A confession here: I'm one of those lazy witches.
I suppose that makes me something of a lazy potist, too. I also must presume a bit of that laziness stems from fear, which is the primary root cause of procrastination. Us skeptics and scientists and pragmatists, especially, can really fall into the trap of putting our heads down and thinking, "Bah . . . magic? Might not do a damn bit of good. Just wishful hocus-pocus and pipe-dreaming. I'd better stick with plain old hard work. . . ."
Except, a life of all pragmatism and no wonder leaves a bit to be desired. I think there's a danger of aging too quickly that way, by losing touch with the magic and synchronicity of the Universe, never mind a sense of childlike play. We also know very well by now that accomplishment, manifestation and creative projects begin with a vision, and that process is the backbone of true magic.
There's another side to the use of magic, though. What if you've done all you can on the material plane under your own steam, and it still isn't enough? What if you find your "arse in a crack", are disenfranchised, ripped off, or simply want a bit more "rightness" to a situation? And you've heard that just maybe, if you try these rather non-scientific methods, the Universe might nonetheless respond to your plight and help? That's when some people resort to prayer if they're Judaeochristian, and prayer plus spells, potions and hoodoo if they're Pagan, Wiccan, Witches and/or Magi (though the line is blurred, and some Judaeochristians also use hoodoo).
Two nights ago, I'd pulled a 10-to-6 graveyard shift. After I come home and bathe, I go one place, and that's bed. So I didn't see the already less-than-24-hour notice of a potential buyer showing by our real estate agent. I had to pack my butt out of that house in one hour, for an hour!
"Is that going to be okay for you guys?"
"It's just that the buyer has to fly out tomorrow. . . ."
"She (me) must be exhausted, poor thing!"
Why, yes I am, you rich, falsely sympathetic little snot of a real estate agent, and I do not appreciate this crap. ("It's impossible to like somebody like that," my friend Allison consoled me.)
If I had used any hoodoo-type formula, such as Hot-Foot Powder or Banishing Oil, it had been a looong time --- so long, I couldn't recall when. But the beauty of hoodoo and folk magic, besides its availability to anyone, is the ease of its use. It works on conviction and the Doctrine of Signatures, so it doesn't require the use of three circles, twelve candles, or a two-hour theurgical ritual. A simple mixture, a quick sprinkle of powder, and off you go.
Not only was I resentful of being turfed, and so very suddenly ("Well, I guess we'll just have to accommodate them. . . ."), but I didn't want the house to sell hastily, or to any but the very most worthy buyer. I recall a man back home who complained he couldn't get decent trade-workers to repair his homes where I grew up. "Well," barked my father, "that's because of filthy-rich guys like you buying their fourth house out there sight-unseen, and driving the cost of living up so much that tradespeople can't afford to live out there!" That shut the man up. Dad always was one to fight for the underdog, knowing how it feels to be one.
I wanted to fight for my house. To keep the threat at bay. To discourage the unworthy. After all, I'm a witch. For once not in the mood to take life lying down and ass-kissing, I thought: Hot-Foot Powder!
What did I have on hand, in a literal pinch? Red pepper and black pepper are both used in Hot-Foot, protective and repellent blends. But I didn't just want the person to not stick around on premises. I wanted them to look around, and go, ". . . .Meh. Not for me." And move on. As per the Doctrine of Signatures, what had the energy of "meh", of distaste, flatness and lack of enthusiasm? Ashes! And ashes we had --- downstairs in the fireplace.
Another ingredient came to me in a brilliant stroke of inspiration. One of the only things I didn't like about living in this location was its invasion of tiny sugar ants. They invaded my Fig Newtons. They invaded my potion ampoules. And most recently, a whole swarm of them invaded, of all things, my snowboard boot! And the little bastards smell horrible when you squish them, a veritable scream of alarm pheromones. In the case of the boot, I went nearly mad and squished dozens of them before moving the offending boot outside. Dead ants --- a perfect ingredient in a "Yuk, don't move here" potion!
Finally, vinegar is a good ingredient for formulae used to "sour" a person on an option, relationship or anything else. No Balsamic here; I had plain old, nose-hair-puckering white vinegar in the cabinet.
Next, it was, shake that mutha up!
". . . Barring all those dear to me,
take one look inside and flee,
get back on your plane and stay
far, far away!"
I don't recall the entire rhyme I spoke to enchant the potion (whilst shaking the heck out of it), but spur-of-the-moment magick is like that: for, and of, the moment. The important thing is, it felt good, came from a place of passion and raw spontenaity, and served my needs.
Finally, I went down the front walk and, behind me, poured the potion in a line cross the pavers below the front step. It would act on whoever crossed that line, who was not housemate Debbie, a relative, or a friend of either of us --- and they'd have to cross that line to get to the front door, through which an agent would most certainly introduce them properly to the house! Then I went and had French onion soup and lemon chocolate cube cake at La Petite Provence . . . giving the waiter an extra tip, because, well, he was a delicious baritone with a good sarcastic wit.
The house didn't sell.
As an update on June 5th:
The house still hasn't sold, but this may be due to the intimidation factor of the amazing, cutting-edge aquaponic greenhouse and its necessary learning curve and maintenance, more than my potion. What hasn't changed is that I want this house to go to the best buyer possible. In light of that, I may be making another potion in the coming days, and appealing to various saints . . . this time to encourage a timely, and appropriate, house sale!
This potion, and many of its hoodooish cousins, can be considered by some to be "grey magick": It has active, controlling influence on other people, and not purely benign; i.e. it has a denser vibration than, say, herbal medicine tea or moon water. In making it, I felt the heady sense of power that comes with responsibility. A passionate curse potion can really kink a person out, so I'm not one to dribble them about lightly --- indeed, my following week was full of drama! (Although, it was unconnected to the house, and may have just been Uranus moving into Taurus).
But in making and utilizing this potion so quickly, I was also inspired. I felt suddenly qualified as the resourceful, practical, and imminently powerful gutter-type mage represented by Snape, who can use anything around him to meet his ends. I felt close to the hearth heritage of our own American rootwork, folk magick and hoodoo traditions, who have "a powder for that", and a huge range of blends and spells for just about any need. I reveled in a kind of magick that felt more raw, practical, rough-and-ready than some of the light-focused, uber-spiritual types of work espoused by New Age and Wiccan groups these days, who seem afraid to get their hands dirty (even while their exes are trouncing them, and people in power are getting away with murder!).
I felt inspired at being reminded how Potistry doesn't have to be this great, intimidating thing that takes three hours or a certain moon phase: It can also be immediate, and simple, a perfect mix of the calculating mind and passionate spirit . . . and on top of this, it can be fearlessly, shamelessly bitchin'.
Oh, Severus! May this be only the start of a new and wonderful phase of my regular practice, one that invites courage and action; yet may I also not abuse such power.
'Cause, you know. I really do want our home to go to a good home.
Fun fact: Some say that if you see a purple door, it means a witch lives there. This may or may not be true, but I'm seeing a lot of purple doors posted in my online witch groups, and it's obvious some witches are reclaiming power and identity by painting their doors (among many other things!). One day when I have my own house, I wouldn't mind having a purple door!
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