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Magickal Diary - annual review

Last year was a slow year for me in terms of magickal work. I spent a lot of time in research and reflection. Very little in the way of workings got done. I attribute this to a couple of factors. First, I was in a very tight headspace, and was not making time for ritual work. Second, apart from relationship stress, there was relatively little that I felt needed magickal attention- and I'd rather not use magick to manage my relationships. Third, I had very little in the way of material need, and when I did, more often than not I was able to quickly locate a mundane solution that I found acceptable.

However... One had cut and dry results, and one operation I did conduct may have worked a bit too well...

First off, let me set this up. I have a strong sense of pack/family/tribe, and the responsibility that I feel for all members of my household is immense. It also frustrates me that I do not live up to that responsibility as well as I would like, which is part of what I am trying to correct through reworking a lot of magickal fundamentals at present. At any rate, that includes people and pets both, and in regards to certain aspects of their well-being, and particularly their physical safety.

So, last September, Fitzy, my poor, sweet imbecile feline son, managed to get out of the house. We live in a small city, and our near-the-center-of-town neighborhood is fairly well trafficked. Some of our neighbors were assholes.

Fitzy has been an indoor cat all of his life. So he's not only bright like a bag of hammers, but kinda sheltered. We've always lived in apartments with no real yard and enough traffic and jack-ass drivers that it's hard for humans to cross the street without worrying about getting clocked, let alone a cat.

The point being that when the little bugger managed to get outside, I was really worried. I was supposed to be going to CT-Ren for the weekend, and immediately back-burnered that idea until I found him. Result, Weekend spent looking for a cat who was nowhere to be found.

Detailed inspection of the area around the house, the neighbors yards and so on failed to yield up my feline. So Sunday afternoon, up went the posters. I was out and about all over the place on foot, on my bike, chasing cat reports from neighborhood kids, the whole nine yards.

So, by Sunday, night, I'm starting to get extremely worried. I got out the Bast icon, and evoked her. I made an offering, and and asked first, for her protection of my widdle moron, and second that he be returned to me before the next frost. Given that it was early October in New England, we're not talking huge amounts of time. I asked her if she required an additional price. She said yes, and then poofed out before I could ask her to name it.

Cats. Are. Like. That.

I really should have expected something like that.

Anyhow... Gods help those who help themselves. I bought a Hav-a-hart trap to bait with cat food and hopefully catch my idiot-cat in. It did work, but not before I caught a Mutant Piebald Possum Of Doom, and a few other cats, which we returned to their respective owners (I knew who the neighborhood cats were), and took one to the all-night vet to get checked out, after we finally caught him. He was a dead ringer for Fitz, at 11:30 at night, outside, in the dark, etc. and we literally ended up counting the rings on his tail at the vets before we knew for sure that it wasn't Fitz. Drae named him Cirrus and he moved in with us, which given how scrawny he was, I was more than cool with. Frankly, it had been about two weeks since Fitz had last been seen. I figured cat-helping Karma of any kind would be good, and it still hadn't hit a hard frost. According to the weather-monkey, though, we were looking at one in the next couple days.

The next morning, I got up, and went out to the porch to smoke my morning butt. There was a gray tabby in the trap, looking very freaked out. I desperately wanted to go and look, but was at a breaking point, and sent Keth out to check the trap, and let the cat out if it was not Fitz.

It was. We tossed a blanket over the top of the cage (we lacked a cat carrier at the time), and brought him to the vet to get checked out. I was blubbering and crying with sheer joy that my little idiot was back. If you have a problem with that, well, it's your problem, not mine.

I made an offering of thanks to Bast, and asked her to name the additional price. She still wasn't answering. She just smiled and poofed out on me again. But I wasn't much concerned about it.

However!

I've noticed since then that we've been accumulating cats of the lost/abandoned/abused variety ever since the spring. First, we let Bones move in. And now, Screech has moved onto the porch at least part time. We're trying to find him a good home even as I write this. He's been to the vet, we got him fixed and gave him his shots, so if anyone wants a talkative, friendly, litter-box trained, sleek black cat, let me know. He's a real character, and loves people.

Others have stopped by for a shorter time, just to get a snack, or some water, or catch a nap on the porch without having to look over their backs.

As of about a week ago, the Princess started showing up. we know where she belongs, but she keeps running away to come up to our place... I'm the only person that she doesn't hiss at or bitch about too much.

I now know what Bast's price was. She seems to have posted some sort of giant psychic "Cats: Get help here!" sign on the house. I can live with that. But I have learned a lesson about negotiation with higher powers, and getting all the terms up front. But I can live with the notion of being the Crazy Cat Guy in the neighborhood. It means that no matter what else I may lose, I'll never want for company, and I'll be helping the Fuller's Earth industry stay solvent.

The second operation used only personal energy, since I could keep a rather close eye and awareness on the problem. The problem was my neighbors across the street. When I first moved to Dover 10 years ago, I would not have lived in this neighborhood for anything: there were two biker bars at opposite ends of the street, and between the noise, the fights, and the meth trade, well, shitfire, you work it out. However, both bars closed, and the neighborhood cleaned itself over the next several years.

At the time we moved here, 3 years ago, it was a nice quiet neighborhood most of the time. I'm not going to begrudge anyone the occasional noisy cookout or other wing-ding. And then a family of fucktards moved in across the street. They were obviously youngish, early 20's, all about the gangsta thing (only in Dover would a white guy dress in Blood colors), and at any given time, there appeared to be anywhere from 4-8 people actually living there.

On a nearly weekly basis, there were fights in the street, enough traffic making 5-minute pickup stops to compare nicely to, say, Cambridge in rush hour, Screaming arguments at all hours, The sound of breaking stuff inside the apartment, Rent-A-Center trucks dropping off stuff or picking it up, and general random insanity. This continued on until winter forced a slow down of outdoor activity and I was fairly certain on several occasions, they had finally moved out, and on each occasion, bummed to find out that I was wrong.

Well, this spring, it all started up again. I was not happy. After about the fourth or fifth time I called the cops on them, I realized that the cops were not enough of a deterrent, and that things were not improving. So, I got out the magickal toolbox, and got busy. The focus of the operation was to wall of their apartment and stoop from the rest of the neighborhood, and lock in whatever negative energy accrued from their fights and so forth, in order to both keep it from effecting my household as much, and second, to force it to reach a critical mass of some sort. About a week later, I noticed that they had an infant living there, and since it wasn't the kid's fault, I didn't feel right about leaving the kid wallowing in that much negativity. So I dispelled the previous working, and performed another one with the stipulation that a situation would be created in which the kid would be kept safe from harm, and they would simply find their situation in that apartment untenable, and leave. This operation was partially successful: their electricity got cut off, and the next time the cops got called, the neighbors were ordered to send their kid to live with some friend of theirs until the juice was back on.

About a week later, the juice came back on, and it was back to business as usual. Cops were over 4-5 times a week, and they continued being obnoxious as fuck. So I dug back in and did some careful thinking and design work on the next operation. For my own sanity, and ability to sleep at night without a nagging conscience, I wanted to both get them out quickly and not actively harm the kid. Final decision was that I would work to actively shield the kid from the negativity, and go back to the original model of letting them poison themselves out of the house with their own crap. I performed the operations in early July of 2006.

The end result was that I got what I wanted on both accounts: The child became a ward of the state, the apartment was seized by the sheriff's office, and my neighbors were made to go the hell away.

Now, from the mundane point of view, nothing magickal needed to occur to contribute to my attaining my desired outcome in either case. My rational self tends to agree with that. When it comes to magick, and esoteric pursuits, I strive very hard to remain objective and grounded in evaluating my results. The trick that I seem not to get a lot of the time is that of not explaining the results of an operation away in purely mundane terms, and to keep in mind that magickal influence upon the extended world is very rarely - if at all- going to occur in a vulgar and obvious manner, and that more than likely, the influence of a magician's desire will manipulate situations to permit and cause the result to manifest.

When the magician needs a quarter, the effect of his operation is extremely unlikely to be that the quarter manifests in a blinding flash of light and a roar like thunder. Rather, it's going to cause the guy with the quarter in his pocket to get distracted while fishing for his car keys, and not notice that he dropped a quarter.

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