I created an altar of the dead with a black tree near one of the outside walls. Now let me stop here. I’m sure a bunch of Rootworkers, and other people will say,
“If it ain’t inside the cemetery, it ain’t real cemetery dirt!!!!”
I’ve heard this many of times from the younger generation. Not the older generations. Very few of the old witches and wizards are that strict. Why? Because we have to work with what we got. And no, by wizards I don’t mean old white guys in funny hats.
I mean the Curanderos of Mexican traditions. I mean the Sancistas of Puerto Rico and the Chinese and Vietnamese wizards. I mean the Mages who still practice astrology and pray to older Persian Gods as well as to Ahura Mazda. WeĀ come in different flavors. Want to know what we all have in common? We had to adapt our practices.
Our religions have evolved because our cultures have evolved. In ancient days, we read from scrolls (and that was modern for their time). Then we read from books, and right now you’re all reading accounts of magic from my blog. We all had to make changes. If religions don’t adapt, they die out.
And then later generations go through hell trying to reconstruct them. Now, why do I have an altar that is just outside the walls of the cemetery? And why an animal cemetery? Simple. One, I don’t want to go to jail for illegal entry to a cemetery. Too many cemeteries are full of security cameras. In places like the South, they even signs banning people from doing magic at those locations.
Now if I have to, I will jump walls and bribe security guards to get in to do what I need to do. Like I did in the blog post about the Witch Bird. But if that is not the case, and the working isn’t too intense; I compromise. I cast the bones and asked the dead if I can use the areas of dirt just outside their walls. And because of my dedication, they said yes.
I am not claiming it will work for everyone. But it works for me. And witches are first and foremost inventors and innovators. Secondly, I take the time to find a spot outside that resonates with power, and I add more to it with charms. With idols.
With things that blend in the background that most people would never have noticed or care to notice. I pick up the trash, give proper offerings and so forth. I work with animals because I find them to be pure. I personally believe that all that is wrong with our world, is due to humanity. Whether it’s the Garden of Eden or even the Hellenic tale of Pandora and her box, we did this to ourselves.
Animals lost some of their greatest gifts because of us. Because when you are impure, the world around you becomes impure. But they didn’t do anything wrong. They have a closer connection to the Gods, or GOD, than we do. In short, I prefer to work with them because I feel that they’re more holy than we are.
What we call psychic abilities or simply ESP, they don’t need to develope, they just have it. All of them, not just cats. They can walk between worlds better than shamans can. That’s why the use of animal familiars is well documented in most shamanic traditions. Why else do witches of many traditions collect so many bones and other animal parts for? Because they all have their own Ashe or grace to them.
And these energies aid us in our work. The tree has a cement plate which used to be part of someone’s floor. I tend to recycle things a lot. I took the plate and laid it in a deep part of the ground so that it looks like a regular smooth stone. That way, no one will look at it and know what it is.
It’s an offering plate. I had took the time a few years ago to cleanse and imbue the plate with spiritual power. That way it could act as an Idol for the dead creatures and other roaming spirits. SoĀ as I feed the Underworld Gods, I may also feed them. They act as my intermediaries with the Gods.
I also take stones, pebbles mostly, of various shapes and colors. I dedicate them to Gods of the dead. Each one is different so that just by looking at them I know who it is that the stone represents. Before statues and statuettes were made, our ancestors would find smooth or beautiful stones. And they were convinced that they had powers or may even have been sacred to certain Gods.
The original idol of Hestia the hearthe Goddess was such a stone. Then humans decided she and other Deities needed full blown statues. Even in Santeria, there are images of Orishas that look like stones or metals or whatever. You wouldn’t know what they were at first unless you took the time to study them. I follow this tradition.
Each stone was blessed with different magics for a week and a half. Then placed inside one of my altars where I give a three day feast to that Deity. I welcome their Spirit into our world through their idol. Once done, I have even noticed that the grounds the idols are on actually become holy ground. As if some part of this process causes divinity itself to kiss the ground.
Places that were completely desolate, grew with weeds and wild flowers. They grew in months or half a month sometimes. Areas that for years were as barren as deserts suddenly teamed with life. And filled with animals who treat these spots as vacation resorts almost. Even without the food offerings.
That’s how I know my Gods are real. I have seen my altars torn apart on purpose by nasty people. Not only have they regenerated, but the people responsible started having bad luck. That’s how I always know who it is.
Thus, my black tree with the blackest bark I have ever seen, looks more alive now then when I started.
One can argue it’s because of water libations. And that the animals living near or underneath the altars have made an eco system to enrich them. All of that is true. But the offerings are not continuous. I don’t have so much money that I want or need to pile food on top of every altar every day.
The Cemetery altar, I have not visited in months. Yet there it remains, pristine and beautiful. Even better than the first day I choose it. I have noticed unique animals forming communities in or around my altars. Each with their own systems.
They seem to recognize me. They act as if they have a time table for when I show up. Then they share the food equally. I also have coconut shells to catch rain water for them to drink. Or, if I brought my own libations, I pour it into the shells.
So last night, I walked all the way to this cemetery. I keep a mini flash light in my pocket in case I go on one of my weird little adventures. What can I say about venturing into the night for magic with the dead? Most people get freaked out or think it’s scary. Or that only a homicidal maniac will do such a thing. What could possibly go on in such a person’s mind? I’m sure that’s the question most of my normie friends would ask.
Let me tell you what it’s like. At first it’s a feeling of exceleration. That young, youthful feeling of walking the streets at night for adventure. That delicious crisp night air that you could only get when a good breeze is blowing. I almost hear music in the air. It’s soft, and smooth.
I find that it’s easier to walk at night even with all this damn humidity. Some nights, I find myself wondering if my sleeping pattern is more natural than everyone else’s. The day is so tiring. It seems better to sleep in the day and to live by night. Then, I enter the dark parts of the sidewalk.
Part of me is afraid of some lunatic hiding in the corner waiting to mug me. The fear mixes with the exictement of my little journey. Adrenaline starts pumping. Spirits don’t scare me, crazy people with guns do. It gets too dark to see in front of me.
And I take out the flash light and illuminate the ground before me. I can hear the crickets making their wonderful music. The night is alive with birds that only sing in the dark. And in Miami, there are birds who sing as if it’s dawn in the darkness. Maybe they came to the same conclusion I did about living at night.
I see a cockroach in the ground and part of me is freaked because they scare me.
The other part is fascinated because this makes everything creepier like a camp fire story. Like those old “are you afraid of the dark?” Episodes. And part of me recognizes that animal for what it is : a sign. Roaches are animals of the underworld like maggots, black animals, etc..
The moment I saw it, between the shock and easing off of tension, I felt the energy. I knew that it was a scout or messenger.
It was sent to see where I was and how much longer it would take before I got there. I didn’t hear voices. It was more like a vision mixed with feelings. I call them empathic visions. I could see the cemetery in black and white in it’s mind.
So I knew who had sent it. And I felt what it’s purpose was. Part of being a necromancer is being able to connect to the energies of cthonic animals. I call these odd visions, feelings, moments of Revelation via the dead the Cthonic Pulse. And lately this energy has increased ten fold with Ghost Month.
This isn’t the first time underworld animal guides have appeared. I’ve had night hawks fly over my head when going to the cemetery. Or once, a black cat crossed my path when going to celebrate the feast of Obba. I took that as an excellent sign. A blessing from the wonderful Orisha herself.
So I was happy to see that roach as much as he scared me. As I ventured down the darkened pavement, I prayed to the spirits in the name of Mictlantecuhtli. I told them all my fears and issues and things I wanted them to remove. I’m afraid of cops more than any maniac waiting in a street corner. One wrong move, and I’ll be a hashtag on twitter.
All this caution just to practice my own faith. And it seems so unfair. There are Christians that dance with poisonous snakes. Some won’t allow their kids medical care due to doctrines. No one bothers them.
But I can’t go talk to the dead and leave them offerings. Even if the altar is outside the walls. All this and more is what’s inside of my head while doing this. But I go on, I clear my head and I pray. I have the offerings inside of my bag.
I’m still happy. Still excited. No one will bother me. Finally I reach illumined sidewalks and shut my flashlight off. I feel the relief of the light.
No loonies in the street corners after all. The only thing I hate besides the cameras in this cemetery, is that the animal cemetery is surrounded by houses. And development is everywhere. So I have to be extra careful. Some nights are better than others.
I remember one night when trying to celebrate Dia de los Muertos (day of the dead) these Cubans across the street from the cemetery were having a fucking barbeque at 3am! What’s worse, was that they take up so much space. Parking even on the grass of the cemetery. Add to that, the little road between their houses and the cemetery really is little. Not enough space away from them. So I entered stealth mode.
I remember that I had to move in the shadows of their cars. I tip toed around bushes. Cursing at them in my head in Spanish.
“Only Cubans are this fucking annoying! Having stupid barbeques even when a hurricane is coming!”
(Yes, I’m Cuban too)
They had no idea that some guy was skulking around in the dark behind their cars doing necromancy. Or that one of them had parked next to an altar. I still laugh about that sometimes. IĀ finally arrived before the tree as once I did all those years ago. I took out the offerings, one by one and laid them on the plate in the ground.
I spoke not with words, but with my mind and said,
“Mictlantecuhtli, these are your offerings, may you share them with the dark, forgotten, and unnamed dead for their peaceful passage, Amen,”
I sat down and meditated in the dark. Careful that no bugs were around, but equally careful that cops or neighbors don’t see me. That’s why I don’t go there all of the time. I have my own indoor altar to work with. This is for special occasions only.
I sat down, and called the dead with my mind. And I went through all of my petition. I let their energy fill me from the inside out. The dead animals took from me all that didn’t belong in my life anymore. I stayed there, half awake and half asleep in a sort of lucid trance.
Of course, I asked for protection. And I carried charms for my safety. My own guides were there to keep me safe. Plus the Guardians of the Cemetery are protecting me. And the Tree altar is holy ground either way.
I took cascarilla or egg sell powder and I made the sign of the cross on the back of my neck. But not the Christian cross. The Cross of Quetzalcoatl.
“Protect me my Lord, by thy precious cross from all evil,”
The final precaution now taken. This is to protect my energy from something getting in. This creates a skin and soul shield to block unwanted possession.
They didn’t begin to cross over the hungry ghosts until after I had left. I visualized and focused on the aspects of my life that weren’t working.
People think of Cemeteries as filthy, but that isn’t always the case. Sometimes they can both clean and empower. I felt, rather than saw the Lord of Mictlan there, guiding me through it all.
I felt him, but not possess me. Not like on tv.
What I felt was his energy rolling inside me. It was like the waves of a dark ocean at night. He was commanding the spirits to do something from within me. I felt the energies of the animals like one huge, pool of cleansing air and water filling my lungs. Detoxing me from the inside out.
I felt the bad parts of myself and my life melting away. Leaving me. When I fully woke up, the power was turned off. The ocean gone. The door closed.
Nothing. Just the sound of crickets. I had felt the rush of his power building slowly. I had heard it like blood in my ears. But now it was all gone.
Like the end of a dream. I had finished with my limpia (cleansing). My personal reaping of bad energy. I felt lighter. I then grounded and cleansed on the spot.
I cleansed with holy water. I drank some of it too. This is to close and clear the channels from within. After I was as clean as I was going to get, I gave a final offering and left. It was after that, that I felt the call go out.
And I knew that they had started calling and crossing over the Hungry Ghosts just after I left. I started walking home. Just shaking it all off. I was enjoying the rest of my night. I saw a young woman waking home from work.
The old traditionalist in me said,
“Ask her if she wants company on her walk home,”
The Feminist in me said,
“She can handle herself. She doesn’t need you to walk with her anywhere,”
And the realist in me said,
“Dude…..you just walked out of a cemetery. You’re covered in tree bark and smell like an ape died. I don’t think she wants your company either way. Unless she has a fetish for Marilyn Manson wannabe’s,”
(Ah, my voice of reason. He wins everytime.)
As I walked past a house I heard someone in the dark of their patio. She talked on the phone in Spanish. It was oddly comforting. In the aftermath of such an intense spiritual experience it was nice to see regular people doing regular things at that hour. Sometimes, being in this supernatural world of ours we need a break.
Magic users are both of the world and yet not of it. We need reminders that we’re are human sometimes. When you work with spirits and Gods often, you forget your own humanity. Oh you know you’ll grow old and die. You know that you can’t fly or whatever.
Not that. I am perfectly aware of my mortality and human limitations. I’m not that bat shit fucking crazy. But sometimes we just need a dose of the normal to be balanced. Go to the movies. Kiss a beautiful woman (and that goes to our LGBT sisters too).
Read a good book cuddled with your animals, enjoy life. Not be so serious. On my way home I am wondered if I should work on my blog. Or organize some meetings with clients. Wouldn’t it be awesome to have this blog posted the same night I did all this? Hell yeah.
But I already know the answer : bed. I need to go to sleep. I finally reached home drenched in sweat. I enter the door backwards to stop spirits from following me in. My old master from Trinidad had taught me that.
Things can follow you in a house by trailing you. You break the trail by turning around and entering backwards into the house. I learned that one the hard way. I eat because I’m fucking starving. I remove all my cloths and take the time to cleanse my key chain and other items with blessed white alchohol.
And I use some Hebrew holy water in my bath to wash up and really cleanse.
Refreshing. Then, I lit a candle to the Gods of hearthe and home, and rest. It’s 3am by the time my bath is over. I’m still tired but satisfied.
Thank you Mictlantecuhtli for getting my lazy ass into gear. It was only when going to bed yesterday in the early morning that I realized. I did all of this on the early morning of Friday the 17th. Good for Witchcraft. Not bad.
And on the witching hour too. I guess the Lord of the Dead was keeping me on my toes. Good Night everyone,- M
Adventures of A Mage In Miami 