Generally it had been a witchy sort of a day. We began it by going to friend’s yard sale where I bought some candlesticks I intend to use in ritual. Later I went to get my haircut by yet another friend and fellow occultist. We chatted about all good folk magick things and he gave me advice which I always receive with deep appreciation. I punctuated the day with a brief outing to an art show and marveled at my good fortune to know such interesting people. It had been a long time since I had been to an art show or opening. My companion and I entered the complex where the art space lives and were hit by an intense smell of chocolate from one of the businesses that also is housed there. The effect was sort of an alert, an olfactory signpost as I now see it retrospectively. I’ve been reading the book “Pieces of Light” by Charles Fernyhough, and had got to the chapter on smell memory just that day. A lovely piece of synchronicity. The show was a mix of different artists part of a collective. Using such diverse materials as textiles, latex, paper, human hair, kombucha SCOBYs and more, the work was a tantalizing journey into intimacy and notions of the self. I loved all of it, the esthetic had a creepiness to it that appealed to me. There followed a brief talk by the artists and then a performance piece. In the performance, one of the artists encouraged us to share a secret which she would then read but not reveal and create a sort of memento for whomever shared the secret. The memento itself was a jar into which she placed salvaged and foraged items she had imbued with personal meaning. There were pieces of glass, her own hair, scraps of a nightdress from her grandmother and so on. The performance itself, I did not find very successful. I don’t like to be prompted to intimacy in such a way (though noone was forced to participate), and the artist performing seemed too nervous which made it awkward. But I found the concept behind the performance intriguing. In the occult we often talk about correspondences, These are elements that can come together to create powerful circumstances for ritual or spellwork. We might heed the phases of the moon or planets to determine when best to perform our workings. Added to this could be certain herbs, chrystals etc. all intended to harness the right energies. I have often found the basis of this theory very prescriptive and arbitrary. As someone who is intrigued more with folk magic, I thought the way the artist in the performance I witnessed built a personal lexicon of meaning and therefore power through her own history more interesting and potentially more powerful than something dictated to us from an old grimoire. I don’t know how magick works in a rational sense. I can’t talk about it as if it were a scientific theory because it’s not. Anyone who has cast a spell can agree that sometimes all the conditions are right and still the outcome is not what we wanted. The notion of developing our own personal correspondences is appealing to my folk magic heart but also seems to me essentially egalitarian. It is the practitioner that determines the power of the objects and materials and in the process of determining which items to use, the practitioner can develop a deep relationship with their work. Building Your Folk Correspondences Collecting together elements of personal meaning to you in your magickal practices is something that will take time. You must meditate and think carefully about what you want to include. It’s not something that can be forced. In this way it is a psychological activity and I happen to think much of magick is based in psychology. You might start with thinking about positive attributes you want in your magickal work - strength for example. What means strength to you? Is it a person? Perhaps a herb? Alternatively you might find that you subconsciously have been collecting something. Do you pick up a pebble everytime you visit the beach? What might these mean to you, were you to use them in ritual or spellwork? I was tidying up a bathroom draw yesterday and was surprised at how many bobby pins and buttons I have acquired. The bobby pins reminded me of my childhood, having my hair tied back for school. Sometimes the little rubber tips came off and the hair pins would scratch my scalp. The buttons reminded me of my mother’s sewing. She was an accomplished dressmaker and she died not too long ago so the discovery of them held an odd poignancy. Both items had a potency specific to me and so going forward I will probably use them in my own charm bags and witch bottles. Another suggestion would be to get into the habit of carrying vials so that should something catch your fancy you can carefully and responsibly harvest it. Some dirt from an outdoor concert that you loved, ashes from a fire. You get the idea. You don’t need a massive collection, as space allows. Housing your items in nice jars in a pretty cabinet certainly gives them a wonderful air of mystique but they just as easily can be kept in a cardboard box under your bed. However you approach, provided your intent is clear, there is no wrong way. Comments are closed.
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AuthorLiz Watkin writes for The Wild Hunt. All opinions expressed here are her own and do not reflect those of any associated organizations. ArchivesCategories |