On November 21, I headed to friend Timothy's for an early Thanksgiving. But while we did stuff our faces on delicious mushroom pie, ginger cake and wine, my mind had been buzzing with far more in anticipation of that night. I'd already torn up two thrift stores, and before making bus-tracks to his house, I went clear south to Sellwood, near where I'd once lived on 13th Street. Destination: Stars Antique Mall.
After going through both big buildings and their dozens of vendors, I returned to this one booth where I'd felt an intense tingling kind of pull, a booth which held lots of strange ethnic, magical, mystical and downright creepy items -- crucifixes, voodoo tools, masks, etc., a bit reminiscent of Borgin and Burkes, actually -- and there it sat. I'd totally overlooked it the first pass: The perfect size of cauldron, cast iron, great for both burning and brewing and easily portable. "See me? See me?" she seemed to call; "Don't let me sit here and rust!"
Besides a convenient one-serving brew size, I needed another advantage: accessibility. Both my stove-size Potjie cast-iron and my bronze poison cauldron, plus the little dinky cute one my Dad gave me, are buried somewhere in my storage unit. Even in a place as huge as Stars, cast iron vessels, as it turns out, are rare, especially of the right size and shape. But this gal was, obviously, meant to be mine.
My new "baby" got broken in with a taste of fire on her very first night. Timothy, excited about taking part in his first-ever magick ritual (though he's no stranger to occult sentiments, being a very spiritual and perceptive man who works extensively with Tarot and has taught me a thing or two!), helped me compile a list of qualities and energies that we felt held us back from our destinies and true potential. Together, using a method called the Green Fire Ritual, we banished them. I'd brought along Epsom salts and rubbing alcohol, and now I invoked the power of Pluto and Saturn on this Scorpio new moon. Up went the flames (though not as green as I'd've liked), and in went the paper! "Ad Nemesis vada totus insufficienti" to shame, fear, past wounds, and all the rest!
I obtained the Green Fire Ritual from Mooncircles.com, a favourite astrology site. Some folks, it seems, make a proper ritual out of it; others just write out intention, then light and burn. I felt it would be stronger if I invoked the Powers, but still kept it short and sweet, especially since it was raining, and we had to keep noise to a minimum so as not to antagonize Tim's landlady. But he still seemed to get a great deal of satisfaction from the venture. Since he's a fantastic artist, I'd certainly like to see us both a little more freed up to achieve our highest and finest in life. After the ritual, Timothy did the honors of further scrubbing, de-rusting and seasoning my new cauldon.
The Potions Master approves.
What are you thankful for this year?
As finances allow, I hope to acquire a larger cauldron, possibly 20-40 gallons or so, to facilitate not only serious Snape action but communal gatherings. With the recent rise of the # MeToo movement as women speak out in protest of sexual assault, and growing resistance to the fear and shame perpetuated so insidiously by America's current patriarchal rape culture (an outdated and destructive world view which is hindering the souls of men, as well), I'd love to once more employ the cauldron as a tool of gathering, community support, women's conversation (possibly at times including men in the group who are fully committed to societal revolution and change, such as Timothy). Indeed, as Cerridwen's cauldron has long stood as a symbol of, a tool of rebirth on multiple levels.
And let's not forget the main reason for bringing back the big black pot on a regular basis: FUN. Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts, can you HEAR the cackling from here?! Before poor Severus ended up living his final years in shame and loathing his job of teaching young apathetic dunderheads, he was no doubt a wickedly adventurous boy, who loved putting the pewter through its paces and seeing how gnarly a result he could get. (Come, now, what's really wrong with the Dark Arts, provided you don't use them on the innocent, right? *snark*) Nobody parties like a Slytherin, and I for one am committed to perpetuating the brew-loving soul of Severus. (Current employment at a beer factory doesn't hurt, unless you count those draining graveyard shifs) Campfires and bonfires, too, are places of heart and community for people. A simmering cauldron would only add to the delight.
Arseholes be warned: Tonight, sisters, we are brewing solidarity strong enough to burn their toenails off and curl their eyebrows. All hail the Serpent!
So I've been sniffing about on eBay, where cauldrons appear in all shapes and sizes, from dinky designer excuses that would give Snape a cramp in his sneering muscle to great iron bellies of mancooking vats that require four big guys (or a forklift) to lift. Also available are lovely little jewelers' brass scales in portable models, tucked in velvet-lined boxes. All manner of tools for serious potistry.
Then, I've been steadily accumulating test tubes from Scrap, a dangerously awesome surplus craft warehouse downtown on 18th Street. Finally, I returned to Stars just two days ago on Dec. 4th, and bought an item I'd seen on my cauldron mission: my first-ever crystal ball. The vendor was actually there at her booth, and it just felt right. Oh, and a few, you know . . . bottles, antiques, including one of rare red glass for photosensitive mixtures. Because Gods know, you can never have enough damn bottles. I foresee a lab forming and, at some point, kits with a full compliment of gear for a professional potist . . . .
Witchy stew, coming up.
What in Merlin's name is this, you dolt . . . ? Although, it's true power can be measured in small drops, and I suppose no one would expect foul play or fierce resistance out of such a . . . *harumph*
Beautiful.
Perfect size for feeding all the city's homeless. Or poisoning the entire reservoir. Or cooking a vile politician.
Said in Rickman's silken snarl:
"Consider yourselves warned."
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