The Rose.  A regal flower used for centuries to attract love, enhance femininity, and assist in seduction.  Such exquisite beauty is made even more profound due to its impermanence.  A few days of heightened refinement surround your space when the flower is at its peak.  However, like all life, such delicate beauty is temporary and will eventually fade.  With roses, the artistry of decay haunts the passing of this beauty.  I keep my roses in their vase as I watch the petals shrivel and the color dim.  A most exquisite momento mori expressing our connection to the cycle of life.

Still, us humans desire to hold on to our beauty.  We grasp at it, reluctant to give up its power.  As such it's only natural that we have a long history of preserving rose petals and incorporating them in our lives.  These delicate, yet beautiful dried rose petals permeate our homes, championing our control over decay.  

I use rose petals in a variety of ways in my Pagan practice. I lay them atop my altar during Ostara to welcome spring.  I might covertly carry a pouch filled with red petals in my purse during a date to enhance my desirability.  Additionally, ground-up rose petals feature as a common ingredient in many of my spells.

I regularly create a ritual bath mixture using crushed dried rose petals.  Bathing in this aroma infuses the power of attraction deep into my skin and enhances my confidence.  In this way, ritual baths can be used as a powerful form of glamour magic.

I pampered myself with a rose ritual bath as part of my beauty routine before attending Carmen at the Chicago Opera House.  I strode into the theater with a confident smile across my lips and a secret gleam of magic shining through my eyes.  A refined grace enchanted my walk as I made my way through the corridors greeting fellow music lovers.  

 Enjoy this wonderful magic yourself by creating your own rose ritual bath using the recipe below.

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Rose Ritual Bath

To make a rose ritual bath combine the following ingredients and mix to combine.

1-1/2 cups epsom salts

1/2 cup sea salt

1/4 cup baking soda

1/2 cup dried rose petals (I dry my rose petals by laying them in a single layer atop a paper towel and microwaving for a minute.)

Place a cupful of this mixture in your bath water and reserve the rest for future use.  

While bathing, visualize the essence of beauty seeping from the rose petals and swirling atop the water.  Focus on your skin soaking in this essence and feel the light radiating through your body.  At the end of your bath, you will feel confident in your beauty and grace and ready to take on the world.

How do you incorporate the enchanting power of the rose in your practice?  Share below in the comments.

A review and reflection of The Devil’s Dozen: Thirteen Craft Rites of The Old One by Gemma Gary

One should not judge a book by it’s cover, yet I am often guilty of such an act.  How could anyone merely pass by this book without flipping through its pages, anxious to discover the mysteries contained within.

The aesthetics are striking.  A small black tome, only slightly larger than a hand.  The cover gleams with with a bronze shimmer that looks like fire when reflecting light.  The front contains no title.  Instead you’re greeted with an eerie image of a goat head with horns cradling a assemblage of shining candles.  The spine of the book reveals the title and author, The Devil’s Dozen: Thirteen Craft Rites of the Old One by Gemma Gary.

To get past the first page of this book you will need to face your fears.  With this book Gemma Gary attempts to reclaim the concept of the Devil, something I don’t think many contemporary witches would have the gumption or desire to do and I commend her bravery for attempting to do so.  

Gemma Gary gives us not a book but a poetically beautiful instruction guide.  Using traditional witchcraft and folklore practices as inspiration she has created thirteen unique rites.  All with the intent to bring us closer to the Devil.  You might be questioning why anyone would want to develop a personal relationship with such a sinister creature.  Before delving deeper you need to first ask yourself some difficult questions.  Who is the Devil?  How has this character been defined by religious history?  Are you able to look past preconceived notions and open your mind?  Do you even want to open this pandora’s box or would you rather keep your concept of the Devil closed and contained in a box with all your other dark fears.  Gemma gives us a helping hand by first making a distinction between Satan, a creation of the church, and the Devil, an embodiment not of evil but instead the protector of our personal power, sexual freedom, and desire.       

This book is after all a call to action so philosophizing on concepts of Satan vs. The Devil will only get you so far.  Gemma asks us to seek out into the wild to experience these ideas, not just merely read about them.  To perform any of the rites in this book you need bravery.  You will have to hold steadfast and push out any remaining Christian guilt that might try to creep in.  

While I was not brought up Christian, I still faced her first request with trepidation.  I stared at the words: Nema. Reve dna reve rof, yrolg ehy dna, rewop eht, modgnik eht si… She was asking me to read the Lord’s prayer backwards.  I see why she wants us to do this.  One must first undo any previous religious indoctrination in order to become an empty vessel and thus ready to take forth communion with a significantly different sort of deity.

It took me several days before I felt brave enough to do it.  Christian guilt and fear still permeates our society to some extent and even I, a practicing Pagan for over 13 years, still felt the trepidation.  What if my pagan beliefs are wrong? What if hell really does exist and this is the point where I cross that line?  A whisper of fear beat a steady drum in my heart as I said the words slowly but carefully.  I’ll admit it, the perversive nature of the act was exciting and afterward I greedily sped through the next pages, excited about what I might be asked to do next.  

Each rite contains beautiful black and white artwork that sets the tone for the ritual.  Gemma Gary begins with an explanation of the concepts and the historical context for the traditions and tools that will be used.  She then proceeds to tell how to perform the ritual yourself, giving instructions on where to go, what (or what not) to wear, what tools to bring, and what to say for the ritual.  The words she asks us to speak are dark and sensual poems that exemplify and enhance the experience.  These unnerving rites are filled with dark dedications in churchyards, dances to raise the Devil’s power, conjurations to awaken the spirit, and full nights spent alone in the woods.

As I read each rite I couldn't help but wonder how many, if any, people have performed these rituals.  I began to think about making a trip to the woods myself and which ritual I might choose to perform.  One rite asks the witch to find a secluded old barn where one would not be disturbed and draw a pentacle on the surface of the ground.  After laying five candles around the points of the star you disrobe and lay nude alone and unmoving for an entire night.  Eventually the fear becomes ever more consuming until you enter a trance where your spirit leaves the body and merges with the spirit of the Old One, becoming a vessel for the powers and wisdom of the night’s mysteries.

I shivered with exhilaration considering what it would be like to perform such a ritual myself.  I also questioned why I found this all so exciting.  There’s a reason many people enjoy the perverse pleasure that comes with fear.  It’s why we seek out scary movies and haunted houses. People like being scared because it makes them feel alive.  It reminds us that we’re human in a society that too often tries to make us into robots.  

Maybe this desire to feel human is part of why I was drawn to Paganism in the first place many years ago.  A desire turn away from the cold city sidewalks of modernity and run back into the forest.  A desire to feel the fear and exhilaration that comes with dancing round the fire under the stars.  

Paganism is refreshingly unsanitized compared with the abrahamic religions that permeate our society.  A catholic mass contains social norms and rigid procedures, all within a safe and enclosed space.  An Esbat, by comparison, is wild and unstructured.  You are not safe.  You are in the woods with all of natures creatures, facing a night sky that reminds you how insignificant you are within the cosmos and by extension how much a miracle it is to be here in the first place.  It makes the concept of reveling in our human desires not something unclean, but something religiously profound.  Gemma Gary exalts these concepts and expands them to their height.  She asks us to cultivate a relationship with our fear and in doing so develop a connection with the untamed spirit of The Old One.

The wild and raw power is out there for the taking.  Gemma Gary implores us to be brave enough to seek it out.

My life is becoming quite chaotic (last minute holiday shoppers unite!) as the end of December approaches.  My weekends have been filled with commuting back and forth all over the city to various dinners and festivities and I haven’t had as much time as I would like to focus on my practice.

Like many pagans, I will be celebrating Yule this week.  I’m mostly a solitary witch so I’ve planned a simple feast (with a tasting of my Solstice Brew) and ritual that I will be performing at home.  Sometimes I wish I was a member of a coven that had big sabbat celebrations I could join.  Despite Chicago being such a large city, the pagan groups here are fairly small and often too far away to go to regularly.  I like to think that in the future I might create my own coven, but if that’s to happen, it would most likely be a couple years from now.  

That hasn’t dampened my spirits much though.  I really enjoy my solitary rituals and I’ve been filling my time with lots of Yule-themed crafts and meals.  The most recent activity I’ve worked on was to create a Yule Witch Ball.

Witch Balls can be used for protection against negativity, evil spells, ill fortune, and sickness.  They are best hung in an east window where they can catch the morning light, though you can really place them anywhere in your home or garden.  

The theory behind Witch Balls is that negative energies or malevolent spirits become mesmerized by the bright colors on the outside of the ball and get trapped inside, thus preventing any bad energies from affecting its surroundings.  

My Yule-themed Witch Ball is filled with fragrant cinnamon sticks and anise stars, silver snowflakes made from cardboard, and a variety of red (fake) berries.  I draped the ball with bright red ribbon to make it even more festive.  I look forward to displaying this object each Yule season and I’m confident that it will facilitate positive thoughts and energies at this joyous time.

It’s now less than two weeks till Yule.  Though the days continue to shorten and the nights seem forever long, I feel much joy looking forward to the upcoming solstice.  In this great countdown to the return of the sun, I try to surround myself with as much festivity and comfort as possible.  I’ve strewn bright twinkle lights around my city apartment and decorated with garlands made from pine branches.  My kitchen is warm with scents of cinnamon and clove as I cook my Yuletide favorites.  

Each day, despite the often bitter cold, I walk to lakefront path and find beauty in the gentle snowfall and icy winds.  I’m not alone, every day I see runners and bikers upon the path.  Looking at them running through the frost in their brightly colored neon gear always makes me smile.  I admire their determination and resolve to get outside everyday no matter the weather.

Yesterday while I was walking amongst the path, I noticed many small branches that had fallen to the ground.  I took some in hand and headed home to make a rustic Yule wreath.  One of the great things about decorating for the sabbats is that it’s best to use natural materials when possible, which means of course, that the materials are free.  While I have made more of an effort recently to incorporate natural materials in my craft, I still couldn’t resist buying a big red bow to place upon my homespun wreath.

Below are instructions for making your very own festive Yule wreath.
These instructions adapted from Starburst Twig Wreath

You will need:
A collection of branches
Cardboard cut into a disc shape
Twine
Glue and a hot glue gun
A bow (optional)

The instructions are as simple as wrapping your cardboard disc in twine, gluing your branches to the disc in a starburst pattern, and finally adding a bow and a string to hang the wreath from.

Looking towards the next month I know that the days will continue to shorten.  Luckily, December is a month filled with merriment and joy for Christians and Pagans alike.  As the days get colder, we decorate our homes and make time for dinner with friends and family.  The city too reflects our cheer as red bows, pine garlands, and bright lights cloak the city in merriment.

For me, the festivities culminate at the winter solstice.  A joyful time as we can welcome the growth of the sun and take comfort in knowing that the daylight hours will extend.  If I can manage, I like to wake up to see the sunrise on solstice morning.  I take a mug of coffee out to the lake, find a good bench, and watch the sun illuminate the city.  Our winter season in Chicago is long, but I take comfort through the months knowing that after the solstice each day becomes just a little bit longer than the day before.  

As I walked home from work the other day I stopped to pick up a few items to make a certain winter brew.  Something that will surely warm me and my friends through these upcoming winter months.  

This jar of spiced deliciousness takes 5 weeks to fully infuse so I recommend making it as soon as possible.  I confess that I should have planned it a bit better.  I was hoping to have the brew ready for drinking by the solstice.  Though of course, life tends to get in the way at times so I will need to wait till the very end of December to taste my first sip.  

WINTER BREW

This recipe is from the lifestyle blog Sidewalk Shoes

Ingredients

- 4 cups brandy
- 1 piece cinnamon stick
- 2 star anise
- 1 vanilla bean, sliced lengthwise
- 24 black peppercorns
- 4 navel oranges, chopped into large pieces

Instructions

1. Combine all ingredients in a large mason jar.  Cap it tightly and store in a cool dark place for two weeks.  Shake the jar daily.

2. After the two weeks strain the brew through a fine mesh strainer or coffee filter.  Return the liquid to the jar and let it mellow for three weeks in a cool and dark place.

3. Enjoy with friends throughout the winter.

The steel rails of the El Train roar as they screech, bright sparks illuminating red against frosty wheels.  The wooden train platform is high and narrow, the wind whipping through the splintered slats and rusted rivets.  I pull my scarf close and try to find the gloves inside my bag.  It’s an inhuman kind of cold in the city today.  Only late November, I know that the winds will only become stronger as they howl endlessly through the empty branches and brick alleyways.  

Photo from artist Daniel Vazquez

As the last of November is swept away along with the remaining leaves, it’s hard to look towards the cold months ahead and think warmly.   But as witches, we know we must do so. For we are the stewards of the seasons; guardians of the subtle natural changes that others ignore.  And it is up to us to find beauty in all aspects of the wheel of the year.  

For me that means respecting the bitter cold of Chicago, something difficult to do as the temperatures free fall and the daylight hours seem to slip through my fingers.  But then again, I remember the previous years and I know that beneath the bitter cold and darkness there will be much beauty and power to be found.  

I know that when the snows begin to fall they will cover the grey dirt and grime of the streets, making our roads glimmer diamond in the morning light.  Along with the cold winds, the air becomes clear and the moonlight shines brighter.  I remember times last winter as I walked towards the lake and saw the wild waters crash against sandy shores.  The winds formed sand dunes into great monolithic structures of ice and frost.  Standing nearby I could feel the wild uncontrollable power of the waves.  A feeling that reminded me that we individuals are only minor players among the greater powers.  For in winter, we are reminded that we are beholden to nature and such knowledge gives us a greater appreciation and connection to the spirits of the wild.    

As witches, we are the ones that take notice and tap into this power.  To feel the rush of those winter winds run through our veins.  To stand beneath the moon and have its light bathe our skin.  Such feelings are available to all, yet only us witches aim to understand them.  Only us witches take the time to harness and use these powerful forces. Our winter walks become a subversive act against the complacency of those that shut themselves in and ignore the power and beauty to behold.

Remembering all this I am comforted as stand upon the wooden platform waiting for my train.  I watch a solitary leaf fall and dance between bare branches before meeting the ground.  I smile as I observe the empty trees swaying in the wind.  For as the last of the leaves fall and crumble against the frost, I know the great wilds of winter are storming in.  A power and energy I look forward to seeing and working with again.

We drove down County Road X through the woods of Alabama.  The county had never bothered to pave anywhere this remote so the journey was rough and the rocks cracked under the tires as we headed along the shaded path.  Reaching the crest of a hill we followed a fork in the road to reach our lodge.  The path stopped before a set of large black gates.  The top of the gate was detailed in the shape of a deer head fitted with large red glass eyes and reminded me of something you might see at Malfoy manor.  It was strange to think that just hours before I had been moving through the city of Chicago, rushing past hundreds of people going about their business.  And now, here I was in the middle of nowhere in a state most Chicagoans look on with fear and disdain.  And to be fair, some of the stereotypes were true.  As we moved through the gate and into the large cabin we would be staying, we found countless indication that this was a place for hunters and that we, us city folk, were clearly out of place.

While I was there to visit some distant relatives, I made sure to find time to escape and venture on my own through the many acres of woods that made up the property.   For someone used to the incessant racket of city noise, the absence of it was unsettling at first.  Though the ability to be completely surrounded by nature was refreshing and much needed.  At home in the city I often can only look at the moon through a window, or perhaps in a city park.  It is rare that I get to experience nature alone.  But here, in the woods of Alabama it seemed that everything was different.  

As the sun set I made my way to a small pond deep in a valley.  The trees down by the river were magnificent, and the riotous colors shone bright through the waters reflection.  As I walked towards the water's edge it became clear that this was a place not owned by people, but by the animals and spirits of the woods.

An October song of leaves scattered about my boots as I snaked between the trees.  The trees swayed as the wind whipped through the leaves, the cracking branches forming an uncanny rhythm.  As the sky began to darken I turned on my Coleman lantern and that was when the sensation of being truly alone at night in an unfamiliar place hit me.  The fear began to settle in as my hair twirled and whipped in the wind, framing my face.  My eyes were wide and stared intently as I looked ahead into the darkness.  My heart beat fast beneath my skin.  My ears were sensitive to every crunch of leaf and snap of twig.  While the breeze was warm, I felt like a bag of bones, chattering against the wind.   I found a small clearing where I could sit and I stayed there among the trees for several minutes till my heart began to calm down enough where I could begin to sense the energy of the woods.

As I shut my eyes and surrendered to the darkness, I could feel what I’ve been missing.  In the city I work with the frenetic energy and magic of the hive.  The great swarm of people, industry, and memory.  This, however, was a deeper, darker, and more profound energy.  And just as a horse can sense your nervous inexperience, the guardians of the woods could tell that I was out of place and out of practice.  To tell the truth I felt guilty.  Why was I feeling fear?  Shouldn’t all witches feel comfort in the darkness of the woods?  I couldn't remember the last time I entered the woods alone.  How could I claim to be a witch without regularly working with this dark energy of the wild?   

After a few minutes of meditative silence I preformed a simple ritual thanking the God and Goddess and then headed back up to the main trail.  

This experience was somehow much more personal and deep than other experiences I’ve had with nature in the city.  When I go to various parks in the city the knowledge that civilization nearby is comforting, but it is also limiting.  Maybe the fear I felt in the woods was a necessary part of reaching through the veil and building a relationship with the other world.

I understand that not everyone can live in the countryside.  Though this trip was short it gave me an aching to make more effort to go to the wild places.  The places untamed by people.  It was bittersweet to leave the woods and return to Chicago.  Though, I will maintain the memory of the wild energy I felt in those Alabama woods and I will work tirelessly to find ways to reconnect with it again. 

Simple Ritual to Thank to Spirits of the Woods

Inspired from a ritual in Living Wicca by Scott Cunningham

As you walk alone towards a body of water collect autumn leaves that have fallen to the ground.  Upon reaching the water’s edge find a seat and cast a circle if you would like.  As you float the leaves one by one upon the water visualize your reason for the ritual.  Remember why you are thanking the God and Goddess.  As the leaves float away say the following words:

Lady of the moon, of the stars, and the earth;
Lord of the sun, of the forests, and the wild;
I perform a ritual of thanks.
My love shines like the flame of a candle;
And floats like the leaves of autumn.

Lady of the waters, of flowers, and the sea;
Lord of the air, of horns, and of fire;
I perform a ritual of thanks.
My love shines like the flame of a candle;
And floats like the leaves of autumn.

Lady of the caves, of cats, and snakes;
Lord of the plains, of falcons, and stags;
I perform a ritual of thanks.
My love shines like the flame of a candle;
And floats like the leaves of autumn.

Do you have a ritual you like to perform alone in the woods?  Let me know in the comments below. 

A friend said something the other day that really struck a chord with me.  We were riding the L train in Chicago and I mentioned how much I love the fresh feeling of fall, and how the season always feels like starting a new chapter in my life.  She said that I was probably feeling that way because for the majority of our lives the feelings of fall were associated with starting a new school year.  That certainly made sense to me.  I always loved school growing up and come August I would eagerly look forward to the first day of a new school year.  I loved picking out fresh notebooks and pencils at the office supply store and I definitely enjoyed agonizing over what I would wear on that first day back. 

I was hit with a flash of melancholy as I realized that those feelings were never going to fully return.  They were a memory of childhood and not easily found in adulthood.  As a child, your year is dictated by the school schedule and anticipating those long breaks.  I paid attention to the changing seasons as each one had its own excitement and promise of things to come.  Fall was associated with sadness about the end of summer, but also filled with excitement for the new adventures that would come next.  Winter was all about looking forward to that big break in December, a time of family, presents, and playing outside in the snow.  In spring, you eagerly anticipated the long spring break where you could almost feel the beginnings of warmth and sun start to sweep in.  And finally Summer, a time of freedom and days that seemed to last forever.  

In a way, my life was never more attuned to the wheel of the year than as a child.

Now as an adult my work schedule is almost completely devoid of seasonal change.  Work culture is driven by profit and only grudging tolerates seasonal holidays, and would gladly eradicate them if allowed.  The lens through which work culture lives is one of quarterly earnings, not seasonal rhythm.  

I think one of the things I really enjoy about Paganism is that it forces you to once again recognize the seasons.  It encourages you to appreciate the unique changes as the wheel turns.  Maybe that’s why when I started practicing, it felt in a way like coming home.  It allowed me to feel all those excitements about the changing seasons that I once felt as a child.  

As the leaves change and begin to fall, one of the best ways to reconnect yourself with this season is by going apple picking.  I used to go apple picking with my family every year growing up.  Though as I got older and moved away, it often became “too difficult” or “too far away” to fit in my busy schedule.  This year when I finally made it to an orchard I was able to reconnect with all those amazing autumnal feelings I had as a child.  As we left the city and ventured to the countryside it felt like I was able to momentarily leave my cares behind in the city and venture forth towards fresh air and mental clarity.  

In the orchard I made a conscious effort to notice the colors of the trees, the smell of cider brewing, and the crunch of discarded apples beneath my feet.  Taking time to notice the small details forced me to slow down and left me feeling refreshed and more connected to nature.  

This little momentary escape from my daily city routine helped me remember that the seasons are here for us to enjoy and respect.  And as I walked between the trees, each breath was a lovely memory of what it used to feel like being more connected to the changing seasons.  

I hope this is just the beginning of my reconnection to the seasons and I look forward to the many new seasonal memories and connections I will create.

I don’t usually read manga but I often make an exception for the horror genre.  Some of the best horror comes out of Japan, so I did not hesitate to purchase one such manga titled Uzumaki by Junji Ito.  Junji Ito is a horror manga master and this work could be considered his magnum opus. This manga is a large tome dedicated to a single story of a town plagued by a symbol, giving this book a truly unique premise.  Uzumaki means spiral in Japanese and it is this symbol that becomes the focus and main terror in this work.

I love that Ito chose the spiral to base this work upon.  Not only does the spiral shape have a profound mathematical significance, spirals also hold a prominent place in many pagan beliefs. Artwork with spirals begin to appear as early as 4000 BCE in Europe and in 3200 BCE the Celts covered the prehistoric site of Newgrange in triple spiral imagery.  Beyond Europe, the spiral appears in many other ancient cultures from early pre-columbian art in Mexico to architectural details from the Tang Dynasty in China.  It is truly one of the most familiar and profound early symbols.

In Uzumaki, the spirals begin to appear throughout the town in various ways, among blades of grass, in the swirl of an eye, and floating among the clouds.  The spirals are calm and beautiful at first.  Though as certain individuals begin to become obsessed with the spirals, the horror aspect begins to take shape.  I don’t want to give away spoilers, but safe to say things don’t go well for those that see the spirals in this small seaside town.  As you read, you might even become paranoid and begin noticing spirals in your life.  This manga is such a beautiful trippy narrative to get sucked into.  And as you get sucked in and spiral downward, I hope you enjoy the ride..