Then the spiritual realm gets in on the act. The powers-that-be knock them around a few times to get their attention. And if they don’t take immediate notice and cut the crap, stronger measures become necessary. Things get worse and worse until the spiritual support system disappears as well. Nothing works. They hit one brick wall after another. And yet, they still don’t get it. Even with so much negative stuff going on, it never occurs to them that they are even remotely at fault. No siree, Bob. Instead, it must be someone else’s doing. Someone must have put a curse on them.
When that notion enters their heads, the really fun stuff begins. Acting just like some sort of psychic magnet, that single thought travels through the mind collecting others. Together, they roll along gathering momentum, gathering speed, and gathering density, until finally—bigger than life and twice as ugly—this nasty ball of crap crashes right through the forbidden gate and unleashes paranoia. And once that’s loosed upon the mind and given free rein, pinpointing who might have initially tossed out a hex or why is no longer an issue. Why? Because now they’ve convinced themselves that there’s not just one person involved; instead, everybody on the planet is out to get them. Their lives are completely and irrevocably ruined, and nothing—not even death itself—is ever going to fix it.
It’s a curse, all right, but it’s self-made, self-directed, and self-inflicted. And fighting fire with fire just isn’t a good idea in this case. It’s tantamount to blowing themselves up. And they’d come out far less damaged if they just pulled the pin on a hand grenade and swallowed it.
So, do yourself a favor. Stay calm, stay collected, and make that list I’ve described above. You’ll be able to make a reasonable decision about what to do next. And best of all, paranoia can stay sealed in that airtight cage, precisely where it belongs.
A HEX BY ANY OTHER NAME
There are probably as many different types of hexes and curses as there are magical practitioners. Some call for multiple ingredients and a good amount of planning. Others call for a gesture of the hand, the face, or other body part. Still others don’t require anything but the spoken word. But even with something as simple as that, the delivery of those words seems to vary from shouted, muttered, or coldly whispered. And with each practitioner insisting that his or her curse is the very best ever concocted, trying to choose is enough to make your head spin.
So, how do you decide which sort to use? And once you do, how do you know that your choice is the right one for the job?
First, don’t let it overwhelm you. Just search for one that suits both your purpose and your lifestyle. Or better yet, construct your own. If you’re not sure where to start, take a look at which Element rules your astrological sign. I’ve discovered that personal magical power is often strongest when it involves that Element—Earth signs tend to bury things, Fire signs tend to burn things, and so on—and your comfort levels will reap the benefits as well.
Second, don’t bother with an obscure ingredient list. (You’re not going to find an authentic hand of glory—not even on the internet—and constructing your own is going to land you right in the pokey!) Either find a reasonable substitution or do a little more research.
In the meantime, though, it may help to know a little about the systems and cultures from where most curses and hexes are derived. And to that end, brief descriptions of the most common follow below.
HOODOO? YOU DO!
A good number of these sorts of spells come from a popular magical system called Hoodoo. This is in no way, shape, or form a religious system—it’s magic, plain and simple—and its origin is attributed to derivations of the magical practices of the Afro-Caribbean people who were once enslaved in the United States.
One of the reasons for the popularity of this system is that nothing is hard and fast. Ingredients are easy to find, and substitutions can be made with ease. That’s because, unlike most other magical systems, precisely how hoodoo is practiced varies greatly according to specific agricultural region and available resources. This means that although there may be a few common threads, you’re not likely to find the same sort of practices in Louisiana as you would in South Carolina, in Georgia as you would in Texas, and so on. And this probably has to do with the fact that the enslaved were literally scattered all across the country and simply used what was handy to work their magic. As a result, hoodoo truly is folk magic at its best.
Before we get too far, though, there’s something that I’d like to make crystal clear: Hoodoo magic is not necessarily dark. It’s just more honest than most other types of practice, and so are the folks who practice it. If they’re going to throw down with a hex, they don’t bother to disguise it with some other sort of magic. They just do it, make no bones about it, and go on about their business.
With that out of the way, magical efforts within the system aren’t called spells. They’re called tricks, a classification that’s steeped in honesty too. A spell, after all, is a manipulation of the Elements to get what you want. And stripped right down to the bare bones, what exactly is manipulation? Simply put, it’s tricking someone—or something—into doing your bidding.
The other difference between hoodoo and other systems is that magical efforts aren’t charged. But lest you get the wrong idea, that doesn’t mean that tons of energy isn’t placed within their folds. Nothing could be further from the truth. Because tricks usually take the form of packets or parcels—their contents are usually wrapped up in something or contained in a bag—they are “laid.” This means that once completed, the parcels are placed somewhere out of view. And whether laid in the ground, under a porch, or in the water, that’s what completes their magic.
As an aside, it’s interesting to note that tricks are seldom as easily broken as spells. It’s not that the magic involved is any stronger. It’s that breaking a trick involves locating the parcel, dismantling it, and destroying the contents. This presents a whole new set of problems: Finding the hiding place and finding the trick, both of which can be a real effort in futility. But even if you manage to find both, that still may not be enough to uncross the victim. Depending upon method of disposal and mediums used for contents and wrapping, a good portion of the trick may have rotted away or dissolved. The tiny fragment you’ve got left may not be able to handle the job—at least, not with any measure of success. And this is probably how hoodoo got its current reputation: That of absolute power and darkness.
WHOSE CURSE IS WORSE?
Contrary to what some folks may think, the Afro-Caribbean people and their descendants neither single-handedly hold the monopoly on great curses, nor did they invent the pin struck poppet for which they are so famous. The roots of the poppet, in fact, go all the way back to the ancient Egyptians. Instead of being made of cloth, wood, and plant materials, though, the figure was cast of wax and designed to closely resemble the subject in question. How, precisely, they came up with using wax is anyone’s guess, but the implications certainly speak for themselves. It was easily poked with pins to cause pain, bent and distorted to damage the body, and of course, melted away to cause a slow and painful death.
But that wasn’t the only form by which the Egyptians exacted revenge. They also understood that the power of words lived on long after the scribe who wrote them or the person who uttered them. And although no actual artifact or photograph exists as proof, it’s been said that such a curse, inscribed on clay tablets found in the antechamber of Tutankhamen’s tomb, was responsible for the many deaths surrounding its excavation. So, what did this supposed inscription say?
“Death will slay with its wings whoever disturbs the peace of the pharaoh.”
And whether any such inscription truly existed or not, it appears that Death took notice anyway and did just that.
Then, there were the ancient Romans and Greeks. And as one might expect from people who went to so much trouble to perfect a vast array of protection talismans, they also had their hands in the cauldron of torment—and all the way up to their elbows. Their cur
ses involved tablets made of metal, though, which were inscribed with instructions to the Gods of the Underworld before depositing them in a place appropriate to the intention. As an extra boon, metals sacred to specific underworld Deities were often used to entice Them to lend Their services.
Lead was an extremely popular medium for several reasons. And while I feel sure that its associations with Saturn, the underworld, and revenge were definitely considerations, the fact that it was easily obtainable, inexpensive, long lasting, and easy to carve must have also figured heavily into the choice. And while it’s doubtful that the ancient Greeks and Romans actually knew that lead was toxic, I can’t think of any better medium upon which to craft a curse than on something inherently poisonous. Can you?
The intentions of these curse tablets covered much the same sorts of subject matter that interest us today: litigation, justice, business, competition, and matters of the heart. But the manners in which they were delivered to the Gods of the Underworld? Interesting, to say the least. While occasionally buried on the property of the person targeted, the location of a sporting competition, or the courthouse, they were most often tossed into pools of stagnant water (the equivalent of today’s sewers) or buried in the right hand of a corpse to gain its assistance. (The underlying thought with employing the latter was that the corpse would be really annoyed at having been disturbed, see the name on the tablet, and not only carry out the torment listed, but add a bit of its own!)
The ancient Celts had their own system of curse delivery as well. While they were almost always spoken—or at least, accompanied by an incantation spoken in verse—there was something else that set their system apart from the others. You see, they believed that to curse someone took extreme amounts of concentration. So to that end, they often employed some measure of physical difficulty—standing on one foot with one eye closed, or perhaps, pointing at the victim—during delivery as a way of keeping their minds on their business. Of course, I’m sure that this also scared the hell out of their victims. And instilling that sort of fear is bound to have produced a double whammy.
That brings us to the Italian practitioners. While most of us associate them solely with the use of malocchio or the evil eye, the strength of their curses is much more involved than that. Instead, it lies in subtle gesture and action—in the stirring of a soup, in the washing of the hands, and today perhaps, even in the shredding of an email. But that’s not all. They also have a knack for incorporating the most innocuous of objects. (Who, after all, would have ever imagined that all those dreadful nightmares—the ones that make you afraid to even close your eyes at night—would be coming directly from your favorite pillow?) Some of the best Italian curses I’ve ever witnessed, in fact, were so cleverly placed that no one even saw them coming. And it’s that sort of sly delivery that makes them so very powerful.
As an aside, I’d be negligent if I failed to point out that the early Christians—most specifically, those who authored the Bible—were no strangers to the world of curses, either. And according to them, God, Himself, tossed out the very first when He expelled a legion of angels from heaven and cast them into a fiery pit of His own creation. After that, though, it seems that He really got the hang of it. When He evicted Adam and Eve and their buddy, the snake, from the Garden of Eden, for example, other side effects were added. The menstrual period and the labor pains of childbirth were born, as was the dogma of original sin and the purgatory that went with it. And that was just the beginning. Cain was cursed for killing Abel, the Babylonians were cursed for building the Tower of Babel, Lot’s wife was cursed and turned to salt, the world was cursed and destroyed by flood, and on and on and on. So even if the early Christians weren’t actually adept at flinging curses themselves, their God sure was. And because of that, it’s no surprise that many of today’s curses come directly from and/or utilize passages in the Bible.
Of course, there are literally hundreds of other magical systems that employ the use of hexes, curses, and other unsavory notions, but there’s simply not space here to go into all of them. So, do a bit of research. Borrow ideas. And incorporate those newly discovered tidbits into spells and rituals of your own. That is, after all, what truly powerful magic is all about.
CHAPTER 2
THE REAL DIRT ON THE QUICK AND THE DEAD
No one who’s ever read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil—or seen the movie by the same name—could ever forget the scenes where Minerva, the common-law wife of Dr. Buzzard, sits by his grave, spitting liquor and digging up dirt. His purple glasses perched on her nose, she gives Buzzard hell for not providing her with the right lottery numbers, while stabbing his grave so forcefully with a trowel that she might be trying to kill him if he weren’t already dead.
It never fails to make me laugh out loud. But not for the reasons you might think. What really tickles me is that Minerva isn’t like most folks who visit cemeteries. She’s loud and sassy and pulls no punches. She wants Buzzard to know how she feels and to hear exactly what she has to say. And that makes Minerva real.
It’s sad to think that most of us aren’t real—at least, not when it comes to cemetery visits. We behave as if we’re in church, in the library, or some other place where any volume over that of a whisper won’t be tolerated.
What’s up with that?
Fact of the matter is that we’re there to visit with the dead: To chat with them, to express ourselves, and maybe even to get a few answers. Problem is, though, we get caught up in the reverence factor. We assume that our dearly departed will see our quiet, unobtrusive demeanor as a sign of respect. And we have to be respectful of the dead, right? Otherwise, something awful is sure to happen.
Well, it might. But the worst that’s likely to happen is that the whole visit will be in vain—that the dead might not hear us or even know we were there.
At this point, I can almost see you rolling your eyes heavenward and looking at this page aghast. I can almost hear you muttering too. But in between all that, your mind is probably going ninety-to-nothing, working desperately to call up a distant memory whose source you can’t quite place. You know the one. It’s that the dead can hear everything, even our innermost thoughts.
For those of you following this train of thought, I have three words: Stop right there.
To start with, we have no way of knowing what the spirits of the dead can hear and what they can’t. But I’ll tell you one thing for sure. They are certainly not Gods. And because of that, it only stands to reason that they can’t hear anything that’s left unspoken.
But what about this respect thing? Isn’t that important? You bet it is. However, it’s my opinion that the dead should be treated with the same amount of respect as the living. And that means going back to most basic of good conversational manners. Simply put, it’s rude to whisper. If you’re going to say something, say it loudly enough for everyone to hear. And if you’d just as soon that everyone not hear? Then it’s best to keep it to yourself.
All I’m saying is that it’s okay to enjoy your cemetery visits. It’s okay to be yourself. Just laugh and talk and have a good time. Make it the same sort of visit you’d have had with these folks if they were still alive. The dead can’t help but enjoy a visit like that. What’s more, they’ll be looking more forward to your next one than you ever thought possible. And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?
AN AUDIENCE WITH THE QUEEN
I was grown before I ever got the real scoop on cemeteries. I had no idea that they comprised the kingdom of a specific deity or that I needed Her permission to enter. I just went on about my merry way, chatting with the spirits of those I loved, planting flowers, bringing presents, and doing what I did best: being my happy-go-lucky, sassy self.
Of course, I wasn’t working magic on the grounds at the time and certainly wasn’t gathering components for any sort of related effort. Had I been, the proper protocol would have been extremely important and, not followed carefully, may have brought about some undesire
d results. That said, there are a few things you should know before heading for a cemetery with magic in mind.
Most important, perhaps, is that Oya is the Queen of the Dead and holds domain over all cemeteries. (She’s also in charge of commerce, so it’s always propitious to stay on Her good side!) Don’t let Her title fool you, though. She’s a fun loving sort with a real sense of humor. And once you get to know Her, you can’t help but fall in love. She’s just that sort of Goddess.
However, it is important to gain Her permission before entering Her kingdom, and here’s where things can get sticky. It’s been my experience that Oya does things when She feels like it, instead of on demand. She’s been known to keep folks waiting at the gate for lengthy periods of time just to see what they’ll do. And just about the time they’ve given up entirely and turn to leave, she unsettles them with a cackle loud enough to send them leaping into the air (What else would a queen without a court jester do for fun?) and allows them entrance. It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen provided it’s happening to someone else.
There are a couple of things you can do to keep yourself from being on the receiving end of Oya’s antics, so keep them in mind if you don’t have time to wait around all day. First, cover your head with something white in Her honor. Ladies should wear a white scarf or lace mantilla, while men can wear a white ball cap. (Oya’s all about good manners, though, so don’t forget to remove your cap when gaining entrance, guys!)
Secondly, always bring Her some sort of enticement. She absolutely adores presents—I’ve never known Her to turn one down—and is especially partial to red wine and copper. (While either will do, I’ve found that offering Her both really speeds things up. Just put nine pennies in an old prescription bottle, add a few drops of red wine, and give it a good shake.) And above all, be sure to tell Oya that you’ve brought Her something when you first ask permission to enter. It will make all the difference in the world, in both Her attitude and your time.
Utterly Wicked: Curses, Hexes & Other Unsavory Notions Page 3
