UNCVLTURED: Volume Two

Lowest Points: Bryn......................................................................... 4 Death is Your Lover: Satsuti.............................................................6 To Go Where the Whale Calls: Rose C...............................................8 Sin Eater: Pie....................................................................................14 The Waters of Justina: Wren............................................................17 Fire and Water: Briar.......................................................................23 Swan-White Heart: Ruby.................................................................30 Prayer to St. Gobnait: Wren............................................................32 Noumenia: Ivy.................................................................................34 Salmon: Ausup................................................................................38 Note on Milk and Honey: Briar.......................................................39 How to Remember Your Dreams: Ruby..........................................41 Fish Chowder: Rose C.....................................................................45 Counting Salt: Hesper....................................................................47 Reflection and Renewal: Poems.....................................................50 2

As the planets march through the exile’s gate of Aquarius, and Saturn’s stately watch encourages transformation from the bones up; as spring’s tumultuous tide roars in like a lion; as the wheel of time progresses on, we are pleased to present the second volume of UNCVLTURED. This is an offering of renewal and remaking; a meditation for the season of rebirth.

Open a gateway through death onto a newly-opened road.

Learn the lessons of healing.

Wash yourself clean, and cover yourself in luck.

We hope you enjoy, and find plenty to think on here.

COVER BY BRIAR LOGO BY AUSUP PHOTO BY TIN

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BRYN / @SEIDRMADR

It is often at our lowest points that we receive the most wisdom because sometimes in order to understand that wisdom, we must first suffer for it. As Oðinn did when he sacrificed his eye or hung from the tree. Sometimes, you must utterly die to understand. Once you cross the threshold into death, there is no turning back, you are changed.

But so too when the present moment becomes the past. There is no way to undo what has been done, take back what has been said, unkill that which has died at your hand. Each moment is an ending. Death is an ending.

But death is also a beginning. With each new breath is a new opportunity. The present moment is iron in the fire, we are constantly shaping it. With every action we take in the present, the future changes. This brings with it new opportunities and change. But the present moment must pass.

Every breath, every second, is a choice of what our past will become.

The past is set in stone, and that stone provides the basis for the present, if one dwells too long on the past, they’ll lose the present. And thus the future. Like a dog chasing its tail.

However, there are thresholds from the present to the past that we are always crossing, and in the liminal space of the present are where the greatest things are born, and where we are reborn.

Being born is one of the most painful and terrifying experiences we as humans have, second only to our rebirth. But unlike our first birth, our rebirth happens over many small moments throughout life. Once you die, and are thus reborn, you will always be dying. But once you hit rock bottom, there is only one way to go.

At my rock bottom, I was given this wisdom: “I am the exacter of justice, if you deserved punishment I would have already given it” The one who gave me these words is intimately familiar with death, and rebirth, for she does the same. Her wisdom is that in order to need punishment, one must not be learning from their mistakes and wrongdoings. Because learning and moving forward are painful. To stagnantly ruminate on one’s mistakes will prevent the learning.

Do not dwell. Move forward unbound by your mistakes, but do not forget them. Become better than you were. Once you cross the threshold into death, you cannot turn back. You may only go one way from here. You choose the way.

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PHOTO BY POEMS

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MEUTE / @SATSUTI

Death is Your Lover Change. Transformation. Death. (Repeat?)

The inevitable cycles of life. Even more so for those of us with our feet dipped in the occult. We live through these changes with another sort of awareness. There’s a quote that reads “You have to shed your skin, even if it’s embedded with garnets and rubies’’ and I find it being especially true to the likes of us. We know that without doing so we aren’t able to walk down the crooked road; we aren’t able to open doors to somewhere else; we aren’t able to become Other. I’ll even go so far as to say that comfort zones aren’t meant to be a thing for us. Not really. Not for long.

So buckle up and accept the fact that you will die. You are going to have to bury your past selves, over and over again. Sometimes you must slaughter yourself, other times the spirits do it. Although it might sound a bit macabre - and at times it honestly is, I won’t sugar coat it - never forget that there’s a sort of beauty in death. She’s everyone’s faithful lover.

Now, as most of you already know, cleansings and uncrossings are two important skills to have in your tool box, perhaps as important as banishings. However, there’s a sort of escapism in them too and it is something to be wary of. Just as some people’s practices seem to mostly consist of banishing and nothing else, the same can be said for others when it comes to uncrossings and cleansings. They just scrub and scrub and scrub - but for what? What’s the point of opening every road if one never chooses to go down one of them?

In order to prevent yourself from falling into a repetitive loop that doesn’t go anywhere, other than make shit around you sterile, remember to question yourself from time to time. I scrub myself clean, but to make room for what? I remove blockages, but to go where? Plant your seeds after you’ve purged. Anoint yourself with what you want to become after you’ve removed all the junk.

See how your practice evolves.

Down below is a simple uncrossing using St Michael the Archangel as well as a general empowering ritual with the Egyptian god Set (which can easily be tweaked into an uncrossing if you’re smart enough) ST MICHAEL UNCROSSING BATH Collect natural water in a jar. Prepare mercurial incense if you have any (if not sandalwood or frankincense works fine, I used sandalwood). Gather salt, rue, hyssop and lemon slices in a sachet and put it inside the jar. Add a touch of vinegar and close the lid. Prepare a candle for St Michael, preferably a red one, and dress it with olive oil.

If you have a key, put it on top of the jar. Ground yourself before reciting the Leonine St Michael prayer three times. Light the incense and hold the jar over the smoke. Recite psalm 51, psalm 64 and psalm 37. Pray to Michael’s mercurial aspect to unblock you and open your roads: “O most glorious St Michael the Archangel. Chief of all angels. O you Mighty Archangel of the Sun and Mercury, receiver of souls and opener of roads. Hear me! St Michael the Archangel, I call out to you, Oh you glorious angel of Mercury. Hear me as I call on your mercurial side, hear me! St Michel, O you Mighty Archangel of the roads. May you turn to me and unblock me, may you turn to me and uncross me! With the fire of heaven, may you remove all obstacles that are blocking my path. With your flaming sword, may you shatter them into pieces! With the help of Mary, Mother of God, Queen of Heaven and Untier of Knots, may you wash me of my sins.

Through Lord, your God, the most high. Amen. + Amen. + Amen. +” 6

Recite one Glory Be, three Hail Mary and one Our Father. If you can, leave the St Michael candle

lit as you go to take your bath.

Pour the ingredients into the water. As you bathe recite this part from psalm 51: ”Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice” multiple times. Get out of the bath, without showering, and either air dry or lightly pat yourself clean.

SETIAN RITUAL OF EMPOWERMENT Prepare an oil of your own liking, that is one with the properties you want to bring into yourself.

(Lust, protection, domination, strength and illusion are some examples) This is the oil you’re going to anoint yourself with. If you don’t have a prepared oil ready you can simply use olive oil.

Prepare a candle and an icon for Set. Give him offerings that will ’wake him up’ such as black coffee or a shot of liquor, like rum or whiskey. Put the vessel with the oil before his icon and lit suitable incense before you start.

Ground yourself and call on to Set to be present, letting him know that you’ve brought offerings in turn for his assistance.

When you feel ready, lift the vessel with your oil before Him and say: ”I call to you who did first control gods’ wrath, you who hold royal scepter over the heavens, you who are the midpoint of the stars above. You, master Typhon, you I call, who are the dread sovereign over the firmament. You who are fearful, awesome, threatening. You who are obscure and irresistible and hater of the wicked, you I call. Typhon, in hours unlawful and unmeasured, you who’ve walked on unquenched and clear-crackling fire. You who are over snows, below dark ice, you who hold sovereignty over the Moirai. I invoke you in prayer, I call, almighty one, that you perform for me whatever I ask of you, and that you nod assent at once to me and grant that what I ask be mine. Because I adjure you GAR THALA BAUZAU THÔRTHÔR KATHAUKATH IATHIN NA BORKAKAR BORBA KARBORBOCH MÔ ZAU OUZÔNZ ÔN YABITH, mighty Typhon hear me, [name of magician], and perform for me [description of desired result.] For I speak your true names, IÔ ERBÊTH IÔ PAKERBÊTH IO BOLCHOSÊTH OEN TYPHON ASBARABÔ BIEAISE ME NERÔ MARAMÔ TAUER CHTHENTHÔNIE ALAM BETÔR MENKECHRA SAUEIÔR RESEIODÔTA ABRESIOA PHÔTHER THERTHÔNQX NERDÔMEU AMÔRES MEEME ÔIES SYSCHIE ANTHÔNIE PHRA; listen to me and perform [repeat desired result.]”

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ROSE C. / @ROSA-NITIDA

To

Go Where the Whale Calls

“You may take three favors,” a whisper said. I decided two tokens and the assurance that I would remain intact would be sufficient. I wasn’t sure how, precisely, I had ended up on that frigid, windy beach, treading in the long faded steps of mooncussers with nothing but the occasional fleeting illumination from a far away lighthouse to guide me. But there I was, and I was going to make the most of the irresistible pull. A circle drawn in the sand, the corners called. I soon realized that after four years I was being properly welcomed. I had found a fair number of tools here but now that it had become apparent that I was committed to the Land, I was Home. A shell as smooth as hardened silk, a pale stone that bore a smile. An acknowledgement, a promise.

I carried with me a satchel of herbs: parsley, thyme, cypress, rosemary. Funerary herbs that were to be mixed with the icy salt water for both the washing of the corpse and a baptism of sorts. I knew somewhere that if I severed the old ties of my childhood, the ones that couldn’t and wouldn’t be rekindled, I would be able to start anew and grow here where I had chosen and built my family.

My Catholic baptism was long since revoked, my religious vows made. All that was left was to formalize my bonds here. Out beyond what felt like the ends of the earth, I was able to be reborn. On the wind I heard what sounded like a whale call. Perfectly impossible in January, as their season here was long since over. A trick of the mind, or perhaps just the wind; it was a gratifying experience nevertheless.

To tread alongside the numinous is to throw yourself upon the pyre a hundred times and a hundred times again, becoming more Other with each successive transformation. It is impossible to wholly predict where each of these changes will bring you, though the common anecdote “mad, dead, or a poet” is a concise enough generality that seems to consistently suit. Will you allow yourself to go, too? Will you walk where the whale calls?

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PHOTO BY IVY

PHOTO BY BRIAR FOLLOWING PHOTO BY BRYN

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PHOTO BY BRIAR 12

PHOTO BY IVY 13

PIE / @PIEANDHOTDOGS

Sin-Eater The morning is still silver with fog, the sun not yet breaching the horizon. I make my way to the cemetery near my house, sporting a red tote bag that clinks slightly as I walk. Dodging an early commuter, I duck through the wrought-iron gates, leaving a cigarette on the brick column as an offering to the graveyard spirits, and pass by the large cedar that’s been growing here for the past century.

Counting quietly to myself, I finally stop in front of a simple headstone, worn with time. Cooke, Hiram. Born 1830, died 1852. Barely a man when his life was cut short. Was he the victim of an illness, or of some violent act, or of simple bad luck? Never mind. It’s not my job to know how he or anyone else here died. No, my job is to make as many trades as possible, to absolve guilt and dissolve tethers, and to give some measure of peace to any souls who need it. The job of a sin-eater.

The rite itself is simple enough. From my bag, I produce a novena candle dressed with high altar oil. I pray a decade on my favorite olive-wood rosary. Then comes the meal. Traditionally, a crust of bread and a flagon of beer would be consumed over the deceased’s fresh(ish) corpse. This corpse has been in the earth for 170 years and I’m having a dinner roll with Angry Orchard hard cider, but the spirit remains the same.

My goal in this working is also simple, at least on the face of it. By participating in this ritual meal, a near-reflection of the familiar eucharistic sacrament, I offer myself as a stand-in for the soul in question. In this respect, I intend to take on any lingering sins of the dead, as well as their punishments in the afterlife. What’s not simple, and not so easy to explain, are my motivations for doing so.

Historically, the sin-eater is associated with funeral practices in Welsh Christianity. Appearing in accounts from the 17th century into the early 20th century, a sin-eater was an individual, usually of low social standing, who could be paid by the family of a newly departed soul to consume a ritual meal intended to cleanse the deceased of their sins and expediate their trip to heaven. The belief was that any lingering sins or attachments that the dead might have would be absorbed into the bread and consumed by the sin-eater. The sin-eater was believed to carry the sins they ate with them, and upon their death they would suffer the penalties of those sins. Due to their position outside the jurisdiction of any religious authority, the sin-eater was rumored to consort with devils and witches. Novelist Catherine Sinclair said of the practice: “Men who undertook so daring an imposture must all have been infidels, willing, apparently, like Esau, to sell their birthright for a mess of pottage.”

Despite this, the sin-eater was seen to provide a necessary service to the community, at once giving mourning families comfort and assurances of their loved ones’ entrance into paradise, while also preventing angry ghosts from causing havoc in the streets. It has been postulated that the practice may have grown from the desire of Welsh Protestants to regain the sacrament of reconciliation.

Indeed, sin-eaters were known to hear the confessions of grieving families, though they were not authorized to do so.

Traditional sin-eaters are all but gone these days. The last known sin-eater died in the UK in 1906 and wasn’t given a proper funeral until 2010. The trade has fallen out of style with modernity, and with few ever taking up the practice, sin-eaters have become the things of legends and literature.

However, the necessity of such a role has not faded. Loved ones still die suddenly without taking last rites, and many individuals either prefer not to deal with institutional Christianity, or they are themselves barred from such privileges due to some bigotry or prejudice from the Church.

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Still, one must reconsider the role that sin-eaters might play in modern practice. Though the need for absolution is still present, few are calling on someone to come eat a meal off Grandma. Thus, we turn slightly from conceiving sin-eaters as makeshift priests, meant to hear the sins of the departed and their families, and instead focus on that aspect which paints the sin-eater as a sort of psychopomp, relieving the dead of their fetters and ushering them into whatever afterlife awaits them. In this manner, the sin-eater is free to act as an individual agent, doing the work on their own terms, much like modern root workers and witches. In this way, the connotations of Christianity can also be witnessed to fall away as a wider understanding of sin is embraced.

Of course, words mean things, so even though the sin-eater may function as their own boss, as it were, the term still requires a cohesive undercurrent to define it. That current, for better or for worse, flows from the sin-eater’s ransom of their own soul for the benefit of the dead. The price of sin-eating is the abandonment of one’s own salvation or peaceful afterlife. For the Christ-minded, this means chaining themselves to the tormenting fires of judgement until the sins they’ve consumed have been expiated, and for the pagan this means willingly joining what the Ancient Hellenes would call the Restless Dead.

You might ask what prompted me to revive a practice that has been presumed extinct for over a century now. My reasons for doing so are multi-faceted and personal, but they can be summed up in a desire to maintain and reinvigorate the traditions that my family and ancestors once recognized. I’ve never been far from the dead, with my Grandpa teaching me Appalachian graveyard etiquette as a child. So many of the superstitions I grew up with were translocated from the British Isles when Irish, Scottish, and Welsh immigrants settled in these mountains, and though it’s not widely known, the tradition of sin-eating is no exception.

My second, and more complicated motivation stems from my status as one who has found himself stuck between heaven and hell. Though baptized at an early age and confirmed by the Church of Rome, I have broken my oaths to the Lord God. As such, I do not deserve a seat in paradise.

However, like my grandparents before me, I am still permitted to call on God’s servants for aid and to use his name to expel malignancies and bring good fortune. Thus, my heart wanders, seeking a home that it will not find. Perhaps it has hardened as the Pharaoh’s in the time of Moses, or perhaps providence has simply led me to a place where I can fulfill this role unfettered by promises of my own salvation.

Whatever the case may be, this is the position in which I find myself. And so I learn and practice and wait. I come to the cemetery, I roam the lines of headstones, listening to gentle whispers, and I pray for the souls left behind, bound to the earth by whatever guilt or regret anchors them here.

Though any corpse is long underground, I eat and drink above them, offering myself as a receptacle for their sin, so that they may move on. It’s heavy work, and the size of the graveyard far outstrips my ability, but I chew away, one grave at a time. One day, perhaps another sin-eater will stand over me as I now stand over Hiram Cooke, and with a simple prayer remove the burden from my shoulders: “I give easement and rest now to thee, dear one. Come not down into our roads or homes, or into our meadows or forests. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. Amen.”

For now, I am content with my lot. The sun is rising in earnest and the fog dissipates with it. I turn from Hiram’s headstone with a mumbled farewell and I leave the way I came, careful not to glance behind me as I walk. I’m a little heavier than when I arrived. Despite this, there’s a renewed spring in my step.

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ST. JUSTINA WITH THE UNICORN

BY MORETTO DA BRESCIA

WREN / @BLACKTHORNWREN

The

waters of Justina

I. An Introduction If Cyprian is the blast of heat you feel as you stand before the gates of Hell, then Justina is the cooling waters of temperance; and like water and fire, the stories of the two saints are both polarized and parallel, and above all, inextricably linked. Saint Justina of Antioch was the daughter of a pagan priest, and one day, while sitting by her window, she overheard a deacon speaking of Christ. From that point on, she began her conversion. With newfound faith, she spoke to her parents, and they converted as well.

It began with the sign of the cross. When Cyprian was hired - or, alternatively, himself desired, depending on the story - to compel Justina to fall in love with himself or Aglaides, he summoned demons to abduct her and tempt her towards lust and passion. She easily dispelled his every attempt at sorcery with the gesture of the cross and her prayers, so sure in her faith that even the demons of Hell could not bewitch or touch her.

And so, having failed in his task, Cyprian’s faith in sorcery was shaken. As the tale goes, he tore up his contract with the Devil and approached Justina to ask her what being had given her this power. With the answer secured, he converted to Christianity, allegedly tore up his book of magic, and became the Bishop of Antioch. From that point on, he and Justina worked side by side, performing miracles of healing and exorcism. In this manner, they converted all those whose lives they touched, up until and even during that time at which they were called home, martyred and finally canonized together.

I’ve struggled to come to terms with the growing relationship between myself and these Catholic Saints for the better part of a year. It’s been rife with soul-searching and confusion. I never had any intention of becoming anything like a dual-faith practitioner, or doing any work involving Catholicism.

I began praying to Cyprian at the height of my grief - years of troubles and trauma and sorrow repressed for the sake of survival, and it all came to life on me like a coiled snake that was just waiting for its moment to strike. I kept telling myself it wouldn’t go any further than that - just Cyprian - not Justina. I was a witch, I was of fairy faith, I was not pious or virginal and no Catholic Saint would want anything to do with me. The usual things one says to put their mind at ease.

And yet...She continued to spring to mind again and again. With a lot of trepidation and many misgivings, I began praying to her. Soft and delicate, she answered me with a sentimentality and tenderness that hurt me with its gentle balm. She is a cool hand pressed against a fevered forehead, a feather touch of relief and compassion. Over the course of a few days, I discovered that Justina is firm and quite insistent - the work needed to be done: not just written out, but performed to perfection.

Saint Justina is an unweaver of magics, a breaker of curses, but also a protector of women. She can be turned to in times of needing protection against men - specifically in terms of stalking, harassing, domestic violence, and abuse. Stories of Justina and Cyprian also portray them as working miraculous deeds together to free the helpless from demonic influences, and for that reason, she can be called upon for exorcism and cleansing as well.

With that in mind, the words and work for this rite began forming from that first night that I prayed to Saint Justina, and it kept singing in my mind, adding to the prayers with each night that I called to her. It is a cleansing, a banishing, a healing, and it is my fervent hope that it may bring some peace to you, as it did me, in these trying times.

II. A Novena to Saint Justina of Antioch A novena is a form of devotional prayer done over the course of nine days. When I first began feeling a pull

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towards Saint Cyprian in the winter of 2019, this is how I began introducing myself to him. Even if you have already established a relationship with a Saint, a novena is a wonderful way to give thanks for any work done, a way to make petitions for assistance, or simply a better way to open the door of communication with that particular being.

While you won’t find much iconography of Saint Justina, you can procure a novena prayer candle for this work. In my own experience, Saint Justina seems to prefer white, blue, or purple vigil candles. A glass of water, candle flame, and incense will provide a good offering to her. The standard frankincense or myrrh is fine for this work.

On a clean surface, light the flame and incense and lay out any other offerings you may have for her. You can stand, kneel, or sit during this prayer. If you wish to hold a rosary, you may do so. I often wrap mine around my left hand and press my fist against my heart while I pray, laying the right hand over the left.

“Sainted Justina, Abbess of Antioch, daughter of the pagan priest Aedesius and Cledonia, I call you forth and lay these offerings at your feet.

As you sat at your window and overheard the words of salvation from Praylius, you rejected the paganism of your birth and sowed the belief of Christ into your heart, where it flowered evermore.

It was your good words and fervent prayers which broke the spell from your parents and in conversion, they cast off their worship of false idols. It was by your grace that your father received visions of the Angels.

Gentle Justina, modest maiden, temperate lady, Bride of Christ: with your taming touch you unweave maleficent magics, and devils flee before you.

With reverent faith and holy sign, I ask that you teach me your divine art of breaking curses and unwinding the webs that would bind and subdue me.

You who were pursued by Aglaides, never once wavering in your vows, grant me your strength and perseverance. For his vanity and conceit, Aglaides was spurned, unable to tempt you from your beliefs and oaths, unable to defile and corrupt your pure heart.

In Cyprus, your church stands, a testament to your righteousness and holy life. With the Bishop of Antioch by your side, your blessed legacy continues forth, unbroken even today. Words of your good deeds live on; your virtue is immortal.

Holy Justina, I ask that as you guided Cyprian to divinity, guide me now. Bless my heart to stand true against injurious temptations. Guide my hands to break the bindings and maledictions that would harm myself and others.

Preserve my body and soul from all defilements, that I may do the same for others. Virtuous Justina who tamed the unicorn, in your name, this I pray. Amen.”

This prayer will be done for nine consecutive nights. Pay attention to your thoughts afterwards – be receptive and take notes, Justina may inspire you with a personalized prayer to continue on with.

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III. Crafting and Consecrating an Oil of Saint Justina Materials: Olive Oil - 300 ml or 10 oz Lavender flowers, dried 1 Vanilla Bean - sliced once, vertically Rose Geranium essential oil A piece of gold (optional) Infuse the dry materia in the olive oil - best begun on a Friday night. A typical oil infusion takes anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks, depending on your materials and how potent you want the scent. Once it is finished, you can strain out the herbs and dispose of them. Add a few drops of the rose geranium essential oil. Return the gold to the container of finished oil or save it for later use.

At its most basic, a holy oil can simply be blessed olive oil. The herbal infusion recipe is what came to me over the course of days of prayer to Saint Justina. Of course, if you have any skin allergies you should modify the recipe to work in your favor, or just use regular olive oil without any of the herbal ingredients.

At this point, once the oil has been fully infused, you may choose to recite the following Blessing of the Oil of the Sick and the Oil of Catechumens from liturgy: “O God, Father of all consolation, Who willed to heal the infirmities of the weak through your Son, Listen favourably to the prayer of faith: Send forth from the heavens, we pray, Your Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, Upon this oil in all its richness, Which you have graciously brought forth from the verdant tree To restore the body, So that by your holy blessing + Everyone anointed with this oil As a safeguard for body, soul, and spirit May be freed from all pain, All infirmity, And all sickness.

May your holy oil, O Lord, Be blessed by you for our sake In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord Who lives and reigns with you forever and ever.

O God, strength and protection of your people, Who have made the oil you created a sign of strength, Graciously bless + this oil, And grant courage to the catechumens Who will be anointed with it, So that, receiving divine wisdom and power, They may understand more deeply The Gospel of your Christ, They may undertake with a generous heart The labours of the Christian life, And, made worthy of adoption As your sons and daughters, They may rejoice to be born anew and to live in your Church.

Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.”

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I have included the above prayers for use or reference; however, I do not feel that they are strictly necessary in blessing the oil. Finish consecrating the oil by reciting the following prayer, asking Saint Justina to bless and imbue the oil with healing, protection, and banishment: “Holy Saint Justina, bless this oil with your mercy, let it be a balm to my soul and a banishment to all evil spirits that may prey upon me. Under your vigilance, no illness will befall me, no spirits will harass me, no devils or men will tempt me. As you banished Cyprian’s demons and dispelled his magic with the sign of the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ almighty, so might this oil now bless and protect me from all evils that would harm me, mundane or magical. Amen.”

IV. Ritual - Bathing in the Waters of Saint Justina

“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” - Psalm 51 For this rite, you will need a novena prayer candle, the Oil of Justina, a blade, a cauldron or bowl to hold the water, a clean cloth, incense, and a container to burn it in.

In a fire-safe container or a charcoal incense burner, begin to burn some benzoin resin. If you are more traditional and prefer something like frankincense and myrrh, that is fine.

At this point, if you wish, you may choose to skewer the vigil candle with holes (use a screwdriver or similar) and place some of the Oil of Justina in the holes. Light the vigil candle.

In a bowl of warm water, steep Hyssop (you can use tea bags for this). Once it is infused, you will heat the tip of your blade over the flame of the prayer candle and plunge it into the water to purify it. Drip some of the Oil of Saint Justina into the water, letting it mix and the aroma rise up.

Let the smoke from the incense wash over you, and begin to wash yourself with the infused water. This is not a typical bath, and you are not scrubbing. Dip a clean cloth in the water and lightly brush the water and oil over your skin. Start with your face and work your way down - neck, shoulders, torso, arms, hands, legs, feet, etc. Do this as many times as necessary, or until you have “used up” all of the water, repeating the following prayer as you work through the cleansing. You can also use Psalm 51 in conjunction with this prayer.

“Blessed Saint Justina the Virtuous, it was your piety which cast out and repelled the demons of Cyprian of Antioch. By your grace, the magician and sorcerer was reborn as bishop and saint.

With the sign of the cross, you cast demons back into hell. By strength of your faith you remain humble and virtuous against those who would tempt and defile you.

As you sent back the fiendish demons with a single sacred gesture, I ask that you now break all curses against me and banish all evils sent to subdue me.

As you, Saint Justina, were washed in the boiling waters and emerged unscathed, let me now wash in the waters of your cauldron and be relieved of all sorrow and strife.

Holy Justina, bless me with your light: cleanse my soul of darkness and bring me into your protection. As you elevated Cyprian from Sorcerer to Saint, I ask that you now grant me this same blessing.

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PHOTO BY ROSE C.

Justina the Incorruptible. Justina the Impenetrable. As you were shielded from demons and sorceries with your faith, I ask that you intercede on my behalf and be a shield for me now.

Blessed Saint Justina, I ask that you pray for me now. Absolve me of my sins and let me be washed anew in your waters. In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

Amen + Amen + Amen +” The used/impure water can later be disposed of outside into the ground or poured out in a south-flowing stream. The ritual concluded, give thanks to Saint Justina and end as you usually would.

(Note: The + mark indicates that you should make the Sign of the Cross at that point in the prayer.)

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PHOTO BY RUBY

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BRIAR

Fire and Water:

An Exercise in Balance On magical healing I am lifting a palmful of water In the holy name of the Gods, In the holy name of the Spirits, In the holy name of the Ancestors, In the holy name of An Tri Naomh - the Sacred Three Everlasting, kindly, wise.

Certain that They will do to me The thing that it becomes me to ask The thing that accords with Their mind, The thing that is causing pain, The thing that is worthy to be done, Of the Sacred Three kindly and just.1 I whisper these opening words in the trembling candlelight, standing at the altar, my right hand steady, lifted. Drops of holy water rain from the center of my palm, where the water pools briefly, to the chalice underneath it. Thus is my pledge before my healing ritual, to place myself and my actions under the protection and tutelage of the powers that be, accepting to become, albeit temporarily, an instrument or conduit of dé ocus andé’s goodwill.

My attention is drawn to the simple implements of my craft. At its very core, the menstruum is made by using spring or well water, silvered or gilded with a piece of metal or jewelry, to which variants are added. Every morning as I recite my daily prayers, I make a renewed supply of holy water by dropping a piece of raw quartz into filtered water, adding my gold ring, and blessing it with a charm. But I have variously incorporated the occasional splash of vervain infusion, dried juniper berries, sea salt, and even lit matches. What matters to the sacred components of the menstruum is what the water comes into contact with, and for what reason. I have run the water in my mouth and poured it on the afflicted parts of the body, because the practitioner brings their own toradh to the matter at hand - it is no use being grossed out, for magic has its own way, and healing is hard.

In approaching magical healing in the context of the particular cunning craft tradition that I am a part of, I have slowly come to understand that, when it comes to performing any kind of what is essentially an act of service, it is first and foremost a matter of permissions - one does not produce miracles without understanding what is right, which does not mean « good » per se, but rather, what is proper, just, allowed, owed, true. The opening incantation is a reminder of such laws : I recite it humbly to draw attention to what I am preparing myself to do, and to ask for my spirits to assist me.

But even before coming into such depths, before even deciding to take on responsibility for a client, timing must be examined, omens must be read, and answers must be sought in visions. Insofar as for a diagnosis to be established, for the knowledge of the affliction and its remedy to be imparted, for the potential roads to be laid out, various circumstances must converge. The knowing of what is right - of what is proper, just, allowed, owed, true - comes with time and experience of course, and I am but at the beginning of this learning curve. Part of the healing is not just a question of cultivating competent practical skills, but of refining some subtler ones, harder to define, difficult to employ, impossible to replicate. The strengths and weaknesses of a healer amount to little in the face of such permissions. Smelling sickness and feeling disturbances is one thing, knowing if, when, and how to act, quite another.

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Adapted from ‘The Charm Of The Scale’, in. Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Carmichael, c. 1900.

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In my brief record of practiced healing services, I have found myself turning down potential clients simply because the time wasn’t right, nor the plea any good. I have also found myself trying to defy the odds when it was not proper - and suffered for it. And I have found myself at times fighting against the same odds and shifting the weight of what was waiting to become manifest, in a silent but conscious bargain that tipped the scales into a client’s favour, rearranging and perhaps negotiating what must be given and what must be taken. Yes, I have been told that even though I could cure certain afflictions, I shouldn’t - embarrassingly enough, sometimes after I took it upon myself to try and help. Sometimes, I am told I simply cannot act - that it is not correct nor virtuous to - and this is still the hardest to accept. And I of course have refused clients, because of the way I was approached, because of how I was asked, because of what I was asked, and other entirely arbitrary and subjective criteria I cannot always explain. What, then, of the workings I consent to conduct, of the diverse ailments I have been able to solve, ranging from curing ovarian cysts to tying an aneurysm, from cooling the burn in the throat to putting blood to blood and sinew to sinew until broken bones were mended, from alleviating the Eye to knotting the hip pain of a first fibromyalgia symptom coming after unexpressed, unacknowledged, unprocessed grief? Sometimes, then, things just align, and you have the time-and-space needed to act, and you know what needs to be done, and it is shown in visions and flashes of purposes instantly recognized. Sometimes, the hands truly are guided by some greater force to which one is but an embassy, and then it can be really quick : you are given approval, licence, consent - the implements and the power flow, in accordance to what not only can but must be done.

In the art and craft that is mine, I believe and was taught that there is spirit in all things, and all things in spirit. In my world view, rife with animism, and which informs the way I work, there is fundamentally no clear-cut distinction between mind, body, and spirit - to separate these “realms”, so to speak, makes no real sense practically speaking, nor does identifying where each starts and ends. Approaching a mental, physical, or spiritual wound, and finding the root of an illness, means to dig deep into every aspect of a patient’s life to see what sticks out - thus a good healer will make you talk, provide the confidence and reassurance needed to unravel, and must be asked to intervene by the recipient directly. To try to find an equilibrium, to articulate the care and the cure, the healer must operate on every level at once, in effect minding to treat the cause and not just the symptoms. A physical sickness is mental is emotional is spiritual. One can work in closing wounds, cooling burns, and staunching blood - it is about mending, and tending, and stitching. One can work in curing ailments and dispersing infections, cleansing the soul and purifying the body - it is about washing away what is not supposed to be here, purifying and clearing what has been soiled and hurt, showing justice and doing mercy, unbecoming the blemish. And one can work in healing defects such as curses, mental illnesses, afflictions of the psyche, soul, and body - the wounded healer is a truth, and so are the cold hands and the warm heart. Ultimately it is all applying spirit into matter, matter into spirit, matter into matter and spirit into spirit : this is the task of the healer, of the cunning wise-woman, of the bean feasa.

And it is all about balance.

The thing that it becomes me to ask The thing that accords with Their mind, The thing that is worthy to be done.

An Liuthail - A Lustration Ritual2 As a counterpoint to this rambling, I took the opportunity of the rejuvenating edition of UnCVLTured to design a lustration ritual for my own personal use, as I was meaning to do for forever, that I am now happily sharing here for future reference.3

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On a cosmological level, fire and water share complex creative and destructive qualities, making them worthy of adoration and reverence. Brought together in the concept of 2 Based on ‘An Liuthail’, Fragment 23, in. Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Charmichael, c. 1900.

3 Due credit must be given to the Tairis and GaolNaofa websites for the inspiration.

« fire-in-water », both are revered for their sacred cleansing, healing, and purifying qualities, making it judicious to incorporate the alchemical combination in what is essentially a shortened version of a saining ritual. Much like the hearth is the center of the home on top of which food is cooked in a cauldron, providing sustenance, warmth, and light; the cult of holy wells in which votive offerings, sometimes set on fire, are placed, hold great resonance. Many healing gods and goddesses came to be associated with both fire and water, and in particular, for this is where my heart lies, Brighid Herself. Over the course of my relationship with the Goddess, I have been prompted to reflect deeply on the profound meaning and symbolism of the sacred duality thereof - on how to embrace opposites, and master seemingly incompatible elements, finding truth in balance - on the virtue of temperance. The same sort of truth and inner purpose was laid out to me by the Sea-God and Lord of the Waves, Manannán Mac Lir, Son of the Sea. In revealing Himself to me one summer day spent hiking in the hills of the Seven Sisters, blinded by the bluest sky under the scorching sun, and facing the boundless sea atop the chalk cliffs, watching powerful waves crash at the bottom as the tide ebbed and flowed, He invited me to ponder the codependence and essential cosmological significance of the Three Realms together - Land, Sea, and Sky. As we took a break from walking and exploring the stunning landscape, I held onto a hagstone I stumbled upon in the grass and dozed off, flying through the hole. I derived such transformative knowledge from the experience (and of course a sunburn) that only a brisk swim in the cool dark salt water later on could somewhat soothe the burn of it, and help me process, as well as connect, the deeper implications in presence. The waves had been calling to me to seal the understanding, and as I plunged, immerging myself fully and opening my eyes wide to the opaque depths, I was shocked to discover that I was the only one there, the only one to whom the temperature of the water felt gracious enough to bathe - my friends stood prudently on the shore, watching me, skin brushed by goosebumps.

I owe to Brighid and Manannán a lot in my ever changing comprehension of the concept of balance.

Fire and water came to be closely tied together for me to heal and cleanse : it is only fair to include them both, and honour Those from Whom my knowledge is derived, in a practice meant to ritually purify the self and bestow protection and blessing on a daily basis.

Begin by preparing a bowl of holy water by adding some sea salt and a piece of gold or silver to some fresh spring water that has been poured through the hole of a fairy stone - or, failing that, touched by a quartz pebble.

Take some time to calm and center yourself. Make silence, and let there be a holy quiet.

Sain your body with juniper smoke, taking care to move the bundle of leaves or the incense burner close to the face and in particular the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth until tears and coughing take over.

Insist then on the hands, the chest, the armpits, and the genitalia too - I find that tangled threads of residual magical gunk or miasma tend to nest in such areas, which seem more vulnerable and deserve your special attention. So you may want to perform this naked, perhaps just after a shower, to strip the body of its bound and reach to the core.

Dip your hands in the bowl of water and gently touch your face. Say4 : I am bathing my hands and face In blessed water and the mild rays of the Sun As Brighid bathed Hers In the rich milk of the red-eared white cow And in the beams of sweet honey.

Dip two fingers in the water and touch your lips. Say : Sweetness be in my mouth, Wisdom be in my speech.

The strength the Son of the Sea gave me, 4 Adapted from ‘An Liuthail’, Fragment 23, in. Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Charmichael, c. 1900.

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Be in the heart of all flesh for me.

Dip two fingers in the water and touch your chest. Say : The love of Brighid in my chest, The form of Manannán protecting me, There is naught on land, nor sky, nor sea That can overcome the shelter of me.

Dip your hands one last time and touch your face again. Say : The hand of Brighid about my neck, The hand of Manannán about my breast, The hand of Brighid laving me, The hand of Manannán saving me.

Close the ritual with the ‘Bathing Prayer’5 : The palmful of the Sacred Three, For mine age, For my growth, For my throat, A flood for my appetite, For my share of the produce, For my share of the taking, Honey and warm milk, For my share of the supping, For my share of the soil, For my share of the preparation, For my share of the treat, My treasure and my joy, For my share of the feast, With gifts and tributes For my share of the treasure, Pulset of my love For my share of the chase, For my chase of the hunting And the ruling over hosts For my share of palaces In the court of kings For my share of Tir na nÓg And of the Isle of Apples With its goodness and peace.

The three palmfuls Of the Sacred Three To preserve me From every envy, From evil eye and death.

The palmful of Life, The palmful of Love, The palmful of Peace Triune Of Grace From the crown of my head to the sole of my feet.

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5

Adapted from ‘Ora Boisilidh’, Fragment 24, in. Carmina Gadelica, Alexander Charmichael, c. 1900.

You are now cleansed, and befit to approach the gods and work in earnest and rightness.

PHOTO BY POEMS 27

PHOTO BY ROSE C.

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PHOTO BY IVY 29

RUBY / @WINEBRIGHTRUBY

“Swan-White of Heart”: A Meditation

Life on this planet emerged from water, and life relies on water’s continued existence. Humans begin their existence in the waters of the womb, floating dreamily as their senses slowly develop.

All four of the classical elements can be used to purify, but when we think of “cleaning”, more often than not it’s water (and soap, and sometimes other liquids!) that we picture. Water washes away, and it nourishes. It sustains life. It makes new.

On the new moon, water infused with lemon and rosemary cleanses my shrines, floors, doors, and windows. It washes away dirt, both physical and spiritual — call it miasma, energetic gunk, spell detritus, stagnant energy, or simply bad vibes, water removes it. Water gently opens the pathways — like laying a creekbed — for energy to flow easily as well. All is renewed. ii. to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head and walk with you through that lucent wavering forest of bluegreen leaves with its watery sun & three moons iii.

When I am exhausted or overextended, it’s water to which I turn: ocean, rain, river, shower, bayou, bath. A baptism is a rebirth, washing away the previous life, a return to delicate, vulnerable infancy. All the accumulated calluses fall away, and we are sensitized anew. Running water sloughs off protective coloration, and we are seen as we truly are. A brew of hyssop and salt poured over my head streams down my hair. It reminds me, a murmur in my ear, of who I am: daughter of Earth and starry Heaven, and my nature is celestial. Water is a revelation; left undisturbed, it is a mirror, with all the impersonal truth of a silvered pane of glass.

I come back to the water No matter how hard I try iv.

Varro calls Melete a muse “born from the movement of water”; her name means “contemplation” or “practice”. Water wears its patterns into all it touches. When the afternoon thunderstorms rupture the June sky, everything beyond my porch vanishes in a torrent of white-gray, a platinum hush. Every raindrop takes a slightly different course to the sanctified ground. I breathe in; the thunder is inside me; there is no space for anything but the muse. The rain. When I am emptied of all but the deluge, the gods speak. v.

Thunder & shivering winds; from the tin roof the rush of water. vi.

In the gardens, Melete’s voice is the fountain: the liquid pattering fall of water, the crystalline arch of spray mirrored in the swans’ pristine necks. They glide down the bayou until it rejoins the reflecting pool, tracing placid laps and taking no notice of anyone on the banks. Contemplating only themselves, their haughty reflections, their churning feet invisible beneath the weight of 30

feathers. I like to watch the swans — how hard they’re working, how effortless they make it look.

Melete does not promise me ease: only unstinting creation, if I will do the work. But like the swans, I tuck the effort in close; I glide. Upon the water of her presence, I float. vii. as I went down in the river to pray, studyin about that good ol way and who shall wear the starry crown: good lord, show me the way viii.

Water from the holy wells tangs of minerals. On my tongue, down my throat, I taste stone and metal; the elements of the earth pour into my spirit. One dipperful at a time. Snowy Pegasus, born gore-streaked from a monster’s corpse, struck the ground with his hoof and created a spring like this. Water from stone. There’s a story about that in Numbers. Melete lifts her inexhaustible grail and pours a stream of starlight onto me, a crystalline wash soaking my skin, my hair, my face. I lick my lips. They’re sweet. ix.

Here are your waters and your watering place.

Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

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WREN / @BLACKTHORNWREN

A Prayer to St. Gobnait Holy Saint Gobnait, with hands dripped in honey I beseech you now to cool the fever and quench the flame With tempered gaze of steely grey, you know when the storms arise.

This weary traveler seeks shelter in your haven, By your fire, to rest heavy heart and grief turned eyes.

Blessed Gobnait, wake me in the morn To fair skies and a new sun‘s rise.

Carry sorrows away on the wings of your bees; Kiss my skin with a gentle breeze.

Heal me with richest honey and golden comb, Treasures from your sanctuary and home.

Put cloth to cool water and water to blistered skin; Wash me in the holy well, purge from me all sickness and disease; All pains of the body, the mind, and the heart.

Through your forge, may I be made whole again.

In your meadow, may I be healed.

Pray for me, Saint Gobnait, now and at the hour of my need.

Amen.

Also called Abigail or Deborah, Saint Gobnait is the Patron Saint of Bees and Beekeeping as well as Ironworkers. Saint Gobnait eventually found her home and her purpose in Ballyvourney, Ireland. Visited by an angel after fleeing family and birthplace, Gobnait was told that she would find a place where nine white deer grazed – this would be the place of her resurrection. That area has now come be to be called St. Gobnet‘s Wood, taking its name from the locally venerated Saint and her nearby church.

Once she found Ballyvourney, Gobnait is said to have founded her convent with the help of her brother, Saint Abban. Gobnait and her order were devoted to caring for the sick.

Saint Gobnait is venerated on February 11 and on Whit Sunday (May 23rd for the 2021 year), when mass is offered to her and rounds are paid to her. Also on that day, a statue of her may be presented and a thread used to measure the length of the Saint and around her neck, which is then kept for healing.

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PHOTO BY TIN

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IVY / @IVYCROWNEDWITCH

Νουμηνία In Hellenism, the night when the first sliver of the moon becomes visible marks the beginning of a new month - it is that day upon which Noumenia is celebrated. The way I celebrate Noumenia is similar to the way many other Hellenic polytheists do: offerings of frankincense and delicious meals are made to the Theoi, whilst water and food and flowers are given to my ancestors. Those who keep a kathiskos may also pour out the previous month’s contents and refill it with olive oil, water, and grains. On Noumenia, I venerate my household guardians and most importantly, under Selene’s renewed light, perform my uncrossing rites and ask for Selene’s blessings.

On the night of Noumenia, I wash myself with khernips, my recipe being water mixed with sea salt, with a burning bay leaf plunged into the liquid. A bath is then drawn, with blessed salt and cleansing herbs added to it. My favorite material to use for these types of workings is vandal root.

A root soaked in the bathwater, empowered by words such as those from the ‘Exorcism of the Eye’ from the Carmina Gadelica, does wonders to wash away the old and welcome the new. I then carve my name into white candles with a blade that has not tasted blood, anoint the candles with an uncrossing oil, and burn them around the edges of my tub. Depending on your practice, you may choose to recite Psalm 51 while bathing, or other hymns or incantations may be used as well. Just as the sea cleanses everything—scouring old bones white and washing away all stains - let the bath free you from the muck of the previous months and let yourself rise from the waters, cleaned and purified.

Another ritual I like to do is something that is common in Thai folk magic, but adapted to suit my needs. There are many stories of Thai witch doctors breaking curses by running an egg over the body of a patient and cracking the egg, revealing anything from blood to hair to rusty nails inside.

Finding metal inside the yolk of an egg may be hyperbole, but it still shows how eggs can be used as a vehicle to trap unwanted forces. What I typically do is recite charms over the egg to absorb any malignancy, running it from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet (as in Thai beliefs, the top of the head is sacred, so it is better to work from top to bottom). Then, I crack the egg into a bowl of water mixed with blessed salt, and finally pour the mixture into the earth.

After being cleaned and cleansed, I light a candle outside - white like the new moon - and make my offerings specifically for Selene. I prefer to stand somewhere where her light can reach me, and recite the Homeric and Orphic Hymns to Selene. Then, I recite words similar to what is written below. It is a combination of prose and poetry, praising Selene - her beauty, her radiancy, everything that she is - and asking her to renew me with her light so I can face the new lunar month, free from the past. The prayer is inspired by and combines various fragments and hymns, ranging from the Homeric Hymn to Selene, to the Prayer to Selene in the Greek Magical Papyri, to poetry by Sappho. I have used iambic pentameter for parts of my prayer because I adore how smoothly it rolls off my tongue, but you may use a variation of my words or write your own, depending upon your comfortability.

I praise Selene, beloved mistress, night’s ornament who brings light to mortals.

You wear your far-gleaming raiment, and the world beneath glows in your luminescence.

Brilliant queen, with your rosy fingers, you direct the course of the moon.

When your blushing face appears in the heavens, lesser stars fade out of sight.

As your light spreads over the salt sea and the flowery fields, the dew is shed in beauty.

Tonight, your light shines again, marking a new beginning. Accept these offerings, lunar -titaness, and hearken to my prayer.

I call upon the fair, long-winged, wide-wandering Selene!

The sky, unlit, now illumined by your first radiant gleam.

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O queen, tonight you ride your car and drive away the dark, As long-maned horses trot the sky among the firefed stars.

The birds and beasts are hushed and still, as if their breaths are held; The land looks up to glimpse your light, as if caught in your spell.

May light of moon grow bright and shine and scour away the past, Begin the month anew, afresh- free from all bounds at last!

As the moon shines again, so may we. I wish you the best of luck.

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PHOTO BY ROSE C. 36

PHOTO BY POEMS

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AUSUP / @LUNEFROG

come, come my children hear my call, feel it in your bones come, come my children come home come home come home i can taste the ocean i can taste the wind i know where i have come from i know where i must go the water is cold, the wind is fierce the bears with sharp claws pierce and yet, and yet i persevere when the water is poison, and the air is harsh, me and my kin continue our march i know where we are, i know where we are when i die, i am not dead my life does not live inside my head the water is cold, the wind is fierce the bears with sharp claws pierce and yet, and y e t ip er s e v

e r e

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BRIAR

A note on Milk and Honey

Otherworldly nourishment and magical substances Obair na mbeach Intinn na mban Imeacht agus teacht na taoide1.

Dairy products left on the altar or windowsill and yellow-white libations poured outside, on the stones laying flat on the ground. Amends made to the White Thorn by bringing honeycombs to the base of its root in silence, walking away without looking back. Infants and young animals given cloths dipped in milk to suckle, as part of a festival to celebrate the lactation of the cattle. Queen bees fed with royal jelly, granting them exceptional longevity. Fat milk churned generously in the morning to produce butter and cream for the household. Pure raw honey spread on burns to cool the fire off.

Gaelic and, largely, Gallic / Gaulish cultures seem to place a particular emphasis and importance on two substances, each respectively imbued with profoundly sacred qualities : milk and honey. Otherworldly nourishment of spirits, gods, and human beings alike, substances to maintain and strengthen or to propitiate and pacify, the two products, in myths as well as in practices, transcend species and natures to bridge earthly and heavenly realms together in holiness. Even a cursory glance at the Carmina Gadelica of Scottish tradition, for example, will bring back countless examples of charms, runes, and incantations, here invoking the beams of the gold of bees, and there the earthenware coolness of the cow’s product, or both. Milk and honey single themselves out as truly spiritually elevated substances. We may draw parallels, of course, with the « Land of Milk and Honey » of Jewish beliefs, or, closer to home, the ritual practices of Hellenism (what, exactly, are nectar and ambrosia? a question for endless consideration); and thus derive great knowledge about the nature of milk and honey as essential offerings, and as metaphors for blissful abundance, vital as they are, ingredients and signs of a healthy house, preserved and cherished. This piece of writing is but a humble musing, merely a fragment of a reflection on the presence and manipulation of two highly sacred substances.

The bee and the cow as spiritual and otherworldly creatures in Gaelic cultures are motifs found in pre-Christian beliefs as well as in scriptures and hagiographies. Brigid the saint, for example, is said to be fed by a red-eared white cow, a detail which seems innocent enough until we remember white animals with red ears were associated with liminality and, more precisely, thought to be fairy. This effectively is blurring the lore of the saint with that of the Goddess Who preceded her - but admittedly, I believe a sane dose of obfuscation is good, when approaching the lore of any mythical or saintly figure2. That weird incompatibilities shall emerge from tangled symbolism in heavily syncretic cultures ought not be surprising.

Still, we might ask ourselves what need of a fairy-animal for a companion would a Christian saint have, and reflect upon how a pagan goddess would, on the other hand… The convoluted stories probe at what we think we know, even more so when we take into account certain pointers which seem to be indicating that Brighid “is” not only St Brigid (whose domination over milk and dairy products is more apparent on her feast day and Imbolc’s Eve), but potentially also incarnated in at least one other Christian saint, with a strong link to blacksmithing. St Gobnait - whose name literally means « little smith », an etymology obviously relevant when examining the relations between the saint and a Goddess thought to preside over smithcraft - is patroness of bees and beekeepers3. Here, the correspondence between bees and passed souls, from the practice of « telling the bees » to the bee as messenger of the dead, is worth mentioning : this saint probably took on a lot of motifs from the Goddess and thus we can assume that the Goddess held those motifs Herself.

1

The work of the bees The mind of women The coming and going of the tide.

2 We ought to be careful in assuming some Catholic saints are old gods in disguise, and as much as the idea is seductive, it also contains a shard, which I am feeling wary and cautious about. In fact, if pressed to take a stance, I would say that I think multiple realities are possible at once because such is the nature of gods : vast, multidimensional, and thus ever elusive to our mortal eyes bound to flesh and time. In short, I suppose what I am trying to say is that multiple truths are valid all at once, and I am not settling in a comfortable and convenient relativism here; rather, I try to embrace the complexity and the extent of what we do not and cannot know. Thus, for example, on a personal level I find the idea of (Saint) Brighid as midwife to Mary quite beautiful.

3 See Séamas Ó Catháin, “Hearth-Prayers and Other Traditions Of Brigit: Celtic Goddess and Holy Woman”, in. The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, Vol.122, pp.12-34, 1992.

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If Brighid broadly epitomizes the sacredness of milk and honey in Celtic beliefs, She is not a psychopomp, and the surviving mythical evidence about Her is objectively sparse. Although she seems very well known in neo-pagan spheres, She is not, truly, and what we do know for certain, based on written records, amounts to very little. But She is for sure the inventor of keening4 - the first to cry after bloodshed for the death of Her son : the « passing of souls » indeed, seen from the side of the living. The bee as a spiritual creature with ties to otherworldly qualities and in particular providing otherworldly food thus makes a lot of sense : the boundaries are especially blurred for the Celtic populations when it comes to the nature, and perhaps more accurately described, the in-betweenness of the Sacred Three - Gods, Spirits, and Ancestors, dé ocus andé (gods and ungods). As a friend once jokingly said when talking about Irish gods : “Are they gods, are they fairies, we don’t really know let’s find out”. Bees are also very solar, which ties in nicely to the likelihood of Brighid being primordially a fire goddess, and specifically (half UPG, half not) a rising sun or dawn goddess, with cognate symbolism of rebirth and/or immortality. To that regard, it is to be noted that most of the occurrences in the texts pertaining to milk and honey involve, when not related to offerings, blessings, and in particular blessing of the speech, of the mouth, of the lips, and of the voice, which in turn connects to sacred utterances, and thus to the breath, and thus to the soul.

Securing a contract with invisible forces, based on sacrifice but also hospitality, meaning reciprocity, makes a lot of sense from a magical and spiritual perspective to establish a relationship. The fairy lore of Celtic cultures, in particular, abounds in references about milk and honey as sacred food to be left out to the willful spirits of the land, but it is worth noting that such consistency in folk beliefs endures far beyond Western Europe. Offerings are a way to show good faith, and are essential components of our interaction with such forces. The tale De Gabáil in t-Sída (The Taking of the Sidhe) in the Lebor Laignech (Book of Leinster), is often cited to exemplify the meaning of the cornerstone on which worship is built, and, in that regard, what paying your respect encompasses. In the text, a brief introductory paragraph proclaims the sovereignty of the Dagda as king of the Tuath Dé, the mythical race of Irish divine beings who were forced below ground, under hollow hills, after their defeat against the Gaels. It is thought that peace was to be maintained on the condition that the human race paid tribute to the divine with milk and grain offerings. Failing that, the Tuath Dé would blight the crops and destroy the produce of the Gaels, leading to famine, hostility, disturbances, and eventually great turmoil. We see here very clearly that there is an expectation of worship, that human beings were expected to carry a task of sustenance for the gods, and maintain a regular schedule (the harvest). That what little survives of Celtic calendars centers around harvest festivals thus becomes all the more significant.

When I went through what can only be retrospectively described as a spiritual rebirth, when the capacities with which I had been bestowed started to really sink in, and with them the knowledge of their responsibility - where I acknowledged the weight coming with fairy doctoring - my beliefs changed, of course, and my worldview - but so did my body. I went through a curious phase where intense cravings would keep me or wake me up at night, and prompt me to specifically devour the milk and honey supply of my pantry at all sorts of odd hours. It was weird enough and recurrent enough that I expressed concern about it, gulping pints after pints and pots after pots with copious voracity, to which I was reassured that it was all part of the process, and that I ought to listen to the callings and desires of my body to ‘feed the spirit-nature’.

Transformation comes with a price. UPG naturally derived from such experiences, and instinct taught me that I should always have these products at home for fear of inviting bad luck around - I was already partial enough to flour, salt, and oil, especially on quarter days, to ensure the house would prosper all year round.

It is fair to say things did not immediately click back then, nor did they make any sense. Still, the cravings endured, and subsided only when I became comfortable with my new allegiances and settled in my role.

Milk and honey truly are “magical” products, for their sacrifice to unknown powers can ensure the prosperity of the house, the peace of the land, and, broadly, good relationships between gods, ungods, and humans. But they also provide sustenance to the race of divine beings, thus creating or maintaining holiness.

May we not then say that milk and honey are holy themselves? Incorporated in daily offerings to curry favors and placate spirits or consumed in contemporary rituals, these precious substances symbolize ancient bonds and sacred allegiances, bringing us closer to those invisible beings with whom we share the world.

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A vocal mourning ritual, performed at the wake of a gravesite and expressing raw, unaltered emotions of grief and loss alike : it is a complex practice involving song, prayer, and crying.

RUBY / @WINEBRIGHTRUBY

How to Remember Your Dreams: A Mundane Guide

Everyone dreams; what we experience as dreaming (specifically, the REM stage of sleep) is a biological process necessary for life. Remembering your dreams comes easily to some people, while others may remember so rarely that they think they don’t dream at all. But you can learn good, consistent (or at least better) dream recall -- and if you’re involved in the occult or spiritual in any way, you should. Many spirits communicate through dreams (as does your own unconscious), and if you already have a familiarity with your “normal” dreams, signs and symbols that are significant will stand out more easily. Plus, it’s fun. This is a guide on how to improve your dream recall - not how to control your dreams or elicit certain types of dreams, but merely to sharpen and improve your memory, so that every morning brings you some amount of useful recall of your dreaming self’s adventures.

You do not have to adopt all of these suggestions, and you don’t have to do them all the time. But the more of them you do, the more frequently, the faster you’ll get good at this and the better you’ll be at it. If you are inconsistent with changing your routine or you only do what you “should” a couple of nights a week, it’ll take forever for you to notice a difference, and you may never notice much of one at all. If the way you currently live your life generates near-perfect dream recall, awesome. If it doesn’t, then you’re going to have to change some parts of how you live your life in order to get near-perfect dream recall.

This list begins with the most mundane and ‘structural’ steps, i.e. the pervasive changes in behavior that improve your sleep quality and thus both your time spent dreaming and your memory of it in the morning.

Amount of sleep: Most people are chronically under-rested. The CDC sleep guidelines require a minimum of 7 hours per night for healthy people age 18 and older. If you’re under 18 or if you have chronic health conditions or illnesses, it’s more than that. Yes, it is true that some people need or want less sleep than others. However, it is also true that many people use a combination of willpower, coping mechanisms, and denial to hobble along, mostly functional but deeply exhausted, for most of their lives!

What you can functionally scrape by on and what your body and mind need for optimal health are not the same thing. Getting sufficient sleep keeps your brain better at both dreaming and remembering dreams.

Sleep deprivation, even “minor” amounts, affects your memory and clarity of mind.

Sleep intervals: Humans sleep in roughly 90 minute cycles of intensity or depth. This means roughly every hour and a half, your mind comes close to waking up. If you wake up fully at the end of a sleep cycle, it won’t feel so jarring, and your mind will retain memories better. If you combine this point with the previous point, roughly 7.5 hours is a baseline minimum good night’s rest. (That’s 7.5 hours of sleep, to be clear — most people do not fall asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow. Sites like sleepyti.me can help you calculate when you should go to bed in order to be well-rested by the time your alarm goes off!)

Physical health: The better your overall health is, the better you’ll sleep and the more clearly you’ll dream. If it’s possible to improve your diet, your exercise, and your hydration during the day, it will make this whole process easier on you. (“Health” means different things for different people, and I’m not a doctor.

If you want to live healthier but aren’t sure how, please consult a medical professional.)

Chemicals: This isn’t possible for everyone, but if you can refrain from stimulants, depressants, or medications in general for about an hour before bedtime, that will help your efforts to retain your dreams.

Pretty much anything that changes the way your body functions has the capacity to change the way you dream, for better or worse. If you know that you always take melatonin 30 minutes before bed and you’re never gonna change that, cool, just build that into your learning curve. But if you often have, say, a final cigarette or a nightcap, try and get it over with significantly before you plan to sleep. It’ll just make the process easier if you’re working with your baseline rather than with a varying amount of chemical influences that change from night to night.

Bedtime routine: The more clearly you can signal to your brain/body/subconscious that you are Going To Bed and it is now Time To Remember The Dreams, the better. There are a lot of possible things you can build into a bedtime routine, but the important thing is that it stays exactly the same every night and starts at as close to the same time as possible. Here are some suggestions, but feel free to include your own. These

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PHOTO BY GLORY

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are only a starting place. Do whichever you want in whichever order makes sense for you, but stick to the same order every night: ● choose a bedtime and stick to it ● do your pre-bed activities in the same order (things like putting away dishes, changing into pajamas, brushing teeth, washing face, brushing hair, using toilet, etc) ● give yourself a buffer before you get into bed of media-free time (or, at minimum, blue-light filter glasses or night mode on your devices, etc) ● pray or meditate before bed ● lay out what you’ll need in the morning ● refresh incense, water, etc on shrines ● do some gentle exercise like stretching or yoga (the goal is relaxing your muscles, not raising your heart rate) ● a warm bath or shower can help relax your body and make falling asleep easier ● tell yourself out loud “I will remember my dreams when I wake up” or something similar (Saying it out loud is more effective than writing/reading/thinking it because it engages more senses. Verbal speech includes kinesthetic [moving your muscles], auditory [hearing], and language processing, and involving more parts of your brain helps the message ‘stick’ more firmly.)

Condition yourself: Similar to establishing a series of actions to do for bed every night, you can add sensory triggers or objects to your bed-space itself to put you in the right frame of mind to dream clearly and retain your dreams. (Most of these will also help you fall asleep more easily.) Some things that might help: ● a scented spray for your sheets/pillowcase (build in some magic by making your own, perhaps with herbs or flowers that aid memory) ● a charm you touch or interact with in some other way before sleeping ● a piece of jewelry or magical artifact you wear while sleeping ● using the same type of fabric for all your pajamas (so they feel the same on your skin) ● the same ^ for your sheets/pillowcase ● using a scented detergent, especially if it’s a scent you don’t use in any other products ● listening to the same song or type of music as you fall asleep ● using the same visualization or other technique to fall asleep each night Dream journal: Start one. Write in it every day, the earlier the better. Keep it accessible all day or as much as possible, because as you build the habit of recording your dreams, your mind will start spitting out random details or bits of dream-memory during the day, and you’ll want to record those too. Not to harp on this, but do it every day. There’s no amount of information too small or minor to record - if all you remember is something about bears, write down “something about bears”.

If you hate physically writing, look into voice notes or audio programs. I do my journaling on my computer because I find it easier to go back and add details as they occur to me. Find a way that works for you.

Practice: I don’t know how long it will take for you to get better at remembering your dreams. Partially that’s because it depends on how diligent (or obsessive) you are about it, and partially that’s because it’s different for everyone. I would suggest that you do all of the above for at least two weeks before you start adding in other techniques. I would also suggest that you try one new thing at a time, for at least a week, before you switch to or add something new. That’s honestly a very fast pace; if you currently never remember your dreams and are restructuring your entire sleep process, a month or two is much more reasonable before adding complicating factors. Learning to recall your dreams is, on the mundane level, a matter of training your brain and psyche. It takes time and consistent effort; you shouldn’t expect to do something once and have it work like flipping a switch. Be gentle with yourself and allow yourself time to fully absorb the effects of each new change.

Below are some of the other things I’ve personally done or talked people through doing, to sharpen their recall once they had the basics (the previous steps) down.

Set yourself tasks: As your recall begins to develop, set memory tasks for yourself before going to sleep.

Resolve to observe at least one person closely enough to describe them upon waking. Look for a blue object.

Try to fly and see what happens. Etc. Choose concrete things so that you can tell, upon waking, whether you saw/found/did them or not. This is not about forcing yourself to dream certain things, so choose mundane, common activities or details that you need to look for, not create. (There will inevitably be some amount of ‘dreaming about a thing because you were thinking of it before bed’. That’s useful data too. Try out different

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tasks to avoid feeling stuck in a rut — maybe draw them out of a hat or use a randomizer to pick for you.)

Set these resolutions before sleep, then assess them upon waking. This will sharpen your recall through practice and through pressing your memory for those details, and it will begin to increase your lucidity (meaning your conscious awareness) during your dreams, which is a useful building block to things like lucid dreams, channeling, and spirit communication while dreaming.

Review your dream journal regularly: “Regularly” can mean a lot of different things, but periodically, look back through your dream journal for trends, recurring symbols, etc. If you notice that you intermittently don’t remember much of your dreams, but other nights are very detailed, it may be worth tracking more information, such as when and what you ate before bed, your bedtime and how much sleep you got, any medications or hormonal fluctuations (such as menstrual cycles), weird activities during the day, and even moon phase or planetary transits if you wanna really get into it. Looking back at patterns within your dreams (not just the timing of when you remember them) can bring details back to the forefront of your mind that you’d forgotten, and it may also reveal trends and recurrences you didn’t notice at the time, especially in setting or plot.

Here’s something I’ve experienced from looking back at my dreams that may or may not happen to you: If I notice a recurring pattern and talk about it to others, it stops. If I grapple with it in my journal and work out what it means to me, it stops. Sometimes there’s a single dream that feels like a followup or confirmation, but usually there isn’t. My theory is that my acknowledgment of the pattern or recurrence signals to my unconscious/dreaming mind that I got the message and don’t need it repeated anymore.

Often, this isn’t magical or spiritual, just my unconscious working things out, so once my conscious mind ‘gets it’, my unconscious doesn’t have to bother with it anymore.

Ask for help (spirits): If you belong to a religious or spiritual tradition, there are probably gods or spirits you can petition for help with dream recall. Obviously I can’t speak for every faith or tradition out there, but it’s true of many. You can reach out to gods or spirits you have developed a relationship with and ask for more peaceful sleep, a clearer mind, better recall, or whatever specific struggle you feel you’re having.

You can also reach out to gods or spirits who are known to exercise power over sleep or dreams (or, often, the night itself). Coming from my own Hellenic polytheist background, Selene, Hekate, Hermes, Hypnos, Mnemosyne/the Muses, and/or other daimones could be asked for help.

Sometimes a simple prayer/petition is all it takes. Other times, a god or spirit may direct you in further steps to take. I sleep with a paper pentacle Selene showed me in a scrying session, for instance.

Ask for help (magical objects): Which leads to, you can also create your own magical objects, with or without a spirit’s guidance, in accordance with your practice/tradition. You could make a charm bag or sachet pillow to tuck in your bed, a wall hanging or braided cord to go near your bed, or any number of paper, fabric, wood, metal, or other crafted charms/amulets. You can easily incorporate planetary rulerships, herbs, wildcrafted items, or any number of other things. The variety is endless and depends only on your path and abilities. You might focus on either improving your quality of sleep (thus making it easier for your mind to retain your dreams) or specifically sharpening your recall upon waking. Clarity of vision is another trait worth seeking to develop, as dreams that are more clear are often easier to recall. (If you’re prone to nightmares or night terrors, I don’t know if seeing things more clearly is going to be helpful/ healthy/beneficial for you. Use your own good judgement; I’m just a stranger on the internet.)

Try out spells: Plenty of grimoires and other texts have historical spells for easing sleep, remembering dreams, calling or causing certain kinds of dreams, etc. Of course you can write your own, as well, but if this is a new area of study for you, it’s worth trying out some attested spells that you don’t have to test-drive yourself. Many of these spells will combine one or both of the previous steps. Some will involve things such as ritual cleansings Play games with other occultists: If you have other friends who are practitioners, test each other’s recall and magical skills by sending each other dreams. There are, as mentioned, countless historical spells for causing certain types of dreams. Some rely on sympathetic magic; some call on spirits as emissaries; some use other media entirely. This often takes more experimentation and trial-and-error, but it’s fun!

Have your friend write down somewhere what they’re trying to send you and how, then report back to them the next morning what you dreamed of. In this way, you test your recall, and your friend strengthens their craft.

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ROSE C.

Fish Chowder:

A Recipe for New Year and Lent In my family, superstition says that fish eaten on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day will bring wealth and abundance for the year. When asked, my grandmother stated it has to do with Jesus feeding the masses with a few small fish and seven loaves of bread.

The Chinese have a similar belief that fish will bring prosperity in the New Year, as the Mandarin word for fish (yú, 鱼) sounds similar to good luck and fortune (fú, 福).

Whatever your beliefs, this hearty soup will not leave anyone at your dinner table wanting. This recipe can also be made during those chilly Lenten nights where meat consumption is explicitly forbidden.

You will need: ● 2 leeks, well washed and chopped ● 2 celery stalks, diced ● 1 pound of potatoes, washed and cubed (can be peeled or unpeeled to your preference) ● 8 ounces of fish stock ● 1 ½ cups of whole milk ● 12 ounces evaporated milk ● A knob of butter ● 2 pounds of cod (or other mild white fish), cut into bite size pieces ● A handful of fresh chopped parsley ● 1 tablespoon of thyme, dried or fresh ● Salt and pepper to taste Melt the butter in a medium pan on medium heat and add leeks and celery. Cook them while stirring until they begin to soften, about five minutes.

Add the potatoes, fish stock, and thyme. Simmer until the potatoes are soft and can easily be pierced with a fork, about fifteen minutes.

Once the potatoes are tender, reduce the heat to medium low and add all of the milk products and the fish. Simmer on low, taking care that it doesn’t boil. It will be ready when the fish is flaky but still firm, about another fifteen minutes.

Add the parsley and the salt and pepper at this time.

Ladle into bowls and serve hot.

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PHOTO BY POEMS

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HESPER / @EMPYREALHESPER

Counting Salt:

Or, How to Fuck Up that

Guy from Sesame Street

O shadows of illness and shades of the grave, Bleakness of cruelty and hearts yet unshrived, Pestilence, plague, crosses of sorrow, Libertines, coveters, hungers deprived, Hear my challenge. Your arrows hold.

Til you unpick black from white And unmix salt from fragrant sea— Then, only then, your harms revive.

Then, only then, may you touch me.

An extremely simple uncrossing salt. To be mixed with water, encanted over, and poured over the head. Let it air dry for maximum potency.

• Black salt • White salt • Rosemary Inspired by the many folkloric & mythical attestations to sorting/counting as a Herculean labor: from Aphrodite challenging Psyche to sort grains of salt from sugar, to the various tales from various places of ghosts and vampires being compelled to count outpourings of rice or sand or poppy seeds or what-have-you before they could cross it.

The mixing with water adds a double layer to the protective wall; the air-drying literally crusts your skin with the mixture of black-and-white-dissolved-into-one.

Rosemary brings our list of ingredients to three, a powerfully active magical number, an uneven number in flux, the root of nine, as well as being an active cleanser in its own right. Rosemary wards off nightmares, illness, and evil; the Virgin Mary laid her cloak on it, turning the flowers blue in Her memory.

FOLLOWING PHOTO BY GLORY 47

POEMS / @POEMSANDMYTHS

Reflection and Renewal Lent is a well-known Christian liturgical season that prepares people for Easter, or the resurrection of Christ. Though this season is mostly relevant to Christians, this could be an opportunity for others to examine and reflect on their own faith and practice.

Lent has many observances that it focuses on. Many Christians will be fasting and abstaining from meat (replaced by fish) which is usually observed only on Fridays, and we are also called to abstain from bad habits, habitual sins, or anything that could give us distracting pleasure. Another focus of this season are acts of mercy and compassion, so you may see more people doing volunteer work in their communities or giving alms. These customs serve many important purposes; to bring us closer to our faith, to cleanse us of what hinders or could harm our relationship to our deity, to show our deity an act of faith through self-control and discipline, and to allow us to extend grace and mercy to others.

I believe people of different faiths and practices could carry these customs and purposes with them during this season. Reflect on your own path and your relationship with your spirits. Is there anything that is hindering you from moving forward? Is there a habit or distraction that could be causing harm to your relationships? I invite you to take the season of Lent as a time to reflect on your journey so far. A couple activities that could help you reflect could be as simple as journaling your thoughts, practicing meditation, and praying on your struggles and needs. You are even invited to abstain or observe a fast if your practice and health allows for it, and of course giving alms or volunteer work for your community is always available to do for anyone of any faith.

So please, take this spring season to reflect, renew, purge, cleanse, and declutter the unnecessary from your life. Whether you do this physically, mentally, or spiritually, I am certain that you will see and feel a difference in your life and gain clarity for your path to move forward.

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PHOTO BY TIN

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