Prepatory Work

For Saturday’s working, it will be helpful if you can eat some lean protein and high-fiber food a few hours before the working.  So, a poached egg on oatmeal.  Tofu with lentils.  Shredded chicken and sliced avocado on a corn tortilla.  Some squares of cheddar cheese and a few slices of apple, or pear, or jerusalem artichoke.  But even if you can’t eat that way, please come.  To paraphrase Rumi, ours is not a caravan of despair.  Even if you have broken your vows a thousand times, come, yet again, come, come.  Grab an egg McMuffin and a Starbucks latte and come, yet again, come, come.

You’ll want to ground and center before you begin the work.  I assume most of my readers know how to do this, but, if you’re new to this, a google search will reveal many ways to ground and center.  I’d like you to focus particularly on coming into connection with your landbase, with the Powers, and Spirits, and Beings of your place.  Is there a particular tree with which you can connect?  What does the world-wide web of mitochondria tell you matters most?

Dress comfortably.  I prefer loose, warm clothing.  A shawl that can come on and off as needed.  Socks.  You might prefer to work sky-clad or to wear ceremonial robes.  You may have a special t-shirt and some comfortable yoga pants.

Before the working, stretch.  Maybe do a bit of housework or gardening to get your energy moving.  Come into contact with the real, physical world of your own home.  Check your wards; make sure that your place is warm, and safe, and dry, and secure, ready to support you.

Read two or three times through the instructions that will be published on Saturday.  Sit comfortably, facing, if possible, towards Washington, D.C.   If you are working near your altar, light a candle or incense.  Look at the pictures you have selected of your ancestors, of American heras and heroes, of sacred American sites.  Pour rum or oil if you want to make an offering.  Sit for a few minutes in the presence of your local rivers, coasts, forests, mountains, wee folks.

Know yourself to be a child of this landbase:  of America, of Calamity Jane and Walt Whitman.  Of Nichola Tesla and Clara Barton.  Of John Glenn and RBG.  Of Elvis and Frank Lloyd Wright.  Of Louis Armstrong and Georgia O’Keefe.  Of Maria Tallchief and Langston Hughes.  Of crabs pulled from the Chesapeake and corn harvested in Delaware.  Of chestnuts that grew up and down the East Coast and redwoods that blanketed the Pacific Coast. Of bison eating prairie grass and gators slopping through dismal swamps.  Of blackberries in woody thickets and snows melting atop the San Gabriels.  That is the magic you have at your disposal.  That is who you are.  Those are the powers that vouch for you when you call the Quarters.

You may have spent your entire magical life working up your Celtic background, or your Kermetic heritage, or your Heathen heirship.  You may have pulled from Britain an entirely Gardnerian Witchcraft.  You may have made an eclectic practice from all the corners of a rather round planet.  But all the while, and as valid and brilliant as those were, you were, too, a child of this landbase.  And you bring the powers of this landbase to your magical workings.  You command, if you only care to lift your arm, the winds that blow atop the world’s oldest mountain range.  You can call, if you only care to see with your eyes, the suffragettes, the veterans from the Batan Death March, the protestors kneeling by downed compatriots in O-hi-O.  You are surrounded, if you only care to look with your inner eye, by women who came from here from Italy, Turkey, Hungary, Greenland, Estonia, Greece.  You cannot move without stepping upon the bones of Iroquois, Mattopawni, Sioux.  You do not come unacknowledged nor uncredentialed into the Hall of Your Ancestors when you ground, center, and do the magical work that we will do.

You come adorned in the fringe of Columbia.  You come announced by jazz trumpets.  You come built up by skyscrapers.  You come composed by hundreds of NASA workers.  If anyone can do magic to protect America, then, you.

Then, you.




3 responses to “Prepatory Work

  1. I am prepared, I am committed, I am ready to come to circle every Saturday, on my land base, accompanied by the spirits of the land.
    May the Goddess of the Land, in whose deep and bountiful lap we rest, Bless the work.

  2. This brought tears to my eyes. From where I live, I could walk to Walt Whitman’s grave. He rests in my land base. I am ready, ready, ready to sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.

  3. Anne Johnson, I live just a short drive from Walt Whitman’s birthplace. And, we know he hears us singing!

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