rosemarywaterwitch:

teaspellsandsecrets:

saltwaterwitchery:

Sit down, witches young and old.  I have a story to share.

So, in late Summer 2014, I was held at gunpoint and my car was stolen.  Without going into too much detail, I was out at night running errands and two masked men cornered me in the parking lot of my apartment complex.  (The Mister was not with me at the time; he was in the apartment.)  In the trunk of my car was my witchy box, which contained ALL of my most important craft materials including my book of shadows, my tarot, and my most beloved trinkets.  (I had taken it on a witchy retreat the weekend before.)

When they stole my car, they used it in a bank robbery and then ditched the vehicle after use.  I was DEVASTATED.  I couldn’t sleep or eat for days (trauma can be an absolute bitch); I was terrified to go out on my own, even on our porch.  I lost my job because I no longer had a means of transportation.  And to top it off, I ended up having a miscarriage around the same time.

Guys and gals, I went to a very dark place after this.  The police, as helpful as they were, told me that the likelihood of finding the vehicle was slim-to-none.  In fact, it is common in most places (and especially my state) that stolen vehicles are dumped in rivers or ravines, never to be found again.  What made matters worse was that I had JUST PAID THE CAR OFF and SWITCHED MY INSURANCE TO LIABILITY ONLY.  (For you bebes out there that don’t know, this means that your insurance company won’t replace the car if it is stolen.)

For months, I tried to dig myself out of this hole, but I felt like I couldn’t really connect with my craft because I was missing important elements to my spellwork.  Some of the things in that box were passed down for generations in my family.  They were absolutely priceless.  I felt so…lost.

The following May, I was visiting Tulum, Mexico.  A tropical storm was brewing off the shoreline and everyone else was drunk at one of the all-inclusive bar.  I watched from my balcony as surfers took to the turbulent waves and something came over me.  I felt a literal pull in my chest.  Something kept telling me to go to the water.

My family, friends, and the Mister all told me I was crazy when I went to the beach.  There was thunder, the waves were insanely high, and even the experienced surfers were having trouble.  On the lifeguard stands, red flags were posted (one of the signs that swimming is absolutely ill-advised) and for even an experienced competitive swimmer (that’s me!), it would be dangerous. But something told me to get into the water.

Nothing could have prepared me for the power of the ocean.  It pulled me when I resisted; it dragged against every limb and I became frightened.  But instead of thinking about the fact that I could possibly drown, I kept replaying those guys and their guns pointed at me, one shoved into my forehead.  I became angry; I kicked harder, pushed myself further until I felt the sand at my toes again.

I was crying and so angry.  I stood still in the water and called out into the wind.  I beat my fists against the surface of the sea (I probably looked insane, but no one was out there) and felt all of my pain seep away.  I begged the water for one thing: even if the car didn’t run, could my precious things be returned to me.  I bartered with the sea.

The sea giveth and the sea taketh away, as they say.  All of the hurt and terror and anguish I had felt over the previous year disappeared.  I was embraced by the water and somewhere so very deep inside me, I knew everything would be okay.  There was finally a sense of calm and clarity inside me, replacing the tumultuous emotions I had been feeling.

The morning we left, after the storms had passed, I went back to that secluded part of the beach and promised that I would dedicate my life to helping witches around me.  I had never made a promise like that in my life.

A month after that, the state police found my car.  It wasn’t in working condition at all, but everything remained intact in the trunk.  They brought it to my parents’ house and I rushed outside.  I sobbed when my dad opened the trunk and saw the box waiting, looking the exact same way it did the night the car was stolen.  Everything was in it, untouched by the elements.  (Eventually, I repaired the car enough for it to run another two-and-half-years, too!)

Magic is real.  Against impossible odds, there is power in every wish and desire.  I will never regret the promise I made that day.  I will never take for granted the gifts that have been given to me.  And when people scoff when I say that I am a witch, I inwardly smile and know that my magic is true and real.  I have all the proof I need.

Yes🥀🕯🔮

Gosh that gives me goosebumps

ofwoodandbone:

The dreaded blackthorn cane… 
Blackthorn canes used by witches and cunning men are powerful tools, sometimes considered even deadly. There have been cunning men who were believed to both save life and deal death with nothing but simple taps of their canes. 
The Blackthorn also makes a blasting rod, which is a feared implement of witches. It casts, or rather blasts, strong and violent curses onto whomever it is used on. These curses were meant to do real and permanent damage to the victim. 

Those kiddos should’ve bolted when she brought hers out. That lady isn’t playing. 

luna-y-llueve:

luna-y-llueve:

rain: falling

window: open

crystals: out

NEGATIVE ENERGY IS FORCIBLY REMOVED FROM MY APARTMENT

eronthebender:

mugglebornandraised:

copperbadge:

tucsondom:

copperbadge:

39thyear:

shelomit-bat-dvorah:

wordsaredelicious:

shelomit-bat-dvorah:

witchpieceoftoast:

prokopetz:

unsurpassedtravesty:

prokopetz:

Some of my favourite urban sights:

• Bricked-up windows
• Upper-storey doorways that open into empty space
• Staircases that lead nowhere
• Clean, working, fully stocked vending machines in obscure and inaccessible places
• Detailed graffiti on surfaces with no obvious spot for the artist to stand, like the underside of a high bridge, or ten metres up a bare wall
• Machinery left to rust because there’s no use for it anymore, but it’s in a weird or precarious location and there’s no way to safely remove it

(I’m sure there’s a theme here…)

I’ve been rereading Unknown Armies again recently and there’s a part of me that wants to find occult significance for this sort of nonsense.  But then, I kind of enjoy looking for occult significance for a lot of nonsense.

I’m not convinced that there isn’t some occult significance to some of these. The vending machine in particular stems from what’s definitely one of the weirdest experiences I’ve ever had.

First, some context: I don’t know if it’s like this everywhere, but major Canadian cities tend to have a lot of underground infrastructure – particularly in their downtown areas, where train tunnels, parking garages, underground shopping malls, and hotel basements often connect in such a way that you can easily walk for miles without ever seeing sunlight. The interconnections typically aren’t public, or at least not advertised, but a surprising number of them are accessible if poke around; I once followed a maintenance tunnel in a shopping mall parking complex and emerged in the basement of a nearby casino!

Anyway, I was snooping around in the maintenance tunnels below one of the larger local hotels – legitimately, mind you; I was working for the local telecom at the time, trying to track down an errant network cable – when I rounded a bend and noticed that the corridor a few dozen feet ahead of me was brightly illuminated by something. On top of being filthy and difficult to access, the tunnel was also unlit (I’d been navigating by flashlight), so this really stood out.

I couldn’t see any obvious light fixture to account for it – the light seemed to be emerging from an alcove off to the side of the tunnel – so I went to investigate, and discovered… a Coke machine.

Spotlessly clean, fully stocked, and apparently in full working order; the illumination was coming from its interior display lighting.

In a grimy, unlit maintenance corridor twenty feet below ground level.

In retrospect, I’m kind of glad I didn’t have any change on me at the time, because I’d have been sorely tempted to buy something, and who knows how that would have worked out.

if you’d had that coke, in accordance with the laws of food and drink consumption in the otherworld, you probably wouldn’t be here to tell us this story.

@wordsaredelicious, I presented your theory about the Waffle House pocket universe to my father and he shuddered in realization of a truth!

YES! I am so glad to hear my theory confirmed. There is only one Waffle House with many, many entrances to the Waffle House pocket dimension scattered across the United States.

…somehow I get the feeling that the One True Waffle House, if it exists on our mortal plane at all, might very well be in Georgia.

This whole thread screams @copperbadge

To add a little to the creepy, every time I try to find the Waffle Houses in Illinois, the Waffle House store locator page is down.

Puts this in a whole new light. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waffle_House_Index?wprov=sfla1

HOLY SHIT: 

The Waffle House Index is an informal metric used by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to determine the effect of a storm and the likely scale of assistance required for disaster recovery. The measure is based on the reputation of the Waffle House restaurant chain for staying open during extreme weather and for reopening quickly, albeit sometimes with a limited menu, after very severe weather events such as tornadoes or hurricanes. The term was coined by FEMA Administrator Craig Fugate in May 2011, following the 2011 Joplin tornado; the two Waffle House restaurants in Joplin remained open after the EF5 multiple-vortex tornado struck the city on May 22. According to Fugate, “If you get there and the Waffle House is closed? That’s really bad. That’s when you go to work.”

I love humanity. 

I mean, the devil went down to Georgia looking for a soul to steal……

Listen if you ever see a “closed” Waffle House you need to run I’m not saying it’s demons but it’s demons somewhere near by and you need to leave that area until you find another Waffle House that’s open.

I’ve never seen or heard of a Waffle House that was closed without some big Shit happening.

witchcraftyful:

There are hundreds of complex, glamourous spells all over the internet, and some of these spells are wonderful. However, some people don’t have to time, energy, motivation, or money to do those sorts of spells. For those people, here are some easy spell ideas.

1. Do some birthday-like magick! Light a candle, make a wish, and blow it out. (You can also snuff it out or let it burn down, depending on what you believe works best.)

2. Alternatively, blow dandelion seeds while making a wish.

3. Chant while preparing food. Even if it’s just microwaved ramen or something of the sort, give it a few stirs and chant your intent. (For example: “I will have good dreams tonight.”)

4. Before taking a bath, write your intent on a piece of paper. Fold up the paper and leave it in the bath water for a few minutes to let the water be charged with your intent. (This would work best for spells designed to affect the caster, such as glamour spells. It would probably not be a good idea to cast a curse this way.)

5. Keep a diary and write about things you want to happen as if they already have. For example, if you want someone to ask you out, write an entry about them doing so.

6. Simply think about your intent while listening to a song that reminds you of it. 

7. Before drinking anything, whisper your intent into the glass or bottle.

8. Wear colors that correspond to your goal and focus on your intent while getting dressed. If you’re unable to get dressed every morning, you could also wear jewelry, nail polish, or makeup of the color.