We call Emena, Mother of all created.
We call the Wind, Son of our Mother.
We call the Earth, Sister of the wind,
We call the Father, Fire and Soul mate.
Hear us Spirits of the world,
Hear us cry your names.
Let wind and earth meat,
Let a storm spring forth.
We call Wind and Water (repeat this seven times)
Let us meet in perfect harmony,
An it harm none
So mote it be.
The note below the spell mentions that the "name of the Goddess depends on who you see as the Mother Goddess. It was written by a close friend of mine and she preferred the Goddess Emena. I substitute if for Isis."
So that's a pretty cool spell. Only thing, with all due respect to that "close friend" who wrote the spell above, I don't feel or find much magic on those words. Now I fully accept that this could be a failing of my part, magic-challenged as I may be,, but when I compare the magic in the spell above to the magic that I find in the words of Emily Dickinson, it's not even close.
For example, here's a storm spell I sculpted out of Emily Dickinson's poem # 224:
Awful Tempest mash the air -
Clouds be gaunt, and few -
Black – as of a spectre’s cloak
Hide Heaven and Earth from View!
Creatures chuckle on the Roofs -
Whistle in the air!
Shake your fists -
And gnash your teeth -
Swing your frenzied hair!
Ah, I find much more magic in those strong, active verbs like "mash," "Shake," "gnash," and "Swing," and in those metaphorical "gaunt" clouds, and in that figurative language, "as of a spectre's cloak." For me that's where the magical power in the language lies.
But that's just one spell, you might say. Okay, let's try another. Now that we've conjured up the storm, let's stop it. Here are the full instructions on the spellsofmagic website for stopping a rain storm (http://www.spellsofmagic.com/spells/weather_spells/rain_storm_spells/10418/page.html):
When it is getting dark, Chant this with faith and concentration:
"Gods of power, Gods of might,
I bid you now, stop this plight,
Stop the rain, we need no more,
Let it fall, nevermore."
Put a lot of feeling in stopping rain from falling from the clouds and it will not fall, it will simply move to an area away from where you are and then fall.
But again, I have to say, with all due respect, compared to the magic I find in Miss Emily's words, this spell for me falls piteously short. Check out this stop-the-rain spell that I sculpted out of Dickinson's poem # 1703:
Wind, draw off
Like hungry dogs
Defeated of a bone
Through fissures in
Volcanic cloud --
Yellow lightning shine!
Again, we have that brilliant figurative language, this time of the wind being like "hungry dogs/defeated of a bone." Great! For me there's no contest. When it's magic I need, give me the words of Miss Emily every time!
Wishing you all a wonderful, joyful, healthy, magical, and spell-bindingly beautiful new year!
S.D. Lishan
