Tales from the Continent: The Business Man Pt 2

After my client Alvaro told me everything

I needed to know (or so I thought) I decided to do a little divination. Nothing he told me made sense as to why someone would want to hex him. I knew he was holding something back from me. And I wasn’t going to stick my neck out for him. I took this job because I needed the money.

He was hesitant at first. But then he agreed he would give me a good donation (which also turned out to be a lie). He did go into detail about the strange hauntings in his house. A feeling of “phantom weight” he always seemed to carry, but didn’t know why. And his infant son would scream his guts out in fear at night.

At first he told his wife that it was normal for babies to be scared at night. But then he got the strange feeling that someone was inside the baby’s room. He said he thought he heard a deep voice speaking within the room one night. And a few times he had the feeling of being watched. I hate cases with kids involved.

The situation becomes more volatile. So I took a few weeks to plan and meditate. I also broke out my old spell books and charms and started experimenting with what I should do. In the end I opted for necromancy.

He did eventually tell me part of the problem

And boy was it a doozy. He went into a haunted cave at night. When he was younger he said that he went with a few friends there on a dare. The local folklore says that witches go there to do Black Sabbats. Obviously not good witches.

Or even normal witches. These are what are known as Hags. Now everyone has an opinion of what a Hag is and I want to talk about this for a second. In regular traditions a Hag is just a witch. In fact it may have been a word that the word witch evolved from.

From Haegtesse, the term Elder Hag is often used for an elder witch. But as is the case with many words and terms, there is a positive and a negative connotation. In Christian or semi Christian traditions, Hags are either demon witches. Or in the case of the Appalachian mountain people in the US, human practitioners of black magic. I understand many of my witch brethren would find that disrespectful.

Regardless, even in the South amongst the original slave populations, they had stories of Hags. The most famous being the Boo Hags. Specifically the Gullah culture talks about Boo Hags. The idea is that these were once human witches. But they delved so deeply into the practices of black magic that they eventually developed demonic powers.

They themselves becoming demons. Now I refer to such people as Demonists. In my personal practices those are witches that are beyond a normal warlock (unethical practitioner). This is another class of black witch altogether. Then there is what I call a True Demonist, someone who actually succeeds at becoming a real life demon while they’re alive.

Something which to me is rare. In that category, I put in the Native American Skinwalkers. And also the Penanggalan of the Philippines and Malay culture. Hags of this kind, the demonic kind, can be found in almost every culture. But the term also refers to positive Goddess or spirit beings as well.

So it’s important not to get it twisted. It’s important to know that this is a word that could be positive and negative. But in this case it was the negative. The demonic types of Hags are said to be the children of the Demoness, Lilith. Before she was the demon of Jewish lore, Lilith was a Sumerian Demon Goddess.

Tied to the storms and also to infant mortality. she was said to take the shape of an owl woman. I should make a post dedicated to her one of these days. But anyways, in Latin America, there are many such creatures like that. And sadly in this guy’s country, there are infestations of such beings.

As a former monotheistic Christian I used to think these were tall tales bred from superstition. But after I began to practice and learn from other people, I started to realize these were real modern accounts. Skin Walkers for example are a type of demon witch. That’s why many Native Americans have such a stigma about being called a “witch”. They associate it with unethical practitioners of magic.

Granted that’s largely due to European Christians drumming the idea that a “witch” was evil into their heads. Some more colonial brainwashing at work. Getting back to the topic, this guy said he didn’t believe in such things. He thought it was BS. So he goes into the cave to impress the girls.

Everyone in that little town he visited says that night Hags use that cave. These women shape shift into owls (again the connection to Lilith). They are so familiar in their owl forms that owls are seen as demonic animals in this country. Indigenous shape shifting witches like this exist all over Latin America. Once inside, they all smelled this godawful stench.

He said they had found these large brown paper bags that were bloody. Flies were everywhere and in some cases there were maggots protruding from these bags. These are probably sacrificed animals. They also found strange things he found hard to describe. And finally, he said they found a large Saint statue with its arms broken off.

I instantly got a flash in my mind from my spirits. And I learned that the statue had held some kind of dark spirit. In witchcraft, a popular method of exorcising a spirit, is to draw it out of a place or person and then send it into a vessel. Sometimes holy icons or idols are used. And sometimes when a dark entity enters an idol, the idol gets partially broken.

And even dark practitioners do exorcisms. For clients or sometimes even when they summon something or an entity goes out of line. And they have to trap them somewhere. Though I also think the statue was purposefully desecrated. So I ask him,

“Alvaro, by any chance did you get too close to that statue?”

Then he gets very quiet. Clears his throat and says,

“Well… I was young. And the girls thought it would be funny if I took a selfie with that statue,”

(Jesus Fucking Christ)

So it became apparent that the “phantom weight” wasn’t just whatever Sanchez had done to him. It was whatever he had absorbed from this statue. It had probably been haunting him for years before Sanchez. And he only began to notice it years later. I had my work cut out for me.

I had no idea where to start

So I decided to do a time honored tradition. I went to the dead. There’s a random roadside memorial where I used to live. Some guy whose name I will not mention here out of respect for his family. I became friends with him a few Halloween’s ago.

I didn’t have a cemetery close to me, so I decided to leave him offerings instead. I used to walk past his memorial on my way to a local mall. I left him a chocolate cupcake with a birthday candle that I blessed. I lit the candle and left it to him. Then I heard “Gracias”out loud. Now at first I jumped half way out of my skin, because I thought it was a living person who said that.

It didn’t sound psychic or telepathic. I realized then that this was a powerful spirit. I could tell he was loved. The memorial is filled with things including a cross made of plastic flowers. I turned around and said, “De nada amigo” (don’t mention it friend).

After that, I started visiting him a lot more regularly. Leaving him money in the form of pennies. So that he could buy things in the afterlife. I left him food and poured him libations, sometimes I left him Piedra de Alumbre (Stone of illumination). It’s not really a stone.

It’s this mineral thing we use in Santeria. It’s like a rock but it dissolves in water. The spirits of the dead eat it when we place it in sacred water vessels on their altars. In his case it would break into pieces until it became dust. I came to him for help.

I poured him a libation. Then I sat down with my cell turned off, pretending to be texting someone. I’m pretending that I am waiting for a car or something. He’s clearly amused by this and says,

“You must be really desperate to be making a long distance phone call like this,”

“Very funny,”

“What’s up?”

“Take a look and see for yourself,”

He enters my mind. And it feels like someone stuck a psychic USB drive in there. I can feel him looking into my memory I want him to see and hear the conversation for himself. Then he starts projecting images in my head and talks.

“This man here, Adonis, is a problem yes. But your client has other problems,”

He starts showing me all these shadow people and shadowy things all around him. It’s like a zoo of dark things. And he says,

“No offense, but you couldn’t find someone more trustworthy than this guy ? He’s even got a small portal inside his body. How much do you want to bet that he’s played with a Quija Board?,”

I was going to say that he didn’t seem like the type to own a Ouija board. But then again what do I know? I’ve never even seen this man before. We only talk via internet.

“What should I do?”

He stayed silent for a few moments then answered.

“Ask your new guide, the one you got from the Palero to deal with this. Ask him to bring an army of the dead to fight off what’s there and cleanse this guy. It’s not fancy, but it’s effective. And it will take care of this problem,”

I waited till there were almost no cars. And I buried 9 rusty pennies in the dirt near his memorial and said,

“I pay you (name redacted) in the name of Oya. Thank you for helping me. May this money given to you be an investment in your afterlife. May you never be poor. And instead always carry prosperity with you for all your needs,”

A random car came back and some lady saw me burying the coins and talking in the direction of the memorial. Fuck my life. All these nosy ass Karens in this area watching everything you do. It’s getting to the point that you can’t even fart or piss in a bush without one of them noticing. She was still staring while the car went away.

So I scratched my balls in front of her. The look of disgust was so funny that I busted out laughing. I could barely walk home from the laughter. I think most of the cars passing me by thought I was crazy or drunk. Well, I talk to dead people so maybe one of the two allegations was true.

I came home

Showered and ordered some take out. As I waited for the Chinese food to get to me, I decided to give a primary offering to Hestia. In Greek Polytheism she is the Goddess of Hearthe and Home. I also included in this offering Elegua Agbanukue, the Household version of Elegua. Who is also a God that watches the home and protects it.

I started naming the various Household Gods one by one. And the spirits that protect the home as well. I poured some olive oil in their honor. Then I sat back on the couch and rested my eyes for bit. I realized I should probably talk to my Palo guide. I got up and sat in my red chair.

I took his idol out of the Altar I have for native spirits. Even though he is a guide connected to Palo Mayombe, he’s the spirit of a dead indigenous man. I made eye contact with the idol and said,

“Hey friend, do you have some time to talk?”

I could feel him talking to me. This is a very different kind of spirit. Paleros use advanced spirits. Even their ghosts are stronger than the normal ones. He spoke not as a voice, but as feelings.

He was asking why I took so long to call on him. He was basically scolding me and telling me he was here to help. If only I would accept such help.

“Fair enough,” I replied. “I’m asking now,”

I could have done the psychic usb thing but I was tired. And when I get tired, images and information is fuzzy. So I took the time to speak to him the old fashioned way. Anyone watching me talk to this statue in my hand would have thought I was crazy. But the spirit within that vessel is very real.

He told me he had “brothers and sisters“ he could call on. That in Palo they were all one. And they would work together to help me. I bowed down my head, kissed his statue and said,

“Bless you sentinel of the home,”

Then I placed a bottle of whiskey on the altar next to him.

“I offer this to you and your Kin. It will be poured down at the crossroads when you defeat the enemy,”

After this was done, the delivery lady showed up. My family and I ate good food. Discussed our day (well I left our certain portions for obvious reason). And I hunkered down for the night. I sent Alvaro a message via the signal app.

We coordinated how we were going to handle this. We agreed upon a day, and off to work we went.

From left to right, Taino women representing the indigenous ancestors, center is an Adjule or African wild dog who is often seen as a phantom animal, and finally from Palo Mayonbe is Sarabanda, the great God of Smithery and Magic.

The final operation

I opted for sunset on a Friday. In many religions, there are times that belong to the dead. And all of those times as far as I have discovered, are at or around night time. In Santeria, the time of the dead is at Sunset. Nobody does readings at that time.

Or at least they’re not supposed to. Some Santeros I have met are so nyctophobic they wouldn’t even do Rosary prayers at night for a deceased soul. They believe Satan and his demons are all out around that time. I am one of the few Santeros who are not afraid. I had training in other religions prior to Santeria.

We did night time rituals and we learned not to fear the night. It is true that there are negative forces unleashed at night. But there are also positive forces. I learned about an exorcism ritual done by the Babalawos (priesthood of Orula) that was done for people who had spiritual attachments. It was called the Paraldo Ceremony.

The Babalawos did it at sunset. Because the Eggun (ghosts) or even demons would start coming out. The reason for this is because the spirit would be fully formed and out in the open. It would be easier to cast the entity out. But I wasn’t using that ceremony.

For one, because I’m not a Babalawo. Doing ceremonies without proper knowledge and authority is just asking for trouble. And two because I refuse to murder animals. No I am not a vegan. No I am not some kind of heretic.

But I’m one of many Santeros who won’t sacrifice animals. And that ceremony requires grabbing a rooster by its feet and smashing the head on the floor. This is for the evil to be bound to its body. If the poor creature is lucky it will die instantly. I don’t do animal sacrifices.

I know Pagans who still do them. And I don’t stick my nose into their religious practices. But I tell everyone no matter the tradition that I will not. But one thing that I did take from that ceremony, is using the sunset. I waited till that time to do this.

The enemy spirits will be fully formed at that time. But they won’t be that strong. The strongest time for the dead is actually from midnight until 2am, and dark spirits at either midnight or 3am. I have a good understanding of their power levels at various times.

At sunset they’re just waking up from a long sleep. It’s not the same level of lucidity and power as at other hours. This gives me the secondary advantage that after they fully emerge, they’ll still be dazed and confused. Demons and other wicked spirits don’t necessarily sleep during the day. But at night their powers are far stronger.

Which is why if I have to go out at night I carry amulets. And I shield to make sure no matter where I go, there’s nothing to follow me home. But at sunset they’re still just charging up. But they can’t hide nor will they try. They’re usually too overconfident for that.

And that’s what I was counting on.

I did a special ritual of protection. Necromancy with the ancestors. I can’t talk about the specifics or the name of the ceremony. But it kept me safe. I was surrounded by the protective energy.

And I brought out my Palo guide and asked for his help. Then I did a protective shielding prior to calling Alvaro. I did a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers. As well as some more ancient prayers for protection. Then I called him via the Signal App.

He was way too calm. People are normally ready to be done with this. He acted like this was just another transaction. Like shaking a hand or taking a piss. Yeah I really don’t like this guy.

I just wanted this shit to be over and done with. So we waited until sunset came. And suddenly there was a shift in the ether. I felt something on the other side of the phone with him. And I know he felt it too.

Though he seemed to enjoy playing dumb. I took a picture of the idol of my Palo guide. Then sent it to him via signal.

“This is one of my guides. Stare into the eyes of the idol and invite him to come to you,”

I got the distinct feeling he thought I was quemado. How do I say it? Burned out. He probably thought I was some kind of crazy new ager. But idol magic goes back centuries. My priest in the Hellenic Temple I attend, even told me about a form of idol divination.

I have seen people do remote magic or long distance magic with nothing but psychic abilities. What I do, is use the craft to remotely send out energy and spirits. It’s a more powerful way to do it. But Mr. Know it all didn’t know that. So he was surprised when he felt my spirit appear before him.

“I feel something in the room with me. I never felt a spirit like this before. I feel my third eye vibrating,”

He admitted that he knew enough about spirits to sense them. And to perceive them via the third eye. I wondered if he and Adonis had studied together at one point. Maybe they had once been part of a magic group. He didn’t even bother trying to hide it.

He probably surmised that I knew him by now. I asked him to connect with my spirit’s energy. I showed him how to do it. And then a massive explosion of energy occurred.

We both felt it. I felt forces coming from the four directions all over his country converging there, at his home. An army of ghosts. Indigenous warriors from his land. Spaniards.

And also slaves, particularly slaves who I think were Congolese. Even recently deceased people had joined in, an entire force of ghosts had now appeared. And these dark spirits around him were trying to fight back. He started talking about strange sensations.

“I feel weird,”

“In what way?”

“I feel an onset of relief, as if a heavy presence was released from me. And then that presence returns. It’s as if the relief is fighting the heaviness,”

What he was feeling was the dark spirit (heavy presence) being fought by the light spirits that were now there. I was seeing their energies combating each other. At first I couldn’t distinguish human features. They had gone to their purest form as energy.

The dark spirits were the smallest groups there. They appeared as balls of deep shadow. But the spheres of light numbered in the hundreds. And each had different colors depending on the energy they were using. Some were red, and I think those were soldiers or warriors. Others were yellow, and those were spirits who died of diseases.

The disease ghosts were absorbing all the dark energy that was in that house. Like a self eating cancer. I had been trained by a Wiccan teacher that dark spirits or dark energies could be put towards positive uses.

Now I was seeing in greater detail what darker energies, when put to a positive use could do. And these fallen spirits around Alvaro were dumbfounded. They had no idea how to fight back against them. They were outnumbered and out gunned. I was trying to keep my excitement down.

Overconfidence was a killer. As I had intended, they fully emerged with the dark. But they were still too weak to use their native element against us. With one final push, Alvaro described the heaviness forced from him for good. The relief stayed this time.

I did see a few spiritual doors close. He did have a small one on him that resembled a Quija board doorway. But that paled in comparison to all these larger doors in his home. In my mind’s eye I was seeing these beach ball sized vortexes floating in the air. I was going to ask him some more questions when my Palo guide spoke again.

Through empathy, he told me that other spirits were there too. Good spirits and a few neutral ones. Dead souls as well as nature spirits. They all occupied the same space. His property has become a free for all.

He did some kind of fancy ritual that he couldn’t control. And this had been the result. He had played with forces beyond his control. The haunted location he told me about and absorbing that spirit was just the beginning. And my guide also told me to not bother confronting him.

He had an answer for everything. It wasn’t my business anyway. Instead I told him that these other spirits I sent had to stay for the night. They would spend the twilight hours until dawn fixing everything. Crossing over spirits and dismissing others properly. The guide I sent also closed the doorway he had in his own body.

The other spirits closed all the other doorways. I told him to check his email. I sent him a list of instructions. I taught him a few cleansings and rituals. And finally I told him to get his property blessed by a priest after he had done these things.

By the time it was done, he had reported that not a single paranormal event had taken place in his home since all this had happened. All was well. That was the good news. The bad news is that Richie Rich skipped out on the bill. He claimed he couldn’t pay for my services because the times had gone hard and blah blah blah.

I was so pissed that before I lost control I told him that I had to call him back. Later I had a friend communicate with him that he had agreed to pay for services. And I had been more than generous with him. But he never contacted me again. All of my friends had told me to send all that shit back to him as payback.

But after all the trouble I took to remove it, sending it back just seemed like a waste. Instead I did a prayer ritual with the Gods and explained what had happened. They scolded me and told me I should have known better. But after they were done, they said they would handle it. I don’t know how they handled it.

I just know they never punish the innocent. So ,whatever they did or didn’t do, it would be just not unjust. I did end up getting something in return though. A bunch of obstacles and problems in my life left after the ritual was done. The Gods told me it was payment for services rendered.

The whole event left me tapped out. And I have spent the better part of this month trying to recharge and regenerate. That’s why it has taken me this long to write this.

I’ve had to slow down a bunch of things. And I’ve been taking long naps. Falling asleep near 7pm or 8pm like an old fart. I hope all of you will please excuse me as it’s going to be a while. I won’t be able to do a solid reading or work for anyone until I’ve regained my lost energy.

I apologize for taking so long to do that. One thing is for sure, I re-learned my lesson. Rich people suck. Unless I have a lawyer who compel them to pay up in advance, I’m not helping another wealthy person. I have better things to do than to deal with them or their demons.

Fuck them all. Just do yourselves a favor alright? Stay the fuck away from rituals you don’t understand. And don’t go to haunted locations for the fuck of it. That’s a stupid thing to do.

Stull Cemetery: A Hellmouth in the Heart of Kansas (Supernatural’s Devil’s Gate)

Pretty much anyone who grew up in Kansas—or watches the show Supernatural—knows about Stull Cemetery, even if they’ve never seen it. According to legend, this cemetery contains a stairway not to heaven … but straight to hell. It is one of seven reputed places on earth where living people can descend to the realm of the […]

Stull Cemetery: A Hellmouth in the Heart of Kansas

Preparing for Death

Guardian Angels crossing over their wards into the light.

I wasn’t going to write about this. I had planned that my next post would be cheerful. Something nice and sweet. I wanted to get out of this gloomy mindset not just for my own sake, but for many who read this blog. However, my spirits kept telling me that I needed to write this post.

Something about, “Someone is eventually going to need it,”. Since it’s a rarely talked about topic I decided to finally get to it today. Everyone is always on and on about getting life insurance. Letting your loved ones know what you want. What you don’t want etc…but there’s a few things that should be added to the list.

Not just if you want to be cremated or not.

Number 1) Leave a Living Will

Sounds simple enough right? And yet most people don’t do it. Make sure that you divide everything up for your descendants. When my first Grandpa died, it was painful having to go through his house. My Grandma had Alzheimer’s and couldn’t live on her own. She had no use for any of my grandpa’s things.

I felt like we were vultures going through his things. It felt down right unholy to divide his belongings. It felt like robbing the dead. I couldn’t bring myself to participate. Don’t make your loved ones go through that.

Leave a clear list of what should happen with everything and where it should go. They will feel better and you’ll avoid family fueds that way. An Indian client once asked me to ask her dead Grandmother why she hadn’t left a will. The family tore itself apart arguing over lands and homes she owned. The spirit simply responded,

“I knew that they would. But I expected them to behave like adults,”

Don’t do that. Make sure any places or economically beneficial things are also assigned to those you want to assign them to. You may think your family is above that, but remember : they are human. Prone to human mistakes. Next on our list.

2) Prepare for the Afterlife

The disposal of your earthly remains is just a tiny part of what needs to be cared for. You have to worry about your soul as well. There is a modern belief that when you die that’s it. You go to where you need to go. Not even close.

While that can and does happen, that’s not always the case. Those tend to be people who are protected by a higher power or a faith etc..or have really strong guides and ancestors. I wonder if all these Earthly ghosts are here because nobody followed the proper rites and procedures for them. So ensure that it gets followed. Get in touch with a temple or a church or a spiritual group you trust to do funerary rites for you.

Then to follow it with a mass. One trick I sort of invented to help one client was I told them to talk to a Catholic Church. And to ask how much of a donation they would need to have a funeral mass said for them…..for a hundred years. If after a 100 years you’re still in Purgatory, I don’t know what else to say. I was taught that one human year on Earth is spiritually equivalent to a hundred years.

So a hundred for us could be upwards to a thousand for them. So a thousand years of prayers done for you. Also remember to ask family members you trust to pray for you. Won’t do ancestral prayers because it’s too Pagan for you? Then do masses and light candles or incense. And if that’s too Pagan for you, you can go to a random church and ask for regular prayers said for you.

In Santeria we go a step further. We have what is known as the Itutu Ceremony. A ceremony where a divination is performed to inform the spirits and Orishas the person had with them and fed them, that their caretaker is now dead. They then ask those spirit guides the person had acquired on their earthly journey what they want. Not their own specific guardians, but new spirits they worked with.

Do they want to be set free from their vessels? Such spirits live inside charms or idols. Familiars who were acquired by the Santero. Usually egun (dead) that join the practitioner while they are alive. Either they will choose to go with another Santero or practitioner. Or a family member or even just to be released back into the spiritual world.

The idols or charms are disposed of in nature. The Santero is also dressed in the same clothing they were initiated in. And a jar is buried with them with offerings for the Earth. Now this leads me to the next part. That’s the way it’s done with Santeria.

Other practitioners may even be buried with their idols and magical items in the same way Egyptians did for themselves. Just remember : Grave robbers are alive and well. So unless you’re planning to leave something that you intentionally want someone taking your stuff, be aware. Such things could be stolen. Personally, I believe every faith should have their own version of the Itutu Ceremony.

I’m not saying steal the prayers and sacred rituals. Not that, don’t get it twisted. But ceremonially preparing the body with special clothing, burying the body with offerings. Informing the spirits and Gods inside of idols their caretaker is gone and asking them what they want, all that is good. And many cultures have similar ceremonies.

Just saying, this is a good blue print to incorporate into every system. It doesn’t have to be exact. Some cultures may choose cremation. There is no right or wrong way to do this. As long as the Gods approve.

3) Proper Funerary Rites

As before, ensure that the proper prayers are done for you. Catholics and Catholic centered faiths start with novenas. These are prayers said for nine days for the soul of a person using a rosary. This is done before any masses can be done. This is usually a preparation for the person.

Again, rosaries and novenas are not just for Catholics. Buddhists have them and there is a Magician on here called “The Digital Ambler” (really cool guy) who made his own Pagan-Christian Novenas. You can make your own for your tradition. And it is also a blessing of protection for the soul of the deceased. Various traditions have different rituals.

For Jews, there is the Kaddish Prayer. The Rabbi leads a minimum of ten people in praises to God on behalf of a deceased soul. This prayer came from Rabbi Akiba. He was a mystical Jewish Sage who met the soul of a dead man on his journeys. The man was a sinner in life and despised by his own community.

He was a tax collector for the Romans, and thus considered a traitor and collaborator. The truth is he had many sins on his soul. He was being tortured by demons who forced him to do hard labor. They made him work all day to build a pyre he would be burned on at night. Akiba asked what could be done for him.

The condemned soul told him, his son needed to be given a Bar Mitzvah. And taught to read from the Torah so that he could lead a Jewish congregation in prayer to praise God. The Kaddish prayer doesn’t mention the name of the dead or anything about death. The intention of knowing that the prayer is being done for a person’s memory is enough for God to raise them to Heaven. In theory this is enough to free any condemned soul.

Rabbi Akiba trained the boy and had prepared a Bar Mitzvah. The night before the young boy was to perform the very first Kaddish, Rabbi Akiba dreamed of him. He was freed ahead of time from his suffering by God. And his soul thanked the Rabbi for his righteousness and his love. Akiba was a contemporary of Jesus for those interested.

Who knows what divine gifts he possessed. Finally,

Step 4) Consecrated Ground

I can’t stress this enough : make sure the place your body gets buried in not only has a good reputation, but is also holy ground. Not all cemeteries are blessed. Most cemeteries are non-religious. And while they do have religious looking graves and funerary rites performed, it isn’t the same. A dedicated cemetery is a place that a priest or priestess of a religion has set aside purposefully.

The purpose is so that the spirits of our Gods and traditions may dwell there with the dead. Offering them light and healing. As well as protection from evil spirits and black magic. There are darker practitioners out there who like to find souls who haven’t quite crossed over. In some cases, there are people who rob the bones of the dead to bind them into servitude.

Burial in such a place can grant a special type of protection for the departed. Also, just because a place is dedicated and consecrated doesn’t mean it’s trustworthy. There was a controversy a few years back in Miami over a Jewish Cemetery. The owners were removing the already buried dead to re-use the burial plots for future customers. So try to find a place connected to an actual temple or church.

Not just a dedicated space that is handled by a third party.

Conclusion

Not to be morbid, when writing this. I say this to you for all of you to learn. We plan birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and even holidays. Why not take some time out of your day to plan your departure from this world? You’ll help your loved ones. And more importantly, yourselves.

There are a lot of family members who ask mediums and witches : are they okay? And those of us who are not charlatans will always ask,

“What are you doing for your family on the other side?”

Don’t leave it all to us to handle this responsibility. Each and every one of us is responsible for what needs to be done and taken care of when we go. And don’t wait for you to be old. You could die tomorrow.

St. Mark’s Divination

easter_vigil_st_marks_seattle_6
This was a while back in Seattle. The Religious officials tending a fire on the Vigil of St. Mark. The Light was used in times past as a Need Fire or Force Fire. A spiritual fire used in ancient times to ward off evil.

Many of you have already read my post on my Grandfather departing from this world. I had promised you I would give you an account of what had taken place on Saint Mark’s Vigil. And how this was the night of the year where people would see the spectre’s of those who would die before the year ended. As a Necromancer, I have a professional use for this. I would copy the energies of those who were to depart and I would ask for people to either be protected, or crossed over at the moment of their deaths.

But personally, I had a child-like awe of seeing this strange yet solemn procession. Like my Grandfather before me, I was always fascinated with the spirits. With places of rest and with the Occult. Although he would pretend to be an atheist or an agnostic. I don’t think I entirely appreciated the severity of what I was seeing all these years.

That these weren’t just “ghosts”, these were the doppelgängers of living, breathing people who were going to die. Not those who were already dead. And while I do all that I can to try and change fate, I know there were will be a large group that my rituals cannot save. I would go to my local Catholic Cemetery, I won’t reveal the location as I have had to sneak onto the property to perform this vigil now. In the old days, there was a Catholic Priest who sympathized with my Paganism.

Since I am a Christo-Pagan and believe in Jesus, he saw me as one of his flock. And I loved him for it. He was supposed to help me get baptized, but passed away before I could. He would wait with me on the vigil. He never told me if he believed in my visions or not.

I suspect he just wanted to keep me company. And he was just supporting me in my faith. When I called him “Father” I truly meant it. As he was my friend and mentor. And like my grandfather, was one of the few good male influences I had in my life.

The new administration wasn’t quite so liberal minded however. And while they didn’t out right say I was unwelcome, they didn’t allow me to get baptized possibly for my beliefs. Something that goes against Catholic Law because the Church recognizes Santeros as members of their faith. And they have people of various faiths get baptized. There is even a branch of Catholicism called Buddhist Catholicism.

Because of the Quarantine, I couldn’t head to the Church. Number 1, because  breaking quarantine in the middle of a Pandemic for religious rituals is beyond stupid. Like all these idiots in Texas who refuse to close their churches for the pandemic. And by idiots I also include the Baptist Pastors who don’t organize or prepare like the Catholic Church did. Right now the Catholics won’t even give out communion to avoid spreading the infections.

My own Greek Pagan Temple, is doing rituals via Zoom. Santeros are even more flexible because we can also do things on Zoom and each Santero is trained to do magic or religious observances in our own homes. Say what you will about the Catholics, the corruption of their system that functions almost as a monarchy, or the other filthier things they have done. Since after Jesus’ death, they have known how to deal with persecutions and pandemics. During the Black Plague, Pope Clement VI was working with doctors of his time to figure out how to stop the plague.

He even surrounded his own abode in the Vatican with candles to purify the room. It was a precaution against whatever unseen pathogens which may have been in the air. A precaution that even in modern times is done. He also gave mass remission of sins for all who died during the plague. As a way to ensure that the many victims would make it to Heaven.

He also wrote edicts against the persecution of Jews. At the time people thought Jews were poisoning wells which led to the plague. He’s one of the few Popes I do more or less like despite the persecution of Pagans like myself. And these were the people that lived in the underground cities of the dead in Ancient Rome when they were persecuted. They know emergencies and how to deal with them very well.

Heck, even the Jehovah’s Witnesses closed their churches down and have all their meetings via Zoom now. Why these fools in that state are ready to sacrifice their lives needlessly is beyond my understanding. I can only call it madness and fanaticism. But I digress. I could not make it to the church for this reason.

And, there is also a curfew at 10pm where I am. Which means I could not go there regardless. It would be useless because the ghostly procession appears at midnight onward. So I had to improvise. Instead I called on St. Mark the Evangelist and the Gods of the Dead as well as other Saints involved with the dead.

And I did a good old fashioned Bone Casting session. I asked the Gods and Saints to empower the bones to tell the truth and only the truth. I also called the Fates and Healer Gods and all other Gods who protect (Apotropai) from evil. This is what I do to try and save those who can be saved even through a small changing of fate. Once this was done, I called the Gods to see the procession.

I waited a few minutes. And then when this was done, I asked a question.

“Can you see clearly, those who will depart Divine Ones?”

They said, “Yes,”

“Will anyone I know perish among this year’s dead?”

Again they said, “Yes”

My body suddenly tightened. In the past I have seen a few Phantoms of people I knew. But I always knew ahead of time. Sometimes years ahead of time, when death was coming for them. This time, I truly had no notion of anyone’s death.

And I suddenly felt cold deep within myself. It was a glacier like chill and a panic that suddenly rose in me. I suspended the session, calmed myself, grounded and centered, and I asked the question I did not want to ask. There was only one person I knew who was near death. Despite the assurances of the Doctors that it was only pneumonia and not coronavirus.

My grandfather Juan. My family worried it was the virus. His symptoms mirrored the virus. And moreover he lost his appetite. Let me tell you something : before he had Alzheimer’s he barely ate anything.

Unless he was really hungry. But Post Alzheimer’s he gained a whole new gusto for food. Possibly because sometimes he would forget he ate anything. But he had an insatiable hunger and loved his food. So when he got really sick and wouldn’t eat we knew we had to worry.

He also had issues breathing and slept a lot more than before. Finally, his Alzheimer’s got worse. And soon he forgot my mother’s face. At this time we were still waiting for him to get his Covid test. So I asked the inevitable question,

“Is it my grandfather?,”

And the Bones said “Yes,”

I was in total shock. As if someone had paralyzed me. I had no idea what to feel. Suddenly I snapped out of it and did some Ave Marias and Padre Nuestros and rebuked whatever foul spirit could be lying to me. I had convinced myself it was something nasty fucking with me.

It couldn’t be real right? And this time the Bones said no. You see, that’s the problem with magic. We have more control than we think. I closed myself off to the possibility that perhaps he was going to die. And because of that, I biased my own reading.

When I asked again the Bones said no. And I had relief. Of course he’d be fine. The whole place is shut down. Only doctors and nurses are getting in or out.

It will all be fine I assured myself. I even did more biased readings to make myself feel better. Something I thought I had learned never to do again. I had done things like that before in my novice years. I thought I learned my lesson.

But in less than a few minutes all my years of training fled me. And I was again a novice. And so, time passed after that and my grandpa was ‘supposedly’ tested as you all know. And then we were told it came out as negative. In the time that St. Mark’s Vigil passed, I had done rituals to keep death away from him.

I had sent him healing spirits and all manner of magics. Even an experimental magic I developed that saved others in the past. So when these people from the home claimed he tested negative, my Mom sighed in relief. And I finally thought I could take a break. “I’ll watch him,” I said to myself. “I’ll track his progress, he’ll be fine,”.

I fooled myself into thinking I had succeeded. That I had saved him. Now I just had to keep him safe. And you know the rest. The next day, my Mom got the call that he had died.

I should have heard the truth the Gods had shown me. That the Saints had shown me. Maybe then instead of trying to keep him alive in his mortal coil, I would have prepared a funeral mass for him so that when he died he would instantly cross. But I did not do that. And so you see, even witches, versed as we are in the secret and arcane knowledge of the Gods and their spirits can be wrong too.

I should have listened. But I let myself get too close to this. I should have asked my spiritual teachers and masters. They would have told me if the first reading was right and the subsequent readings were wrong. Even my mother dreamt omens of his death.

All the signs were there and I didn’t want to see them. Why? Because I was blind. Why didn’t I listen to them? Why did I just deceive myself? Because in the end, I am bitch slapped with the same goddamn karmic lesson. I am not superman. I am just a man.

I get so caught up in my work that I forget that. I want so badly to change the world for the better, to save people. And it has consistently been my downfall no matter what. And here, in the face of this great change, I thank the Gods. They tried to tell me.

They helped me even when they knew my magic wouldn’t be enough to save him. That the medical care wouldn’t be enough. Though truth be told, the medical care was shitty as hell. Thank you my Gods and Holy St. Mark the Evangelist. Thank you for once again showing me your power to see the unseen and lift the veil from my eyes.

So that I could see truth. Even though I immediately blinded myself the moment I received said truth. I learned once more that we are our own worst enemy sometimes. Even with the knowledge and the resources, what is meant to be is meant to be.

“Yahuah, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man who walks to direct his own steps,” – Jeremiah 10:23

This is truth, even for those with the sight. Even for those who know what the truth is. I still couldn’t face it. I should have known better. Another painful lesson learned for my journey in this life.

There’s a Santero meme on the internet in Spanish. It shows a creepy man with his eyes rolled to the back of his head and it goes,

“The dead man says,

‘I will open your eyes. But I can’t respond for what you will see,’  ”

 

✝ ➕ ✝

Adios Juan, Hasta la vuelta, Until we meet again Grandfather

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A monument of an Angel crossed with Themis, the Goddess of Blind Justice, carrying a fallen Mambi soldier from Cuba.

Many in my personal life who read this blog are already aware of this. But last Tuesday my  grandfather Juan had passed away. My grandfather did not have an easy life. He had a life marked by pain and by isolation. John Donne said that man is not an island. But with respect, he never met my grandfather.

And while his poem praised human unity, very few humans ever lent him a hand. He was born out of wedlock to a Babalawo and to a white woman of Spanish blood. A woman with a deep interest in the Occult. She loved her Babalawo despite the fact that he was a married man. The two conceived my Abuelo Juan.

His uncles hated him. Because his father was biracial, they told him he wasn’t really a part of their family. Instead he was a “negro they found in a hill somewhere and took pity on”. This was Cuba before the Revolution. My great grandmother had to hide him on that farm with her uncles and mother.

A child born out of wedlock and born of two ethnically different parents. It was a scandal and a shame for the family. And especially for early Cuba. My grandpa had to go through beatings and emotional abuse until he became an adult. His grandmother to her credit, loved him.

And didn’t care that he was mixed. She loved him and took care of him and defended him from his uncles. And was always making sure that he was alright. His mother would visit him on the weekends. He always blamed his father for everything.

Said his father was too much of a coward to tell him who he really was. My family said that his mother kept his existence a secret. She was afraid to ruin his father’s life. My grandfather spent a lot of time alone. He had his friends but he loved his solitude.

He absorbed himself in books, in poetry, in history and politics, and in writing. He was a bit of a ladies man and seduced many woman. He even warned me to be careful with any Cuban girls I date. Because they could accidentally be related to me. Which would put a dent in my dating life to be sure.

But despite all the womanizing he did, there was one person he seemed fixated on since his early years : my grandmother. In his youth, he fell in love with her. She was 17 and he was 14. And while she didn’t pay attention to him at the time, he always vowed that one day she would be his wife. She married a violent and corrupt Batistiano Captain of the police.

He beat my grandmother and was responsible for war crimes against the people before and during the Revolution. My grandfather was a soldier of lower rank under this man. He waited for the bastard to drink himself to death so that he could approach my grandmother and propose to her. And she said yes. Something I don’t think she ever thought she would do because of the age difference.

They were both involved in the failed Counterrevolution on the island and ultimately divorced. But he still loved my grandma. So much that before she died he almost seemed to sense it. And he said to my mother,

“Hija, if one day your Mother should die, please don’t tell me. Because I know I’ll fall apart if I know. Just tell me she’s still alive,”

Unfortunately, he did find out and he went into a state of shock. Which led to him having two strokes and developing Alzheimer’s. Just as he told us, my grandmother’s death undid him. He seemed to go into an accelerated physical and cognitive decline in just months. He was rapidly turning into someone else.

Each month was like a decade for him, and soon the man who helped raise me as a child was disappearing before me. When I was a boy, my grandpa was one of the best and greatest people in my life. He defended me from my father when he got abusive. And  asked my mother what the hell was going on and what she planned to do about it. He warned me about the dangers of cult brainwashing.

You see I was raised in a Fundamentalist church and he didn’t want me to blindly follow the doctrines of men, disguised as ‘divinity’. He claimed to be an agnostic, and once said that he believed,

“In the God who created Heaven and Earth. But I don’t know who the fuck this Jesus guy was. He was probably a delinquent and that’s why they crucified him,”

To my very Christian and very horrified mother. He also “shit on the Seven African Powers” and “Shit on every Saint in Heaven!” whenever he was angry. I always laughed and he couldn’t help but laugh with me. He would also write vulgar poems about Christian people, including a certain sect that knocks on doors to preach the good news.

“The Jehovah’s Witnesses say that soon Armageddon will come, but I laugh, I dance, and I shit on the Mother of God,”

I remember that when he took me out to eat at a Cuban diner. It was the very first memory of him I have. I think it was our first outing. He gave me an unlit cigarette and put it in my mouth and said,

“There, now you’re a man damn it!”

I think I was 6 or 7 at the time. My Mom went apeshit when she found out. It was awesome! Since that time we would go together to Little Havana where we would hang out with his friends on the side walk. Where we would work together on the farms with the animals. We would even make deliveries to places of bird food and sometimes the unsavory deliveries of animals to be sacrificed by Santeros.

Something I vehemently oppose to this day despite being a Santero myself. I would actually wake up at 5am on Saturdays to go with him to have a good breakfast and to plan out our day. We’d go to a Santero Botanica where I would go to help him bring in merchandise. We’d go see old friends of his, which included a couple that got married thanks to him (long story). Other times we would meet random strangers and talk over  cortaditos about random things.

Oh, and then there was the Cuban-Chinese Restaurant. He’d go there not to eat Chinese food. He went there because they had “the best rice and stake he’d ever eaten,”. My mom used to tease him about it. “What? It’s true,” he’d say.

Mostly it was the solitude we both enjoyed. I loved talking to my grandpa about everything. We had no secrets. He quickly learned that he wasn’t so happy by himself after all. I was his partner.

I remember spending an hour eating cold pizza in his old truck. The windows down, the breeze of a nice day. The grey skies that promised a dark and stormy day. Oh how we both loved that kind of weather. Or at least I do.

Maybe he just enjoyed it because he knew I did. I remember when he bought me my first black leather jacket for the cold. I wore it even until the leather went bad and when I was hot. People thought I was crazy or that I was trying to be a punk rocker or something. But really I just enjoyed it.

When it was cold and early in the morning we would go to a diner and have a good breakfast. Then just enjoy the cold weather with a hot cafe con leche and eggs and ham. I knew all of his friends and they knew me. But despite that, he was silent as a tomb about his most private affairs. I dare say I probably know more about some of the things he went through or experienced than most people.

Only my mother knows more.

As a teenager, he loved the cemetery for example. He would spend hours immersed in the silence and the solitude. He’d even go there after school to do his homework. It was also one of the few places where he felt truly at peace. Death didn’t really scare him.

I’m sure like a normal man he feared the pain. But the act of being freed from this world did not bother him. What he feared if anything, was a life un-lived. That gusto for lifetook the form of travel, strange adventures with friends, the occasional brawl (even with younger men, he always won), affairs with younger and older women, and a lot of laughter. He even had an affair with his land lord’s wife.

I remember facepalming myself and going “Ay Abuelo tu eres tremendo,” (Oh Grandpa, you’re something else). I figured he’d end up having to find a new home. But as it turns out that is not what happened at all. He discovered that the man was beating his wife. So one day in their kitchen with both present he promptly said,

“She and I are together now. So, I don’t give a fuck if she’s married to you. She’s not your property. If you touch her again, I am going to crack your skull open and you’ll have a closed casket funeral,”

He said this nonchalantly while both the man and his wife where in the room. The story was told to me by her. That’s how I even know it happened. My grandpa had many flaws, but he loved you and was loyal to you. And he defended you with no care to what would happen to him.

Needless to say, while they were together the beatings stopped. I remember how bizzare that relationship was. That this guy had a tenant he knew was sleeping with his wife. And that the wife treated my grandpa like her husband instead of him. She even cooked breakfast or special foods for him.

My grandpa really seemed to like her. He once told me that talking to her he felt better than if “he fucked the princess of Spain!”. And he meant it too. Which made it funnier. This man could write poems in old Spanish verse yet that’s how he described his personal life.

One time, after he was already sick and looking like a corpse, my mother was “dating” some asshat that had a reputation for hitting women. She didn’t know that when she decided to give him a chance. But grandpa sure did. He sized this guy up, literally looked him up and down. So he looks at my Mom and says,

“Hija what is your size and weight?”

She replied and he said,

“Good! If some piece of shit ever lays a hand on you, you take your fist and you hit him as hard as you can under his chin and fuck up his jaw. He’ll live to regret it,”

The guy laughed nervously. He knew my old man had him pegged nice and good. And even while he was so weakened from his first stroke, that one hard gaze was enough to make even a younger man think twice. This was my second father. In many ways my real father, as he had influenced me in ways that my own could never do.

I remember visiting him at the retirement home for the first time. I took a Lyft to travel from Sweetwater to Miami Springs. I remember it was a beautiful sunny day and I actually enjoyed the little trip. But no one told me, no one warned me about what I would find when I got there. I liked the building, I thought it looked nice from the outside.

I searched for his room in the hallway. That rancid smell hit me all at once. That smell that lets you know there are elders who have not bathed yet. Like a smell of dust accumulating. People who can no longer move on their own.

Who need constant supervision. Then I found his room. He was sharing it with three other people. How can I describe seeing him turn from a strong man, despite his age, into a living corpse? I was shocked to say the least. Holding my emotions in was no easy task

That first day when I got to the Home he had to be placed in and saw him in that bed I hardly recognized him. I’m not exaggerating when I say he looked like death itself. He had lost so much weight, his skin grew so pale as if no blood flowed through his veins. And to make it worse, he couldn’t even stand up anymore. Now he required a wheel chair and a diaper.

Most of his friends weren’t around. He had fallen out of touch with all of them by this time. But not me, I’m your partner remember grandpa? Till the end. I stayed with him all day as he slept. I only left to eat in some little Restaurant around the corner.

I came back and I stayed until 5 or maybe 5:30pm. I knew it was late because night was breaking through. I took another Lyft home and felt mixed up inside. Confused. So, so confused.

I took pictures of him and shared it with my uncle and with my sister. For three years almost without fail myself, my mother, and my sister visited grandpa every weekend. We would bring him Cuban cafe, and chocolate pudding. Sometimes jello. He would devour it and then sing lewd songs aloud.

Mostly he would change the lyrics of Guantanamera to “Juan Cagalera” (Juan Shits alot). He would also sing about a man taking a shit. And that he saw that he had a small gun and a sack with two bullets. My mom was trapped between being embarrassed and laughing at the same time. I’m pretty sure he did it to piss off all of those old society ladies in the home.

The ones who wore fancy pearls and thought they were Spanish aristocrats. One of them was named Daisy. She came up to us to try and complain about my grandpa. My mom quickly defused the situation.

“My what nice pearls you have Daisy!”

“Why thank you child, I’ve had them since I was a little girl,”

Then my grandpa said,

“Coño (damn) they must be over a 100 yrs old. Quick! Run to an Antique Dealer, you’ll be a millionaire!”

My mom, sister, and I tried so hard not to laugh. We went red in the face. And Daisy walked off so pissed we thought she’d have a stroke herself. Gradually, this became the new normal. And my mother said seeing him like this was even worse than watching my grandmother die.

We never thought this would happen to him. We never thought he would end up in a home. We are a family that takes care of our elders. All my other grandparents lived with the family. With their children and grandchildren.

We wanted Abuelo Juan to live with us too. But he was so stubborn. He didn’t want to be a burden on us. He lived on his own and had his own place. But with his cognitive decline, the owners of his building began to tell us that he was falling asleep in the hallways and forgetting where his apartment was.

We never thought a retirement home was where he would end up. It was unheard of in our family. But with each stroke and the growing Alzheimers he needed help only professionals could give him. He’d more or less become accustomed to his new surroundings.  He believed it was a new apartment building.

He’d talk with other people but it was just small talk. The only people he really talked to were younger, attractive nurses. He would hit on them and make them laugh with his jokes. And would speak gibberish that he claimed was Arabic or Russian. But he only really came alive when he saw us.

Especially me.

“Pepito Carajo! Que bueno verte,”

(Pepito Goddamn it! It’s great to see you).

He was the only one I allowed to call me that. Pepe is my father. And I hate being seen as similar to him in any way. But somehow my grandpa changed the meaning of the name for me. The last peaceful memory I have of my grandfather was the last time me and my mom visited him.

My sister had already moved to another state. It was a calm Sunday afternoon. Sunny outside and the light coming from the window cast shadows that made it look as if the room were under water. You know what I mean? Like the reflection of water from a pool. He was already almost immobile by this point.

He never wanted to get out of bed now. Although he seemed more alert and happy strangely. He stayed awake talking to us for a bit and asking me how old I was now. And as usual, when I said 33 he would be shocked. He remembered me as I was in my teenage years.

He thought I was 15 again. He started drifting to sleep. And then we left. And that was the last time I saw my grandpa alive. Because then the pandemic hit.

And his retirement home was shut down. My uncle and mom were able to see him through the window and talk to him. Or sometimes talk to him through the phone. He started developing a cough and we began to get worried. We suspected it was the Coronavirus right away.

But they assured us it was a case of pneumonia. Nothing more. They took forever to test him, if that is what they actually did. And claimed he tested negative for the virus. My mom breathed a sigh of relief for the first time that day.

So imagine what it was like the next day to be ordering dinner and finding out that he passed away. My mom said she had felt a heaviness in her heart. That she knew something was going to happen but not what. She had left work earlier that day to give him a visit but no one answered from his room when she called out. Not even a nurse.

Not his usual protests of “shut the fuck I’m trying to sleep!”. Nothing. The nurses claimed they came in with his food and found him dead at 5:30pm. I had to be the one to break the news to his friend from his old job that he possibly died of Coronavirus. The assisted living facility we took him to, had apparently had 106 cases of Covid 19.

We learned about all these cases nearly a week after he died. We were starting to get grounded. We were starting to come to terms with what had happened. Only to watch Univision at 11pm for one of their daily Coronavirus reports and see this.

My rage, my pain, my anger. So much hurt in so little time. This had to be the shittiest week of my life. Nothing else could ever compare to this. I used to think my ex leaving me was bad.

I wanted to marry her and have a family. But this was far worse. In fact it set the bar for just how much worse something could be instead of a breakup. Someone you dated leaves you? Big Deal. There’s someone out there for everyone.

You just have to go out and find them. But there are some losses that one never truly gets over. Losing someone that you have loved since you were born, the first person who held you as a baby. That’s a fate worse than death. Or perhaps it is a death of some kind.

It’s as if my life force had been sucked out of body. As if something in the Universe just went cold. I feel numb and almost cold inside. I have had to keep myself from crying and grieving because my mother needs me. She just lost both of her parents now.

She’s not going to see them again for a very long time. Until her time comes to depart as well. I’ve been sleeping on the floor of her apartment so she wouldn’t be alone. And today I heard her talking to her husband (who is stuck in Honduras now). I pretended to still be asleep.

And I heard her crying on the phone. Telling her husband that she’s worried about her brother. Because their Dad’s death has so deeply effected him. That he blames himself for his death. Because he had power of attorney.

Because he trusted the scum from that facility to care for his Dad. That he would be safe and cared for. As mother’s day nears, it won’t be quite the same. For all intents and purposes she’s an orphan now. They have a cliche for this kind of thing.

You know, the one that says that with a person’s passing, the world gets a little dimmer. Well, it’s not a cliche. It’s truth. In Judaism, God is believed to be this gigantic swirling pool of light.

And all of us come from that pool of light. We’re all pieces of Adonai’s great cosmic soul broken down into human form. So when we die, our souls or our light, returns back to the Source. And that Quantum Source is God. Or comes from God.

So when we die, we are dimming the world. Because our light flees this place to go home. We leave the world dimmer and darker than when we first started out because our presence made it a better place. So the dead are not whom we mourn, but ourselves. The dead find peace (usually).

As long as they are remembered, as long as they are not forgotten and the proper rituals and prayers are offered, they are well. It’s only when they are forgotten and unloved that they suffer. No, we mourn ourselves because just a little bit of that light left our world and went back to it’s source. And we are left in a world far less bright, than that which we lived in before. How did I do Abuelito?

Did I succeed at condensing your long, eventful life, into one gigantic post? I found it hard to do. I feel that the Earth has shifted underneath my feet. That my hold over everything is lost. That I am lost. But I won’t mourn you Abuelo, I’ll celebrate you.

We will take our time to grieve yes. But not to feel bad about ourselves. Instead, to heal and to move on. To honor your spirit and your memory. To cherish all the fond memories we have of you.

And to light your way so that you may be with the ancestors. Adios Juan, hasta la vuelta. Until I see you again grandfather. I love you.

 

 

Help a family in need : Donations for the funeral of a deceased young man

 

 

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Recently on the 28th, a family lost their son Javier Mendoza. It’s a long explanation, but basically the doctors at Urgent Care misdiagnosed the rhinovirus and meningitis he had as a “stomach flu”. Now I am not a doctor. I don’t know the science or how hard it is to diagnose something like that. But how anyone could make such a mistake is beyond me.

I have learned recently that Urgent Care is really useless. They basically only do what a normal clinic would do. For that it’s just better to go into an E.R. and get seen by people who can do more than just blood work. I’m already fed up with how people are treated by so called doctors in this country. This just made it worse.

I don’t know the family personally. But after this came to my attention, I decided to share the GoFundMe and also do a Mass for his soul. I invite many of you to share this information and if you are a magic user like me, consider working with your spirits and praying to your Divinities. Ask for Javier to get some help. Requiem In Pacem Javier Mendoza.

Dec 5, 1992 – January 28, 2020

https://www.gofundme.com/f/auduq-in-loving-memory

 

 

 

Weird Christmas 2019

Yule Cat Jólakötturinn
This is the Yule Cat or Jólakötturinn. A monstrous Hell Cat that stalks people during the Yuletide Season.

Well, this is a special addition of the Random Links. All complete with creepy Christmas Legends and other links for those interested.

The Monsters of Christmas

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/monsters-of-christmas

8 Legendary Monsters of Christmas

https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/54184/8-legendary-monsters-christmas

Strange scenes of someone openly shitting in Christmas Scenes (X Mas in Spain)

https://m.ranker.com/list/what-is-in-a-catalonian-nativity/melissa-sartore

Krampus, the Christmas Demon

https://m.ranker.com/list/history-of-christmas-krampus/genevieve-carlton

In Nome, Alaska the man who dresses as Santa is a Grave Digger (Awesome!)

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/santa-the-alaskan-gravedigger

Mummering the odd and ghostly tradition long banned in New Foundland

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-longbanned-tradition-of-mummering-in-newfoundland-is-making-a-comeback

Have fun everyone 😉 💀

– M

A Hallow’s Eve Visitation

Black Butterflies, or Brujas

Hello everyone, I thought I’d give you a heads up on an interesting experience I had this Halloween. Something fascinating. I wanted to share it with all of you. As you know, these last few months, my neighbor Mr. Molina died. But about three weeks ago, his wife Daisy also died, which is why I haven’t been on here for a while.

I was distraught but couldn’t waste time to mourn for Daisy. I knew that Hallowsmas was coming. And that it’s not a good idea for a normal spirit to be hanging around for too long. But near the autumn it’s damn near dangerous. All manner of dark spirits flying around, looking for ghosts to mess with.

So Roberto my mentor whom I mentioned here in my post (The Witch Bird) and I did the necessary rituals for Molina when he died. I called upon the God, Erebus to waken him from the sleep of death. Some ghosts remain in suspended animation within their own bodies. Sleeping in death till they wake up and separate from their corporeal bodies. For that, I invoke Erebus and call his power to wake the ghost up gently.

After that, I asked the guides of the dead to help Mr. Molina enter the lands of the dead. A good place with ancestral spirits I know who could watch over him. As time passed, I saw that Daisy was getting worse. The poor woman had two strokes and was in a vegetative state. I asked Mr. Molina to prepare to cross her over if need be.

His spirit stayed with her in the nursing facility. But despite the doctors and prayers she died. It still came as a shock to me though. I thought she would overcome this somehow. But often times the pain of losing your companion for life is unbearable.

So much so that death becomes a better alternative for some. Molina had crossed her spirit over in the instant she stopped breathing, separating her soul from her body. And he elevated her to the ancestral lands as I call them. After that, I began to see Daisy and Molina as younger versions of themselves. Molina I recognised, but not her at first.

And I now see Daisy’s spirit outside the balcony near the flowers of her daughter and grandson’s home. She is one of the most realistic looking spirits I have ever seen. Not the spectral forms I am accustomed to seeing. I almost forget that she’s dead sometimes and wave at her. But on Halloween, literally in the early evening of Hallowsmas, I got another confirmation that they were around.

In Cuba, we call this particular species of black butterfly Brujas, Spanish for witches. Sometimes they can even be confused with bats for a moment or two due to how to how leathery their wings look. They are considered omens of witchcraft and death. My mother came home from work on Hallow’s Eve. It was actually near the evening time.

I asked her to try and come home early due to the spirits that were out and about. That’s when she sees them : this beautiful pair of Brujas loitering around a spot that had a special significance for me. There was a large magical plant I had in that spot once. It was an altar to protect my front door. There were even Pagan idols and special charms inside of it.

These people from my apartment complex removed it without my consent. Stating it was too big and unkempt. But the fact that these two butterflies were loitering in that spot, a spot that low to the ground and once helped my altar had meaning for me. And it caught my mother’s attention. She said that they were waiting for her.

They seemed possessed of an almost human-like intelligence. They waited for her to notice them. Then they flew over to Molina and Daisy’s apartment and stayed on the railing. My mom freaked because she thought it was a death omen. And I also had thought that as well.

I had ended up consulting some friends of mine and one of them a psychic said,

“I believe it was those two elderly people you helped crossover. They paid you a visit on Hallow’s Eve. They’re letting you know they’re alright. And they wanted to thank you,”

When she said that, it got me teary eyed. Many of you will say,

“It’s just two insects that happened to be loitering there,”

But the dead can possess or influence animals. Especially dead witches. I once helped a lady who had a dead Wiccan in her home. He was able to use spiders as his familiars. No matter how many exterminators she brought they would still come back.

When we appeased him and crossed him over they all left in the next three days. And Butterflies are the animal of Psyche, Goddess of the Soul. Mr. Molina and Daisy both believed in Santeria. They weren’t the same kind of practitioner I was. I am deeply into the African side of things with or without the Christianity.

They were more Christian, but their home had idols even of Hindu Gods. I still haven’t done a professional divination to be sure of it or asked my masters yet. But I get the very odd, yet comforting feeling that two very loving souls came our way. They came to wish us a very happy All Hallow’s Eve.

Bodies and Coffins Vanish in Mexican State of Aguascalientes

The state of Aguascalientes, Mexico

Today it was reported that actual graves have been effected by the extreme weather. Namely, that buried bodies and their coffins have been sucked into the ground. The corpses and their coffins have apparently been sucked so deep into the Earth that they still don’t know how to retrieve them. Others I have spoken to, affirm that the cemetery is removing the bodies to re-sell the empty plots. And yet more afirm that black witches or anatomy students from the universities are stealing these corpses in their practices.

To date, these are all theories. But in Mexico, these are all very plausible. Honestly, they’re plausible anywhere. Authorities are slow to react. They’re claiming the people need to request their help formally.

As I mentioned before, some have suggested to me that the cemetery is probabaly removing the bodies to resell the empty plots. This happened here in Florida where a Jewish Cemetery close to the Everglades had done just that. So what’s happening here? One very interesting preacher spoke to me on the subject. The man said that this was a sign of the apocalypse. He claimed that “Yahweh, Quetzalcoatl, and Tonatzin (a title for Aztec Mother Goddesses which just means “mother”) were returning to our world and that we needed to repent.

Now before him, someone actually said he feared those bodies didn’t vanish. That they were being taken by some kind of force beneath the Earth. And for what purpose he still didn’t know. I asked him what he meant and in hushed tones today in my (Romani) Godmother’s magic shop he says to me,

“No tengo ni puta idea porque, pero te digo que no es nada bueno. Es un mal presagio,”

(I don’t have a fucking clue why, but I’m telling you it’s nothing good. This is a bad omen).

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t superstitious. I am. But something isn’t right with this. He gave me the feeling that something beneath the Earth was “hungry”. But he wouldn’t tell me what exactly. Hypothetically speaking, what could be beneath the Earth in Mexico that would do something like this? A flesh eating Cryptid of some sort? A Supernatural Force? What? I’ll be interviewing other people and updating this as well.

The news report in Spanish is here :

  • M

Soothsaying for the Month of July 2019 : A time of darkness, a time of light

Karkinos, the Giant Crab given immortality by Poseidon or Hera depending on the Legend. In the more anglicised version, his name is Crios.

Now normally, when July comes around, most people don’t view it as a dark time. Most people think of the scorching heat of the sun. But if you have been reading my studies and my weird little exploits then you know I am not most people. For starters, in the Ryukyuan Islands of Japan, the entire month of July is their version of Ghost Month. If you don’t know the story behind that festival, you can read about it here :

https://miamimagus.wordpress.com/2018/08/13/ghost-month-2018-the-hungry-ghost-festival/

But this Month has started out cthonic even astrologically. Both monday and tuesday start out with a New Moon. New Moon’s are considered the time of the dead and times of bad luck in Hinduism. Tuesday also has a solar eclipse in the sign of cancer. The day after the new moon in the old Roman calendar is the Nones which is dedicated to the dead and considered a bad luck day. 


On the 7th of July (Sunday) we have Mercury going into retrograde which now joins Saturn, Pluto, and Jupiter in their retrogrades. Then on the 16th of July (Tuesday) we have a Lunar Eclipse in the sign of Capricorn. Then there’s the feast of the dead saints Saints Cyril and Methodius on Friday July 5th. And if you notice, we end this new month the same way it begins : with a New Moon between the days 30 and 31st with the Feast of Joseph of Arimathea. So either way, it seems we’re bound for a lot of change.

And a lot of dark influences. 


As always, stay in doors during the solar eclipse, any offerings you’ll make to the Sun Gods must be on altars to the dead to their underworld aspects. On Lunar Eclipses, you can stay outside to make wishes. But only for as long as the conjurations last. Then immediately go inside. If you are sick, or a woman who is pregnant or on her period, really not a good idea. 


Liminal times like these will hit you harder than a man. Speak your wishes over the offerings and leave them outside before the actual events. You’ll still get your wishes. And remember : leave offerings blessed with prayer for the dark dead on crossroads or cemeteries, bodies of water like rivers or ponds are also good. They’ll channel themselves into animals in order to eat in most cases.

Also feed your land and house spirits to be safe and protected during this time. Now is the time to do a lot of cleansing and cleaning of the home. Also on Sunday we have the Tanabata Festival of Japan (Qixi in China) the Star Light festival of the two lovers. We have a bunch of holy holidays of light including the Slavic Kupala Night (the final Summer Solstice festival) which also ends Sunday. So we have a balance of light with darkness.

Update : As a matter of fact I may do more updates in the future.

I did my Soothsaying as usual. I did offerings to the Gods and entered a trance. I began to perceive days and weeks as energies. And then I marked my astrological calender with notes. Which I found something odd.

In fact I have never done this before.

Apparently, I pointed out that there is a vortex forming. Almost like a strange weather pattern of the spirit world. It started Monday to Tuesday this week with the New Moon and Solar Eclipse.

What I learned is that the vortex seems to be connected to the astrological phenomenon. Some kind of doorway in our skies is being opened. What, I have no idea. This could be for karma. This could be due to the Ryukyuan Ghost Month which is every July.

Or it could be something else entirely. I am still doing my research. What I also discovered is that the magic involved is influenced by the power of four. It creates a kind of square or perhaps a cube.

I noticed another phenomenon. Light and Dark seem to be going back to back with each other. We started the month dark. Tomorrow the feast of Cyril and Methodius we begin a light energy. It seems to be solar and rises to prominence from the 6th-7th which is Kupala Night. Then on the 7th Mercury Retrograde we have the Star Festival.

The light changes from solar to starlight. Night reigns but with infusions of holy light. Then around the day 9 to 10 it begins to clear up. A “Dawning” begins. But rather than Sunlight, I spiritually saw a large moon rising to illuninate everything at the 11th. The Full Moon isn’t until Tuesday the 16th, the same time as the Lunar Eclipse which adds a weird power to this.

The Eclipse and everything else sort of creates a spiritual vortex that feels similar to the Bermuda Triangle. Only it’s a square. And then I realized it’s actually a Cube. I just haven’t pinpointed yet where the last two points of the Cube are. Or what they are.

On the 11th the monthly energy is illuminated with lunar energy. That is the Dawning. But by the 17th it darkness till the end of the month. Oh and guess what? The regular Chinese Ghost Month starts next month on the 1st and ends on the 19th. So that means we have two cthonic months.

I wondered if I hadn’t found the other two points of the Cube, because they were for next month. And I was correct. Mercury going direct on the 31st is one point.

The last is Jupiter going direct next month on the 11th which is a master number. And Zeus or Jupiter as the God of Gods is a true master.

I’ll wait to do any other predictions for next month. It almost looks like a Hurricane path. So what I get from all this is :

  • Manifestation
  • Destruction
  • Healing
  • Light Vs. Dark or Light working with the dark.
  • Lots and lots of spirits, light, dark, and neutral but mostly light or dark coming through during this timeframe. Ending sometime after Jupiter goes direct.
  • Possible increase in violence.
    • Potential for peace, though it will be hard.

This month is tricky, good and bad vibes mixed into one. For protection from the Hungry Ghosts (I believe in India they are called Preta) you should have sacred charms with protective blessings or spells. Crosses, Stars of David, images of certain Gods or even holy books placed in corners of the home will shield it. Also place salt all around the outside of the home and salt the doors and windows from both sides. At the same time, you can charge the same charms with good energy from this month.

I would call this a Yin and Yang month.
How will you put these energies to work for you? Oh and by the way. After I finished my update on what appeared to be a spiritual vortex, I saw this over my home in Miami. Sweetwater down the road from FIU to be precise. It’s not there anymore but I saw it.

They were taken with different phones. The originals were mine which is an Android. The lighter ones are from an iPhone 6. Notice that in every snap of the iPhone they seem to change in color. Interesting that this happened after my reading.

Update again

Apparently what I saw, was seen all over Florida. Even by people out to sea. This video shows at 10:13 that it could be seen off the shores of Florida.

Since then, the strange Earthquakes in California have been happening. Quakes that many residents are saying are not the norm for them. Could the “spiritual storm” I foresaw be something major happening?

I will put the remaining updates on this twitter thread

Asking all diviners for their input


  • M