In Pursuit of a Paleontology Enthusiast Antiquarian Vampirologist, Part II

September 18, 2023September 17, 2023 J.Leave a comment

In case you missed the first part of our adventure, you can find it here!

We showed up promptly at 11:10 AM, still unsure of what we were getting into. Once we stepped out of the car, we were almost spoiled for choice — there was a small sculpture garden immediately in front of us, with some very lovely statuary.

A replica of Michelangelo's David, with a small image of a bird hanging in front of his junk. — Including a very modest David.

Signs directed us to the Dinosaur Park, which we eagerly followed. They led us past more statuary, into an area populated by large, brightly colored dinosaur statues. They were kept in their own pens made up of neatly trimmed hedges and garden fences, interspersed with large, bright mushrooms, a vintage carousel horse, and a spiraling labyrinth that ended in a gazebo at the center of it all.

Along the edges, the border between “Dinosaur Park” and “Sculpture Garden” got a bit blurry.

Outside of the Dinosaur Park, the grounds were immaculately kept and full of flowers. There were ponds covered in bright pink and white water lilies, and bushes spangled with flowers and butterflies.

A pair of small snail statues on a stone sphinx throne surrounded by bright purple flowers. — Also snail royalty.

A close-up of a similar throne. It features ornate arms supported by a pair of small sphinxes. — A closer look at a similar sphinx throne in a different material. I’ll be honest, I kind of want one to put under the maple tree in the back.

A bamboo forest with a pair of Imperial lion statues in front.

Everywhere we walked seem to have something new to look at, to an almost disorienting degree. I know the outdoor area wasn’t that big, but we did manage to get turned around here and there.

There was even a large stand of bamboo guarded by a pair of stone Imperial lions.

What was most interesting, however, was the mix of materials. Some of the more whimsical statuary was made of cast concrete or gaily-painted fiberglass, but many of the larger pieces were carved stone. Take a close look at the pair of busts in the image below — all of the armor, clothing, et cetera is made of carefully fitted-together stone. None of it is painted. There were pieces in alabaster, marble, quartz, and granite, all of them uniquely beautiful.

A dolphin fountain flanked by a pair of bronze horses and elaborate busts.

Once we were done getting lost in labyrinths and jumpscared by the occasional clown statue, we headed inside. The bulk of the antique shop was in a large barn, about half of which was taken up by a workshop.

The first floor was a dinner party set for invisible guests. The walls were hung with heavy curtains in silk and velvet, punctuated with carved stone statues. These, like the busts above, wore outfits of carefully selected and fitted-together stone, cut and carved so their graceful limbs could show through.

A pair of bronze eagles battle in front of a panel of frosted glass painted with ornate flowers and botanical motifs.

Of to the side, there was a selection of brass candelabras, smaller sculptures, and stained glass.

In the center, there was a large, broad staircase. The top was dark — dark enough that I wondered if it was actually off-limits. There didn’t really seem to be anyone there other than us and a handful of employees… did anyone even know we were there?

Eventually, our curiosity got the better of us. We quietly crept up the stairs, though there were no lights and the temperature seemed to grow more oppressive with every step.

I was very glad we had.

The top floor of the barn was absolutely full of treasures. Carved four-poster beds hung with silk brocade. Velvet chaises. Oil paintings the size of my bedroom, framed in gold leafed baroque style. Panels upon panels of stained glass.

A large oil painting, marble bust, velvet sofa pinned with a white lace antimaccasar, and heavily adorned cabinet. — Everything in this picture is about two hundred years old and worth more money than I will ever see.

The only light came from a large window at the front. The sunlight streamed down through it onto a grand piano, illuminating dust motes that sparkled like glitter. There was also a pair of life-sized sculptures holding massive, branching lamps of brass and crystal.

A photo of the description above -- ornate furniture in silhouette against a large window, flanked by sculptures supporting large light fixtures. Some of the chandeliers on the ceiling are adorned with faux butterflies. — This is probably my favorite picture I’ve ever taken of anything.

At one point, I think I saw the owner. He passed through the room swiftly, so I didn’t get a good look — just a glimpse of his back and a faint whiff of oakmoss and vetiver.

My Handsome Assistant attempted to track someone down, and did manage to talk to one of the employees for a bit. According to her, the Vampire and Paranormal Museum is in the process of reopening in one of the houses on the premises. The owner was very secretive about it, however — he was remodeling the whole interior, and hadn’t allowed even his closest friends to see it. It wouldn’t be open until later this year, most likely in October or November.

Even though we didn’t get to speak to the man himself, or see the actual museum, we were satisfied. To be honest, just browsing the antiques felt like looking at a clandestine immortal’s collection of stuff, so I left feeling like I’d been to a vampire museum anyhow.

When we went to leave, a peacock prevented me from getting in the car. It was both completely unexpected, yet entirely appropriate. I guess if you’re going to have a Dinosaur Park, you need one or two alive ones.

A large male peacock stands between the viewer (me) and a silver car.

All told, 10/10 experience. Would sidequest again.

Sometimes I have trouble following the plot of my own life. (Or: In Pursuit of a Paleontology Enthusiast Antiquarian Vampirologist.)

September 14, 2023September 8, 2023 J.3 Comments

I’m not really big on the whole Manifestation thing, I’ll be honest.
That aside, I have noticed that, when I’m starting to feel like life is a little same-y, the universe is extremely willing to help. And by “help,” I mean send me on some very strange field trips.

I wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling like life was getting routine. My Handsome Assistant works very hard, and very long hours. It’s not a physically laborious job, but it’s the kind of work that’s both mentally demanding and continues to be a whole Thing around the clock. He even has trouble taking time off, so he finally said that enough was enough, blocked off some PTO, and we scheduled a small vacation.

I suggested New Hope, PA, because it’s the kind of thing that we both find fun and relaxing: No itinerary, lots of art and history, lovely architecture, ghosts, nature, and tasty food. It’s immediately adjacent to Lambertville, NJ, too, which is ludicrously packed with antique shops and art galleries. We could wake up whenever, go wherever, and no matter where we decided to walk, there was pretty much guaranteed to be something neat to do, see, or eat.

The vacation part is a lovely and relaxing story for another time.

While Handsome Assistant was in the shower, I was sitting on the floor of the hotel, charging my phone and idly tapping through a map of the area to see what looked like a fun destination for the following day.

That’s when I saw it.

A screenshot of Google Maps, prominently showing VAMPA Vampire & Paranormal Museum.

“VAMPA Vampire and Paranormal Museum.”

“Permanently Closed.”

"My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined."

I took a screenshot and sent it to him for shits and giggles. There’s always something darkly funny in simultaneously discovering something cool, and that it has ceased to exist.

He texted back. We laughed it off. I pointed out a neat antique shop we could look at, and my tiny disappointment was forgotten.

Little did I know that VAMPA had continued to live in his mind.

A corked glass bottle full of bones. A tag tied to the neck says, "Peacock Bones $45."

Unbeknownst to me, the antique shop that I’d wanted to go see was located in a very large building — large and filled enough to make Google Maps get a little complicated. Locations were hazy estimates, at best. I didn’t mind, though. Everything was in walking distance, and what was an extra block or two?

Inside was a veritable treasure house of weird. The air was filled with the vaguely vanilla scent of old books, naphthalene, leather, and straw. I looked through strings of antique snake vertebrae, preserved hornets’ nests, bottles of peacock bones, old containers of patent medicine (some still half-full of highly questionable powders and jellies), and hand-colored German anatomical prints. Handsome Assistant and I got separated at some point, but I wasn’t too worried.

A display of colorful parasols suspended upside-down from a ceiling.

The “shop” was less of a shop than it was a marketplace. Each floor had its own set of vendors, including one guy who’d collected a very varied and impressive selection of crystal specimens. There were lovely slices of amethyst geodes, palm stones of every description, fossil specimens, spheres of every color, and even a large piece of alabaster marked, “Great for sculptors!”

I came away with a polished freeform moss agate and a sunstone palm stone, while Handsome Assistant chose a small sphere of tiger’s and hawk’s eye. (The gold of the tiger’s eye and blue of the hawk’s eye swirl together like the atmosphere of some strange and distant planet, shifting in the light in a way that’s honestly kind of mesmerizing.)

As we left, he turned to me in excitement.

“So,” he began, both handsomely and assistantly, “The vampire museum used to be on the top floor of this place.”

“Really? Huh,” I replied, neither attractively nor helpfully.

“Apparently the guy who owned it closed the museum, sold some of his collection, and moved up the road. He has an antique shop with dinosaurs in the front. You know what that means.”

I did not know what that meant.

“It means,” he continued as we walked, “That there’s more of his collection that he didn’t sell yet.“

After that, there was lunch and ice cream sandwiches. We got patio seating immediately next to a graveyard. I had a long and interesting conversation about veganism with our server. We were attacked by wasps. The whole afternoon got kind of hazy after a certain point.

Anyway, this is how we found ourselves in the car in the late afternoon, on the hunt for a large estate full of Dinosauria.
There was only one problem: We had literally nothing else to go on. No names, no street address, nothing.

“Just drive up the road. You’ll see the dinosaurs.”
That was basically it.

I think we drove on for about forty-five minutes with no luck. There was a museum, but it was neither vampiric, paranormal, nor paleontological, and thus of little interest to us at that moment. (There was also a really neat mossy green house with black trim. That was mostly interesting because we have to replace our siding soon and house exteriors are the kind of thing we’ve found ourselves starting to care about, largely against our collective will.)

I don’t know what compelled us to take a different route. It was probably just a desire to find a more scenic road back to the hotel. But that was when we saw it.

A very weathered wood sign near the road, simply marked “ANTIQUES.”

And an allosaurus.

A large statue of an allosaurus, in the midst of a garden.

We pulled into the gravel driveway cautiously. (I’m not sure why, it just seemed correct.)
The door was locked, its hours prominently posted.

“Wednesday, 11 AM.”

Handsome Assistant and I looked at each other. We knew now what we had to do.

Plants and Herbs

Grape Folklore & Magical Properties

September 13, 2023September 11, 2023 J.4 Comments

It’s the most wonderful time, of the year.

Okay, so.
There’s a new fruit quest. (If you have been reading here for a while, you might be familiar with the persimmon quest that I force my Handsome Assistant to accompany me on every year.)

A year ago, I tried my first muscadine. It was almost the size of a wild plum, the deep purple of a cloudless night sky, with firm flesh that tasted like a combination of grape jelly and extremely good wine. It was sweet and juicy, in perfect, balanced contrast to the firm, tart, slightly tannin-y skin. I could probably wax rhapsodic about muscadines and scuppernongs for way longer than anyone would be comfortable with.

Anyhow, I saw them pop up at the farmer’s market at about $13 a container and was sad to pass them up. Immediately after that, I saw them at Aldi for about $3.69. (_^Nice^_.)

Normally, I’d advocate for buying from farmer’s markets versus a supermarket whenever you’re able to. The thing about muscadines is that their range is very limited, so even the grocery store variety has traveled, at max, a few states away. They’re also seasonal, so they’ll disappear from the shelves as soon as their time is up.

This is why the other evening saw me leaving Aldi with arms full of containers of muscadines and scuppernongs (they’re the same species, but scuppernong is usually used for muscadine grapes that are kind of a light bronzy-green in color). I was also quietly singing a little song about how excited I was to have tasty grapes, and possibly skipping. (I am fortunate that my Handsome Assistant seems to find my goofball-ass qualities endearing.)

So, since it’s muscadine season, I figured I’d write a bit about grapes. Muscadines (Vitis rotundifolia) are strictly an American fruit, so they’re another plant you won’t find in old grimoires or European mythology, but that’s okay! They’re a kind of grape (Vitis species), and grapes in general have had a prominent place in myth and magic everywhere they appear.

Grape Magical Uses and Folklore

Grapes figure heavily in Greek and Roman legend. According to the Greeks, the first grapevine came from a satyr named Ampelos. He caught Dionysus’ eye, and the deity romantically pursued him… at least, until Ampelos mocked the Moon Goddess Selene and got himself gored by a bull. Heartbroken, Dionysus transformed Ampelos’ body into the first grapevine.

(According to Ovid, things panned out a bit differently. In this version, grapes already existed, Ampelos fell while picking them, died, and Dionysus transformed him into a constellation.)

In Christian mythology, grapes are associated with abundance. Moses sent spies into Canaan (the “promised land”), who then returned with a cluster of grapes so large, it required two people to lift it.

On the other hand, some scholars claim that the “forbidden fruit” of the Garden of Eden was also a grape, not an apple as it’s commonly portrayed. Other scholars claim it may even have been wheat, so who knows.

Two bunches of grapes. They're a mixture of ripe and unripe fruits, showing shades of deep blue, to purple, to bright green.

In the ogham alphabet, muin, is often said to be a grape vine. However, grapes aren’t native to Ireland (they showed up with the Romans), and tend not to grow well there anyhow. Grapes also don’t really appear in Celtic legends with significance. Etymologically, connecting muin to the word “vine” is also tricky. For this reason, you’ll find a lot of debate about the actual meaning of this fid, as well as what plant it was even meant to represent in the first place. (Probably originally thorny brambles, like blackberries, though this meaning may have shifted over time.)

Grapes and wine are also generally good offerings for a wide variety of spirits and deities.

Vines, in general, are associated with binding. This isn’t necessarily binding in a negative or protective sense — binding can also be used to hold a favorable situation to you.

Elementally, grapes are associated with Earth and Water. They’re also associated with the Moon.

Using Grapes

They’re…
They’re grapes.

All kidding aside, grapes are possibly one of the easiest magical plants to use. Eat, brew, or cook with them while visualizing yourself as prosperous and happy.

If you have the space and ability to do it, plant a grape vine in your yard to bring abundance to your home. (This may work even better than intended. Birds love grapes as a source of both energy and water, and tend to excrete more seeds when they hang out to feed. This is how I ended up with free, thriving tomato and mulberry plants, and possibly even the pumpkin vine. Free food!)

Grape vines make fantastic bases for wreaths. I’d like to devote a longer post to making and empowering magical wreaths, but, in short, take a grapevine wreath, add whatever other magical dried plants or curios you like, and hang it where it’ll do the most good. A protective wreath on the front door, for example, one for prosperity in the kitchen, or one for passion or fertility in the bedroom.

Though it also isn’t one of their traditional meanings, I also associate grapes with protection. Dark grapes make red wine, the color of courage, strength, vitality, and protection. The leaves themselves are covered in trichomes, which are small, pointy, hairlike structures. Covering the floor around your bed with grape leaves is said to be a folk remedy to control and protect against crawling pests like bedbugs.

Whether you’re like me (and do a goofy little happy dance when you’ve gotten special grapes) or your feelings about the fruit are more ambivalent, grapes are worth considering for your magical practice. They’re sweet, tasty, easy to use, and pretty straightforward in their properties and associations.

life · Neodruidry

“Going within” and “seeking inner wisdom” are mostly code for boredom, tbh.

September 12, 2023September 6, 2023 J.Leave a comment

I’ve spoken in the past about some of the issues that I’ve had with various types of meditation. I don’t really get on with a lot of mindfulness meditation, because anxiety and panic disorder make it so that I’m already detrimentally hyper-aware of my breathing and heartbeat. Being instructed to focus on my breathing is a bit like telling a drowning person to take a relaxing bath.

I was introduced to a different type of meditation through a course of Druid study that I’m working on. It’s discursive meditation, and it involves many of the same key ideas as mindfulness, with one big difference. You’re still training your mind to focus, let irrelevant thoughts pass by, and gently return from wandering. The difference is that you choose a subject for your meditation to focus on. Thoughts and ideas related to this subject are desirable, and you just return to the subject at hand if you find yourself going off on a tangent.

It’s a great way to really let yourself play in a space and do a deep dive into a specific subject. It’s included as part of these studies because so much of ancient Druidry is coded in oral traditions, which means that what the tiny bit that was actually recorded was often through a poetic, mnemonic lens designed to help Druid scholars remember all of the information they were expected to know. The idea is that so many of these ancient ideas require pondering to get their meanings, and discursive meditation is a way to achieve this.

It’s a bit like if the US ceased to exist, and the only historical record of it was that Animaniacs song about state capitals. It’s not a lot of information on the surface, but some deep dives could still give you something to work with.

Consider Bríatharogaim. These are two-word kennings designed to explain the meanings of the names of the letters of the ogham. Like saille, willow, is “pallor of a lifeless one.”

Saliax alba, white willow. — I could see it.

The thing is, brains are characteristically not good at staying on one subject. That’s why, like uncooperative puppies, they need to be led back now and then. Brains are not good at boredom., because boredom feels uncomfortable.

The trick is understanding that boredom isn’t bad.

“Profound boredom” is actually an important component of creativity. Forcing oneself to sit with a single subject and exhaust all possible tangents related to it is how breakthroughs happen.

If you’re meditating for the purpose of going within and seeking inner wisdom, this state of profound boredom is the nug. It’s the fertile ground where the good stuff comes from. If you think of it in terms of seasons, profound boredom is the fallow period. It’s the late autumn to early spring when the leaves all fall, break down, and enrich the soil. Without profound boredom, your brain dirt gets all bad.

It doesn’t even require a lot of boredom. Thus far, in my experience, thirty minutes of discursive meditation is sufficiently boring to yield about two paintings, some prose, and a few lines of poetry. If I have a specific problem, I get solutions. Everyone should be more bored more often, because being bored on purpose rules.

The difference lies in the difference between the kind of boredom you get in, say, a waiting room, and the kind of boredom you experience when you focus on a single topic. A waiting room’s boredom isn’t helpful because it’s anxiety-provoking. There’s no opportunity to relax and give your mind room to be profoundly bored, because your name might get called at any minute. The freed-up brainspace isn’t focused on creativity, it’s focused on vigilance. Being bored in the comfort of your own home, on your own timetable, though? Chef’s kiss.

To go within is to seek out this fallow period that allows new things to spring forth. Inner wisdom lies in boredom.

life · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Frederick Pagan Pride 2023

September 11, 2023September 10, 2023 J.Leave a comment

It’s just this past Saturday, and my Handsome Assistant and I pull up to the Unitarian Universalist Church in Frederick, MD. The friendly young people attending the lot tell us there aren’t any parking spaces left. We’ll have to go to the lot a mile down the road, they direct us, and take the shuttle.

Personally, I’m shocked. It’s only a quarter past ten, how could the lot be full already?

A rustic pendant made of copper, quartz crystall, and azurite malachite on a copper chain.

They weren’t kidding, though. Even the other lot was filling up, and the shuttle was almost completely full as we rode back. The grounds themselves were ringed with vendors, information booths, and more — there was Tempered Raven, who hand-forges beautiful blades There were so many booths of jewelry (I bought a beautiful quartz, azurite malachite, and copper necklace from Unclaimed Treasures). There were herbs, incenses, soaps, pottery, handmade brooms and whisks, woodcarvings, altar supplies, and amazing desserts. There was even free coffee, tea, and cold brew from the awesome people at Stone Circle Council (check them out — they do some very cool things).

A handmade ceramic watercolor palette with eight wells. — I also picked up a handmade palette. It’s intended for watercolor, but I’d like to see how it does with casein. Casein paint dries out so fast and softens up with a bit of water, so working with it is a bit more like gouache than acrylic. I’m thinking a glazed surface will be perfect!

There were also loads of workshops and live music. It was busy, it was vibrant, it was great. I always regret not taking more pictures of the event itself, but I always feel a bit odd about snapping pics of people unaware. (Sure, there’s no expectation of privacy in public, but something being legal doesn’t preclude it from being a bit of a dick move, you know?)

The busyness was at once a wonderful sign, and an unfortunate one.

On the one hand, it’s great that events like this are attracting a bigger audience. Aside from vendors of beautiful crafts and delicious food, there are lots of tables for different Pagan, metaphysical, and mystical organizations. If you’re looking for a path to call to you, or people to network with, this is the place to find that thing. In an era where social media has allowed — even encouraged — the proliferation of misinformation that’s unhelpful at best and dangerous at worst (and don’t get me started on AI generated books), it’s really nice that there’s still a wonderful variety of actual organizations dedicated to study and practice.

Last year, I got a little emotional about how events like Pagan Pride make me feel about community, aging, and tradition. It’s a feeling I hope everyone gets to experience at least once.

On the other hand, a big part of the reason for this large audience is that two other Pagan Pride events — the one in DC, and one in Manassas, VA — effectively no longer exist. A friend pointed out that they’d even contacted the coordinators of the DC pride event and hadn’t heard anything back at all. As if the email address was going unchecked. I looked up information on Manassas everywhere I could, but it was pretty scarce. The last event seemed to be in 2019, and the 2022 event was cancelled. According to their Facebook, they weren’t able to hold one in 2023.

A lot of Pagan community organizers seem to be either getting burned out (with everything else going on right now, who can blame them? Add the often-thankless work of organizing to the struggles everyone else is dealing with right now, and it’s completely understandable) or just aging out of their roles. All of the organizations I know, even the ones I’m a part of, operate on budgets that would make a shoestring look luxurious by comparison.

It’s something I’d love to help with, but I’m not really sure where to start. I’ve often said that, if I were handed enough money to live off of for the rest of my life, I’d put it into a small house on a large piece of property. I’d rewild as much as I could and put it under a conservation easement. Some, I’d want to guide into operating as a permaculture food forest (I have tiny fantasies of adopting a rescue donkey or small pony, having them carry a basket, and walking around with them to pick fruits and vegetables). The rest, I’d want to make into an event space for musicians, dancers, and events like Pride. I have no heirs, so, when I died, I’d will it back to whatever Indigenous group formerly held it. In the meantime, I’d want it to be a place for community members to interact — flora, fauna, and human alike.

I mean, I feel like I’m basically describing a two-person commune, but I feel like you get the gist.

I suppose what I’m saying is that it’s a shame that the world has done us up all wretched, and I wish I knew how to take on some of the burden of organizing and setting up events like this with the resources that I already have. (A tiny yard, most of which is steeply uphill, an even tinier bank account, and massive social anxiety).

In the meantime, support your local Pagan organizations and artisans, yeah?

life

Vibe with me!

September 8, 2023September 7, 2023 J.Leave a comment

My house is not very large. Really, it’s the perfect size — with just my Handsome Assistant and I, there’s no need for tons of rooms. We were also fortunate that the previous owners really maximized the crap out of the space here. Everywhere that could be finished and turned into living space, has been.

Our attic is a loft with a skylight. Since the ceiling was low, it made sense to make it the room we’d spend the least amount of awake, moving around time in: the bedroom. Since there’s no paint trick or wallpaper in the world that will turn a loft with knee walls into a spacious, cathedral-ceilinged abode, I leaned into the tiny, cozy vibes hard.

Small lanterns with warm lights cast shadows like candle flames. I took the janky, stuck doors off of the built-in storage and replaced them with a curtain rod and soft, light-colored curtains. The bed area itself is separated from the rest of the room by several deliberately mismatched, vintage lace curtains in shades of cream and off-white. The floor is covered in layers of rugs in a variety of textures, to give it more depth and interest. The bed is dressed in satiny black and ivory sheets and a silk-stuffed comforter. It feels almost like glamping, or like a very luxurious treehouse. Like a small, exceedingly comfy nest tucked away at the top of the house.

(We’re having a replacement window put in. Soon as that’s done, I’m definitely posting some pictures!)

Lately, I’ve been treating it more like a sanctuary than purely a sleeping space. I like to go there around sunset, because the small window beside the bed has a very nice view of the west. I light incense, I take out my tarot cards, Lenormand deck, runes, or ogham staves. I put on some Faun or The Moon & The Nightspirit. I soak up the atmosphere, do some divination. It’s really nice.

There’s a limit to how much divination I can usefully do for myself, friends, and family, though. So, to take advantage of the very late summer and early autumn vibes and give me a bit more to do, I’ve put all of the divination in my Etsy shop on sale at twenty percent off. If you see something that calls to you, I’d be happy to make space for your questions.

Let’s vibe in the sunset. It’s nice here.

Plants and Herbs

Milkweed Folklore & Magical Properties

September 6, 2023September 3, 2023 J.2 Comments

I planted a swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) in the back yard not too long ago. Though I did it well after I could hope for monarch butterflies, I still wanted one of these beautiful, interesting native plants. (Besides, they’re perennials — if it could survive this year, there’ll be plenty of plant for the monarch babies next year!)

It was blooming happily, playing host to all kinds of tiny fauna, and finally put out lots of big, fat pods. Apparently it wanted to wait until the recent supermoon to bust those suckers open, because that whole part of the yard is inundated with milkweed fluff!

Flat, brown milkweed seeds, showing their tassels of silky white fluff.

I gathered a good quantity of the fluff and seeds to save, share, and use for various purposes. So, I figured, now’s probably a good time to write about this lovely plant’s magical properties!

Like many of the plants I choose to explore, this one’s native to the Americas. That means that you won’t see it in a lot of older folk or ceremonial magic resources. This plant is still powerful, however, and has a lot to offer practitioners in its native range.

Milkweed’s Magical Uses and Folklore

Like I mentioned, milkweed produces tons of fluff. This fluff appears as silky white tassels on its seeds and helps them disperse via wind — just like dandelions. If you catch a floating milkweed seed, make a wish, then release it to go along its merry way, its said that your wish will come true.

Milkweed fluff can also be used as filling for pillows, sachets, and poppets. Thistledown is a traditional poppet filling, but, if you don’t live in an area with abundant thistles, milkweed fluff can be used as a substitute.

Filling a dream pillow with milkweed fluff is said to cause the user to dream of the fae.

The juices of the milkweed plant, when used for anointing, are said to strengthen one’s “third eye.” (However, these juices are also irritating, so maybe just place a whole leaf or sprig of flowers to your forehead instead.)

In World War II, military life jackets were filled with milkweed fluff as an alternative to kapok (Ceiba pentandra).

Milkweed’s genus, Asclepias, was named for Asclepius. He’s the Greek God of Healing, and a son of Apollo.

Though it’s associated with a god of Healing, one of milkweed’s primary virtues is its toxicity. When monarch caterpillars feed on milkweed, they take in the plant’s toxins. This, in turn, makes the vulnerable caterpillars toxic and unpalatable to predators. As a result, milkweed is associated with protection.

There’s also a very fine line between “poison” and “medicine.” To the people indigenous to milkweed’s native range, milkweed sap was used to remove warts. Boiling helps leach out the toxins in the plant’s sap, and cleaned up extracts of milkweed proved useful for respiratory ailments, sore throats, and kidney problems. Some of the toxins in milkweed sap are cardiac glycosides, which, in small doses, behave similarly to the digitalin extracted from foxglove (genus Digitalis).

Milkweed is a very liminal plant. Swamp milkweed (A. incarnata) can be found at the edges of wetlands, where the water meets the land. Common milkweed (A. syriaca) often grows in disturbed areas, like roadsides.

Milkweed is associated with the Moon and the element of Earth. (Personally, I also associated swamp milkweed with water.)

Using Milkweed

Milkweed’s a really lovely plant, though it can also be hazardous to work with if you aren’t careful. Personally, I limit myself to the flowers, fluff, and seeds — I have sensitive skin, and the last thing I want to worry about is getting milkweed sap on myself!

The fluff is really lovely as a filling for poppets and dream pillows. Blend it with herbs like mugwort, hops, and lavender, and add a clear Herkimer quartz crystal for a wonderful dream pillow that’ll help improve dream recall and make it easier to dream lucidly.

The seeds, like a lot of native American seeds, need to be stratified. That means that they’re great to use for sowing rituals during the colder months — the winter solstice, for example.

Seeds are a great spell component in general, because they embody as-yet-unrealized potential. They’re a bit of sympathetic magic, too. As the seed grows, so will the thing you hope to get from your spell.

Milkweed seeds are also flat, so they’re nice to incorporate into homemade paper. Once the paper’s used, you can plant it and allow the seeds to grow. Just make sure that you’re using varieties native to your area!

The pink flower clusters of A. incarnata.

Milkweed is a beautiful, protective plant that has much to offer those who can get past its defense mechanisms. Inside those pods, protected by poisonous, milky-white sap, is an abundance of silky, silvery fluff and seeds. If you have the ability to grow or otherwise hang out with milkweed, I highly recommend it.

Plants and Herbs

I decided to eat the anise hyssop (and here’s a really tasty recipe).

September 5, 2023September 3, 2023 J.Leave a comment

Not too long ago, I wrote a bit about the magical properties of hyssop. The thing that prompted me to do this was the ludicrous abundance of anise hyssop blooms (and also bees, moths, and butterflies) in the little pollinator garden in the front yard.

Anise hyssop and regular hyssop aren’t related, though. Anise hyssop, also called anise mint, is a member of the mint family. It’s called “anise hyssop” because the leaves and flowers have an anise-like scent and flavor — though I think it’s more reminiscent of root beer!

Anyhow, since some of the anise hyssop was getting tall enough to block the coreopsis and beautyberry, I figured I’d go harvest some. Sickle in hand, I shooed the bees to the other anise hyssop plants and got cutting. I also cut a few lavender flowers that were growing at odd angles.

From there, I separated the good leaves from the wilted or damaged ones, and removed the flower heads. I gave everything a good wash, then boiled it in equal parts sugar and water to make a lovely, herb-infused simple syrup.

A bowl of small, bright purple flowers and green leaves soaking in water.

Once the syrup was made, I strained out the plant matter and spread it on a bit of parchment paper in my dehydrator. After an hour and a half at 165 degrees F, once everything was dried to a crisp, I was left with some lovely candied flowers that do, in fact, taste exactly like root beer.

Anise hyssop is used as a carminative and expectorant, and is very soothing. I don’t really need an expectorant right now, but I plan to use the flowers and syrup to ease digestive complaints. The only thing is, I don’t really need that much. So what do I do when I’ve got way more delicious candied flowers than I need?

I make scones.

These are easy, nut-, egg-, and dairy-free, and delicious. They only require one bowl and about half an hour of your time.

Blackberry and Anise Hyssop Scones

Dry Ingredients:

2 cups of flour (I used einkorn, but regular wheat flour is fine)
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon flaxseed meal
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup cold vegan butter or coconut oil
1 handful fresh anise hyssop flowers
1 generous cup of blackberries (depending on their size, you may want to cut them into smaller pieces)

Wet ingredients:

1/2 cup milk substitute of your choice (I used pea milk)
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

Tools:

A nice big mixing bowl
A spoon
A whisk or fork
A pastry cutter or fork (optional)
Measuring cups and spoons
A baking sheet
A sharp knife

Making the Scones

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.
Place the sugar and fresh anise hyssop flowers in your mixing bowl.
Rub them together with your hands, until the flowers are mashed with the sugar and the mixture resembles moist sand.
Add the flour, flaxseed meal, and baking powder. Whisk together until well mixed.
Add the cold butter substitute or coconut oil. (You might want to do this in cubes or spoonfuls, it’ll make the next bit easier.) Use a fork, pastry cutter, or just your hands to work the fat into the dry ingredients. Keep at it until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs.
Measure out a half cup of milk substitute. Add the vanilla extract to the milk and stir.
Pour your milk into the mixing bowl. Stir until it’s just combined — avoid over stirring. If it seems too dry to hold together, add another tablespoon or two of milk.
Fold in your blackberries.
With floured hands, lightly knead the dough until it all comes together. Visualize yourself kneading health, love, and prosperity into the dough.
Turn the dough out onto a floured surface. Form it into a ball, and pat it out into a flat circle roughly an inch thick.
Slice it into triangles. If you like, you can use a toothpick or the tip of a knife to carve the tops with runes, sigils, ogham feda, or other symbols significant to you.
Place the triangles on a baking sheet. Bake for about 25 minutes, or until they’re golden brown.

Unbaked blackberry scone dough, formed into a circle, cut into triangles, and inscribed with the runes jera, sowilo, teiwaz, uruz, algiz, and laguz.

Making Them Extra Fancy

If you like, you can also ice your scones. Mix up a cup of confectioner’s sugar, two tablespoons of milk substitute, and, if you like, some finely crumbled candied anise hyssop leaves and flowers. Stir well until the mixture is smooth and liquid. If it seems too thick, add some more milk substitute. If it’s too thin, add more sugar.

Once your scones are cool (give them about 20 minutes), drizzle the icing on with a spoon. Give the icing a few minutes to harden, then serve.

A baked scone, inscribed with the rune uruz and covered with a sweet glaze.

Witchcraft

Let the new moon wipe it away.

September 4, 2023September 7, 2023 J.2 Comments

I’ve been taking inventory. Thinking of stuff I want to change (well, mostly get rid of) with next week’s new moon.

I have times where I feel like I’m wearing memories like a lead apron. Protective in some ways, perhaps, but ultimately smothering, uncomfortable, and heavy. We don’t yet have ways to erase them, à la Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but man do I wish we did.

Sometimes, it almost feels like physically they have hooks in me. Nasty, twisting wires that seem to pull on my limbs, as if some invisible hand were trying to turn me into a marionette. It’s times like this that I can really see the tremendous value in cord cutting.

To that end, here’s a simple ritual for cutting unwanted connections and starting this moon cycle with a clean slate. I’ve written in the past about cord cutting to sever toxic familial ties, but this is a much more general practice that serves just as well as a kind of energy cleanse.

The Tools

A dull knife or knife-shaped object. I have a bone ceremonial knife, but a butter knife, rubber knife, or even a knife shape cut from cardboard will work. The important thing is that it does not have a sharp or serrated edge.
A candle. I typically use unaltered beeswax candles (hey, if it’s good enough for the bees, it’s good enough for me), but you can choose whatever wax or color feels correct to you. I’d suggest white (as a neutral color), black (as a neutralizing color), or red (as a strengthening color), myself.

That’s it!

The Process

Like I said, this is a very simple ritual.

Take a moment to take an inventory of yourself. Feel your physical body. If you can’t relax, that’s okay. Feel where tension, pressure, or “stuck” feelings seem to reside. Feel where you store stress.

Now consider your energetic body or aura. Feel out any inconsistencies. Are there any energetic cords or tethers?

Take the representation of the knife. Hold it an inch or so above your skin, parallel. Pass it over your entire body, as if you were shaving your aura. Picture this knife paring away whatever unwanted connections you may have.

As you do this, tell these connections goodbye. Affirm that your dealings with them are complete — they are severed from you and you are no longer connected. Continue this until you feel like you’ve removed all of the unwanted energies or tethers that you can.

A burning beeswax candle on a dark background.

Next, wipe the knife on the candle. Whatever energetic residue remains, just wipe it off on the wax. If the candle is in glass, wipe the knife off over the wick portion. Dust your hands off over it, too, for good measure. Anything that’s left that you don’t want, send it into the wax and wick.

Now, light the candle. Picture that energetic residue burning up like dust. There is nothing more for you to worry about, nothing more for you to do. The connections are cut, the slate is clean. You are free.

Allow the candle to burn completely if you wish, or snuff it. When you discard it, you can do so far from your home if you wish. It doesn’t require any special ceremony, as its job is finished — it has burned away the remains of the energy and connections that you don’t want. The less acknowledgement you give these things, the better.

If you use a cardboard representation of a knife, you can even burn that and scatter the ashes, too. Otherwise, just clean and cleanse your knife very well.

If you have any shielding or restorative meditative practices, now is a good time to do them. Removing these unwanted connections frees up energetic space, and it’s a good idea to either protect that space or have something good in mind to fill it up with.

Here’s hoping for a happy, refreshed moon cycle for everyone!

crystals

Selenite vs. Satin Spar: What’s the difference, and does it matter?

August 29, 2023August 23, 2023 J.Leave a comment

Oh, gypsum. You’re fertilizer, walls are made of you, you make tofu tofu, and you’re also some of the most coveted minerals on the crystal market.

If you like collecting or working with crystals, you’ve almost definitely seen it. It’s usually marketed as selenite (though it also frequently appears in flowerlike forms called desert roses).

There’s only one problem — like olive oil, wasabi, and citrine crystals, the selenite you know and love may not actually be selenite at all. This is another situation where mineral names and trade names collide, like you see with white turquoise.

Selenite is a very common name for gypsum in the crystal trade. It’s usually used to describe the fibrous, silky, silvery-looking form of gypsum sold as rough wands, polished wands, palm stones, or heart shapes. These stones have a silvery sheen and a decidedly lunar feel, so the name selenite makes sense, right?

Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated than that.

Selenite vs Satin Spar

Okay, so. Selenite and satin spar are both the same mineral: gypsum. Gypsum is a variety of calcium sulfate, so it’s pretty common. There’s a good chance you live in it, and an even better one that you’ve eaten it before. No big deal.

The difference between selenite and satin spar lies entirely in how they form.

A hand holding a thin satin spar wand. The satin spar is slightly translucent and exhibits a silvery-white color overall. — A “selenite wand” (that’s actually satin spar), showing satin spar’s characteristic fibrous, satiny appearance.

Satin spar forms as thin, fibrous crystals. If you’ve ever seen it crumble (which isn’t uncommon to observe — gypsum is soft), you might have noticed that the remnants look more like small splinters. This gives this mineral a silky, translucent appearance with a silvery sheen. It usually exhibits chatoyancy, or a “cat’s eye” effect. Because of how it forms, this is the mineral that you usually see sold as “selenite wands,” palm stones, or charging bowls.

A roughly rectangular selenite plate balanced on a hand. The hand is visible through the selenite, save for a few areas where healed fractures or inclusions give the stone a slightly cloudy appearance. — A selenite plate, displaying its transparency.

Actual selenite forms as sheets. It’s usually transparent and colorless, though it may have impurities that give it a cloudy appearance. It’s much rarer than satin spar and is usually sold as flat specimens. The way it fractures means that it isn’t a good choice for carving into wands. Its unique crystal form is best exhibited as-is, though you may see it sold as charging plates.

Are there any other important differences?

Nope. The chemical composition, hardness, solubility, and everything else is completely the same. The only differences are clarity, fracture planes, and formation.

What about metaphysical uses?

Satin spar and selenite are used identically. They’re both considered very high-energy crystals that are used to cleanse rooms, people, and objects, or even cleanse and charge other crystals. If you have a selenite that you’ve suddenly realized is actually satin spar, that’s okay. There’s virtually no metaphysical difference between the two.

Does the difference matter?

If you work with crystals in a magical or metaphysical sense, then no. The usage, properties, and care instructions for satin spar and selenite are exactly the same.

If you collect minerals or have some specimens that you plan to sell to gem collectors, then yes. Selenite is rarer than satin spar. It forms and looks differently. If you have satin spar in your collection, and you want to find a piece of actual selenite, you’d be pretty disappointed to find that all of the “selenite” on the market is just more satin spar!

Should I call my specimen selenite, or satin spar?

I’m all for accuracy, so I prefer to call selenite selenite, and satin spar satin spar. However, I also get that “selenite” has been a trade name for satin spar for a long time now, and me taking a pedantic stand isn’t likely to change that.

Like I said, it might be a good idea to remember that there is a difference. In magical and metaphysical circles, nobody’s that likely to care much. In gem collecting circles, people are more likely to use the term that’s more technically correct.

If you want to split the difference, you could call satin spar “satin spar selenite.” This isn’t really right, but it probably has the best shot at ensuring that the person you’re talking to knows what you mean.

Or just call them all gypsum and let everyone else figure it out.