I came back from grocery shopping the other night to find that Ratty the cat had somehow done something to his left eye. He was holding it closed and it was a bit teary, though when I tried to look I didn't see anything obvious. I don't know what happened (though I have a lot of guesses, mostly to do with his very frisky and fond of wrestling siblings) but given it wasn't any better the next day I called the vet, who saw him this morning.
He's got an abrasion on his cornea; it looks to be healing well so far, but the vet gave me some drops to put in his eyes to help things along.
One of the drops, the one that has to go in three times a day (good god wish me luck) is an antibiotic so it doesn't get infected. The other thing is something that goes in once a day and is used to dilate the pupil, because with the cornea injured the muscle of the iris tends to spasm, and dilating the pupil means relaxing that muscle and so it hurts less.
Why am I telling this story here on the hedgewitch blog?
Because that second medication is atropine. Which is one of the main poisons in belladonna, the deadly nightshade plant, otherwise known as the poisonous plant in witchy tradition. One of its other traditional uses, besides being a purported ingredient in traditional flying ointments (no thank you very much) was to dilate women's pupils to give them a pretty, doe-eyed look, back when that was considered a good idea. And here it is doing just that, though for medical purposes rather than cosmetic.
Belladonna. The famous, highly toxic, beautiful beautiful Lady with the big black eyes. The one that this beginning herbalist will likely always steer very clear from.
And there's Ratty, a walking Mercury retrograde of feline health (oh my god this cat), taking belladonna.
For some reason that's just the funniest thing.
Showing posts with label Potions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Potions. Show all posts
Friday, July 26, 2013
Monday, October 29, 2012
Hurricane Magic
Tonight during the storm I had the very strong urge to do something witchy; I think it is all the raw power blowing around out there. There's something about hearing the wind blowing in a storm, especially at the tail-end of October, that gets a witch's blood going.
So I decided to make up some black salt.
Now on the one hand I don't know much about Hoodoo (really, I know pretty much nothing about it) and am a bit leery of appropriation given my white Scottish ancestry; on the other though I'm also a hedgewitch and so a practical sort. And from what I have heard, black salt is really really good for providing serious protection and driving out curses and hexes and other negativity. And I can really use that about now.
A couple weeks ago now I had burnt some protection incense on one of those little charcoal bricks; I'd also thrown some rosemary and agrimony on it for extra protection. And because I was paranoid about burning the house down (who isn't?) I nestled it all in a bed of ash from the kitchen fireplace, since I couldn't find any sand. And those, with the addition of salt, are pretty much the ingredients for black salt.
So tonight I ground all that up with about twice as much salt in my mortar and pestle, all the while drawing power from both the full moon and the hurricane blowing outside into it. I bottled it up and now it sits there on my bookshelf looking perfectly innocent. Heh.
So I decided to make up some black salt.
Now on the one hand I don't know much about Hoodoo (really, I know pretty much nothing about it) and am a bit leery of appropriation given my white Scottish ancestry; on the other though I'm also a hedgewitch and so a practical sort. And from what I have heard, black salt is really really good for providing serious protection and driving out curses and hexes and other negativity. And I can really use that about now.
A couple weeks ago now I had burnt some protection incense on one of those little charcoal bricks; I'd also thrown some rosemary and agrimony on it for extra protection. And because I was paranoid about burning the house down (who isn't?) I nestled it all in a bed of ash from the kitchen fireplace, since I couldn't find any sand. And those, with the addition of salt, are pretty much the ingredients for black salt.
So tonight I ground all that up with about twice as much salt in my mortar and pestle, all the while drawing power from both the full moon and the hurricane blowing outside into it. I bottled it up and now it sits there on my bookshelf looking perfectly innocent. Heh.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Mugwort Trial
I did try that mugwort flying ointment again, after I journeyed to talk with the plant herself; it worked this time, very definitely.
It brings a very different quality to the visions I experience, however. There is a very sharp clarity to things, an edge and a harshness, almost. It's also just a damned spooky plant. I found that during the vision, and for a couple days afterwards, I was seeing things out of the corner of my eye all the time.
I'm a skittish sort, given to anxiety; also I live in a two hundred and fifty year old colonial that was, and I am not making this up, the boyhood home of a murderer in the 1950s. There be ghosts here. And while I don't think their sort can hurt me, still, I don't need to see them all the time or be woken up by Emily leaning over me staring in curiosity. She's a nice girl, as far as ghosts go, but seriously. I'm already given to insomnia.
I'd even done, a year or two ago now, a little meditation to turn off my ability to see ghosts, because I just didn't need the extra anxiety, having enough of my own occurring naturally, thank you very much. I imagined a tap, like the kind on the side of the house, labelled 'ghosts'. And I closed it righty-tighty, until it was bone dry underneath.
That worked, for some time. And now I don't know if it's just the time of year now, as we slide down towards Samhain, but that mugwort flying ointment seemed to open that tap right up again. And again, I am really ridiculously sensitive to drugs and medicine, so I'm sure it is in large part just me.
But I don't need to be spooked, either. I will probably use it here and there, but for now the sweet honeysuckle is working just fine.
It brings a very different quality to the visions I experience, however. There is a very sharp clarity to things, an edge and a harshness, almost. It's also just a damned spooky plant. I found that during the vision, and for a couple days afterwards, I was seeing things out of the corner of my eye all the time.
I'm a skittish sort, given to anxiety; also I live in a two hundred and fifty year old colonial that was, and I am not making this up, the boyhood home of a murderer in the 1950s. There be ghosts here. And while I don't think their sort can hurt me, still, I don't need to see them all the time or be woken up by Emily leaning over me staring in curiosity. She's a nice girl, as far as ghosts go, but seriously. I'm already given to insomnia.
I'd even done, a year or two ago now, a little meditation to turn off my ability to see ghosts, because I just didn't need the extra anxiety, having enough of my own occurring naturally, thank you very much. I imagined a tap, like the kind on the side of the house, labelled 'ghosts'. And I closed it righty-tighty, until it was bone dry underneath.
That worked, for some time. And now I don't know if it's just the time of year now, as we slide down towards Samhain, but that mugwort flying ointment seemed to open that tap right up again. And again, I am really ridiculously sensitive to drugs and medicine, so I'm sure it is in large part just me.
But I don't need to be spooked, either. I will probably use it here and there, but for now the sweet honeysuckle is working just fine.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Flying Ointment
Well I made (and have since tried) my first flying ointment. It's made with honeysuckle, and I wish I could find where I got the idea from now, because it's not mine. I thought I read a post on one of the other hedgewitchy blogs, in fact I could have sworn it was Juniper's, but now I can't find the post. I remember the author saying she picked it and got a little dizzy from the scent and thought (more or less) Oh yes this will work. I'd really like to credit the person I got the idea from. [Edited to add: it was Scylla, on her tumblr, which is why I couldn't find it on a blog.]
It was actually my first try at making an ointment of any sort. It wasn't too hard (though I made more than I'll probably ever use); just a cereal bowl full (basically till I got sick of picking them) of honeysuckle flowers, simmered in a cup of grapeseed oil for about an hour, then a little more than an ounce of beeswax stirred in while still hot so it melted. It doesn't smell like honeysuckle--I may have got it too hot; it did boil a little here and there, and the essential oils may have flashed off--but it's still pleasant, having the beeswax in there.
And it works. Or, it works on me. I am, it should be said, really sensitive to medications or drugs of any kind--commonly if I'm going on a medication that's new to me I will break the tablets down into the tiniest crumbs, and pick the next larger crumb each day. I don't do any sort of recreational drug, or alcohol (it tastes like gasoline and either makes me fall asleep, or nauseous, or gives me a splitting headache) and so the whole idea of entheogens is way out of my league, for the most part.
But this seemed mild. Perhaps it's not a good idea to assume that, I don't know. I do remember pulling the flowers off as a child and sucking the little bit of nectar at the base, so I figured it wasn't going to be horribly poisonous or anything.
And I thought it might just give the journeys it facilitated a sweetness.
Boy was I right.
First of all, it is pretty mild, though it works, like I said, for me. It relaxes me while at the same time allowing the right part of my brain (or Soul) to focus. But it has a bit of a side effect.
It may be that spirit guide of mine, I don't know. I've had him for years, it's true, and we are old friends, and there is also I suppose I should say a good deal of love between us. One might even say, if we are talking in psychological terms (which I do think is one valid way to approach this, as, after all, I experience all this through my psyche or Soul) that he is very heavily connected to the libido.
So, the stuff works, oh yes. I can See quite clearly on it. But we inevitably get, well, a mite distracted.
Anyone out there know if honeysuckle is an aphrodisiac? Nothing I've found mentions it.
Oh my.
It was actually my first try at making an ointment of any sort. It wasn't too hard (though I made more than I'll probably ever use); just a cereal bowl full (basically till I got sick of picking them) of honeysuckle flowers, simmered in a cup of grapeseed oil for about an hour, then a little more than an ounce of beeswax stirred in while still hot so it melted. It doesn't smell like honeysuckle--I may have got it too hot; it did boil a little here and there, and the essential oils may have flashed off--but it's still pleasant, having the beeswax in there.
And it works. Or, it works on me. I am, it should be said, really sensitive to medications or drugs of any kind--commonly if I'm going on a medication that's new to me I will break the tablets down into the tiniest crumbs, and pick the next larger crumb each day. I don't do any sort of recreational drug, or alcohol (it tastes like gasoline and either makes me fall asleep, or nauseous, or gives me a splitting headache) and so the whole idea of entheogens is way out of my league, for the most part.
But this seemed mild. Perhaps it's not a good idea to assume that, I don't know. I do remember pulling the flowers off as a child and sucking the little bit of nectar at the base, so I figured it wasn't going to be horribly poisonous or anything.
And I thought it might just give the journeys it facilitated a sweetness.
Boy was I right.
First of all, it is pretty mild, though it works, like I said, for me. It relaxes me while at the same time allowing the right part of my brain (or Soul) to focus. But it has a bit of a side effect.
It may be that spirit guide of mine, I don't know. I've had him for years, it's true, and we are old friends, and there is also I suppose I should say a good deal of love between us. One might even say, if we are talking in psychological terms (which I do think is one valid way to approach this, as, after all, I experience all this through my psyche or Soul) that he is very heavily connected to the libido.
So, the stuff works, oh yes. I can See quite clearly on it. But we inevitably get, well, a mite distracted.
Anyone out there know if honeysuckle is an aphrodisiac? Nothing I've found mentions it.
Oh my.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Memory Tea
So. Another thing abused kids learn is that their own memories can't be trusted. After all, when your parents do something awful and then say that no such thing happened, or you misunderstood, or (my favorite) you're just too sensitive, it does stuff to a kid's mind. It's called gaslighting, is the official term; it means deliberately playing with someone's perception so they don't know what to believe. It is lying, of course, as well as, for real, a type of brainwashing.
I am coming to realize, more and more, that my parents' denial of the rotten conditions here, especially the way my mother frames things (she is never at fault, even when she very obviously is; she is a narcissist and so completely, appallingly allergic to responsibility), has done a number on my mind and my memories. I had always just thought I had a lousy memory; now I am realizing that that lousy memory has been deliberately trained into me. I have little sense of the surety of my own memories, and if someone remembers differently well then they must be right.
This rather bothers me, as you may imagine.
So, today then, on Memorial Day here in the US, the Day of Memory, I made this up.
It's a tea, the ingredients of which are all said to be good for the memory; mainly I sat down with a couple of herb books and looked at the lore, then picked out the ingredients I had, and then further narrowed it down to what I thought might taste decent. This is what I came up with:
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh lemon balm leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh lavender leaves, chopped (I would have used the flowers but they aren't in bloom yet)
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon celery seed
1/4 teaspoon dill seed
Put the seeds and the cinnamon in a mortar and grind it roughly (you just want to break them apart, not pulverize into a fine powder). Wrap all the ingredients up in a square of clean cotton, tie it off and pour boiling water over it. Let it steep for a few minutes and sweeten with honey to taste.
That was my first guess at proportions and it worked so well I think I'll keep it. No one flavor dominates, though the cinnamon gives it a good warm base. I couldn't really taste them as separate flavors, but the rosemary gives it a good broadness that balances well with the sharpness of the lemon balm. It was quite nice, even though I don't usually drink tea, and it was quite calming (probably the lavender had something to do with that): I had been having a really aggravating day, a lot of little things driving me up the wall, but after drinking this I felt much better.
After I'd got the ingredients ground or chopped, I put it all in a bowl, and then, and this is the magicy part, ran my fingers through it to mix it (it smelled really nice), charging it with the ability to improve and strengthen memory and to remember the truth with certainty.
I am coming to realize, more and more, that my parents' denial of the rotten conditions here, especially the way my mother frames things (she is never at fault, even when she very obviously is; she is a narcissist and so completely, appallingly allergic to responsibility), has done a number on my mind and my memories. I had always just thought I had a lousy memory; now I am realizing that that lousy memory has been deliberately trained into me. I have little sense of the surety of my own memories, and if someone remembers differently well then they must be right.
This rather bothers me, as you may imagine.
So, today then, on Memorial Day here in the US, the Day of Memory, I made this up.
It's a tea, the ingredients of which are all said to be good for the memory; mainly I sat down with a couple of herb books and looked at the lore, then picked out the ingredients I had, and then further narrowed it down to what I thought might taste decent. This is what I came up with:
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh lemon balm leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh lavender leaves, chopped (I would have used the flowers but they aren't in bloom yet)
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon celery seed
1/4 teaspoon dill seed
Put the seeds and the cinnamon in a mortar and grind it roughly (you just want to break them apart, not pulverize into a fine powder). Wrap all the ingredients up in a square of clean cotton, tie it off and pour boiling water over it. Let it steep for a few minutes and sweeten with honey to taste.
That was my first guess at proportions and it worked so well I think I'll keep it. No one flavor dominates, though the cinnamon gives it a good warm base. I couldn't really taste them as separate flavors, but the rosemary gives it a good broadness that balances well with the sharpness of the lemon balm. It was quite nice, even though I don't usually drink tea, and it was quite calming (probably the lavender had something to do with that): I had been having a really aggravating day, a lot of little things driving me up the wall, but after drinking this I felt much better.
After I'd got the ingredients ground or chopped, I put it all in a bowl, and then, and this is the magicy part, ran my fingers through it to mix it (it smelled really nice), charging it with the ability to improve and strengthen memory and to remember the truth with certainty.
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