Lady_Elaine
Castle Lord
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Forest Queen
Mariner's Shield
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Dog
Posted Mon Nov 27, 2006 2:14 am...
Rose Petals + Red Candles + Hair + Nail Clippings =
Unthinkable Pagan Conduct
Author: gaygothgoddess
Posted: November 26th. 2006
Often, when one thinks of love spells, the mind conjures images of magickal incantations and mysterious potions meant to kindle the passions of the spellcrafter's otherwise indifferent object of affection. Fairy tales, Shakespearean literature - and what whimsical delusions the ever-powerful mass media has perpetually instilled on today's society - aside, however, one should keep in mind that love spells aren't meant to enchant or bewitch someone into falling in love with him or her.
Just as a real Witch doesn't ride a broomstick, "love spells" aren't at all the supposed weird ingredients upon which are being recited balderdash mumbo-jumbo. As the Wiccan code of ethics has slapped this once ignorant dabbler's face, we all have free will and nothing can violate that will - not even magick or spells.
Love spells are meant to enhance and empower one's own energy so he attracts the individual who's the best for him, not to cause the spellcrafter to eat rose petals on Venus-oriented Friday nights or to subject his target to obsequiously act like a donkey. There's no putting of fingernails or burned hair into someone's food here.
I just finished watching The Craft - for the eighteen millionth time - and I still can't get my head off from marveling at the power of these so-called love spells. Seeing the way Chris being fatally obsessed with Sarah, and with her he's not able to think, is just so mouth-watering. I've always wanted to be able to do that sort of thing, to twist one's inner mind and to direct his attention, feelings, thoughts - and sexual fantasies, let's not forget that - to me.
Temptations of performing such spells render my Wiccan faith to be somewhat very small and curled over, like a lettuce leaf wilting. That I am clear-minded enough to imagine such darkness is what I find very surprising.
But the countless spells and complicated - or outrageous, rather - rituals requiring primitive lore and weird ingredients that contain some esoteric power I've found from numerous books to the crap I often stumble upon the net are still at the back of my brain, gathering dust.
I'm saying this because I know that spells go bad, lose efficacy, within about a month, if no human blood or animal sacrifice is involved. Kidding. But really, Nature is always waiting, watching for us, Witches, to lose faith so She can insert her fatal stitch. And speaking of which, I'm no Buddhist monk, trained in discipline of such practices that my body is able to sit in calm protest until my charred flesh topples simply for such rigmarole.
You see, I've been thinking lately...or have I? I don't know...but um....let's just put it this way. Everybody needs some loving, physical loving, that is, especially when you're at the brink of total depression.
All around me in this life is an inexorable silting of commonplace routine, of boredom: college life, which I'm starting to lose interest in as monotonous days go by, uninteresting subjects and school activities, and mind-numbing friends and classmates that I have to put up with who can't even relate with me.
Worse still is the sickening sight of characterless people meandering all over the capmus who in my terms are - borrowed from Marilyn Manson - mechanical animals. This time, I'm one of them. I must not deny that I am indeed what the mirror reflects when this pseudo-Goth gazes at it, my latest description, a mechanism, a robot cruelly conscious of every chronic motion. Sigh. I need a break.
I need a break...and a scrumptious guy.
How many nights did I find myself actually cuddling and caressing and French-kissing with Chris Evans only to realize I was just torturing my pillow? How many classes did spend daydreaming about Hugh Jackman and Lucas Black as my pederasts? How many hours did I pay out in front of the computer laughing and giggling as I coquetted with those guys in myspace.com? Hmmmm...a scrumptious guy indeed. Okay, that sounded a little farfetched...time to snap back to reality.
Well, there's this guy in the College of Performing Arts. He's got a really lip-smacking sexy body of Filipino-German deliciousness, a pale innocent-looking face and such seraphic brown eyes and a pointy chin with a bit of hair and a most delicate appropriately cuspidate nose, with a fine straight edge something like sculptured with a butter knife, but slightly dented into his face, and a bulging yummy you-know-what.
And such skin! He's like two inches taller than me and I know he's slightly hairy. Yum. He looks around 19 to 21 and I just effin' love it! Regardless of my vivid descriptions, I don't know anything about him in particular, even his name, and I hardly ever see him in campus. I don't know, but when I first saw him, the thought that he's gay (the masculine sort) just popped out of nowhere. Then I just believed he's into "cake and sodomy."
I was wishing I could find a way to possess some of his nail clippings or a lock of hair and a photo... And I sound so pathetic now. Burn me.
In the old days, before burning completely a suspected Witch at the stake, they would pull pieces of flesh from her body with red-hot tongs; this is a window into my burning libido: sensual, but desperate as a furnace of suffering.
But as boys will always be lecherous - and unfortunately, polygamous - even in the guise of this cherubic C.O.P.A. (College of Performing Arts) guy, they rather deserve this Malleus Maleficarum. It's biological, their lasciviousness. They're full of concupiscence because they're just accessories to reproduction.
Anyway, this entry is written accordingly about the type of spell I'm going to petition with Tara and Kathleen on our little gathering.
And as for my parting words, I would just like to give little whatnots of wisdom to those who're planning to "psychologically rape" objects of affection. To you, take this: One's inner weather always bears a relation to the outer; it's simply a question of reversing the current, which occurs rather easily once power has been assigned to the primary pole, oneself as a wanting and needing individual.
And to you, double-thinking prissy Wiccans: The Rule of Three still rules out, so don't do it. Even if your little malefica works, it will come back knocking at your door. Remember the old adage: What you send forth comes back to thee, so ever mind the Rule of Three!
Nevertheless, don't be as desperate as I am coz I'm willing to take the consequences!
http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=phxx&c=teen&id=11004
Unthinkable Pagan Conduct
Author: gaygothgoddess
Posted: November 26th. 2006
Often, when one thinks of love spells, the mind conjures images of magickal incantations and mysterious potions meant to kindle the passions of the spellcrafter's otherwise indifferent object of affection. Fairy tales, Shakespearean literature - and what whimsical delusions the ever-powerful mass media has perpetually instilled on today's society - aside, however, one should keep in mind that love spells aren't meant to enchant or bewitch someone into falling in love with him or her.
Just as a real Witch doesn't ride a broomstick, "love spells" aren't at all the supposed weird ingredients upon which are being recited balderdash mumbo-jumbo. As the Wiccan code of ethics has slapped this once ignorant dabbler's face, we all have free will and nothing can violate that will - not even magick or spells.
Love spells are meant to enhance and empower one's own energy so he attracts the individual who's the best for him, not to cause the spellcrafter to eat rose petals on Venus-oriented Friday nights or to subject his target to obsequiously act like a donkey. There's no putting of fingernails or burned hair into someone's food here.
I just finished watching The Craft - for the eighteen millionth time - and I still can't get my head off from marveling at the power of these so-called love spells. Seeing the way Chris being fatally obsessed with Sarah, and with her he's not able to think, is just so mouth-watering. I've always wanted to be able to do that sort of thing, to twist one's inner mind and to direct his attention, feelings, thoughts - and sexual fantasies, let's not forget that - to me.
Temptations of performing such spells render my Wiccan faith to be somewhat very small and curled over, like a lettuce leaf wilting. That I am clear-minded enough to imagine such darkness is what I find very surprising.
But the countless spells and complicated - or outrageous, rather - rituals requiring primitive lore and weird ingredients that contain some esoteric power I've found from numerous books to the crap I often stumble upon the net are still at the back of my brain, gathering dust.
I'm saying this because I know that spells go bad, lose efficacy, within about a month, if no human blood or animal sacrifice is involved. Kidding. But really, Nature is always waiting, watching for us, Witches, to lose faith so She can insert her fatal stitch. And speaking of which, I'm no Buddhist monk, trained in discipline of such practices that my body is able to sit in calm protest until my charred flesh topples simply for such rigmarole.
You see, I've been thinking lately...or have I? I don't know...but um....let's just put it this way. Everybody needs some loving, physical loving, that is, especially when you're at the brink of total depression.
All around me in this life is an inexorable silting of commonplace routine, of boredom: college life, which I'm starting to lose interest in as monotonous days go by, uninteresting subjects and school activities, and mind-numbing friends and classmates that I have to put up with who can't even relate with me.
Worse still is the sickening sight of characterless people meandering all over the capmus who in my terms are - borrowed from Marilyn Manson - mechanical animals. This time, I'm one of them. I must not deny that I am indeed what the mirror reflects when this pseudo-Goth gazes at it, my latest description, a mechanism, a robot cruelly conscious of every chronic motion. Sigh. I need a break.
I need a break...and a scrumptious guy.
How many nights did I find myself actually cuddling and caressing and French-kissing with Chris Evans only to realize I was just torturing my pillow? How many classes did spend daydreaming about Hugh Jackman and Lucas Black as my pederasts? How many hours did I pay out in front of the computer laughing and giggling as I coquetted with those guys in myspace.com? Hmmmm...a scrumptious guy indeed. Okay, that sounded a little farfetched...time to snap back to reality.
Well, there's this guy in the College of Performing Arts. He's got a really lip-smacking sexy body of Filipino-German deliciousness, a pale innocent-looking face and such seraphic brown eyes and a pointy chin with a bit of hair and a most delicate appropriately cuspidate nose, with a fine straight edge something like sculptured with a butter knife, but slightly dented into his face, and a bulging yummy you-know-what.
And such skin! He's like two inches taller than me and I know he's slightly hairy. Yum. He looks around 19 to 21 and I just effin' love it! Regardless of my vivid descriptions, I don't know anything about him in particular, even his name, and I hardly ever see him in campus. I don't know, but when I first saw him, the thought that he's gay (the masculine sort) just popped out of nowhere. Then I just believed he's into "cake and sodomy."
I was wishing I could find a way to possess some of his nail clippings or a lock of hair and a photo... And I sound so pathetic now. Burn me.
In the old days, before burning completely a suspected Witch at the stake, they would pull pieces of flesh from her body with red-hot tongs; this is a window into my burning libido: sensual, but desperate as a furnace of suffering.
But as boys will always be lecherous - and unfortunately, polygamous - even in the guise of this cherubic C.O.P.A. (College of Performing Arts) guy, they rather deserve this Malleus Maleficarum. It's biological, their lasciviousness. They're full of concupiscence because they're just accessories to reproduction.
Anyway, this entry is written accordingly about the type of spell I'm going to petition with Tara and Kathleen on our little gathering.
And as for my parting words, I would just like to give little whatnots of wisdom to those who're planning to "psychologically rape" objects of affection. To you, take this: One's inner weather always bears a relation to the outer; it's simply a question of reversing the current, which occurs rather easily once power has been assigned to the primary pole, oneself as a wanting and needing individual.
And to you, double-thinking prissy Wiccans: The Rule of Three still rules out, so don't do it. Even if your little malefica works, it will come back knocking at your door. Remember the old adage: What you send forth comes back to thee, so ever mind the Rule of Three!
Nevertheless, don't be as desperate as I am coz I'm willing to take the consequences!
http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=phxx&c=teen&id=11004
If you cant explain it simply, you dont understand it well enough.-- Albert Einstein
Blessings Bright and Dark,
