A Pagan Lifestyle

I am a critical person; it's built into my personality as an "internal processor" and it is part of my "witches work" to juggle it until the day I die. I won't deny it, but I'm also not going to sugar-coat it. However, I will attempt (as I regularly do) to channel this trait into a positive characteristic rather than a destructive one.

A rant that regularly passes through my head comes from the criticism I exact against many contemporary pagans. In my opinion, most self-identified pagans don't live a very pagan lifestyle. They call themselves pagans, but they don't act as if their pagan-ness is driving the decisions of their world.

It is accepted that Wicca is a pagan religion. It is said that all Wiccans are pagan, but not all pagans are Wiccan. Wiccans are typically called "witches." It is very possible for someone to be a non-pagan witch. An example would be a Curandera, a Hispanic spiritual healer who uses ritualized actions to seek the involvement of the power of the Christian God and Angels. It's also possible to be a pagan believer, but to do no witchcraft.

What would be examples of pagan-ness expressing itself? If you are pagan, ask yourself these questions:

• Do you step on an insect without understanding its journey at that moment in time, even if you find it completely intrusive?
• Do you recycle, even if your town doesn't provide it?
• Do you know the names of the trees in your yard or on your block? Are they native plants or are they completely invisible to you?
• Do you cook with the herbs from your magical collection? Have you ever actually done a spell at your kitchen stove (your "hearth")?
• Do you worry about the chemistry that goes down the drain with your laundry soap?
• Do you wonder what's in your soap that isn't soap, or in your canned goods that isn't food?
• Do you avoid the outdoors because it's humid, has mosquitoes, or you can't get a cell signal?
• Do you throw things in the trash completely unthinking of where they go next?
• Do you have any idea how many things in your home - in the room with you now - are made of plastic?

I know some (or many) of the examples of a pagan mindset seem to be very much part of the modern "environmental" movement. Efforts to recycle or keep the oceans clean, or protect tuna, or prevent dog fighting, or prevent glaciers from melting, all stem from a pagan mindset. 

This means that a great number of people, of all different religions, have a pagan mindset, or at least the seeds of one. It is the result of tens of thousands of years of being tribal people, living in close concert with the land. We can imprint whatever culture - whatever religion - on top of it we want; we can obscure it in many ways. Yet it will always rise to the surface because humanity has spent the majority of its evolution being close to and part of the web of life. It is a quiet calling at the back of our minds. That kind of lifestyle can't simply and completely disappear.  It is an instinct that is built into our DNA. Yet we do have the ability to avoid it, or to focus on an empty pleasure that makes us feel and believe we are fulfilled.

From time to time science will reveal a study that proves this connection. The state of New York, Department of Environmental Conservation has prepared an excellent web page highlighting some of this research. The studies prove that living as a part of nature is essential to the correct functioning of our bodies and minds (and by extension, our spirits). Our very lives depend on us maintaining a connection with unspoiled nature. By not living a pagan lifestyle, we are harming ourselves. The fact that an environmental movement exists at all is evidence that something deep inside humanity wants us to be working harmoniously with nature, rather than in opposition to it.

In addition to the environmental movement, pagan-ness hides throughout our modern world because the instinct to be pagan seeps out of humans when we aren't looking. It shows up in Disney movies about an American Indian princess, or the birth of a lion cub, or the story of a girl who can talk to the ocean. It lasts in the wishes we make as we blow out birthday candles. It drives the movement to leave cities for a rural life, or to buy a tiny house, or the farm-to-table movement. It keeps the herbal medicine industry alive. It sings about the satisfaction in a hard-working life that enriches Country music. The pagan way of life speaks quietly to us from a memory that is older than language itself. 

I have watched too many pagans operate as if they are no different from the Christian or the Agnostic or the Atheist or the Jew next door. Few pagans these days have any idea how to live a pagan lifestyle, but more sadly, even fewer of them even care to try. 

As time passes, humanity moves more and more away from these memories. Many of us now operate by using a product briefly, then discarding it. We have even begun to discard things before their usefulness is gone, so that we can have the things that we are told we ought to have - the newest phone, a bigger house, better clothes and even the newest medications. As a species, humanity is drifting away from its inclination to be connected to nature - to be pagan - and that drift is making our species unhealthy. 

I'm not saying that, to be a contemporary pagan one must sell everything and go live in a yurt or join a commune. I'm simply asking that people who claim to be pagan spend some time allowing their pagan-ness to express itself in small ways throughout their lives, even if it goes contrary to popular culture and social media. I urge pagans to do whatever it takes to avoid the trap in which they suppress their pagan natures to become part of the contemporary age. There are many ways to be a part of this age without obscuring one's pagan side.

When I first converted to paganism, it was because I attended a ritual that made me remember this inner pagan memory. I discovered something inside myself that felt very ancient, yet very correct.

I also had high hopes for the other pagans I encountered. I thought that we were part of an awakening of something buried deep within humanity. Over the years, my disappointment has grown as more and more pagans I encounter show they have no idea how to live a life that honors nature, or even gives nature a thought.

Update (January 24, 2018): Happy New Year! I want to address the presence of a movement in neo-paganism that is gaining ground. More and more these days, I find people who call themselves "technopagan." This is a spirituality that promotes the spiritual evolution of man through the progression and application of his technological advances. The idea here is that mankind is intelligent because nature made us that way, so all the tech produced by humans is part of Nature's design. Since we have invented the means to augment ourselves, we should be doing so as part of our natural, evolutionary journey.

I can agree with this perspective to a point. I don't think that technology is necessarily in opposition to paganism, but I think much of today's technology definitely is.

I keep my own home clean and orderly using a practice my mother taught me. The act of "using" a tool is a 3-step process; it includes taking it from its storage place, using it as was designed, and finally (this is the important part) putting it back into it's storage place. To put it more simply, if one doesn't have time to put something back where it belongs, one doesn't have time to use it, at all. Resolving the use of the tool requires ensuring it is handled correctly when it is no longer useful.

Inventors produce machines. The machines are mass produced so that everyone can evolve. Eventually, the machines wear out or become obsolete. Then the machines are thrown into a pit and buried, where all of the materials we invented decay. Ew. My problem with the technological age is that is fails on its follow through at the end of the inventive process. It is this failure that is anti-pagan. The things we invented were done so only to produce a desired effect. At no point during the development, design and use do we consider how we are going to undo the invention when the time comes -- how we are going to dispose of the invention and its materials. This disposal is an important step because it not only considers the health of the natural system of which we are a part, it also considers the effect of the invention and its core materials on human beings, which are part of that natural system.

What good is a nuclear power plant if we have no process to ensure that the radioactive waste it produces doesn't harm the natural world? What good is a cell phone in every pocket if its batteries create toxic runoff? What good is a diamond laser if its gem was produced by an oppressive regime that cuts off the hands of the poor? What benefit has a sterile plastic syringe when it drifts from beach to beach and eventually kills sea life?

I like the benefits that technology provides, but all of us, including myself, need to think through any invention to its very end to ensure it doesn't cause harm after it provides its benefit. If technology was handled this way, it would be entirely pagan.

Given that this lack of follow-through is the dominant MO, I have to wonder if "technopagan" is even the correct name for this movement. Its advocates claim that they are using technology to spiritually evolve. It is the focus on the spirit, specifically, that makes this a religion. But there is a religion in the world for every person who considers deity and one's own spiritual journey. So why call oneself pagan? Is someone a pagan only because one uses technology in ritual? Is it the use of spells that makes someone a pagan? Certainly, there are Christians who use spell work. There are also Jewish mystics who use a process that could be called magick. Just using magic doesn't make someone a pagan; pagan is a mindset that seeks a close relationship with the way the natural systems typically work. I suspect that a better word for these people is "technomage."

A Challenging Correspondence: Wisteria

Every Spring in the American South, when the weather begins to warm, but just before most of the trees produce the majority of their leaves, wisteria blooms. The air gets a scent that is nearly indescribable - something like a cross between the most scrumptious elements of lilac and grape jelly. It is a smell that heralds the Spring; its a smell that makes me feel both at peace and sexually charged. It is an odor so captivating and infectious that it seems to make my brain feel alarmed. I feel a similar alarm when my intuition thinks that spellwork is being done within my field. I become so shocked by my own reaction to the smell of wisteria that I crave possessing it for use in glamour workings. It's attractive power is that blatant to me.

The first time I notice the odor for the year, I realize that I have a very short time to collect wisteria blossoms. They last only about 2-3 weeks, especially if the springtime comes on quickly and warmly. Like many flowers, once they are gone, you have lost them for another 11 months. If you smell something like grape jelly long after the trees have their leaves, you are most likely smelling kudzu, which has a similar odor, but is not as captivating.

Once one has wisteria blossoms in one's collection, how are they used? For what kinds of spells are they best? What magickal correspondence fits? For years I have been waffling over which correspondence list is appropriate. I have been leveraging the Doctrine of Signatures as best I could. One year I was convinced that is was an herb of Saturn, because it is a poisonous plant. The next year, I was more convinced that it better fit with Venus because it was a flower with such a powerful beauty to its fragrance. But this year, I feel like I have a more solid correspondence than every before. Here's how I came to my conclusions.

Wisteria in the USA could be any one of three plants from the Pea family. The native American wisteria is Wisteria frutescens and produces no scent that humans can detect. It is a smaller bloom than the other two more invasive species that actually produce a detectable odor. Japanese wisteria is Wisteria floribunda and Chinese wisteria is Wisteria sinensis, both of which are aggressive invasive species capable of wreaking havoc to forests and southern porches alike. The Chinese wisteria produces the strongest smell, so when we capture or copy the odor of wisteria, we are most likely referencing that species.

Historical use of wisteria cannot be discounted in our investigation for a correspondence. A magickal egregore has been established, though not as solidly as with some other flowering herbs. Unfortunately, writings about wisteria are scarce and brief in Neo-Pagan works. This of course excludes the internet, which is rife with the same plagiarized blurbs, mindlessly reproduced over and over, with no references or solid explanations. I was able to find a few writings in which I could place some confidence.

Cat Yronwode, in her extensive hoodoo writings, notes that the scent was more popular in the 1920's and lists some hoodoo-based recipes for simulating the fragrance with perfumer's chemicals. Interestingly, the recipes were to create a Yula Perfume Oil, which was a "death oil." Personally, I find the idea that a death oil could be attractive like a love oil to be terribly ingenious, but that's a topic for sitting in a bar with a good bottle of wine.

In 1989, Wylundt's Book of Incense, by Stephen Smith, revealed that the correspondence for "Wisteria Chinesis" was Venus and Air. There is no indication from which of the book's references Smith got his correspondence for this herb. Many later writers seem to be continuing with that correspondence. I can't help but wonder if the association was made simply because of the pretty odor. This seems to be the most popular plagiarized association on the internet.

Scott Cunningham says nothing about the plant parts of wisteria, but states in his Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs (1985) that "wisteria oil" has the power of protection. Nothing more is specified in the book, such as what this oil actually is, or how one might call upon that power of protection. He also makes a wisteria reference in his Magical Herbalism (1982) where he writes, in the list of the magical powers of scented oils, "Wisteria is used to contact other planes of consciousness and existence, and to bring illumination." That information is a bit more helpful.

In Wicca: the Complete Craft (2001), D. J. Conway echoes the uses given by Cunningham, but instead writes that wisteria is an "oil of Saturn."

Gerina Dunwich states in her book, Herbal Magick (2002), that wisteria is an herb used for Candlemas (Imbolc) and the Summer Solstice Sabbats. Though nice to know, this doesn't point us to a useful correspondence. The bloom time of wisteria is most often in March or April, which is after Candlemas and way before the Solstice, depending on one's location. Wisteria isn't native to northern Europe, where the sabbats were observed, and was not brought to Britain until as late as 1816. Use at Ostara seems more likely to me.

In 2006, Lady Rhea and Eve LeFay published The Enchanted Formulary, which listed wisteria as an ingredient in "Venus," a love oil. It was also present in an oil recipe called "Voodoo Nights." Neither of these recipes necessarily point to any particular correspondence.

Despite the commonplace use of Venus, sources do not agree on the correspondence of wisteria. Cunningham's idea of communication seems to put the herb under the rulership of Mercury. This made the most sense to me since mercurial plants tend to be vines or "travelers" of a sort. Yet I was not convinced until I rechecked my Doctrine of Signatures so that I could consider the plant's medicinal energetics. Chinese wisteria is known as "zi teng" in Traditional Chinese Medicine, where it is used to treat intestinal worms. Wisteria is also used in a Japanese medicinal formula called "WTTC" (wisteria, trapa, terminalia, coix). This formula was developed about 60 years ago for the treatment of gastrointestinal cancers. Interestingly, the astrological ruler of the intestines is Virgo. Virgo actually has its ancient rulership under Mercury! The energetics of the plant seems to me to point to the correspondence of wisteria being Virgo, by virtue of Mercury, an Air sign. I have more confidence in this correspondence than any other I have associated before.

As with most flowers, wisteria blossoms are too delicate to produce an essential oil. In these cases, organic solvents are used to extract the essence, producing what are called "absolutes." To date, wisteria flower essential oil is impossible and no one is producing a wisteria absolute. I have seen most dealers selling either a "fragrance oil," which is likely synthetic perfume chemicals, or a wisteria "essential oil blend" that is designed to simulate the fragrance of wisteria. There are some excellent products available.

One company claims to actually produce wisteria essential oil, which is not impossible if one uses non-flower plant parts. This would mean that the EO wouldn't smell at all like wisteria flowers. The label of this product does not reveal what plants parts were used in its making, or if there is any floral odor present in the final product. Unfortunately, many "kitchen witches" who are producing what they call "essential oils" are actually fragrance oils, infused oils or oil blends. Few realize that putting the words "essential oil" on a bottle, according to US labeling law, defines the process used to produce the oil. If the oil was not separated from the plant by steam distillation, it is not an essential oil.

An old perfumer's technique is to use a bellows to draw the volatile scents from a closed chamber filled with blossoms across thin plates spread with beef or pig tallow, which would then take on the odor. This process is called "enfleurage" and the resulting scented fats are called "pomades." The pomades were then used in beauty products and the odor could be later extracted back out of the pomade into a solvent. A similar technique would be to repeatedly infuse batches of the blossoms in a warm neutral smelling oil (hot or cold enfleurage). This latter method seems more accommodating to modern kitchens, requiring no specialized equipment, but may require large quantities of blooms. Fortunately, the aggressive nature of wisteria ensures that it is often plentiful.

Blood of the Dragon

Today's entry is all about Magickal Inks. Rarely have I encountered a body of recipes and lore with more fluff, bunk and horse hockey than this one. The internet is nine-months pregnant with stolen recipes that amount to nothing.

They amount to nothing because most of the people self-publishing these stolen writings are just passing along a recipe created by someone else so they can seem more knowledgeable, more experienced or more witchy. Basically, they are witches of cut-and-paste. They have not worked with the stuff one itch. I can tell they haven't because the recipes they provide don't work. I don't mean they don't work for me, or that I had trouble with them. I mean their ingredients are chemically incompatible. Is there a chance these are simply subterfuge to prevent someone really knowing "witch secrets?" Yeah that's a possibility. But I find the best way to keep a secret is to keep silent. Now why does that ring a bell?

The popular, known magickal inks are basically just dragon's blood resin that has had its vibration modified with the addition of herbs of specific powers - dragon's blood ink, bat's blood ink, dove's blood ink. The exception is butterfly blood ink, which is based on saffron.

Being an inquisitive witch, I decided to spatter my work space with red, and did I ever! Be warned: the first lesson of dragon's blood resin is that it's relatively messy. With practice, it becomes less messy, but if this is your first go 'round with dragon's blood, you are in for it, so get prepared. It helps if you attempt this recipe only after you have some experience working with herbs and their preparations. It really isn't a project for a complete beginner.

I feel the need to have a short tirade, which is one I had with my brother recently who wanted to make his own soap, but said it was becoming too difficult. Most of what you will find online is based on a cup of this or teaspoons of that. Frankly, this is hogwash cooking. No good recipe ever gained consistency or quality with those kinds of measurements. If you want to produce anything, even in small batches for a witch of one or two, and do them well, get yourself a few essential precision instruments. Get a digital scale that can measure in grams, preferably to the hundredth of a gram. Get yourself some quality glassware, like a few small beakers and certainly a graduated cylinder of 10 and 25 ml. Get yourself a pharmacy-grade mortar with a matched pestle (not one of those cheap ones made of marble or granite for mixing guacamole). Lastly, some disposable bulb droppers come in very handy and are inexpensive by the hundred. Take your herbal craft as seriously as you take your magickal craft. Do it well or don't do it at all.

As with all recipes, I began by trying out a few of them. I could tell they wouldn't quite work out because of my own experience with herbs and kitchen chemistry. But I plodded through and wasted some materials anyway. Then I decided it was time for some homework.

I'm going to share a few facts so you will have an understanding why certain mistakes are made with this recipe. It will allow you to follow me as I debunk what's all over the internet.

Checking in Wikipedia, you will find that this stuff is a plant resin and that there are several species of plant resin that can be called "dragon's blood." My own experience with botany tells me that common plant names can be misleading, so I began to unpack each one.

There are really only two plants that are of value here. The first is the most common form of dragon's blood, and it comes from the genus Daemonorops. This is the resin you will find most often for sale in markets and online. If the genus of the resin is not given, you should assume you are buying this one. It is a water soluble resin and when used medicinally, will actually cause blood to thin and flow profusely.

The other plant used for this resin is the genus Dracaena, also known as "Medieval dragon's blood" or sometimes "true dragon's blood." This resin hates water, being soluble in ethanol (that's the alcohol we can drink), and will make open wounds stop bleeding.

Medicinally speaking, these two plants couldn't be more different, which points to their internal chemistry. Sprinkling them each on ignited charcoal will make you wonder if they are the same, though there are some subtle odorous similarities between them. Visibly, the Dracaena looks substantially darker - more like blood - than the other, which appears to me like a pinkish talc. When still as a resinous lump, or "rock," the Dracaena can look nearly black; it very much resembles a scab!

The best way to dissolve a resin effectively is for the resin to be powdered. For me, a mortar and pestle is great for some resins, but it wasn't very effective for dragon's blood because the stuff is really, really hard. It didn't really give up to my grinding without giving me more than a workout and a bruise in the center of my palm. Contrary to popular belief, the mortar is not for pounding. Pounding produces projectiles and lots of mess. If your material doesn't give up in the mortar with firm pressure and a twisting, swirling or swaying motion, it's time to move to more mechanical means. I decided to sacrifice my $8 coffee grinder, which up until then had been reserved only for herbs. Powdering dragon's blood was a process of grind, sift and repeat. Eventually, I got some great fine powder. I also ended up with a grinder that could not be used for any other herb ever again, so I labeled the grinder, "For Dracaena sp. ONLY" and shopped for a new $8 coffee grinder to replace it.

Here's the first clue to creating a great ink recipe: remember that these two different resins have different solvents. I decided to test just how resistant they both were to their non-preferred solvent. I dissolved Daemonorops in water, as it preferred, and then began to add small amounts of ethanol. Adding ethanol to the mixture caused the Daemonorops to precipitate - condense - after very little alcohol. It hated ethanol so much, it dropped right out of the solution. By the way, when you use water as a solvent for herbs, you're making an infusion. In America, we incorrectly apply the term "tea," rather than the correct "tisane," but that's all you've made.

Next, I copied the previous steps, but dissolved Dracaena in ethanol, which it did wonderfully. I added small amounts of distilled water over time. The resin held up rather well, but at about 50% water, the solution began to break down, becoming "grainy," which is a sign that the resin wanted to precipitate out of the solution.

All of he internet recipes I had encountered so far included resin, alcohol and water. In the proportions I tested and in the recipes I tried, neither of the resins would dissolve in the solvent. Some recipes also included gum arabic as a thickener. So I thought that maybe that was the key.

First I tried hydrating my own gum arabic. That was for the birds! It may be water soluble, but only just barely and takes a great deal of effort and frustration to mix it up. Next, I purchased prepared liquid gum arabic from my art store after discovering that it is a tool used by watercolor artists. What a boon that was! Here's another warning: adding water in any form to a recipe may require a preservative to prevent mold, depending on the concentration of other chemicals in your mix, like ethanol.

After a few more recipe attempts, I discovered that gum arabic also hates ethanol, even more than Daemonorpos hates it! The droplets of gum turned into a slimy worm at the bottom of the jar, unwilling to play nice with the liquid. Ugh!

It was time for a return to the drawing board, literally. I thought to myself, "What is ink really for?" The answer was simple: making lines. But it is not for just any lines; it is for lines on paper, which means it has to act correctly on paper to make writing legible and drawing precise. So I began to read about inks. The best inks flow from a pen without being so thick that they bind the pen, but also without being so thin that they run or bleed everywhere. They need to be somewhat coherent, which has a bit to do with the fiber of the paper, but more to do with the viscosity of the ink. Additionally, when they dry, their lines should have a balanced color across the stroke, not dark at the edges and lighter in the center, which is a sign of being too dilute to deposit color evenly as the solvent dries away from the particulates.

By the way, there are two functional categories of ink. The first is a chemical stain of the page, as in the case of oak gall ink. The second is a suspended fine particulate that lays on top of the page, though may absorb into the fiber a little. Most inks are the latter, even in today's pens, and that's also what dragons blood resin is.

While working with the mess that Dracaena created, I realized that its resin was remarkably sticky. The only thing that cleans it up is more ethanol, but ethanol does that very well. It is basically like a glue. When the solvent is gone, it stops flowing and stays put, but as long as there is solvent, it will break down and move along. So it seemed logical to me that the right amount of solvent would allow the resin to do the job without any gum arabic. I began to test different solvent-to-solute ratios. I also tested different proofs of ethanol. All of these tests were done using a quill pen and a brass calligraphy tip, which I used to draw lines on standard, inexpensive printer paper.

Since Dracaena hates water, it's best to use alcohol with the highest proof possible. Some states won't sell you anything with a proof higher than 151 (75.5% ethanol). This worked okay, but not great. If you can buy a higher proof in your area, I certainly recommend it. I have to drive to the next state, but doing so let's me buy nearly pure rectified spirit (190 proof; 95% ethanol). Using drink-ready booze like vodka, rum or gin will not work because their proofs simply are not high enough.

Since this blog entry is already too long, here's what I determined is a great way to make dragon's blood ink. It turned out that a simple recipe was best.

Measure three parts of high proof ethanol into jar #1 (ex: 30 ml). Add to the ethanol one part finely powdered Dracaena resin (ex: 10 g). Close jar #1 and shake well for 10 minutes. Filter the contents of jar #1 through 2 layers of muslin into a glass cup with a spout. Be sure to squeeze out as much solvent as possible and be sure to wear gloves. Discard the marc, filter and your gloves. Slowly warm the filtered resin to drive off some ethanol until it reduces in volume by one third. Pour the liquid resin into storage or gift jars. Clean up with more ethanol and lots of paper towels.

This can now function as a base ink to be modified with other herbs for various magickal purposes. I usually just add a few drops of an appropriate essential oil, but sometimes I don't have an EO with the correct correspondence, so I have to use solid herb. In that case, I add powdered herb into the ethanol along with the resin and filter them together. If making traditional dragon's blood ink, add a couple drops of cinnamon essential oil at the end, or add powdered cinnamon into the solvent with the Dracaena to impart the traditional Mars energy. Empower and label.

Wow, that final recipe was kind of simple!

A Survey of Florida Water, the Hoodoo Holy Water

Florida water is a traditional scent blend of unisex perfume, or more correctly, an eau de toilette. When one blends notes of citrus, lavender and a spice like cinnamon and/or clove, one has blended “Florida Water.” At one time, there was no one correct formula for this scent. It was usually made by pharmacists (“druggists” or “chemists”) to meet the demand in their area, though large companies were manufacturing it for sale world-wide. Pharmaceutical trade publications printed dozens of formula suggestions over the years for druggists to blend in their stores. Formulations for this scent stayed relatively close to a culturally accepted scent concept so that passers-by would know that one was wearing florida water as opposed to something else, like rose water or geranium water.

Because the scent was inexpensive, readily available and socially endorsed, it became a perfume useful for making any environment pleasant to the visitation of ancestral spirits. Over time, it became the scent necessary for attraction of all things positive.

The Lanman and Kemp-Barclay company has been the largest commercial producer of the eau de toilette for two hundred years. The Lanman and Kemp-Barclay history page states that the name of this scent is derived from the fabled fountain of youth that Spanish explorers believed was present in Florida. Since that time the name “Florida Water” has become a protected trademark. In 1901, Lanman and Kemp Barclay sued another producer and secured a trademark of the name, “Florida Water.” Unfortunately, the name “Florida Water” is no longer a suitable title for what once was a cultural blend, because if you attempt to sell your cultural blend, you are breaking the law. A new name of the classic blend might be found by returning to the apothecary tradition of using Latin descriptors to name compounds. The Latin phrase “aqua florida” means “blooming water.”

Like many inexpensive perfumes of today, manufacturers no longer use pure essential oils and clean solvents. Instead, chemical-laced denatured solvents and artificial “fragrances” are all that companies are willing to provide. Those who seek a quality product, free of the “fake” smell present in manufactured florida water, have no other option than to make the scent themselves.

A popular contemporary proponent and teacher of hoodoo practices features heavily the use of the artificial product in her writings. Naturally, she offers the manufactured scent for sale in her store. I am left to wonder how any magickal working is supposed to feel powerful by virtue of the special meaning placed on the ceremony, when the atmosphere is scented by an artificial and cheaply produced bottle of chemicals rather than a painstakingly produced bouquet of natural essences.

The writer’s hoodoo information site provides a recipe for florida water, for those who feel interested in making their own. Her formula is widely copied throughout cyberspace with little consideration for the validity of the formula, or any credit that should be due the author. My own survey of historic florida water recipes leaves me with the idea that her recipe, which is from 1937, is somewhat non-traditional, if not slightly misleading. The recipe includes both musk and jasmine, two scents which are possibly disagreeable in florida water.

For florida water to be truly unisex, as was proposed in Victorian manuals of etiquette, excessively flowery notes could not predominate. The blend was touted as a summer refresher and skin tonic, which would have been inappropriate for use by the working gentleman if flowery notes predominated. In the May 26, 1902 issue of The America Druggist and Pharmaceutical Record, this opinion is efficiently stated on p. 280:

Some of the ingredients often seen in formulas and the use of which are to be avoided, are musk, rose, rose geranium, citronella, orris and the floral odors from pomade washings of their synthetic equivalents. The addition of these sometimes gives an odor that is positively disagreeable and invariably impart a cloying quality or heaviness that effectively kills the refreshing odor that should be a characteristic of a good Florida Water.

The earliest Florida Water recipe I found came from the Canadian Pharmaceutical Journal, November, 1875. That recipe had only six scents, the most minor of which was musk. I found musk present in ten (plus one suggesting it be optional) out of forty four recipes between the years of 1875 and 1920. Rose was present in only twelve of the recipes and jasmine in only one. Compare this with bergamot, which is present in all but five recipes, and lavender, which is missing in only one recipe, and these flowery scents become unnecessary and forgettable.

In the September 1902 issue of American Druggist and Pharmaceutical Record, another formula is given on p. 186 with the notice that “Florida Water is simply a spiced lavender water.” That recipe adds some surprising notes of caraway and spearmint, all of which would create a cooling affect in summer, while adding a spicy note by way of a scent less sharp than cinnamon or clove.

The only scents that are clearly common to most of the recipes are citrus in the largest quantity (made up of combinations of bergamot, lemon, orange, and neroli), lavender, and a spicy note (often cinnamon and/or clove, but possibly others). In all cases, the citrus maintains a greater proportion of the final product than lavender. Unusual additions include rosemary, thyme, turmeric, balsam, and melissa.

Below is an example recipe that adequately represents the minimum necessary components, in typical proportions, to allow one to make a basic version of florida water, or rather, “Aqua Florida.” This recipe comes from the Canadian Pharmaceutical Journal of September 1878. Additional notes can be blended into the bouquet if the reader desires to personalize the preparation. Proportions are given as published, but are also shown reduced to 1/32^nd of the original to allow for a personal-sized batch to be made. For those who fancy themselves an armchair druggist, the provided conversion into milliliters will permit division to any size. It should be noted that one “drop” was typically equivalent to one minim; greater accuracy to the minim is thus achieved by using a bulb dropper, rather than the drop applicator built into the necks of commercial essential oil bottles.

                                                    Original                  1/32^nd                  SU          

Oil bergamot                             4 fl. ounces              60 drops             118.4 ml

Oil lemon                                  6 fl. ounces              90 drops             177.6 ml

Oil cloves                                  6 drachms               11 drops              22.2 ml

Oil cinnamon                             6 drachms               11 drops              22.2 ml

Oil lavender                              1 fl. ounce               15 drops              29.6 ml

Alcohol (pure ethanol)              3 ½ gallons             14 fl. ounces        13,244 ml

Aqua (distilled water)                  6 pints                  3 fl. ounces          2,838 ml

Total Yeild:                               4.35 gallons         17.37 fl. ounces      16,452 ml

Mix the oils into the alcohol and shake to blend. After two days, add the water. Keep away from strong light. The blend grows better with age. For external use only.

Alraun the Spirit Root

An alraun is a magickal charm composed of a plant part, typically a root and traditionally the root of the mandrake plant, that is used as a corporeal domicile by a helping familiar spirit.

Because of the connection between them, any reading or research about the alraun invariably forces one to research the mandrake. But during my study, I have come to question a couple of connections that are unclear. I have therefore come to these conclusions, which I will discuss:

1. The alraun has a uniquely Germanic name despite that the traditional alraun plant - the mandrake - does not grow in any Germanic area, signaling possible confusion between the mandrake and another plant more common to Germanic latitudes.
2. The lore of the mandrake has become so notorious that any original alraun lore has become potentially obscured through cultural marriage with the mandrake. Consequently, exposure of unadulterated alraun lore has become impossible.

In contemporary usage, the german word for the mandrake plant is “alraune.” All of the living Germanic languages have a similar word. None of these words directly refer to any plant except for the mandrake plant. This poses a serious problem since the mandrake plant grows only around the Mediterranean, having a distribution no further north than the mountains of Italy.

The lore of the mandrake plant may originate in the 3rd c. BC, when Appollonius of Rhodes, who wrote the story of Jason and the Argonauts, revealed a plant that sprang up from the ground where the juices of the damaged liver of Prometheus dripped onto the ground.

She [Medea] spake, and brought a casket wherein lay many drugs, some for healing, others for killing . . . . and Medea meanwhile took from the hollow casket a charm which men say is called the charm of Prometheus. If a man should anoint his body therewithal, having first appeased the Maiden, the only-begotten [Hecate], with sacrifice by night, surely that man could not be wounded by the stroke of bronze nor would he flinch from blazing fire; but for that day he would prove superior both in prowess and in might. It shot up first- born when the ravening eagle on the rugged flanks of Caucasus let drip to the earth the blood-like ichor of tortured Prometheus. . . . And beneath, the dark earth shook and bellowed when the Titanian root was cut; and the son of Iapetus [Prometheus] himself groaned, his soul distraught with pain (Book III, 828).

Based on the description above, this is a plant known by the ancient Greeks to be an anesthetic against “blazing fire.” It required a ceremonial sacrifice and when picked would cause the earth to shake and Prometheus to groan. Lee claimed that the plant has been identified as the Corycian crocus (281), but its description also matches the plant called the male mandrake by Pedanius Dioscorides (Book IV, 76). Interestingly, Hecate was often associated with dogs, an animal we shall soon see is strongly associated with mandrakes during harvest.

Dioscorides, in his famous materia medica of the 1st c. describes the highly anesthetic qualities of the plant, stating that it is used useful during surgery by causing a “dead sleep.” In fact, the use of mandrake as an anesthetic continued until the eventual adoption of anesthetic ether as late as the mid 1800’s.

The Bible reveals the most famous quality of the mandrake: how to collect it using an animal tied to its roots. In Genesis (largely accepted as being written in the 6th or 5th c. BCE) we learn that whoever uproots the mandrake must die (Frazer, 393). Josephus ties this tale to the description of the herb he calls Baaras, which has been identified by many scholars as the mandrake, by stating that the animal to uproot the herb should be a dog. Neither source states exactly what particular action actually kills the animal. Frazer's suggestion that the action is a kind of "charge" (395) sounds both mysterious and divine.

The mandrake is simply a plant with a vaguely humanoid shape, but coupled with the ability of the plant to bring about sleep, the herb gained significant magical associations (Carter, 144). Also known throughout the Ancient Near East as a powerful aphrodisiac, it produces small fruits known as love apples. The many folk names for the mandrake all express the sentiment that the root housed spirits, though more commonly evil ones. Incidentally, I wouldn't be surprised if the mandrake was actually the plant referenced in the Biblical story of  the fall in the Garden of Eden, but that is an examination for a Biblical exegesis. M.R. Lee’s paper expertly outlines how the idea of spirits in a plant root as well as the ceremonies surrounding how the alraun came to be.

In Armenia and other parts of Europe, where the mandrake does not grow, lore exists that the fleshy, humanoid shape of the bryony root was substituted for the mandrake (Frazer, 395).

Cultural transmission may explain how the Germanic people came to believe in a root in which a spirit lives, and even the ceremonies surrounding the use of the plant as a spirit poppet, though the deeply animistic characteristics of celto-Germanic spirituality does not need cultural transmission to inspire such a concept. Nonetheless, it does not explain why the Germanic people have their own linguistic family of names for the plant.

The connection could possibly be related to beer, or rather brewing. History shows that Mandrake was used as an additive in beer and wine to produce an anesthetic drink. The Greeks used the mandrake to produce a wine designed to bring about an easy, aphrodisiac effect as well as complete unconsciousness. With the dosage correctly measured, the brew could produce a semi-lucid trance state not unlike a shamanic trance used by holy men and seers to gain knowledge. The mandrake herb, after being passed from the Romans to the Germanic tribes in the first century, could have been renamed by the Germans as an herb for brewing an insightful shamans brew. The reader should recall that the mandrake was an herb of the goddess Hecate, who was associated with magic at crossroads. The German word “alraun” could come from the word “alruna” after the Valkyrie, Alruna, who is associated with crossroads, or from the words “ale rune” (Simek). Shamanic practices in Celto-Germanic culture are linked to crossroads because they are places of transition, where the edges of different worlds meet.

Primarily in Germany (Lee, 281) the herb is also known as the “gallows man.” Dr. William Turner cites in 1568 that a doctor in Cologne taught his students that the mandrake only grew under the gallows as a result of the emissions of the dead that hung there (Carter, 146). In folklore, those who die on the gallows are buried at crossroads. These are interesting ideas considering that the runes themselves were inspired when Odin (patron of crossroads and travelers) hung himself on the world tree and become inspired to discover the runes - an experience believed by many scholars to be a description of a shamanic trance. Could there have been an earlier herb used by the Germanic peoples to enter trance, whose name was later applied to the mandrake as the herb and its powers culturally migrated northward from the Mediterranean? This idea is likely, thought what the original herb might have been is no longer known.

Scopolamine, the psychotropic chemical found in the mandrake is found in other plants of the Solanaceae family, namely Belladonna,  Nightshade, Datura, Henbane and other ingredients typically used in recipes for witch's flying ointments. However, the depressive nature of scopolamine alone is more likely to produce unconsciousness than hallucinations, unless another chemical modified the mixture, and with it, the response of the body.

The lore that surrounds the mandrake has become linked to the alraun as a general principle, so there is no way of knowing which elements of the original alraun ceremony (if there was one) correctly belong to the Germanic alraun, and which belong to the use of the mandrake root, specifically. In my study of alrauns (and mandrakes by default) I have run across an exhausting list of rules that must be followed when gathering and using mandrake and alrauns. Here are some of them.

• The root grows under gallows or over graves as a result of the excretions of the dead
• To gather the root, it must be at before dawn, or at least at night
• It must be a Friday
• It must be a new moon
• You must face west
• You must make a sign of the cross three times over the plant
• You must offer the plant some of your blood
• You must spill on the plant the urine of a woman or menstrual blood
• You must dig up most of the root by digging around it, but leave the very bottom root fibers attached
• You must stop up your ears before pulling it free to prevent its screams from killing you
• You must tie a dog to the root and force the dog to pull it out, sacrificing the dog.
• You must bathe the root in water and/or wine immediately
• You must keep the root in a box decorated to look like a coffin
• You must give the root a funerary shroud that is white and/or red
• You must bathe the root every Friday with water, wine, milk, honey, and/or the owner's blood
• You must give the root a new white shirt every first Friday (the day of Venus)
• You must bequeath the root to your youngest son
• To accept the root, your youngest son must bury his father with a loaf of white bread and a piece of money
• You can buy an alraun, but you must not sell it for less than you paid for it.

You can see how many hoops there are through which one must jump to maintain this root. Much of this comes from the mandrake lore, which was believed to be a place where evil spirits were apt to reside. The useful common thread behind most of this practice employs the rule of putting your money where your mouth is. If you want power in the alraun, you have to do the work to put it there. Traditionally, you treated the alraun just like you would a dead ancestor.

The alraun itself is no longer an idea tied only to the mandrake root. Any root can be used to host a spirit if the proper processes are followed. But an alraun is not a host for just any spirit you can call upon. You should consider these points before beginning. The smartest advice I've found when beginning such a process are these three points from a local witch, Nalaya Oddly.

1. Many spirit forms desire the experience of entering a physical body, having never done so before, and they will be rather sinister in their attempts to gain that access. As a result, the alraun should be opened as a host to only a particular spirit that you know well. (Therefore, this spirit must carry a name that you use to summon it. Since names are actually words of power bound to a being, using the spirit's name exerts your control over it's occupation of the root).
2. You should have a good working relationship with the spirit through trance work. It should be a spirit whose behavior you can safely control.
3. The inhabited alraun is not a pet. It requires a great deal of routine responsibility to keep it working positively for you. You must treat it with respect and honor it as its magic formulae require you to do. No spell works out well if you execute it halfheartedly.

The occupied alraun is different than a spirit occupying an object through direct spirit possession. During possession, the spirit must expel significant energy to remain attached to something material. As a consequence, this attachment does not last very long. The ceremony of creating the alraun is not only an invitation to the spirit to use the body of the plant root, it is also a vow from you that you will feed the spirit with your own energy. You do this by honoring the spirit through repetitious ritual.

Because the spirit is invited to occupy the alraun, it gains a stronger link to it such that it can feel more corporeal, pleasing the spirit, which longs for a proper corporeal life. By giving the spirit a body in which to occasionally reside and receive your adoration, it becomes more powerful and thus a more effective agent for getting things done for you. A similar practice is used in hoodoo magick known as a “spirit box.”

The alraun ritual accomplishes two things. First, it creates a contract between you and the spirit in which you promise to honor and feed it, while it promises to act for you in the aetheric world. Second, it creates a corporeal body protected by you and your magic that no other spirit can occupy. You magically “lock” the root against all spirits except the one you name.

The mandrake is the most traditionally used root, because its lore is both old and related to spirit possession and its root is often bifurcated, making it resemble human legs. Another common root is bryony, used more often than the mandrake by those in central and northern Europe. Roots used in America can be any that are large and fleshy, but that will dry without rotting. Some commonly used have been American Ginseng (Panax quinquefolius), carrots, parsnips, parsley root, mature Queen Anne’s Lace, and the dandelion (particularly appropriate because the herb belongs to the goddess, Hecate).

To maintain the alraun, you must provide it with three things.
1. The alraun requires a box to act as its resting place. Like any human being when it is no longer alive, the body resides in a coffin, which is more than just a holding place for the body after the spirit leaves, it is a special container expressing your honor of the ancestor and acting as a sacred doorway to the otherworld. In the case of the alraun, the spirit comes and goes from the plant root as it journeys to complete what you ask of it. The alraun coffin does not have to be an actual coffin; it can be any box into which the alraun fits, but it must be ornately decorated by you. These decorations are usually those that are appropriate funerary motifs, because the box should have the feel of being a coffin. The more honor you represent in the decoration of the coffin, the more honor you pay to the spirit of the alraun, and thus the deeper will be your bond with the spirit.

Along with a coffin, the dead should have a funerary shroud. The shroud is simply a red, white or black cloth made from a high quality fabric like silk or linen. This shroud must be periodically changed as it ages, just as you would change an ancestor's funeral shroud. The funeral “shirt” can be very simply made by stitching together the parallel edges of a strip of cloth to make a tube long enough to completely contain the alraun.

2. The alraun requires regular feeding. By feeding the alraun regularly, you honor the cyclical nature of pagan time. You echo the regular visits to a dead ancestor's grave site. You set aside mundane time to augment the magickal working. Just as people need three meals per day, so spirits need regular "meals" of energy to keep working. Feeding can consist of a ceremony to honor it or providing the favorite food of the spirit, if is has one (wine is a standard substitute). The goal is to make the alraun spirit powerful enough to execute the tasks you request of it. The repeated attention is actually reinforced intention. It flatters the spirit and provides it energy to get work done. The best schedule is one that uses your tables of correspondence. Honor it on the day of the deity that it feels most like. If it has an astrological connection, use that day of the week. If you want to use a particular phase of the moon, or other astrological event, that works well also. The goal-schedule is that you should do something to honor it at least once monthly.

3. Because the alraun is not a pet, you should have clear expectations of it. It should be a resource to which you can turn when you want a spiritual helper to do magical work. If you keep it constantly locked in it's box, the alraun spirit will grow bored and will wander away in search of someone more willing to honor it regularly.

The Alraun Ritual

So now that you know all about working with the alraun, how do you actually get the spirit into the plant root? There is no specific ceremony I could find. However, there are patterns in the folklore that can reveal how one can work with this particular magickal power. Here are some suggestions if you are going to write your own alraun invocation ritual.

1. The moment you decide you are going to create an alraun is the moment you begin to rouse nearby spirits. They will feel your intent to create a corporeal body. If you are particularly intuitive, you may notice an increase in spiritual presences in your vicinity. This should subside when the chosen spirit is finally fixed to the root. You should have at least a visiting relationship with the spirit you will ask into the alraun and you should know its name. That means you have spent time with your spirit in dreams, journeys, meditations, or other trance states. The name can be one that you have invented, but it must be one that encompasses the essence of a single spirit in your mind. You must know the spirit to gain a successful invocation.

2. Decide "the what" and "the how" of the root you will use. This will employ your knowledge, or research of magickal herbalism. You might choose a root associated with a particular astrological purpose or deity. It is possible to have alrauns that function as magickal specialists, each with their own working purpose, but maintaining that can be tiresome; a generalist alruan is most common. You should also set up a process for gathering this root by employing electional astrology so that the plant is collected or purchased at the most auspicious time for the end result.

3. When you know how big the root will be, you should design the "coffin" to hold it. This can be a wooden cigar box that you paint, or a box you make yourself. Many craft stores sell small pre-made boxes in the shape of a coffin for Halloween. The symbols you use should be symbols of honor and respect, symbols of your patron gods, and symbols of death or transition such as skulls, spirals, portals. You can paint them or draw them with markers, or even decoupage images clipped from magazines. The interior should look comfortable and restful. The point is to make it look reverent and special to you. Remember that it is your energy that feeds the alraun, so you must enjoy and appreciate all of the details of the experience.

4. Decide where the coffin will reside. You don't put all of your energy into a magickal tool only to store it with the dust bunnies under your bed. It should have a place of reverence, but not a place that it will be unnecessarily disturbed by pets, children or curious house guests.

5. Create the invocation ritual. This should ideally be executed inside a protective circle to reinforce that only the particular spirit you invite will be the one that takes up residence in the alraun. Once the circle is cast, you should conduct the ceremony much like a funeral. Ask the spirit into the circle with you and take time to speak directly to the spirit. Talk openly about the qualities of the spirit as you know them. Use the spirit's name often to reinforce in your intent exactly which essence you are letting into the alraun. Let it know that you have honored it by spending time crafting its body and coffin. Pledge that you will honor and feed it with regular acts of reverence. The root should be carved or marked with symbol(s) that are for the target spirit. These can be a bindrune of the spirit's name, or a symbol that has been revealed during your workings with the spirit. Most spirits have a sigil. Tell the spirit that this root is for it alone, to act as its body - as its home. Create the image of an open door in your mind and raise power. Tell the spirit you will help it into its new home, which is where you wish it to reside until you call upon it for help. At the moment you are about to release your power, tell the spirit to pass through the door, then release your power into the alraun. The ceremony is done. Close the box and the circle. Ground and center.

6. Don't forget to honor the alraun regularly. I find that once per week is sufficient. I like to annoint the alruan and give a short prayer of honor. I have made up my own herbal oil blend that I use only for this. You can make your own also, so long as the blend feels appropriate for you.

References

Apollonius Rhodius. Argonautica. Book III, 828. Translated by Seaton, R. C. Loeb Classical Library Volume 001. London, William Heinemann Ltd, 1912.

Carter, AJ. "Myths and mandrakes." Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine. 2003; 96:144-147.

Dioscorides. Materia Madeica. First Century. Book IV, 76.

Frazer, James George. "Jacob and the Mandrakes." Folklore in the Old Testament, 1919. Volume 2,  p. 372.

Josephus. Wars of the Jews, Book VII, Chapter VI, 3

Lee, MR. "The Solanaceae II: The mandrake (Mandragora officinarum); in league with the Devil." Journal of the Royal College Physicians, Edinburgh. 2006; 36: 278-285.

Oddly, Nalaya. "Working with Alrauns." Something Oddly. website composed April 12, 2011. at: http://somethingoddly.blogspot.com/2011/04/working-with-alrauns.html

Simek, Rudolf. Dictionary of Northern Mythology. Brewer, 2008.

Other Sources

Huson, Paul. Mastering Witchcraft: A Practical Guide for Witches, Warlocks, and Covens. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970.
Pennick, Nigel. Practical Magic in the Northern Tradition. Leicestershire, UK: Thoth Publications, 2002.
Thompson, C.J.S. The Mystic Mandrake. London: Rider, 1934.
Leland, Charles Godfrey. Gypsy Sorcery and Fortune Telling, chapter 10.
"The Sacred Flora." Harper's New Monthy Magazine. Vol 42 (June-Nov, 1870), 731.
Grimm, Jacob. "Alraun." Deutsche Mythologie. Vol II, p. 1154.
Silberer, H. "The Homonculus." The Psychoanalytic Review. 1919. Volume 6,  pg. 206
Newman, William R. Promethean Ambitions: Alchemy and the Quest to Perfect Nature, pg. 208.
Heiser, Charles B. “Nightshades, The Paradoxical Plant“, (131-136). W. H. Freeman & Co.
Christian, Paul. “The History and Practice of Magic” (402-403). Kessinger Publishing.
Illes, Judika. "Mandrake." The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft.
Larson, Gerald James, C. Scott Littleton, and Jaan Puhvel. Myth in Indo-European Antiquity. p. 157
Simoons, Frederick J. "Mandrake, a Root in Human Form." Plants of Life, Plants of Death. 1998.  p. 127