Deterioration is Magic, Too.
A Story of Death, Grace, & Ritual.
The first spell I worked when I landed in my little mountain town was to “clean up” my relationship with motherhood.
It seemed a fitting subject. I was moving into my mother’s house. She, herself, was vacating the premises and moving in with her longtime lover. Over the years she had accumulated a mass of stuff (both hers and prior renters) that was tucked under the porch. We had spent the summer clearing out old boxes full of mildewed books and other junk, and I had tended her dying cat, Winston.
The spell was written, largely under Winston’s supervision.
I have always had a cat, so adopting my mom’s cat that summer was natural. As a witch, they are my pre-furred familiar. But I had a dog, too. A Pug. His name was Grom and he has left this world much in the same way that Winston went. Ferried home by the same veterinarian service. Delivered into Grace from the comfort of my lap. But that tale is too much for here and now and not truly related. And before we speak of death we must speak of ritual.
Winston (the cat) and I had a ritual.
Every morning I would sit on the porch with my coffee and journal and Sir Winston Old Bones would come and “sip” off my energy. This exchange was conscious and consensual on both of our parts. I had come across him one day lying on the porch near-dead and in a moment of shock and compassion reached out to him. I felt the energy jump from my hand to his body. He woke, yowled, and thus began our little exchange.
Mom didn’t know how badly her cat was deteriorating. She didn’t want to see it for one, but she was not here to hear his pitiful cries from the front porch, nor watch his old bones waver, toddle, and nearly topple down the stairs on many occasions. When she did finally land in the reality that I had been dealing with, we found a quality of life test that could be taken through a vet’s website online and ascertained that prolonging his life would simply be selfish and cruel.
An appointment was made and an in-home visit established with the traveling vet.
The morning we were to let Winston go, he came to me expecting his usual energetic “boost”. But that day I told him no.
If you would like to continue as a paid subscriber, you will find not only the remainder of the story, but instructions for some simple spell work as well! Aaand this is likely going to be a chapter in my book.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Bedhead Mystic Musings with Justice Bartlett to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.