#dead wizard

[terymlxyrstdus]

the only thing that can save me now is jegulus christmas fic

(any recs? please i beg you)

[skepticaloccultist]

A Summer Ends

"The summer dwindles, the grass is dry. The ravens still course the hot grey sky.

A seed pod ruptures, the blood is spilt. A blackbird sings of lust filled guilt.

Those endless days are growing colder. Those nights of frigid shadows bolder.

We turn about nine times against. We face the wind through broken fence.

A raised hand to skyward claims. A pressed foot on earthly remains.

What spirits do we here conjure? What whispered words at soul's departure?

We bury those who spoke with birds. We trace a circle in secret words.

A summer ends, the winds do change. A season shifts yet life remains."

[skepticaloccultist]

The Death of the Feral Sorcerer

What happens when a wizard dies? Is it the same as all of the others, the faceless death of a thousand regular people drifting past their expiration date? Or do we drift toward some other realm, not permitted for those without the key? Do we decide our own path, as we have for countless incarnations before?

David Blank was the very first magician I knew in London. He reached out to me shortly after I arrived on this island. He knew me somehow, and I him. His magic was much the same as my own, drawn from the earth as much as any book. Schooled by the birds and the trees instead of some pomp filled guru, he was not one for secret hand shakes. We hit it off immediately.

David would continue to support me and my work until his passing. He had been talking of a final last issue of his wonderful magazine the Oracle. We had discussed my designing it and he had begun going through the papers of the previously unpublished bits. Then this final sickness reared its ugly head and now my friend is gone to the sunset land of the foxes.

On the night after his passing I baked a Lammas bread loaf in his name. Something to take with him for the long journey ahead. It was a time of new seasons and over those days he lingered often in my thoughts.

It was a thunderous and rainy day on which David was laid to rest. The medieval church in East London full of a concert of silent wizards and witches, sharply dressed much as David always was. The wicker casket topped with David's hat as it was brought in. A glass horse drawn carriage to take him to his final resting place waiting outside.

He had spent many a day listening to the birds and reading in the cemetery outside that church. Its ancient stones familiar to him, his bones comfortable on a little bench under moss covered trees. A passing word with the vicar who spoke well of him at the funeral. Moments of quiet contemplation on the language of birds.

There was a bit of Dylan, and Bowie as the exit music. The soundtrack of bird song played over the vicar's words. Muffling scant mention of religious bits with the true spirit of the natural world. There were gins at the pub and stories traded afterward. Then the rain even harder and the sound of crows as I walked drenched in my suit the way home.

I imagine David Blank has gone off to be a bird for a while, in the manner of a true British Sorcerer.

Enjoy the wind my friend.

[skepticaloccultist]

The Old Vegetable Neurotics

"The Old Vegetable Neurotics: Hemlock, Opium, Belladonna and Henbane; Their Physiological Action and Therapeutical Use Alone and in Combination" by John Harley

In my research into the trimunative of witches herbs I recently stumbled upon this fantastic medical document from 1869 that covers doses of increasing size utilizing Henbane, Belladonna, Hemlock and Opium as medicinal therapy. The book has an incredible frontpiece in the scan found on the web. An ouroboros around some figure, possibly Hippocrates.

Unlike almost all books dealing with the ritual use of these herbs Harley doesn't hesitate to list the entire process, doses used and length of time specific symptoms occur. Its a fantastic and rather scientific approach that doesn't mention any of the historical context for the herbs themselves.

Remarkably the book suggests that Harley experimented on himself with the hexing herbs, developing methodologies for distillation and extraction of the primary constitutes of these plants and further using them on both animal and human patients. His offhanded manner suggests more than a passing level of self experimentation with specific types of chemicals.

I have been able to find only scant info on the book's author John Harley. He was educated at King's College London and head physician at St Thomas's Hospital from 1872. The book itself was published in 1869. It could be the book amounts to his doctoral thesis. Certainly more research into the author is required. I have a feeling some interesting details could be found hiding in some university stacks about this doctor's life.

The book can be gotten as a pdf from google and from archive.org for free.

google

archive