Getting the Sight

Getting the Sight.  It’s a bit like getting your period.  Those of us who don’t have it, want it.  Those of us who do have it, find it’s messy and makes other folks uncomfortable when we try to talk about it.

My take on it all may not align with other folks’ views.  And that’s okay.  As with all Things Magic ™, even wildly different takes can all be “right,” and you should winnow out what works for you.  Find your own truth; I’ll be cheering you on.

Given that, here are my thoughts on it:  I think the potential for the Sight is within each and every one of us.

In some, it’s a full-blown ability that leads us around by the nose, and if we’re not careful we’re self-medicating with sex, booze and rock and roll.  Or spending our time in institutions.

Others of us listened and believed it when our parents said there is no “monster” under the bed.  As kids, we’re designed to learn and fit in.  So over time (and with a thick enough application of logic), we’re able to stuff the ability down into a box and explain it away.  It’s the miracle of cognitive dissonance – when we see something we can’t explain, we rationalize it into something believable.  And the more uncomfortable it makes us, the harder our brains will work to “fix it.”

So if you want to coax the Sight out and use it comfortably, it may take some work.  Here are some things that I’ve seen help:

1)      Change your filters.  Practice accepting what you see at face value, and being okay with that.  For this, I think the best exercise ever is Phil Hines’ “What’s in the Box.”  You’ll have to scroll down to see the exercise — it’s under the heading Psychic Sensitivity Exercises.

2)      Recognize what stands out.  Our monkey-selves are programmed to recognize patterns, and to see when “one of these things is not like the others.”  It works when we’re learning to read, and it can work for you in this instance, too.

Start by making some type of acknowledgement every time you see something “significant.”  Don’t try to rationalize what significant is; just go with your gut instinct.  I developed the habit of making the sign of the mano fico with my hand, and kissing my knuckle whenever I saw something significant.  The first few days I was kissing my hand constantly.  If I asked myself “is that significant?”  then the very act of asking made it so, and I kissed my hand.  After a few days, things settled out, and my subconscious self got better at separating the wheat from the chaff.

3)      Sharpen your focus.  Not only do you want to See, you want to See clearly.  Jason Miller of Strategic Sorcery is your friend here.  Practice his exercise on folding reality (pick up at the paragraph beginning, “in this exercise you should face a wide vista”).

4)       Install some controls.  Once you start Seeing things, you’ll probably wish the Sight came with an on/off switch.  Good idea!  Better install one.

What has worked for me is to think of my third eye as being the center where the Sight comes from, and to think of it as having a dimmer switch – like the ones on light fixtures.

I can dial it up for maximum “on-ness,” down for “off,” or anywhere in between.  (Which can be a great relief on those nights when you really don’t want to See One. More. Thing.)  I’ll readily admit, this sounds über goofy, but thinking about it like that, and practicing turning it up and down helped me get a handle on things when I really wanted one.  Who am I to argue with success?

Maybe it will help to get a refresher on your third eye:

The third eye – also known as the pineal gland – is nestled between the right and left lobes of your brain.  You can see it as the little red dot in the spinning skull above.  (Many thanks to Anatomography, as maintained by Life Science Databases(LSDB), and to Wikipedia Commons for making this image available for use here.)

If you put your finger on your forehead between and slightly above your eyebrows, you can imagine the pineal gland in your brain behind your finger.  Or you can imagine it peeking out the top of your head, from between the two halves of your brain.  Both are right.  The little bugger is actually light-sensitive, so it’s pretty logical to call it a third eye.  And I swear, if you think about it just right, you can make it wink.  (No, really.  Although no telling who or what you’d attract when doing it!)

Now that you’ve been reminded where your third eye is, with practice you should be able to work out how to turn the “volume” up and down for yourself.

5)      Make some breathing space.  Sometimes (and by this, I really mean Some Times of the Year) things get a little busy, and it’s hard not to See stuff, and you may really just want a little peace from it all.  So remember you can make yourself a little breathing space.  Here are some of good go-tos:

- For pulling out all the stops, Paul Hume’s Witches’ Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram is classic.  It’s his adaptation of the Golden Dawn’s LBRP, using deities rather than archangels.   This makes a lovely clearing.  Please note, however, that if it works for you the way it does for me, you’ll have to come to terms with things,  their noses pressed against the boundaries, looking in at you.

- The inestimable Phil Hines includes a simple but beautiful clearing in his discussion of banishing rituals/centering.

- Scylla at Root and Rock, has a good, Carmina Gaedelica-inspired Curse against the Evil Eye (and while what we’re dealing with here isn’t the evil eye,  this curse will clear the space).  While I haven’t used the whole of it, I often — with great satisfaction — use the end bit of it, which I pare down to:

I subdue thee  (mano cornuto, horns up)

I supress thee (mano fico, fig down)

I banish thee (flip the bird)

The options truly are endless.  Smudge, shake your fist, draw a banishing pentagram, whatever works best for you.

As I mentioned earlier, these are all things I’ve seen work, but by no means the only things that would.  If something else has worked well for you and you’d like to share it — or share your experiences in general –please feel free to put them in a comment.  Your thoughts may help others!

All of this addresses how get the Sight, but not what to do with it once you’ve got it.  That’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish, and I leave it to each of you to chart your own course.   A word of warning:  you would do well to be wary of all strangers, be they Worldly, or Otherworldly.  So my advice is to:

-          Be courteous.

-          Be careful of what you offer or take.

-          Did I mention be courteous?

In the next post, I’ll talk about some commonalities of the Sight, as collected from a small group of folks over the years.  Until then, best of wishes to you all on getting your Sight!

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Nake Up

May Day is drawing near, so you won’t be a bit surprised to hear that I’m thinking about nakedness.  After all, I loves me a good May Day romp through the woods, what with them phalluses (uh … phalli?) and all.

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Naked is good.

Interestingly, naked isn’t just about not having any clothes on.  One of my favorite occult resources, Etymonline, has this to say about the origins of the word:

naked (adj.)  Old English nacod “nude, bare; empty,”

In the rush to May Day, it’s easy to overlook that “empty” aspect of naked.

I can take all my clothes off, but if I’m not in a receptive state — if I’m not empty — I’m not truly naked.

Okay, that sounded waaay dirty.

Let me try it another way.  For purposes of interacting with the Otherworld, if I’m not in a state of open receptivity, holding myself free of expectations, the quality of my connection to the unknown is going to be poor to none.

Which adds a new layer to the concept of ”naked in your rites.”   For me, I find the perfect blend of nakedness to be:

• having no clothes on (and thus no adjusting, fidgeting, stepping on hems or setting my garmets on fire, with that added pinch of naughtiness that makes my subconscious sit up and beg),

• having my hair bound up (hair also being flammable, and mine being so very long a fair amount of wrangling is required to keep it out of the flame),

• being a tabula rasa.  A blank slate.  Not that I don’t know what I mean to accomplish in ritual, but that I try to let the experience speak for itself.

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And what kind of witch would I be if I wasn’t curious enough to keep reading through *all* the entries Etymonline had for naked? As a result, I found this gem:

nake (v.) “to make naked,”

A wonderful new word to wield around the coffee shop.  Not to mention, the pith of a catchy post title, to lure other curious witches in for a visit!

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Casting souls before the Wild Hunt

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The faint scent of fall is in the air, and because of it, my mind has turned to thoughts of Hallowmas and the Wild Hunt.  This year more so than usual, because my husband’s father died earlier this year.

It got me to thinking about public and private forms of grieving.  In my neck of the woods, you’re meant to buck up in public, and keep outward forms of grief to yourself.  Excepting the funeral, there are no public rites for grief and release.

Some will say grief is best left to counselors and other qualified experts, rather than kept with friends and family — in effect “sanitizing” the grieving process, to make it comfortable for the masses.  But life’s a messy business, and if you aren’t in touch with that reality, I’m not convinced you’re doing it right.

A ritual surfaced, buoyed up by all these musings.  It fills in a gap for me and mine.  Maybe it will fill one for you, too:

Start with a cauldron full of easy-to-string beads, set in the center of your work space.  It helps if everyone brings a cup to scoop out their beads.  Have a knife or some scissors handy, and some red thread made of natural fiber (cotton embroidery floss does the trick nicely).  This rite works best with a relatively small group; too many and the rite loses steam.

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Everyone should scoop some beads out of the cauldron, and string their beads onto the thread, to make a loop of meditation beads.  It doesn’t really matter how many beads you scoop up.  Bracelet- or necklace-sized, either is fine.  Tie off the loop with three knots.  Why three?   Because three is a number infused with mythic properties.  To most folks, three just feels right.

For this rite, the string of beads represents the life of your Loved One.

Now arrange yourselves around the cauldron, and take several steps backwards to that you end up with plenty of space between you and the persons next to you.  During the ritual, you’ll gradually move closer and closer to the cauldron, and to each other.

Decide whether you’ll be moving deasil or widdershins.   Pick the direction that feels right to the group — don’t agonize over this, just go with your first answer.  Decide on who will speak first.  With these two decisions in hand, you’re ready to start.

Hold the beads to your forehead, close your eyes and think about your Loved One.  Let your emotions flow, and allow yourself to rock back and forth in place, in an age-old motion of comfort.   After everyone’s had a chance to get settled in, the first person speaks, using something like the following formula:

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“For the love of (say the Loved One’s name here)”

followed by a word describing the Loved One

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Everyone will chant this, so it’s best to keep it simple.  For instance, if I’m mourning Abraham Lincoln, I might say “For the love of Abe the Bold.”

The next person takes up the chant, saying “Abe the Bold.”  It helps to speak in rhythm with the rocking, for instance, saying “Abe” or the forward rock, and “the Bold” on the backward rock.

Let the chant go around the circle, while marking each chant off on your prayer beads.  You’re using the beads to keep yourself in a meditative state, so simply hold the beads in one hand, and let your thumb pull a bead forward with each chant.  Something like this.

When the chant goes around the circle to return its originator, that person says something like “Abe the Bold, now gone from us.”  Everyone takes a baby step forward, and the next person in line starts his chant.  If you’re all grieving for different people, you’ll each say a different name.  If you’re all grieving the same person, you’ll be saying the same name, but with a different descriptor each time.  You’ll start by standing apart from each other, and move closer and closer together, until your shoulders are touching.

Depending upon the size of your group, each person may start the chant once, or you may go around three times.  Whatever number you decide, when you’re done, take a moment of silence.

After the silence, each person should approach the cauldron and cut the thread, so that the beads fall loose back into the cauldron, saying something like “We will not walk this way again.”  Which is true, because no matter how many times you might do this, the combination of beads on each string, people present and words chanted will never be the same again.  And the thread is cut, just as the Loved One’s current life has ended.

Once everyone has returned their beads to the cauldron, someone should give the cauldron a good stirring, so that the beads are all mixed up.

If you subscribe to the idea that a person’s life force returns, to dissolve into a “Cosmic Soup” — a blend from which new souls will be dipped upon reincarnation, this imagery is pretty apt.  If this isn’t how you look at reincarnation, no matter.  Undeniably, the body’s return “ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” means your Loved One’s components are blending with and rejoining the material world.

Now, take up a new piece of thread and a new scoop of beads from the cauldron, saying something along the lines of “The Wheel of Life turns.  Now you are gone from me, but I will know you again.”

Be it so!

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Turned on my head

As you can tell from the date of my last post, I haven’t been writing here much.  Instead, I’ve been studying like a demon.  And yes, I can easily envision a demon studying.  It looks something like this:

I’m up to my elbows in books and practica.  And I’m loving every brain-sweat-filled moment.

A fellow on the internet recently shared a link to Seahenge gives up its secrets.   A newly-found archeological site containing 55 wooden posts surrounding an upturned oak were exposed when winter storms washed away a sand dune in Norfolk.

And now, finally, to the point.  Quoting from the article:

“Dr Francis Pryor, President of the Council for British Archaeology, believes the symbolism of the upside-down oak tree is very important to understanding the Bronze Age mind.”We often find everyday objects deliberately turned upside down at Bronze Age sites. The inverted oak is a very complex statement. It is the world turned upside down, just as death is an inversion of life.”From a ritual point of view it symbolises taking objects out of this world and placing them in the next.”

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Most of us are nodding about now.  Makes perfect sense.  In several cultures, the world tree is shown as inverted; Yggdrasil and Klipoth to name two.

I all but heard the popping sound of a lightbulb on going off.   A new layer of symbol and meaning I can add to how I make offerings.  Indoors, even in the presence of Aunt Albie, I can place offerings in a teacup, then turn cup over onto saucer with a murmer.  Turning the offerings “on their head” to send them on to the otherworld, along with my spoken words.

My outdoor offerings also take on new layers of meaning, as I now see that pouring out an offering inverts the contents.  (All you who already knew this can stop chuckling now.)

There are days I truly love witchcraft.  And this is one of them!

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Watch this — The Outcast

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The Outcast.  A supernatural horror film.  Full of witchcraft, but without any of the usual Hollywood fluff and hype.  Perhaps because it’s not from Hollywood — it was made with the participation of Bord Scannán na hÉireann (the Irish Film Board) and Scottish Screen.

This not sweetness-and-light-witchcraft.  If you’re disturbed by the darker side of witchcraft, this is not the movie for you.  If you’re open-minded, you’re in for one hell of a treat.

Set in a a run-down housing project in Scotland, this film vibrates with gritty realism.  Refreshingly, this movie doesn’t preach to us about right and wrong, and doesn’t ask for, or indeed make any apologies.  The witchcraft portrayed is visceral, sometimes brutal, but overwhelmingly matter-of-fact.

To read other reviews, try Beyond Hollywood, and Film School Rejects.  Or watch the trailer here.

Or see what you think for your own self.  You can watch streaming video from Netflix or Amazon.

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Bringing in the May

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The air is thick with smoke. Wisps of frankincense and benzoin, rose and vervain float by, and hands clasped, we follow. Cross right over left, to step to the right. The smoke swirls. Our steps quicken, and become a dance.

Ring around the Magister.

He sits at the center, decked in flowers and fresh cut greenery. Priapic wand in hand, he is the hub to our spokes. At his feet, a cauldron of wheat: the promise of crops we’ve sown.

The power builds, colored by the fragrant smoke. Well-watered with our sweat. Spiced with our merriment. We sing and chant, faster and faster, until we’re breathless. Now all there’s time for is “Horn rise! Crops grow!” The pressure builds to a cusp, and then a bit more. As we pass, we each take the garland from our head and thread it over the May Pole. And the Magister releases the energy of our dance — out and down — into the cauldron of grain.

The rite is worked; the tide turned.

Out and down we flow, into the soft night. Silent at first, still entranced, but soon coming back to earth. We pick up the threads of our separate lives. We laugh and talk and eat, our feast washed down with woodruff-infused mead.

We turn to home. For those who will it, to the arms of our sweethearts.

Lucky sweethearts, who help us bring in our May.

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Witch’s Milk

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Where I live, Spring has well and truly arrived.  As you can tell from the date of my last post, I had a long spell of focus inward this winter, centered around an older family member coming to live with us, sicken and pass on.  There was lots of magical work this Winter, but not a lot of writing.

So when Spring came ’round again, it was an especially welcome turning.  I’ve done all the spring things — taken a spring tonic, done a huge spate of spring cleaning, pulled all the gardens back into order, and ritually marked myself with Spring.

If you’re looking for a magical component to your spring, a few of us did something like this:

Prepare your space in the usual way.  As part of the set up, bless a cup of wine or other spirit (we used kahlua).  And place a pail of milk in the center of your workspace. We used fresh raw goat’s milk, but of course use whatever milk strikes you as right.

Set your witch’s knife on the floor, with the blade pointing towards the pail of milk.  Pace around the circle deasil, leaping over the knife as you come to it,* saying:

Milk flow

Strength grow

Power to the seed we sew

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Continue pacing and chanting until it feels done.  You’ll know.  End standing straddled over your knife, facing the pail.  Leaving your stance, add the blessed wine to the pail, stirring it in with your knife.  (Milk’s sticky, so you’ll probably want to have a moist napkin handy.)

Then, standing facing the pail, but on the right side of the knife, say:

I gird myself with the Powers of Spring!

Dip your fingers into the milk, and anoint yourself a la Cochran:

 

Left ear

Left eye

3rd eye

Right eye

Right ear

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Then, step over the knife as you would step up and over a stile, which might vary from person to person, but for me means facing my stile, resting my hand on the post (although we don’t have that luxury here!), stepping over with my left foot, stepping over with my right foot, perching right foot behind left foot, and gently spinning to face the pail.

Finish anointing, touching your:

Mouth

Right breast

Left ankle

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So girded, sit a moment and fortify yourself with a little witch’s milk.  Because here’s the thing:  with Spring comes a fresh stream of resources.  If you’re going to start something ambitious, you’ve got a limited window before you have to draw back and plan for Winter.  So use it well, and Good Fortune to your efforts!

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Inspired by Robin Artisson’s The Dance of the Witches: Opening the Devil’s Eye.

Bring forth the light

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This single night, this Season of Man,
We are the only gods; the universe is ours.
Behold our magnificence!
If we are diligent
And sacrifice all lesser concerns,
We may keep the light from dying
And our hearts from growing still
Until dawn,
When the gods return
To take the year from our narrow shoulders
And hurl it toward a season bright and fertile.

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For more of Gwion’s stirring poem, visit Sybil Drinkwalter at North of Berkeley.

Setting my light; may it blaze forth with all of yours.  Happy Winter Solstice!

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Planting the bann, a rite of passage

Bann – from O.E.bannan “to summon, command, proclaim”

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Most of us are slipping — unremarked and unsung – through the phases of our lives.  And by and large, our children are learning to do the same.  Frankly, we all deserve better.   I’m not sure which Muse is in charge of inspiring the writing of pagan rites of passage, but to that Worthy Being, I herewith offer up my thanks and praise.

Here then is a simple yet meaningful rite of passage for a child entering adolescence.  It’s a bit different from other pagan rites of passage.  For starters, it’s entirely self-directed.  The parents make the ritual and the items needed available to their child.  It should be left completely up to the child when, or even if to work the rite.

If the youngsters are shy, they can do the rite and never tell a soul.  If they are social butterflies, they can pick their moment, so that everyone knows what they are about to do, and celebrate with their family afterwards.

But the thing dearest to my own heart is that this ritual isn’t molded and sanitized into political correctness.  It’s a Real Thing ™, and I believe our children deserve more that is real and meaningful in their lives.

Since I have a son, I’ve written this for him.  But truth is it will work equally well for a young woman, and I’ve included notes along the way for a daughter.  This rite may be done at any point after the youth becomes physically capable of procreation.

For the Parents:

When your son reaches the onset of puberty, present him with a small knife, and a charm which has been threaded to wear around his neck.   In addition to whatever other witchy goodness you work into the charm, the charm will act as a signal.  Your son will wear it to announce he’s off to work this rite, and that you shouldn’t talk to him, or otherwise interact with him while he’s wearing it — he’s invisible.

I gave my son a hare’s foot charm.   The hare is a potent symbol of fertility; something I’m both delighted and terrified to contemplate in connection with my son.  As well, there’s folklore about witches traveling to the sabbat in the form of hares, so that they wouldn’t be recognized and burned at the stake for their wicked ways.  Perhaps they were wearing amulets made from the hares, as a signal to those who were in the know that they were off to the sabbat.

Now, about the knife:  the blade must contain iron, so that it will change the flow of energy where it touches.  For this purpose, it will help attract the attention of the Ancestors.  Steel knives will fit the bill, as steel is an alloy of iron and (usually) carbon.   Be sure to check your local laws regarding carrying knives in public, so your child doesn’t risk getting in trouble during this rite.  For instance, around here it’s illegal to carry a knife with a blade of over 5-1/2 inches.   If you’re dead set against using a knife for magic, you could certainly use some other iron tool.  But then again, if you believe a knife too sinister a tool for magical work, you’ll probably stop reading just about the time this starts to get interesting.

When you give these gifts to your son, he’ll need to know what they’re for.  Discuss it face-to-face, or hang these gifts on his doorknob in the dead of night along with a print-out of the instructions.  It is (of course) all up to you.  Do be sure to discuss any safety issues you have beforehand.  For instance, if you don’t want him leaving the house at midnight to do this, then better say so!  Remember — once your son is wearing the charm, you can’t communicate with him.  He’s “invisible.”

If your son makes it known to you in some fashion that he’s off to perform this rite, be prepared to welcome him home.  Once he’s returned and removed the charm, rise to meet him, offering him the first sip from a cup of wine, beer or other drink with spirit in it.   This can also be juice to which you’ve added a bit of activated yeast – a pinch of dried yeast, which has been added to a spoonful of slightly-hotter-than-body-temperature water along with a pinch of sugar, and left for a few minutes until it foams up.  A drink with “life” in it is especially appropriate for toasting you son’s change of status.

After he has taken the first sip, share the cup around in toast of his stepping over the threshold from childhood to adolescence.

For the Youth:

Take up your knife or other iron implement, as well as some of your own semen on a small piece of fabric or tissue.  From here on out we’ll call it your Seed, because that’s exactly what it is.  Tuck both Seed and knife somewhere handy, but out of sight — either a pocket or a small sack would be good – as you’ll need to take both of them with you for your rite.

Daughters, you’ll pack up your knife or iron implement, along with some of your menstrual blood on a small piece of fabric or tissue.  We’ll refer to this as your Tide, because your period follows a lunar cycle rather than a calendar month.  Blood is mostly made up of salt water, and your Tides, like the tides of the ocean, come in and out in response to the pull of the Moon.

Once you are wearing the charm, don’t speak, except to say the words of the rite itself.

After you’re out of your house, stop and take a moment to relax and gather yourself up – three deep breaths should do the trick.  This will help you to switch gears from your regular mindset into one better suited for ritual.

Walk to a tree that you like the looks of, and that doesn’t have any people near it.  Don’t spend a lot of time looking for the perfect tree.  What you want is to find a nice tree, perform a simple rite, and get home again, without speaking to anyone.   If you need to nod or smile in order to acknowledge someone who’s speaking to you, that’s fine.  Just do so and keep moving.  If you do have to speak, go home and try again another time.  If you’re interrupted during the actual rite, put things back the way you found them and find another tree.

Once you’ve found your tree, drop to your knees facing the tree, put your palms flat on the ground, and touch your forehead to the ground.  This is you greeting the tree, which is only polite, since it’s going to help with your rite.  Take your knife in your right hand (yes, even if you’re left-handed), and dig a small hole near the base of the tree.  The hole should be big enough to set the fabric holding your Seed (or Tide) into and deep enough that you can bring the soil back over it later so that your offering won’t be disturbed.

Plant your Seed or Tide in the hole.  Then, bend down so that your mouth is close to the hole, take a deep breath and, speaking softly but surely, say these words into the hole:

 “I am a now man”

Or, for you ladies:

“I am now a woman”

Cover the hole over with soil.  Place your palms on the ground and touch your forehead to the ground again, in leave-taking of the tree.  Walk away from the tree without looking back, return home without speaking to anyone, and don’t speak about the rite itself for at least one lunar month.

By announcing into the hole that you are a man or a woman, you are speaking to the Beloved Dead.  The Spirits Under the Mound.  Your Ancestors — those to whom you are related by blood, and those who inspire you.  Your announcement will travel to them through the roots of the tree.  They will hear you and recognize you by your offering who you are.  You are telling them that you are entering a new phase of your life, and they will stand ready to help you out.

In fact, that’s the origin of “knocking on wood” — folks rapping their knuckles on wood furniture or woodwork.  The wood was once a tree with roots that reached into the Underworld, and knocking upon it catches the attention of the Ancestors, so they hear you and help.   Going forward, if you need help or inspiration, don’t forget that not only do you have family and friends willing to help, you can ask your ancestors for help by knocking on wood.

Once you’ve crossed the threshold of your house and taken off your charm, you’re no longer “invisible” and free to speak and be spoken to.

May your Ancestors heap blessings upon your journey!

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©Trothwy 2011

Hot fresh witchcraft, with a prize inside

Drawn to a close – six Sundays of discussing Mastering Witchcraft and drinking tea with a group of fascinating witches.  Well, to be honest, most of us were drinking red wine, but we were sipping it from tea cups.  And some of the fascination came straight from Chapter 4 of the book.

I loved it.  So much so, that I’m bringing the fun to you.

Shortly, you’ll be able to read what well-known witches have to say on the concepts in Mastering Witchcraft.  I call them Celebrity Witches – high profile witches, who write, teach, speak and further the Craft in real and meaningful ways.  And that’s the tip of the iceburg, because to do those things well, they also have to be diligent practitioners of their arte ”off screen.”

These Celebrity Witches will be working from the same set of discussion points used in the book club meetings.*  Please chime in with your own thoughts and experiences.  In many cases the celebrities are following along, so ask questions, as well.  The answers may surprise you!

And to sweeten the honey jar further, there’s a prize.  (Rules apply, see below for details.) Every time you comment,** I’ll put your name in the hat.  If you plug the online discussion on your site, I’ll put your name in three times.†  At the end of the online discussion,†† I’ll draw a winner.  The lucky witch will receive a copy of Mastering Witchcraft, which Mr. Huson has autographed with the inscription “you need but ask, the way is open to you.”

So stay tuned, to hear what Sarah Lawless of The Witch of Forest Grove, Jason Miller of Strategic Sorcery, Harold Roth of The Alchemist’s Garden, Hyperion of the UnNamed Path, Deborah Lipp, of Property of a Lady, Peter Paddon of the Crooked Path, Robin Artisson of Tracks in the Witchwood, and Mrs. Drinkwalter of North of Berkeley have to say about the concepts in Mastering Witchcraft.

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*Each Celebrity Witch retains all copyrights to their writings contained herein, with the sole exception that they have each agreed that I can post them on UsedKey.

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**And that means a *real* comment, not one of those sissified “me too” type responses. 

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†If you post on your site, email me at trothwy at live dot com, so I know to put your name in the hat.

 

††I’ll post an end date for comments to be eligible for the drawing, as discussions wind down.

 ¶Let the Discussion commence!