Choosing to Do the Hoodoo

I've been thinking a lot over the past two years, mostly to myself, about how much I've been struggling religiously or spiritually, and how much I've been fighting against some inner change. I realize I've been in conflict with myself for pretty much all of the ten years I've been practicing witchcraft, as well as attempting to fit into any number of Pagan traditions. I've researched and gone through motions of Wicca, Druidry, Celtic Recon, Thelema, some eclectic version of Egyptian religion. I kept looking and trying because I was holding so hard onto what had developed into my identity as a religious, Pagan person. I was willing to accept anything in order to be a religious person, but the whole time, I was forcing it. And my lack of progress in these traditions was evident. My identity is changing and I am embracing it, because now I'm really beginning to understand what everyone else is talking about when they say, "It just feels right."

My makeup for opening ritual at last week's Hoodoo Fest to invite in the Ancestors.

I'm no longer a religious person. I don't believe the gods exist as anything other than archetypes. I don't believe in karma, though that's sort of old news. I'm losing faith everyday in the occurrence reincarnation. I no longer view the elements as individual, conscious energies. I'm basically an atheist.

But I still consider myself a spiritual person, because I do hold beliefs in things that aren't directly observable, things that haven't been explained (or accepted) by science. I believe there is a truth to energy manipulation. There is truth in being able to sense and respond to energy that is outside of your own. Energies that belong to the air and the soil and the plants, ponds, rivers, lightning, stones, the moon, animals, the dead. I believe that land spirits are a real thing, they are unique to their own ecosystems, and that we can learn about them by spending time in our environments, paying attention to what we feel when we're there. And I think it's because that I believe in these things that I don't need the religion anymore.

Probably the biggest influence on this personal change entered my life two years ago, when my church began its West Kentucky Hoodoo Rootworker Heritage Festival. Our third consecutive Hoodoo Fest just ended last week and each time I attend, I learn and become even more confident in leaving religion behind to pursue a craft-like approach to spirituality that is rooted in the practices of energy manipulation (magic) and ancestor reverence. And these practices also have a different quality that captivates me more than any others ever have: they're American.

One of the biggest things I've been struggling with for the last decade is that I don't know how to practice something that is so culturally-involved when I myself am not a part of that culture. Yes, my ancestors came from Ireland and England and Prussia, but I didn't. Even having lived in Europe, attending a British school, studying abroad in England, visiting Ireland, hanging out in Germany every weekend, I'm not Irish or English or German. I am American, and before I knew what hoodoo was, it seemed like there was no practice of which that I was ever going to feel truly a part. I might not be a native of the Carolinas or grew up in a household with a grandma who sprinkled brick dust and had superstitions about how to store a broom, but I don't think that matters. Since I've began my own personal research and practice, and since I've been attending hoodoo-focused workshops every year at my church, I've enjoyed success and improvement in my spiritual life that I feel I was always missing out on before. When I dress candles and write petition papers and create sachets, I feel like I'm participating in something that works and enriches my life, rather than something frustrating and discouraging.

I'm even shying away from what I called European witchcraft. There is a feeling of so much freedom in Hoodoo when my materials are just yarn, salt, paper, herbs (among other very easy to find or make ingredients). No need for wands and athamés and censers and grand gestures. Hoodoo is the kind of craft that I can practice sitting on my deck listening to the birds, wrapping string around a little piece of paper. I don't have to be chanting and raising my arms and dancing around an altar at midnight. It's a relief.

And it's also relieving to understand and come to terms with how my beliefs are evolving. I think there's a lot of pressure in the Pagan community to be a polytheist, and to adhere to a karmic worldview, and to never harm anyone or anything, even in self defense. There's a stark dichotomy between "black/dark" and "white" witchcraft that frankly, I hate. It's always been my opinion that overall, Neo-Paganism should draw its spiritual inspiration from nature and it just drives me crazy when Pagans devise all these ethical constructs and fantastic beliefs that have nothing connecting them to the natural world. Hoodoo seems so different in the still early stages of my practice because it is directly connected to the land and the community in which I live. The rainwater I collect comes from my backyard. My petition paper comes from local thrift store packaging that wraps the many jars I also purchase there. The more I learn about this craft, the more I try to use materials that I can walk outside of my house and find right in my yard. I want to personally make my materials as much as I can, like when I made my own Florida Water. Next, I'd like to make my own rose water, and try my hand at my own candles and oils.

Hoodoo to me represents a practice of self-accountability, responsibility, and creativity. It provides so many opportunities for an individual to experience self-growth through trial and error and learning at one's own pace, along with practicing traditional methods. Specifically to me, it allows me to figure out my own ethics and beliefs without the requirement of belief in gods and karma and all the other things that hang me up about other spiritual/religious systems. But it's flexible enough that many practitioners of it (at least most of the people I've met), do approach it from a religious point of view. Some even identify as Christian or at least work the magic within a Christian context, using psalms, calling on Mary and Jesus. It's that flexibility that really makes hoodoo a true craft to me, not just a spiritual activity. From all I've learned and done so far, it's not a meditate-y, prayerful, fluffy bunny, unconditional love and peace type of spirituality. And I need that because nature and life and my own experience are sometimes rarely those things. I need a practice that is grounded in the type of reality that I'm looking at everyday. I don't want a religion or a spirituality for which I have to set time aside, or get into the right (somewhat altered) mindset to participate, or ignore my education as a scientist, or any other ways of removing myself from this world. I'm looking for a spirituality that isn't supernatural, but is still mysterious, with concepts and skills to learn throughout my life.

I believe ultimately that spirituality should be about enriching one's life in the present. I also believe that the enrichment should be driven by oneself, through study, active practice, learning from mistakes and remembering successes for next time. The practice of hoodoo allows these things to happen for the individual, for me, and it's because of that that I don't think I'll be looking back at much of anything else as I move forward. The deeper I go into the study and practice of hoodoo, the farther away these inner conflicts about gods and religion and fitting in with other Neo-Pagans become. This system of American folk magic makes me feel like I know what home is. And home to me is not worshipping deities and drawing down the moon and turning the other cheek until there's nothing left because performing a curse is "wrong." Home is reading and coffee and little red bags filled with lodestones and herbs, enjoying a breeze, sitting with friends, sprinkling salt in the corners of the house, cooking and beer and laughter. Religion or spirituality should not be separated from everyday life, and it just feels right to finally be experiencing them together.

Summer's Arrival

This past Saturday we celebrated Summer's Arrival at my church. Usually in Paganism, summer's decline is actually celebrated at the Solstice (around June 21st), but the Summer Solstice -- also called Litha -- is a huge time for Pagan festivals around the States, so our church instead does a simple celebration in early June. This year was one of the funnest summer celebrations I've ever attended!

First, we dedicated two new altar spaces. Most of our camping and worship area are large fields with full sun, but in one spot, there is a great little island of flowers and trees that provide shade. In this space, we planted two new willow trees, and set up rough drafts for a healing altar and a Buddhist/Pagan peace altar.

Our church has a really long tradition of incorporating healing work into everything that we do. Having an outdoor altar that will be set up every time the land is used is a natural extension. And it's in such a great, shady place. I'm excited to see how it grows. 

Petitions for healing are written on popsicle sticks that are then thrown into a sacred fire.

One of our members has also been working on a Buddhist/Pagan peace altar that honors the goddess Kuan-Yin (she's one of the many Buddhas of the world and is known for her healing powers and compassion). He described "peace" in this instance as a sky that is totally clear, without clouds. It's a deep kind of peace that goes beyond just relaxation or feelings of tranquility. He will be gathering up the contents of the altar as it grows and carrying them to different Pagan events, where it will grow even more. I think it's wonderful that we will have that altar space to connect to the Pagan community and the world in general through the peace of Kuan-Yin.

After dedicating these two new altar spaces, we planted some very young, tiny willow trees as the head of the "island." Willows are a tree that have long been associated with healing, and they're special trees to the church. All of us brought dirt from our yards at home to the church's land and filled in the holes around the saplings with that dirt, symbolizing how we all come together as a community, despite our different backgrounds, locations, origins. Our priestess read a really beautiful poem to the willow tree. I'm excited to watch them grow!

We also had a great ritual to welcome Summer. Though I'm not very into the heat and getting tan, I always love the spring and summer time of year. The rituals are fun and light-hearted, but also very powerful. It's a time to celebrate strength and growth and the gathering of momentum toward change (or solidification). We created the sacred space by singing "You Are My Sunshine," and also sang chants celebrating the trees and the earth. We used colored balls to represent the Elements and had fun throwing them at each other to raise energy -- it did start getting a little similar to dodge ball. We also had pieces of colored paper cut in the shape of leaves on which we wrote blessings for our community. These were all put into a cardboard boat that will be sent down the creek near the land to carry our blessings out.

One of the things I love about our Summer's Arrival celebrations is that we also take time to identify those negative things in our lives that we want to remove. We do this using water balloons. We concentrate on what that negative thing is, whether it's a bad habit, an ailment, destructive relationship, etc., and push that energy into the balloon. Then, when ready, the balloon is smashed into the ground or crushed in our hands. It's a great way to feel some resolve and encouragement to change our lives and selves for the better.

My balloon represented procrastination and apathy. I allow too much of both to interfere with what I want to be doing.

After ritual was over, we all ate our potluck feast, and then started playing with fire! One of the ministers at the church does poi and other fire-spinning techniques, and always is willing to teach us and let us practice. Our priestess's son is also really good at the fire staff and he helps out a lot too. I've always been really shy to try them because I don't want people to see me mess up, but I decided that enough is enough last night and gave it a shot. I have a cousin who also spins poi, and my minister gave me a practice set to use at home, but I've never felt totally drawn to it. It takes a rhythm that feels really foreign to me. Instead, the more I watched, the more I wanted to try the staff, and when I finally did, it felt so right! 

A friend got this photo of me with the staff. I just couldn't stop laughing. 

I did feel awkward moving it around, but the more I got used to the weight, the better it felt and the more fun I had. I am definitely hooked now! I can't stop thinking about it. Over the coming weeks of the summer, I'm going to see what I can do about making a staff of my own so I can keep practicing. I'm keeping in mind that I made the promise to myself to not let procrastination continue to interfere with my life, so I want the fire staff to become a new project that I really dedicate myself to. It's also a good upper arm work-out, so there are more benefits than just being able to spin a burning stick!

I might not be the most summery of people, but I don't think any person can ignore that summer is a magical time of year. It's really come to represent friendship and community to me, and I'm so grateful to know all the people with whom I can celebrate the Sun and nature and Earth. And since the rest of the summer is going to be a lot of hard work for me (securing and internship, preparing for my last semester of college, etc.), it was great to have this day to spend with my church before joining in with the "real world." So, Happy Summer, Happy Festival Season -- I am looking forward to the Sun's blessings in the coming months!

Open Mind, Closed Skull

Before You Read:

I wrote this post as an outlet for my frustration. This is long-winded vent, and I understand that it will be considered offensive to different types of people. If you're not interested in reading pretty strong criticism of Christianity, then don't read this post. I'm not going to apologize for my words.

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I'm a person who thinks about religious tolerance quite a lot. I consider the difficulties in finding balance between too much and too little tolerance (and am especially interested in the former). I'm also interested in finding out what tolerance really is, and how it differs from acceptance and also encouragement.

Religious tolerance and coexistence are widely desired and cultivated values within Paganism. There is a universal ideal of acceptance for all faiths or "paths" that many Pagans hold to be a foundational trait of one who is open-minded. The sentiment appears in several forms, such as, "All paths are valid and/or leading to the same goal," - "There is no one true way, and all ways deserve respect," - "There is an interfaith connectedness between all people," - "All is one," - and so on. I'm sure every Pagan has heard, and most believe, in practicing these values of acceptance. But when is a person too tolerant, too accepting, too open-minded? I imagine many people believe that there isn't such thing as too much acceptance and tolerance, but I disagree with that completely.

-Arthur Hays Sulzberger

It's intriguing to me that complete open-mindedness seems to only be applied to matters of religion. We're "allowed" (and encouraged) to be intolerant of racism, animal cruelty, homophobia, sexism. But if you're not accepting of Christianity or Wicca or Islam or Satanism, you're suddenly close-minded, a bigot. Why is there a protective line drawn around religion? Why is it held separate from the scrutiny and criticism to which all other beliefs and opinions are subjected? Why is religion a sacred topic? As Mark D. Jordan said, “Truly damaging speech cannot be excused just because it expresses genuine religious belief."

When I was still a practicing Wiccan, I was wholly tolerant. I accepted all religions and spiritualities and believed they were all leading to a common place of love for all people. If I witnessed someone's religion being criticized (usually online), I went to their defense, even becoming personally angry on behalf of people I thought were being targeted. This was regardless of their beliefs, and is something I did specifically when Christians were under attack. I was a member of a small, online Wiccan community, sort of like Facebook, and while a member of that site, I wrote blogs constantly about defending Christianity against those Pagans who openly criticize it. I look back at that time in my life (probably 19-21 years old), and I can't even believe my memories of myself.

I was completely blind -- blind to the prejudice, bigotry, and injustices being done by the people I was spending so much time defending. I was completely tolerant of intolerance, keeping my mind so open that my brain fell out in chunks, squashed on the floor. I ignored all the bad experiences both myself and my peers had, insisting that we can't judge all people for the bad actions of some. When I fell away from Wicca, and moved to the Bible Belt in 2010, I began to really solidify a change in how I define and exhibit tolerance, and this change has made me stronger and more confident than I ever was when I was trying to unconditionally love everyone.

I have to be honest now about the real focus of this post rant -- I dislike Christianity. I disagree with almost every tenet it espouses, and outside of a few psalms in the Old Testament, I consider the Bible to be a very destructive piece of literature. I believe YHWH to be a terrifyingly bloodthirsty god (I'd take the attention of the Morrígan or Pélé any day over his), and I've arrived at the opinion that Yeshua (Jesus) was a radical, apocalyptic prophet who disguised a call to war behind empty words of love. In my own life, almost all of the hatred, ignorance, and prejudice I've witnessed has been motivated by that god, that book, and that prophet, and I quit apologizing for and defending the actions of Christians in general years ago. I once accepted all Christians first, assumed immediately they were caring, loving, kind, non-judgmental. Now, I do my best to avoid them, and wait until they show by their actions that they are in fact full of unconditional love for their fellow humans. It's become an exercise in continued disappointment, with few examples that have changed my mind.

My house is visited almost weekly by all different churches, leaving pamphlets, knocking on my door, trying to spread the "good news." I went to a new dermatologist a few weeks ago, and within 20 minutes of entering the exam room, I was already being given flyers for a Christian class for college students (I'm never going back to that doctor again). I've been prayed to loudly on my own property by members of a group called the Christ Ambassadors -- one of them even grabbed the nose chain I was wearing, violating my personal space entirely. The rudeness with which these people treat others is really astonishing; it's happened to myself and I've seen it happen to others. And all of that is nothing compared to what is happening elsewhere in the world. I see church leaders protesting a Summer Solstice festival in Florida, pastors encouraging the murder and torture of children accused of witchcraft in Nigeria. Not to mention the Catholic sex abuse scandal, and now that the religion in general is starting to be more openly criticized, Christians are complaining about becoming a hated minority due to their anti-homosexual rhetoric and behavior. And while many say that these are fringe groups, that they don't represent rank-and-file Christians, nothing could be further from the truth, because those rank-and-file individuals hardly do anything to oppose the speech and actions of their leaders, especially publicly. They don't hold them accountable, and yet act offended when those of us on the outside affiliate them with the negative image that their hierarchy displays. Being tolerant of intolerance only perpetuates hatred.

That's why I can no longer defend Christianity, to others or to myself. There are some amazing Christians I've met, people I consider to be good friends (a couple are members of my family), but I no longer believe that most Christians are like them. They are the exception, and I wish that wasn't true, but it is. I barely need two hands to count the Christians I've met who don't proselytize or try to convert me and others. Those few Christians realize how offensive and divisive behavior like that is. They realize how behavior like that does not show love for fellow humans, only a desire to dominate and change them. A long rant like this wouldn't be necessary if all, or even most Christians were like the few that have taken the time to let me get to know them without the expectation  that I'll join them on Sundays. They've even invited me to speak about Pagan topics in order that they can learn more. They answer my questions in an honest and straightforward way, and remain welcoming without being pushy or expressing concern for my soul. It's incredibly refreshing to know them, especially while living in an area where a church van will park in my front yard and three people will stand on my porch trying to convince me to go to their church. And, as I've found out, adding my address to their mailing list without my consent.

Why should I be accepting of people like that? I think one of the fundamental practices of acceptance is "to live and let live." I only give out cards to my Pagan church to people who specifically inquire about Paganism. I don't go around town knocking on people's doors trying to convince them to attend Spirit of the Earth, and then fight them when they say no. While I would love to see the population of practicing Pagans grow, I'm not aware of any Pagans who are trying to actively cause that growth. The majority of the Christians in the United States do not live and let live, they do not practice tolerance and acceptance. It's not enough for them to just not attend the Summer Solstice festival in Florida, they have to do everything in their power to shut it down completely. It's not enough for them to send their children to private Christian schools, they also want the secular public to pay for a religious education with which they disagree. It's not enough for them to just be welcoming to the people who approach their churches on their own, instead they have to invade the private lives of their neighbors and attempt to scare them into attending.

So why should they be treated with respect and acceptance that they don't deserve? And why should we Pagans be trying so hard to remain accepting? We don't owe them anything. I tolerate their door-to-door "invitations" with politeness, but I no longer lie to them to spare their feelings at the expense of my own. I am tolerant of their existence, but I do not knowingly support or encourage their practice -- and simultaneously, I would never do anything to impede it, as long it was not interfering with my own way of life. That is what it means, to me, to live and let live, to be tolerant. It might make me harsh or a bitch, but I know my open mind is protected by a skull kept tightly closed.

It is possible (and really not very difficult) to hold strong religious convictions without needing them to be validated by millions worldwide, without having to constantly gather more and more followers to give your own beliefs weight. Pagans are living like this everyday. Regardless of religion, all people believe their personal practices or paths are the best -- we wouldn't be following them if they weren't -- and we should be strong and passionate enough that we don't need anyone else to believe our paths are the best along with us. We should have a confidence and self esteem that allows us to handle disagreement and be able to walk away from it, unoffended and without losing a step. And though I am biased, I see that most Pagans can do this, and we can do it politely and without being offensive ourselves. I'm often inspired by the way I see other Pagans dealing with highly offensive encounters with Christians. For example, another blogger posted this video recently (and I encourage any reader to watch it in entirety):

She is asked questions by this man that I've been faced with myself, and she responds gracefully despite the disrespect being thrown into her face by a stranger. She lives and let lives, even when faced with individuals who cannot do the same. She is a model for Pagans, illustrating beautifully the point at which I've tried to arrive with this whole rant: We can be tolerant without accepting, encouraging, or defending behavior we find abhorrent. We can politely defend ourselves against those who wish to attack and change us. We can be open-minded, but remain firm in our personal convictions. We can respond to rudeness with honesty and strength, and ultimately, we can coexist. We can walk away, shut the door, and move on without allowing insensitive, persistant people to invade our lives.

I'm trying to become better at this everyday. I started out so accepting that I would let anyone walk all over me and still try to defend and respect them. I know better now -- I'm no longer intimidated or angered by the offensive Christians I encounter in my daily life, and I also can tolerate them without being accepting or supportive. The type of encounters you experience living in the Bible Belt require a lot of patience, and sometimes it takes a rant like this to vent the frustration that results from such encounters. Compassion and understanding are important virtues, but they should not be extended unconditionally. It's important to speak out against what you believe is detrimental or wrong, and I'm glad that I've overcome my own fear of doing so. I hope more Pagans, and more rank-and-file Christians who are unhappy with how their religion is being portrayed, will do the same.

To those few exceptional Christians I've met: thank you for being confident enough in yourselves that my own confidence does not threaten you. To the Christians who can't be the same, get off my porch, stop flooding my mailbox, and kindly stay out of my life.

"Someday's Garden" Is Growing

Sometimes when you look at the light coming from the East in the early morning, you can tell that everything will be alright in the coming day. I felt like that this morning when I looked out into my backyard. The light was just perfect, and golden.

And it has been a good day so far! Best of all, the Bleeding Hearts bulb I ordered from my professor arrived. It was sitting on my desk waiting for me when I got to lab today. Bleeding Hearts are one of my absolute favorite flowers (and I'm a goth at heart, so it makes sense)! They are supposed to be very strong, hardy plants so I hope so badly that they will grow. I got a big, black, square container to house them this afternoon.

It makes me very anxious thinking about them growing, because so far, there isn't a peep coming from the Harlequin Flowers and Persian Buttercups I planted on April 2nd. Those bulbs are guaranteed to grow, but the pots sit there looking no differently than when I first filled them. I'm crossing my fingers that I didn't do something terribly wrong, (black thumb, black thumb, black thumb...) and it's scaring me even a little bit more because my African Marigolds are looking very sad. They aren't as wilty as they were a few days ago, so I think the huge thunderstorm we had helped a lot, but they aren't looking great. I've read on several gardening sites that one of the most common causes of death in container plants is over-watering, but now I wonder if I've been under-watering. It seems so hard to find the balance sometimes.

But I can't spend too much time worrying about it, because I also made another addition to my collection today: Basil, finally!! I eat so much Basil and it gets expensive. It's one of my favorite herbs and it's a rare meal I cook that doesn't have something to do with Basil in some way. I've been wanting to grow my own for ages, but I've been too afraid to start from seed. Today I found a plant that already appears well-established, so hopefully I can continue to increase the growth and for the first time, provide food for myself that I grew myself. It might not be a big deal, just a little Basil plant, but it's so important to me.

My other plants, the Philodendron and the Jaguar Daisy are doing very well though. As you can see above, Betty had two sister flowers open up. I'm very happy about that, they are bringing so much beauty to my deck.

Philodendron is a plant that prefers shade to sun, so when/if my Bleeding Hearts grow, they and Phil' will be moved to my front porch where the light is less intense. 

I've always heard that talking to plants is great for their health. I try to spend a little bit of time doing that each day. When I let Sól out in the yard in the morning, (if the bees and wasps aren't already flying around -- I'm scared insane of them), I like to take my coffee out and just tell them about positive things. I think I remember seeing a Mythbusters episode once about talking to plants, but I can't remember if they were able to show any results. I'll have to look into whether other studies have been done showing this to have a positive effect on plant growth. Maybe it's weird, but I think would talk to them either way. I also talk to the surrounding environment, the birds, the insects, the universe, the land spirits, to whomever, and ask them to bless my little container garden. It's quickly becoming a passion of mine; I want so badly to succeed in this endeavor. 

Homemade Florida Water

For a while now, I've been looking into homemade alternatives to items that I normally buy. It's a goal of mine to do this whenever possible because it saves so much money. I'm collecting recipes for laundry detergent, shower and window cleaners, fabric softener, anything I can think of or come across on Pinterest. But I'm also collecting recipes for spiritual things like bath salts, oil blends, and waters, Florida Water being one of those.

I would say the majority of the witchcraft I do at this point in my life either has to do with healing or cleansing. Washing away the old, negative spiritual dust and making space to allow positive changes to come in, in the form of thoughts, feelings, and energies. Cleansing activities have an effect on me that is both uplifting and calming at the same time. I've been neglecting my practice lately, and it's taken too much of a toll. With spring having arrived, my spirits are lifting and I'm beginning to make more time for myself (and others) on a spiritual level. Beginning to make a lot of the things I use at home is going to help reawaken and strengthen my new resolve.

Florida Water is one of my favorite holy substances. It's not holy for everyone -- some just wear it as a cologne. As Catherine Yronwode explains, it "is a 19th century formula for a commercially-prepared toilet water...that blends an array of floral essential oils in a water-alcohol base. The name refers to the fabled Fountain of Youth said to have been located in Florida."

Commercial Florida Water. Original photograph found here.

It is one of my favorite smells. It reminds me of later summer and early fall, and represents a lot of great memories for me. One of the best rituals I've ever participated in was a Voodoo healing ritual, and as we walked down a path in the woods to the ritual area, we anointed ourselves with Florida Water along the way. It is used for self-anointment, anointing altars, and many different types of spiritual cleansing. It is also a great addition to offerings left for ancestors or land spirits.

I've seen different recipes for it before, but I really wanted something simple, with ingredients that I can easily access. I decided on using Stephanie Rose Bird's recipe, found in her book Sticks, Stones, Roots & Bones. I read this book a few months ago, and I'm completely in love with it. Hoodoo and conjure practices are something I've been getting a lot of exposure to over the last year and a half, and they've influenced me deeply already. This book has been a great resource for my individual study of American folk magic. 

The ingredients are very simple: distilled water, 100 proof vodka, and lavender, clove bud, and bergamot oil. A friend from lab generously gave me some of her oils. I substituted just clove oil in place of the clove bud. It's an easier oil to find, and ordering online for less common oils can get really expensive quickly.

After I had all of my ingredients, I really needed to find some bottles in which to store the Water -- and that means a trip to peddler's and antique malls. I never give up chances to go shopping there! And I had some amazing luck today, I really couldn't believe it! I found a tall, green bottle that I'm using to store the bulk amount of the Water, and a small, dark blue glass bottle with a spray pump. When I was finished, I couldn't resist setting them up with my "Voo-Boo" doll that I bought from a friend at last year's Nashville Pagan Pride Day:

Oh, and the prices of those bottles? The spray bottle was $2.25, the tall green one, $1.99! So perfect and pretty. So now, I'm going to let my new homemade Florida Water settle for a few days before I transfer some into the spray bottle. The smell is a little strong for my liking, so I think I will be diluting it a little further with more distilled water before using it. I'm excited to research further all the different ways Florida Water can be used in a spiritual setting.  Stephanie Rose Bird says, "No Hoodoo home is complete without Florida Water." I agree entirely. Today has been a blessed day.

Day of the Bison

Yesterday morning I drove over to Land Between the Lakes in Kentucky in order to work at the South Bison Range for a few hours. The herd there needed their inoculations and anthelmintics, and some of the members needed new ear tags. Originally, we were told that we would be assisting with blood collection, so I was somewhat disappointed to find out that we would only be there in order to observe (for five hours), but overall, it was an amazing experience for which I am grateful.

Myself and others from my lab classes arrived at 7:00am and had a brief safety lecture before heading out to the field (which was in Tennessee). The air was warm and muggy, but the wind kept it crisp and cooler, though I rather would have wanted it cold and dry than warmish and wet. The sky was a bright, formless grey which made it difficult to get decent photographs -- I've never been very adept at shooting in the shade; I've always preferred harsher sunlight.

 If any readers are familiar with cattle farm operations, it was a similar, though larger, setup. The bison were kept in small groups in different paddocks. There were a series of numbered gates leading to these paddocks, and also one that lead into the surrounding field. The small groups were herded into an area that became progressively more narrow, until they were moving single file. As a bison approached the section holding the scale, a gate was closed behind them and in front of them to keep them contained. Their weight was then recorded, and afterwards they were lead into the head chute. Once there, a nose twitch was applied to calm them down, ear tags were replaced as needed, and the appropriate medication given. They were then released into the open field, where most of them ran off into the distance immediately.

I was quite struck by their capacity for facial expression. This was the closest by far that I have ever been to bison, close enough to some that I could have touched their faces. Their eyes were bright, rich browns, and goat-like. Their brows conveyed emotion that I could only interpret as surprise, worry, anxiety, anger, boredom, and relief. It was easy to tell the older members who had been through the process many times before, from the younger ones who had still not accepted the situation. 

 I was extremely overjoyed to see the young bison, especially this smallest one:

He was most likely terrified, and I felt so sympathetic toward him, but I couldn't help but appreciate how limber he was. In fact, I could not believe how limber they all were, even the largest adults. They could jump straight up in the air, change direction running so quickly. They were moving in ways more flexible than any horse I've ever seen, and had a deer-like quality to their movements that I had not expected. When they were released from the paddocks, they loped with a smooth gracefulness that reminded me of bears or giraffes.

I also fell in love with their coats. They had a texture to them that I wanted to feel so badly. I imagined it almost as rough as quills on the outside, but a softer layer underneath, like down. They displayed so many colors in their coats, with the most attractive being a black-faced individual of whom I was not able to get a photograph. But nothing was as impressive to me as those goat-like eyes, especially the largest bull in the herd:

When he was brought into the paddock, he showed no fear or apprehension to us onlookers. He walked right to the edge of the fence and watched all of us, with a very serious calm that I immediately respected. He was like the Great Prince of the Forest in Bambi, a wise elder who had made a certain peace with Life. I think I'm personifying this animal far beyond what I should, but locking eyes with such an enormous creature (I estimate his shoulder height was 6.5-7 feet, and he weighed over 1600 lbs, if I remember correctly) was sublime in its own small way. It was one of my favorite moments of the day, and I can understand completely now why such animals have been considered sacred for centuries. And I believe they understand it as well: it can be seen in their elders' eyes, in the ways they carry themselves. I feel completely fortunate to have witnessed it.

Oh, give me a home where the Buffalo roam,

where the Deer and the Antelope play,

where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

and the sky is not cloudy all day.

I never really appreciated those words before, but I do now.

Young bison, animated .gif made by myself.