground. When the daughter opened her eyes we could both tell that something had really happened for her. She is thirteen but her ability to articulate what that felt like and what she experienced was truly beautiful. I wish we could all keep a part of that wise girl who’s just become a woman, who’s still experiencing the world and it’s wonders with a state of grace, inside us.

She was so excited to do this. Her energy was so bouncy, so pure, so joyful. Her bat mitzvah was only a few weeks ago and she was so excited to learn about the Kabbalistic Cross and to seal her doors and windows with something magical that was from her own faith.

We swept that house; we asperged that house; we cleansed that house. We sealed the doors and windows with Mogen David’s; we chanted the heck out of that house and sent the negative energy and spirits packing. We charged some stones to ward the perimeter of the property and necklaces for them to wear. We laughed, we hugged, we marveled, we sighed. It was so good, so wonderful.

She and her daughter honored and blessed me with their need and their request. And their gratitude. While I was packing up to leave they went down to the basement to turn off lights and lock up. What they came back with was something that I had seen in the basement. A black leather motorcycle jacket with studs on the collar, belt, and shoulders. It had belonged to her ex-husband, the father of her daughter.

I had said that if she was selling it in the yard sale they were planning that I would definitely be interested. She told me that this coat had seen the punk music scene in New York. That it knew Lou Reed, The Ramones, poets, playwrights, was even in a photo shoot for a Japanese magazine. That it had a real history, the man who wore it had lived the life with those I had admired back in the day. I was in awe of that jacket. And they gave it to me in gratitude for coming over to bless their house.

We laughed and talked and hugged some more. I drove home high as a kite, floating on air. It was hours before I was able to fall asleep. I had hung the coat up but kept it out of my closet. While that coat, one just like it, has been on my wish list for my entire adult life, I’ve never wanted to spend the money or didn’t find one I liked or that fit, I felt uneasy. I had planted my wish in her mind and I felt that in a way I had asked for payment. I wasn’t sure what to do.

When I woke the next morning I thought I should call her, see how she’s doing. “No, she’s out buying new sheets, ” sounded in my head. I set about cleaning my own room. 90% of what I brought with me to my parents house is in one room with me. 11 x 11. I’m certain I’m being generous to the size. Clutter builds up very quickly. I’ve got The Razor’s Edge on the laptop playing and I’m clearing and sorting out my underwear drawer (I believe MOST of magic is about making mundane acts magical) when the phone rang.

It was my friend. She was so excited, words bubbling out of her so fast, she’s so emotionally charged. She starts telling me that knowing that I have that coat has done so much good. That the man who was her daughter’s father was a man she had loved, who had been a very good man, that she had really loved him and knowing that the coat went to someone who really wanted it and who knew him and her and their story, someone who would honor it and give it a new loving life made her heart overflow.

Tears? Falling like a fountain, we’re both just sobbing. She tells me she’s been crying all morning but it’s been bittersweet, a cleansing. And she was putting the new purple sheets on her daughter’s bed as we talked. And that after I left, her daughter, with eyes as big as saucers, said, “She’s the real thing Mom. She’s a REAL witch.” Now that is a compliment indeed and I’m humbled and all kinds of grateful.

So much healing was done Saturday night. The night of Saturn, waning moon in Sagittarius. A banishing protective night. But this is the best part of magic. Things happen that you don’t expect and hardly dare to hope. Things happen that are counter intuitive. Good things, things like healings and blessings and love happen when it isn’t a full moon. New things begin; joy is embraced. All in black our bond was cast. The three of us, three women. And a dog. Three women who will always have Saturday, February 6th, in their hearts for the rest of their lives and beyond. Wealth beyond compare.

Be careful what you witch for. You just might get it. *wink*