Category Archives: Scottish Travellers

FAQs: How do you take payment? When do I pay you? With what do I pay you? How exactly do I place an order?

How do you take payment? When do I pay you? With what do I pay you? How exactly do I place an order?

When do you pay me? Before the spell is started. It’s just like you were walking into McDonald’s: your order the fries, you pay for the fries, you sit back and wait while they head out back and make the fries. Just like that. You order the spell, you pay for the spell, than you wait while I head out to make you your spell.

How do I accept payment? Cash only. You can pay me in person with cash or you can pay me online via PayPal and wait for PayPal to give the money to my bank and wait for my bank to give me the cash for you. In any case, until I have the actual cash physically in my hand I won’t lift a finger to do a bit of work for you.

How to I take payment?

Cash in person or PayPal online.

With what do you pay me?

Cash and cash only.

In person, I only accept cash. I do not accept checks unless you are a close and trusted long time client and I know you have the money and the check won’t bounce. I’m sorry, but I’ve delt with too many scam clients and their bouncing rubber checks, and I no longer accept checks as a result. I can not accept credit cards or money orders or travelers cheques or wired money or non-American currancy because I am not a business, I do not have a cash register, I wouldn’t know how to turn your wires/Franques/ruppies/yen/etc into US coinage and greenbacks and I have no way to scan or accept your card, I am just an old Gypsy woman, living in a 22 foot motorhome with 15 cats.

Online, I only accept PayPal. Payments can be sent via PayPal to xavychup@yahoo.com . And as PayPal waits 5 to 7 days before transfering the money to my bank and my bank in turn waits another 5 to 7 days before giving me the money, that therefore means that if you pay online, you will have to wait upto 3 weeks before I start work on your spell, because Honey, until I have cold hard cash in my hand, I do not consider your bill paid, I will do not work without being paid up front. Don’t tell me PayPal has it, don’t tell me it’s in the back…that means nothing to me. It PayPal has it than it’s of no good to me is it, seeing as I don’t have it yet. Likewise if the bank has it, it isn’t yet mine either, is it?

How do you place your order?

You place your order one of two ways:

No Hurry

#1) You walk up to the door of No Hurry, knock on the door, get attacked by 15 cats while you wait for me to answer the door, you tell me what you want, I tell you what you need, you give me the money and your email address than go home, in a few days I get started on your spell and keep in touch with you about it via email.

My Home, My Office, My Front Door

#2) You head to my Etsy shop, tell me what you what, I’ll tell you what you need, in a few days I’ll set up a custom listing for you, you buy that listing, pay Etsy, Etsy pays PayPal, PayPal pays my bank, my bank pays me and after I have the cash in hand (which has been known to take up to 3 weeks) than I will start doing your spell.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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Did you know you can now get a FREE Kindle for your PC? Be sure to download your FREE Kindle directly from Amazon today. Don’t have Windows PC? No worries! Amazon is also offering 100% FREE Kindles for: AndroidWindows Phone 7MaciPhone, and BlackBerry. And don’t miss out on over 1.8 million Free eBooks from Amazon’s Kindle Store.



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FAQs: Who initiated you? By what authority do you do these things; what laying on of hands gave you this power? What paradigm are you part of? What path do you follow? Who were your teachers? How can I learn to do what you do?

Each of these questions was asked separately by seperate individuals, but I am combining them together as one, because each in essance is the same question, asking the same thing, with different  use of wording:

Who initiated you? By what authority do you do these things; what laying on of hands gave you this power? What paradigm are you part of? What path do you follow? Who were your teachers? How can I learn to do what you do?

Can you see how each question, though differant is also the same?

Let’s look at each question individually, shall we?

Who initiated you? 

Initiated? You suggest that my job has religious connections. You are of the false assumption that to be a magical being requires the permission of a religion. I’m sorry, but I’m not a religon crazed creep like you. I have free will. I don’t answer to no man. No one bosses me around. No one tells me what to do. Initiations, baptismes, and passing down of authority from one person to another, is a stricty religion thing to do, and there ain’t no religion in what I do. Why would I require initiation? I am not the slave of some coven preist. Why would I require initiation? I am not the slave of some church preisthood. I am free, just the way God made me, why would I want to tell God he made me wrong when he made me free? By giving up my freedom to some church, coven, or religion, I turn my back on God. By becoming part of some church, coven, or religion, I tell God he didn’t know what he was doing. By following the leaders of some church, coven, or religion, I tell God he ain’t good enough for me to be my personal Lord Almighty. By joining some church, coven, or religion, I tell God that I believe men have more power and authority than he does. To be initiated into anything is to insult God and bitch slap him right across the face.

By what authority do you do these things; what laying on of hands gave you this power? 

By the authority given to me by the God of Creation. He created me. He made me what I am. No human lay hands on me. No human has the right. No human has the power. Humans are just humans. Any Human who comes to you and says that you can not do a thing, without them first using their authority of laying on of hands to bless you and endow you with power, is nothing more than a power hungry, pompus, self-rightious, delued jackass.

Again, you suggest that my job has religious connections. You are of the false assumption that to be a magical being requires the permission of a religion. I’m sorry, but I’m not a religon crazed creep like you. By what authority, does any man claiming to have a authority, get his authority? Why should I take orders from a man instead of from God? I have free will. I don’t answer to no man. No one bosses me around. No one tells me what to do.

Why would I require initiation? I am not the slave of some coven preist. Why would I require initiation? I am not the slave of some church preisthood. I am free, just the way God made me, why would I want to tell God he made me wrong when he made me free? By giving up my freedom to some church, coven, or religion, I turn my back on God. By becoming part of some church, coven, or religion, I tell God he didn’t know what he was doing. By following the leaders of some church, coven, or religion, I tell God he ain’t good enough for me to be my personal Lord Almighty. By joining some church, coven, or religion, I tell God that I believe men have more power and authority than he does. To be initiated into anything is to insult God and bitch slap him right across the face.

What paradigm are you part of? 

You’ll have to wait while I go, Google that word, because I’ve never heard it before and I have no idea what it means, what you are asking, or what the heck it is you want to know.

Okay, paridigum, seems to be another term for religion and is used in lue of the word religion when talking about magic arts. Various paradigms include: Wicca, Gardenarian Witchcraft, Druidism, Vudon, Alchemy, etc.

No. I’m not part of any group. I don’t belong to a coven, I don’t attend a church, I don’t sit around like a brainless drone being told what to do and when to do it. Again, you suggest that my job has religious connections. You are of the false assumption that to be a magical being requires the permission of a religion. I’m sorry, but I’m not a religious crazed creep like you. I have free will. I don’t answer to no man. No one bosses me around. No one tells me what to do.

What path do you follow?

Again, you suggest that my job has religious connections. You are of the false assumption that to be a magical being requires the permission of a religion. I’m sorry, but I’m not a religon crazed creep like you. I have free will. I don’t answer to no man. No one bosses me around. No one tells me what to do.

I am by race and culture a Scottish Traveller Gypsy, that fact alone means everything I do is done with the help of Faeries. Not cute, fluffy bunny Wicca flower fairies that ain’t nothing but simpering pansies, but real Faeries the Far-Darrigs, the Phookas, Red Caps, Polter Spirits,Leperauchauns,  Nixies, and Banshees…the people of the Mists, the dancers of the Fogs, the dwellers of Twighlight. I am a natural born Hedgewalker with an eye that can see beyond the viel wich seperates or realms and hides the Fae from humans. I practice the magic arts of my people: Hoodoo. I am a Hoodoo Witch Doctor, like my grandmothers before me and their gandmothers before them. I did not learn magic from books or corospondance schools, nor did them whom taught me. And there ain’t no African American folk magic in the Hoodoo I do. I do old Hoodoo, the way it was, when my people taught it to the African slave 300 years ago, the way it was when my people brought it to the Americas from Scotland 400 years ago, the way it was, when my ancestors from to Scotland from Siberia 2000 years ago. That is the path I follow. The path of my people, the path of the Gypsies, the path of the Tinckers, the path of the Scottish Travellers, the path of my ancestors.

Who were your teachers? 

My grandmothers Eva Viola Atwater, Helen Ricker-Allen, their freiend Etiole Swanzen, the family Bible brought here from Scotland many hundreds of years ago, and the Fae.

How can I learn to do what you do?

Join a Gypsy Caravan, marry into a Gypsy Clan, become the apprentice to a Gypsy rootworker.

Much of Gypsy magic and Hoodoo comes from the Bible. Read the Bible. The instructions are all there.  Read it and do what it says. Learn your Bible well, know it inside out. Read it every day, cover to cover, and when you get done, read it again. Never stop reading it. After the 20 or 30 time, you’ll begin to see: the root recipes of Jacob, the incantations of Daniel, the mighty words of Jesus…when at last you see them, use them in your magic.

Old Gypsy magic, which pre-dates the Bible, comes from the realm of Fae. The Spirits of Hoodoo are dangerous beings, wild and violent, whom live among us, every day, unseen, unheard, walking beside us in a dimension which exists on Earth. They do not see us, we do not see them. But there are those among our people and theirs who can see through the Hedge which veils our world, they are known as The Hedgewalkers, people who exists neither here nor there, but walking freely in both worlds, passing through the Hedge at will. Gypsy rootworkers, are chosen as small children, chosen by the elders for their ability to see and communicate with the Fae. Unlike the nonGypsy who quelshes the gift and ridicules the child, accusing them of imaginary friends, the Gypsy encourage the communication between child and Fae. To Hoodoo is to speak one on one to the Sprits of other worlds. The only way you can Hoodoo as an adult, is if you ever Hoodooed as a child. If you ever saw ghosts, spirits, faeries, or had imaginary friends, than you were chosen by the Fae to walk the Hedge, and you can gain your natural born gift backl. Learn about the Fae. Learn everything you can. The most accurate book you could read, is Faeries by Brian Froud, and Passport to Magornia by Jacques Vallee. But remember: respect them, trust them, fear them, for to harness the power of the Fae in your magic, is to unleash the chaotic furry of a hurricane on the heads of all. Fae Magic is dangerous magic, not to be taken lightly. you misuse Fae Magic, you disrespect the Fae, you don’t get a second chance, you die. Tread carefully or don’t tread at all.

Learn to read cards (not Tarot, we Gypsies don’t use Tarot, that’s just a Hollywood myth. Tarot is used by the Romani. Gypsies and Romy are not the same. We Gypsies hate being called Roma, every bit as much as the Romi hate being called Gypsies.)

Learn how to use color magic, not just candles, but everything: ribbons, poppets, the clothes you wear, the place you live in, everything.

Learn divination: pendulum, cards, throwing shells/stones/crystals/bones, spirit boards, crystals.

Learn the plants which grow near you. Learn to dry them, use them, and know what they do.

Learn to pray. Learn to bless. Learn to wash and cleanse (spirit baths).

Remove all impurities from your life: meat, strong drink, smoking, drugs, infidelity, fornication, adultery, sex if not married, if married sex only with your partner – forever, even after they die.

Gypsy Magic and Hoodoo is not a quick and easy path, you can’t learn all you need to know in a year and a day…the only way to learn it is to live it, commit yourself to it. You look to this and expect to find a religion you can join, but there is no religion. It is not a religion, it is a way of life.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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Did you know you can now get a FREE Kindle for your PC? Be sure to download your FREE Kindle directly from Amazon today. Don’t have Windows PC? No worries! Amazon is also offering 100% FREE Kindles for: AndroidWindows Phone 7MaciPhone, and BlackBerry. And don’t miss out on over 1.8 million Free eBooks from Amazon’s Kindle Store.



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More Hate Crimes Against Scottish Gypsies

BIG FAT GYPSY WAR ZONE.

Pittiful the way our people get treated. I’m not allowed to live on my own land, land that belonged to my father, his mother, and her father before her, because I now live in a motorhome. I live in a motorhome because of hate crimes that resulted in my house being burned down. :( I can’t afford to built a new house, thus why I had to move into a motorhome, but the police say that’s not allowed and are forcing me to sleep outside at night under a tarp, instead of inside the motorhome where it is warm and dry. :(

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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Did you know you can now get a FREE Kindle for your PC? Be sure to download your FREE Kindle directly from Amazon today. Don’t have Windows PC? No worries! Amazon is also offering 100% FREE Kindles for: AndroidWindows Phone 7MaciPhone, and BlackBerry. And don’t miss out on over 1.8 million Free eBooks from Amazon’s Kindle Store.



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FAQs: I have allergies. What was used to make the oils, powders, bath salts and other items?

Can you tell me what’s in this product? I have allergies. What was used to make the oils, powders, bath salts and other items?

I’m sorry but I can not tell you the ingredients of these products even if I wanted to, for a very simply and quiet obvious reason actually: I did not make them, so I have no idea what went into them. If you have any concerns about allergies to oils, powders, or baths salts and soap, than do not use these products on your skin and REMEMBER regardless of anything else you use them at your own risk, because as stated many times they are sold as curios, not cures. Besides, you will never hear me telling you to put Hoodoo oils on your skin (even though I hear a lot of stories of people doing it, and even hear of people ingesting them, which just goes to show how stupid they are, because you never, ever, EVER eat a Hoodoo potion ever!). Hoodoo oils are used to bless candles and mojos and gris-gris and doll babies, any other use is not recommended.

Wait, what do you mean you don’t make them? How come?

Nope, I do not make my own oils, powders, soaps, candles, or bath salts. And this will come as no surprise to those who are actually familiar with my work, and know that I do not offer for sale any oils, powders, etc. I provide services as a general rule, and the products I do sell are Voodoo Dolls/Doll Babies, Jack Balls, Mojo Bags, Gris-Gris, Clouties, Honey Jars, Witch Bottles, Spirit Bottles, Mirror Boxes, Icon Paintings, and Sea Curios (shells, pebbles, glass, drift wood, etc, which I collect here on Old Orchard Beach, where I live). You see the trend in the supplies I sell right? They are items made of cloth, wood, and clay – not oils, powders, or herbs.



I am a rootworker not a retailer. I work with clients. I read cards. I read spirit boards. I read pendulums. I read stones. I read shells. I read crystal balls. I do exorcisms and casting out of demons, ghosts, and goblins. I bless and cleanse houses, people, pets, cars, and anything else you want blessed. I remove curses, hexes, and evil eyes. I’m Witch Doctor, Honey, I drive out Witches and undo their work against you. I specialize in Protection, Hot Footing, Uncrossing, Luck Drawing, and Reconciliation spells. I do altar work for clients and I use Voodoo Dolls/Doll Babies, Jack Balls, Mojo Bags, Gris-Gris, Clouties, Honey Jars, Witch Bottles, Spirit Bottles, Mirror Boxes, Icon Paintings, Affirmations, Paper Petitions, and Sea Curios to do it. I use all sorts of oils, powders, and candles in my work, but that don’t mean I have time to make them.


Why do I not offer for sale ritual oils and the like? Because I do not make the. Why? Because it’s not my area of expertise. Spell casting is my strong suit. I’ve been making Hoodoo Dolls since 1978. Dolls are my specialty. Doll spells is the area where I am one of the world’s top experts in. 


But why does my not making my own oils shock you? There is no rule that says I am required to make the supplies I use in my work. And there is no reason to be shocked by this fact either, as it is actually quite a rare phenomena to come across a professional, full time rootworker who makes their own oils and powders. In fact, it is so rare, that virtually every rootworker out there who does do both, is a student of Lucky Mojo. 


Funny that. Lucjy Mojo is a strange sort of school, telling you they are the know all end all of Hoodoo, and yet, very few actual long time pre-Lucky Mojo Hoodoo Rootworkers do ANYTHING Lucky Mojo says we do. Strange really. I mean one one hand it’s good thing, the way Lucky Mojo is teaching new folks about Hoodoo and how to be rootworkers and all, but on the other hand it’s frustrating and infuriating all the new age fairy tale mumbo jumbo Lucky Mojo preaches as actual facts, and even more infuriating when graduate students of Lucky Mojo start spouting off the same silly made up historically inaccurate “facts and rules of Hoodoo” nonsense as though they were the top authority on all things Hoodoo. They talk about how great they are because they studied at the Lucky Mojo school, but than in the same breath they spew nonsense as facts and do nothing but prove how ignorant they are of anything Hoodoo at all. All they have to do is describe what they think Hoodoo is, for you to know they don’t know a thing about Hoodoo. 


Test them, by asking them this simple question: “What is Hoodoo?” If they answer with anything that suggests that Hoodoo is “an African American folk magic” you right off the bat they are only quoting Lucky Mojo bullcrap and haven’t got a clue what Hoodoo is, because Honey, there ain’t no Hoodoo in Africa and there ain’t no Africa in Hoodoo. Do your research Sugardoll, and yoou won’t be wearing that graduate of Lucky Mojo badge so proudly when it hits you you wasted $400 to be spoon feed shovlefulls of lies. I’m sorry, but just because Lucky Mojo told you it was so, doesn’t make it true, in fact, chances are pretty high that if you got the information from Lucky Mojo, there’s probably not an once of truth in it at all. Don’t belive everything Lucky Mojo says, in fact better yet, don’t believe a word Lucky Mojo says. Just because Lucky Mojo told you us rootworkers make our own oils, doesn’t mean they know shit about what we do or do not do.



Hoodoo Witch Doctors and Rootworkers are very community based in their practice, knowing that not everybody is an expert in everything, and that anyone who tries to be an expert in everything, becomes an expert in nothing. That is why traditionally rootworkers don’t do everything, and why they buy their oils from oil makers, and their candles from candle makers, their soaps from soap makers – because they are spell casters and are experts in the art of spell casting, and they focus their time and energy fully to casting said spells. It’s not the rootworker’s job to make the oils and soaps and candles, that job is for people who are experts in those things. Why do you think there are curio shops? Curio shops are not meant to sell oils and powders to the general public, they were meant to sell oils and powders to the spell casters who use the oils and powders to make your doll babies and mojo bags for you. A Hoodoo Root Doctor doesn’t need to know how to make the oils, because it’s not their job to make the oils, it is their job however to know how to use the oils. This is the way Hoodoo had been done for over 600 years, so don’t go letting students of Lucky Mojo tell you otherwise.

If you don’t make your supplies, than where do you get them from?

I’m sorry, but I can not divulge to you who specifically my suppliers are. I can tell you that they are many, and that all of the oils, powders, baths, soaps, washes, etc are hand made by fellow rootworkers, not mass produced. When I say they are many, I mean that I buy some oils from one rootworker, some from another, powders from this rootworker, baths from that rootworker. Many of my supplies come from rootworkers who make oils and such, but do not offer spell casting services, and only offer their supplies up for sale to rootworkers like myself who do spellcasting but do not make the oils and other materials used.

All of my bar soaps come from only one supplier, who hand makes loaves out of goats milk and natural oils. The loafs are hand poured into wooden molds and then hand cut, thus why they have a ragged jagged look to the edges and a rippled wave texture to the top sides of them. The person is a soapmaker, not a rootworker, and does nothing but make lots of these little bars of natural soaps, which I special order from them.

The only exception to this is candles, which may or may not have been handmade or mass produced. Since I do my own candle “fixing” it makes no difference to me or the spell work in question, whether the candles are handmade or not. I choose candles based on the energy vibrations they give off when I touch them. Some candles are bought at local Dollar Stores, some from farmers markets, some online off Etsy or other rootworkers sites. I get candles from all over the place.

Can I ask, do you buy supplies from Lucky Mojo? You mention them often but sometimes I get the impression you don’t like them, other times you seem to think they are wonderful, what gives with that?

Yes, in fact I do. Lucky Mojo, in spite of the bad reputation it’s arrogant students give it’s school, is one of the best suppliers of some of the highest quality Hoodoo supplies out there. The items are semi-mass produced in that they have a whole team of employees making their products, but they are still being handmade in small batches, just lots of them, by lots of people.  Lucky Mojo is doing a huge world of good by attempting to preserve the “lost art” of Hoodoo. Fact is, Hoodoo is a dying art and a lot a young folks these days have no interest in taking it up from their grannies. Traditionally Hoodoo is passed down from grandmother to granddaughter, with it’s secrets closely guarded and fiercely protected. Often information given to interviewers and folklorists (such as Hyatt) is deliberately inaccurate, told to the interview wrong, in order to protect the “family secrets”. That is where Lucky Mojo runs into trouble with it’s school, because nearly everything they teach is based 100% on the HUGELY INACCURATE writings of Hyatt. Inaccurate because #1 the grannies he talked to only gave him half truths to protect their secrets, #2 they could barely speak a word of legible English and much of what Hyatt wrote was hit and miss guessing, and #3 being descendants of the African slaves, not descendants of the Scottish rootworkers, they didn’t know what they were doing to begin with! Granted Hyatt only wrote what he was told, but rootworkers of the 1930s were well known for not telling Hyatt “the truth” leaving out vital bits of information in spell workings, for the intent of not allowing spells cast from Hyatt’s writings, to work, thus preserving the need for people to come to the rootworker. Lucky Mojo however runs on the belief that the writings of Hyatt are “good enough” as they are, and that the spells are usable just as Hyatt wrote them down, when in fact, they are not. Yes, the students of Lucky Mojo get results from using Hyatt’s spells, however, they are not getting the mind blowing amplified results that those old granny rootworkers were famous for. The other problem is, Hyatt in his ignorance, never bothered to do his research about the history of Hoodoo, and how the illiterate non-native-English-speaking African Americans of his hometown came to learn Hoodoo, an art which they barely understood, and were hardly able to speak about properly due their not know how to even speak English in a legable manner. Instead, Hyatt simply assumed that “Oh, they must have brought it with them from Africa, so that’s what I’ll tell people in my book” and left it at that. Had he headed north and interviewed the WHITE Scottish Rootworks of New England and Eastern Canada, he would have learned some vastly different facts about Hoodoo, been given far more accurate spells, and not had to bend over backwards trying to figure out what they were trying to say, seeing as they actual spoke English and knew what the words they were saying ment.

Fact is, Hoodoo is a adjective with means “haunted”, as in Hoodoo Hill, Hoodoo Valley, Hoodoo Mountain, aka Haunted Hill, Haunted Valley, Haunted Mountain. Scotland is full of them, and they where given these names, not hundreds, but thousands of years ago. To Hoodoo, a verb, means to communicate with the spirit world. In the 1400s Scotland was rife with Witch Doctors Hoodooing in order to uncover who was a witch and should be burned at the stake for it. A Hoodoo Dollie is a doll with captures the spirit of a Faerie, Brownie, or other type of Little People to compel them to do work for you, usually to help you determine which house contained a witch in need of burning – dolls were often set fire to and tossed in the house to burn it and the witch inside, while the Faeries stood guard outside and refused to allow the inhabitants out. Gris-Gris were known as Witching Balls, those big glass balls you set out in your garden or hang from your front porch; they were made with spotted swirl colors or mirrored glass in order to confuse, confound, and reverse the curses and hexes of witches. Very little of what folks refer to as “African American folk magic” originated in Africa, in fact the ONLY part of Hoodoo that comes out of African tradition is the use of black cat bones, chicken feet, dove’s blood, and other animal parts. Animals are protected by the Faeries and harming, killing, or offending an animal is to bring down the wrath of the Faeries upon your head, and as such, no one practicing unadulterated Hoodoo would EVER use bones, body parts, or other remains of a dead animal in their work. Killing animals to please the gods is a distinctly African belief system and has no place in actual Hoodoo.

The problem I have with Lucky Mojo’s school is not the fact that they blatantly, willfully, and KNOWINGLY teach misinformation about the history of Hoodoo and falsely promote Hoodoo as an African American folk magic, but rather the students of Lucky Mojo themselves, who are so idiotic stupid that they haven’t got enough brains to do any REAL research and find out that what they are being told by Lucky Mojo is nothing but a load of hooey meant as a marketing scheme to promote scaring students into buying Lucky Mojo products! Students come out of Lucky Mojo, quoting marketing gimmick crap as though it was hard fact! Their conversations become rife with misunderstanding and it is becoming clearer and clearer that these people are just repeating the misinformation they are getting from websites owned by Lucky Mojo. They can’t get it through their heads that Lucky Mojo is a store, whose owners will do, say, write, and teach ANYTHING true or false, that will help to boost the sale of their products! The school is a marketing scam, which forces students to buy $400 in Lucky Mojo products prior to becoming a student and another $1,000 or so in Lucky Mojo brand products to stay a student while taking the online classes. To remain a student in good standing (and keep their certification status) they must continue to purchase no less than 4 $100 orders from Lucky Mojo every year for the rest of their life, AND pay Lucky Mojo $100 a year to remain on it’s list of “recommended” rootworkers, at Association of Independent Readers and Rootworkers, an organization which, oh look, is owned by Lucky Mojo and only accepts members who have graduated from it’s school. But let’s not end there, of the 300+ websites online about the history of Hoodoo, how many do you think are owned by Lucky Mojo and are nothing more than great big giant advertisements for their products? EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!

Lucky Mojo is run by a marketing guru and advertising specilist who knows how to do and say WHATEVER IT TAKES to make a sale, including to make up fake histories which falsely state that Hoodoo is an African American folk magic, complete with made up false histories to “prove” their lies.  But as I said, the problem here is not Lucky Mojo or it’s massive marketing scem full of historical decit and lies, because let’s face it, lying to the public to trick them into buying goods, is what every single add campaign is all about: just look at cigerrett ads if you want proof of that! No, the problem is the idiots who can’t tell the differance between historical evidance and a damn good fake history created by a marketing team to convinse you to buy their product! Lucky Mojo is no different from any other coorperation out there looking to make a buck off the suckers of the world. It’s these modern day new age neo-pagan so-called rootworkers who are running around requoting everything Lucky Mojo says as though it was fact, that are the problem. “What is Hoodoo? Oh, well, Hoodoo is an African American folk magic….blah, blah, blah…and I know this to be true because cat of Lucky Mojo told me it was.” Yep. Go get yourself a kick up side the head and when you got the shit out of your head, go buy yourself a brain, put it in your head, and than try using it, you know to think, and research, and learn the truth and the facts about what Hoodoo REALLY is and how different REAL Hoodoo is from the bull crap cat wants you to believe. You can’t blame cat for trying to sell her product, she just doing what all curio shop owners do: telling a tall tale to make you want to buy her goods. Heck they don’t call curio shop owners “snake oil peddlers” for nothing you know! cat is only doing what every other snake oil peddler before her has ever done. The problem is that people attending her school and reading her website can’t tell the difference between a load of made up hooey and actual facts, and they are now building masses of websites and blogs which do nothing but spew out Lucky Mojo’s marketing lies as fact!

So, to answer your question, yes I do buy and use Lucky Mojo products, no I’ve got no problem with Lucky Mojo or cat or her questionable marketing methods, yes, I do have huge issues with folks who are so idiotic that they read cat’s words and assume she has the slightest idea what the heck she is talking about. I am just so fed up with the self righteous arrogant think they know it all students that come out of the Lucky Mojo Correspondence School, who a running around spreading a pack of lies about Hoodoo claiming it is an African American folk magic, when there ain’t nothin African American about Hoodoo, and there never was.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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FAQs: working with Faeries…How do I do it?

This is an old post bringing it over from Laughing Gnome Hollow where it was originally posted, about a year or so ago, when I did not yet have a motorhome so mention of this is here. What you are about to read is the longest blog post I had ever written, which tops out at a whopping 23,000+ words:

Here is a HUGE question, I’m just going to paste the whole question here and than answer it:

So here is the deal. I am wanting to do some faerie magic with my circle in the next coming week or so, but I am completely unfamiliar with it. I have always had my reservations about the fae due to stories my grandmother used to tell me, BUT I used to have some dealings with them as a child (I would ask for their protection while playing in a stream without any adult supervision that my friend and i would frequent, and we would leave them little gifts in return before running off, and the gifts would always be gone upon our return, lol i know it sounds stupid, but i didn’t want them to be mad at us for playing int their stream, and i wanted them to sort of watch over us because I just *knew* they were there.), any ways a girl in the circle i started has been having dreams about being invited to join our circle with theirs, and I have been getting signs myself that we might actually be invited to do something with them… I’m just not really sure of what to do. I was really anxious and apprehensive about it at first, but the more i think about it, the more excited i get, and I know that if we don’t accept their invitation they will be offended… I just haven’t really been able to find anything that seems suitable… most of what i have found are spells to see the fae, but i think that if they are already sort of making contact, that they will probably show themselves if they want to…


lol, ok, So i guess my question is, do you have any suggestions on faerie magic, or rituals that would be good for a first time in actively working with the fae? It actually isn’t a new circle, or new people either. We have all known eachother for a few years, and they would ocasionally ask if we could do a circle together, and/or if I could do readings, banishings, and/or make contact with loved ones for them, and eventually it just evolved from being a few people who were curious and wanting to get involved or learn about  wicca, to me working with them both individually and as a group to where we are now …


I have been working with one of them on her dreams because I just had a feeling about it, and she is the one who had the dream… I always use caution in everything I do. I never plan anything for the circle without doing it or altering it myself beforehand to make sure things work out correctly. Being clairvoyant has made me a very cautious person, and often aprehensive of working with beings I have little to no experience with, and the things I personally know of the fae are why I was originally aprehensive. I just don’t think any of us would like it very much if we unintentionally offended them, but I have had in depth conversations about being careful around the fae with all the members of my circle, and I am now confident in my group, and their understanding. I just was not sure where to go from there. Although I have been doing this for a couple of years in a group setting, I still don’t really consider myself a leader, and therefore like suggestions, and/or feedback from other people. I’ve been solitary my whole life, so while I have been doing this with the same group for quite a while now, in comparison it is still new to me and I am still getting used to it.I actually learned a lot from my grandmother who would tell me stories about them that her mother used to tell her, just to try and convince me that my great grandmother was crazy(one for instance was how the earl king was actually behind the whole changeling movement, and he tricked people into killing their own children because he was angry with their parents because of the way they treated the fey). once she realized that i didn’t think it was crazy she stopped telling me. I also have a few books on traditional Irish faerie tales and folklore, and i know a few Irish catholic beliefs about the Fae as well. When i said i was unfamiliar with it, i meant the magical aspect of working with them, not the Fae themselves. I’m not just wanting to jump in blind here, I don’t know why people keep making that assumption, but the only way to familiarize your self with a particular type of magic is to study and practice it. There is only so much studying one can do before actually doing.


Their personalities are actually precisely why i was apprehensive of working with them in the first place, but I also know that when they ask something of you, you should never refuse simply because of their “tempers”. They can be great, or awful, it just depends upon their mood (which can change very quickly) and if you offer them the correct courtesy, or gifts… well i suppose it also depends upon which type, some just seem to be grumpy…


As far as them being tricksters, i have no issue with them, i have learned that most “tricksters” are just looking for a little fun, and we just may not quite get the joke.   


I just haven’t been able to find any books on working with the Fae, or faerie magic that didn’t seem… well they just weren’t appropriate for what i was looking for.Lol sorry, I am not always the clearest person. I do tend to sort of talk in circles and sometimes even annoy myself because most communication issues do tend to lie with me.  


But yes you have it right, though in the dreams our circle is being invited, they specifically asked her to bring everyone. I think they chose her to communicate through simply because she doesn’t have any predisposition towards them (negative or positive).


At first I was wary of either agreeing to it, or refusing, but over the last few weeks the more I have thought about it the moor I think inviting the whole circle is some sort of sign of good faith… I’m not quite sure how to explain it. I just wouldn’t want anyone in the circle to do something like this alone, mainly because of their inexperience, and if they were to need help, or something were to go wrong they wouldn’t have any idea of what to do since they are all so relatively new to this path… Sorry for all the confusion!I will definitely be very gracious and careful, and have already been talking to others about do’s and dont’s and promises and such. We have all been thinking of things to give as presents as well. So far we were thinking honeyed milk, some sweets from all of us, and some personal gifts for them as well…I am a jewelry designer/ metalurgist, so I was thinking of making a set of small dishes cups and bowels out of copper or brass, maybe teaching some of the girls how to as well… or if anyone can’t think of anything letting them look through all of my jewelery supplies and make something…


I really want to make the dish set! Lol ! when I wa younger I  would leave honeyed milk and little faerie cakes in acorn caps, or little furniture and cloths made out of twigs, vines and flowers. Hahaha it is definitely bringing back memories!about the blood ties, how can people have blood ties with the fae? I have heard of it before (my great grand mother was convinced we had blood ties to the fae, and that was why certain women in the family were spiritually sensitive, or had visions) but i guess i have always thought of it as Celtic superstition, or kind of like an old wives tale to explain psychic phenomenon in people. Thank you to anyoone who actually reads this whole thing and replies! lol i am a little scatterbrained at the moment so i apologize for being all over the place!?

Okay…there was the question. Here is my answer:

Yes, you are all over the place and running around in circles here, no worries though, I tend to do the same thing myself. Helps me think better if I scatterbrain things out as they pop into my head. Most of the articles and books I write, I write this way that spend days sifting through it all to get it in the right order before I can publish it. But you know, it’s all cool. So, Let’s see what I can tell you here…

Okay, you seem to have some understanding of the difference between Faerie and Fairy, but are you 100% sure your circle does? I mean REALLY? And, in fact do you even know the REAL dangers you are dealing with here?

A few of the common side effects of working with Faerie Magic are: abductions, unexplained pregnancies, fetus harvesting, spirit possession, poltergeist attacks on your house, physical bruises-slash marks-cuts-scars appearing on your body, nightmares of your children being kidnapped (even if you have no children), friends-relatives-aquaintances dropping dead of “acts of God” (being hit by lightening, a tree limb falling on them, etc)… this is not a game. What you are attempting to do, is the single most dangerous form of “dark” “black” magic there is, and no ammount of saying “I’m a white witch, I harm none.” is going to make a damn bit of difference once you start working with the big time hard ass Faeries. This is “Familar Magic” at it’s absolute darkest, and you can make “white witch” excusses all you want, this is still, the blackest form or blacl magic out there.

You are crossing over to a very dark side and know that once you invite these creatures into your life: there IS NO TURNING BACK. You can’t say to them: “Oh I’m sorry I changed my mind.” because they’ll very likely kill your entire family the next day by causing the car to go skiding off a bridge into the river. To the world it’ll look like just an unfortunate accident, but to the Faeries, it’s justice for your betrayal. This is not safe magic and if you want to practice only safe “white” magic, than back away now – don’t even take that first step.

I want you to take my answer, this whole long wordy thing, print it up, and give a copy of it to each and every member of your group. You want them to be afraid. You want them to be very afraid. You want them to be scared shitless out of their minds. Why? Because if they are not afraid of Faeries, than they are idiots and have no business attempting Faerie Magic on any level.

You admit to haveing a fear and aprehension of Faeries. You should be scared. Faeries are scary creatures and when they are done with you, they won’t think twice about killing you. Know this. Know right now, before you cross the line, that you are stepping onto a very dangerous path, and it is a path with only one way signs on it: you can come in, but they won’t ever let you go out. Faerie Magic is a point of no return.

Who am I? How do I know these things? Google me. I’m very famous. I am the world’s top authority on dealing one on one, face to face with Water Faeries. I write papers and give letures on this stuff. I have been working with Faeries since 1978. This is what I do for a living. While magic and writing and art and Hoodoo are the “official titles” of what I do…the base, the taproot, is Faeries. This is my full time career. I am a channel and medium and Faeries are who I contact. I’ll tell you what I do and I’ll tell you what I know. I’ll also tell you that if you or anyone in your group is going into this in a non-serious, joking, type manner thinking of it as a game – that person needs to not particapate in your contact. There are no Disney Fairies here, it’s never fun and games, Faeries have claws and fangs, they are brutal, dogmatic, and violent, and Honey, most Faeries eat Human flesh, so you really need to stop and think about what you are doing here, and you really need to advice your group on the dangers and make sure they are 100% sure they want to do this.

First off, Faerie Magic is vastly different from Fairy Magic, so be sure you know what you are getting into here.

Fairy Magic tends to be “safe” while Faerie Magic is one of the most dangerous forms of “dark” or “black” magic you could possibly attempt to work with. Fairy Magic works with ONLY the happy, peaceful, helpful, small, fluttery, garden gnomish and flower fairy type Fae.

Faerie Magic works with all the rest, including trolls, red caps, demons, kelpies, gargoles, bogies, merrows, silkies, sirens, far-darrigs, poltergiests, harpies, pixies, nixies, spiggans, boggals, and even the fearsome blood thirsty and violently deadlyiest fae of all: Phookas.

Faeries ARE NOT what most people think they are!

This is very important for you to understand BEFORE you begin: they are very, very, very, very dangerous creatures, who commonly wear red, not because they like the color red, but because they like slaughtering humans and bathing fully clothed in human blood.

You mentioning Trickers, and the way you mentioned them, tells me that you believe Trickers to be a type of Faerie. Honey I must stop you and correct you on this right now: ALL FAERIES ARE TRICKSTERS!!!! Some are just playful pranksters who will not INTENTIONALLY hurt you and others are downright sadistist and will take great delight in tormenting you for decades. But regardless of their INTENT to not hurt you ALL FAERIES are deadly as they do not understand the concept of death and even a harmless Faerie will kill without realizeing they have caused any harm at all. So PLEASE when contacting Faeries, consider them ALL to be HIGHLY DEADLY and work with extreme caution! This can not be over stated enough.

You want to start small: contacting Faerie races known to be mostly harmless. You want to think of them as though you are dealing with a wild Grizzly bear. It has the power to slaughter you, but if you walk by gentle and quiet, doing nothing to frightening it, it’ll leave you alone and watch you as you go about your business. Faeries are like wild animals: they frighten easily, and when frightened they do two things: attack and run. Some will just run. Some will attack first and than run. Some will feel cornered and attack over and over again not realizing they have the option to run. Like animals their mental states are often that of a small child, and though an adult hhundreds of years old, they may act with the mentality of a 2 year old child. Because of their altered mental state, they are very chaotic and unpredictable and this is why great caution must be used around Faeries. You need to convince them, they can trust you.

Trust is a big thing when working with Faeries. If they trust you, you can trust them. Gaining that trust, however is a long and slow process. You made need to have contact with them several times over and over again, possibly for many years, before this trust is fully established. The Far-Darrig I work with, I was in contact with for 13 years before he let his guard down and stopped apearing under a cloak of Glimmer and I saw what he REALLY looked like for the first time, and it was another 2 years after that before I found out his name. The thing which made the difference was, I had something he really, really wanted: a 1964 Dodge 330 4-door sedan car in metalflake orange paint and bright blood red shag interior, my pride and joy and most beloved possession, and he wanted it. It was the car that kept bringing him out in the open – he would walk around the thing touching every inch of it (he’s a very touchy feeling Faerie, something you need to be prepared for in case yours is too – they will touch everything – from the top of your hair to the bottom of your toes – this type touches rocks and trees and plants as the walk around too – it’s almost as though they are listening to them with their hands if you watch their slow methodic movments).

Five years after first contact I parked the car out in the swamp and he moved into it, making it his home. After this contact with him became much easier. The 13th year however saw my life turned upside down when my best friend was murdered and I found his chopped up body. My ability to deal with the situation was far from well, and I went out into the swamp and sat in the car for days. This was the pivotal turning point, that saw the Far-Darrig declare himself my guardian and protector, drop all of his Glimmer Spells (no more appearing as monkeys and owls either) and reveal not only his real (somewhat baddly deformed) self, but also a serious careing gentle (and oddly non-trickster) side to his nature. Before this point he was wild, his antics were hazardous, he was prone to throwing sticks at people, he love prone to sneaking into houses and terrifying people with polter attacks, he took great pleasure in pushing people off cliffs into the Saco River (often unitentionally causeing their deaths and is the reason locals tell the tale of “The Saco River Curse”) – and for the first 13 years of contact this wild crazy trickster was the only side of him I knew. And yet in the later years of contact now reveal that the trickster act was more of a show, a bluff, a way to protect himself, as at 4 feet tall, Humans tower over him in frightening levels and he felt the need to make as much trouble as possible to make people afraid of him and thus ptotect himself by causing them to leave him alone.

The difference between the first 13 years of contact and the 20+ years of contact later, was trust. The trickster activities were triggered by fear, and became less as time went by and trust grew deeper. I tell you this, because first contact with a Faerie can be a frightening thing, and often it is so, because the Faerie intentional makes it that way. They WANT to frighten you. It’s their defence mechanism. But if you know this ahead of time, you can stand your ground whille they throw everything they got at you. It also helps if you take a tone of authority with them, such as: “Now stop that! You know better than to act like that. Stand still so I can talk to you.” Remember: they are like small children, they think like small children, they act like small children, they respond like small children, they throw temper tantrums like small children, and they have short attention spans like small children, and so you have to treat them as such: firm but gentle, authorative, but loving.

You have to show them that you mean serious business and that you don’t have time to wait around for them to play out their shinanagans. “We have business to attend to. It’s getting late. If you don’t calm down and start behaving right now, I’m leaving. We can do this another time when you feel like paying attention.” And if they don’t calm down: leave, come back another day. They will be better behaved next time, once they realize you really mean it when you say you are going to leave. If they really want to talk to you, they will think twice about their actions next time. But like I said, it can take years before a Faerie will openly and fully trust a Human, so you have to have a great deal of patiance.

You are dealing with a mentality that will shout out: “Look at what I can do!” than throw your best china across the room, while running out the back door laughing hysterically. It can be quite frustrating dealing with Faeries. Gaining their trust and respect MUST be your first and highest priority, because with out it contact with Faeries is usless.

You my friend, seem to have an advantage: You have already had contact with Faeries. Faeries do not forget kind deeds. Faeries do not forget gifts, especially if it was a gift of some significance (for example – something this particular Faerie deeply enjoyed or wanted – like my car with the Far-Darrig or the fact that instead of milk I now leave him Swiss Miss tapioca pudding cups and how once I found out he had a passion for tubes of bright red lipstick I started leaving those for him as well.)

Now, you say as a child you called on Water Faeries to protect you and left them gifts. No, this is not stupid at all. This tells me that you have a particular Faerie looking out for you and is quite possibly your own personal Spirit Guide and Guardian. I would suggest that you try to make contact with this Faerie, Just you. Alone. Not as a part of a group. This Faerie is your personal Faerie and he or she will not show themself to you when others are with you, and may never show itself to you physically at all, as Faeries are very shy about being seen due to their often being veiwed as quite ugly, by humans – if you see a “beautiful” Faerie chances are high that you are seeing not the real Faerie itself, but rather a Glimmer or an illusion of how it wants to be seen, through the use of a Glammour Spell be cast on you by the Faerie, causing you to see only what it wants you to see and not what is really there in front of you. This is to be expected in the beginning, and only after many years (20, 30, or more!) of devoted friendship and loyalty will the Faerie trust you and feel safe enough to be seen as it really is. But really, you NEED to try to re-establish contact with this Faerie(s? – it is more likely to be one solitary, than a group) from your childhood. This is your best advantage for your group. Having a person in the group, who has personal contact with their personal Faerie guardian, is going to make your group’s contact with Faeries a million times easier. This Faerie will stand in and act as your group’s ambasador, he/she will become the go-between.

Knowing that a member of your group is in good cahoots with one of their own, is going to take years off of your winning their trust, and get you closer and better contact with Daeries as a whole. So, yes, do, indiviually on you own try to find out everything you can about your personal Faerie Guide, he/she will become you biggest allie. You have a head start: you know this Faerie like to be around water, you know this Faerie like “fairy cakes”. A Faerie with a passion for fairy cakes often utterly adored Kellog’s PopTarts, so leaving a poptate as a gift, is a good thing here too. Other gifts include frosted cup cakes, cream filled chocolates, fruit cakes, tarts, banana bread, and similar pasties. Gifts are good, in fact you should NEVER approach a Faerie without one.

Gifts tell the Faerie that you are not hostile and may be trusted on some level. In my personal experience the best gifts to leave Faerie are dairy products: milk, cheese, pudding, melted ice cream…the Far-Darrig I work with has a particular fancy for tapioca pudding, he also adores brilliant blood red lip stick and red or orange silks and scaves. He’s also very scatterbrained and will grab the gifts and run, forgetting why he was there, so I don’t give him the gifts straight away, I give them to him afterwards when it is time for him to leave, because I know as soon as he sees them, he’ll scoop them up and run off into the woods and I won’t see him again for days or more. Each Faerie has things it prefers and things it dislikes and while some love fancy baubles (rings, beads, lace, sequins, ribbons, pots of glitter, etc) and gifts of clothing, others are deeply offended by such gifts and may become violently angry at the sight of them, so it’s best to not give fancy trinkets and clothen items to a Faerie unless you are certain it will not be offended by such gifts. Generally Fairys are more accepting of clothen and jewelry that Faeries are. If you have Faerie Sight and can actually see the Faeries (though this is rare) look at the way they are dressed, this indicates a good clue: if they are decked out in jewels, leave jewelry for them, if they are dressed in dirty brown rags, stick with gifts of food instead. Faeries that dress in rags do so because they WANT to and they will be deeply offended by gifts of clothen. But all Fearies as far as I can tell, will eagerly accept a bowl of milk or cream.

Now an invitation from Faeries, this is unusual, but not unheard of. This is tricky business here as Faerie generally avoid Humans at all costs and when they seek out a Human, there is likely a less than savory alteria motive. Abduction is a serious issue to consider here.

I suggest that before you go to far into this, you do some Googling of “alien abduction” and “alien human hybrid breeding programs”. Saddly very few people make the connection between Faeries and Aliens/Grays and this is a serious mistake, because they are in fact one and the same. You say they are invading your dreams at night? This is a sign of abduction, either they are planning to abduct you or they already have. Now don’t get scared here, because this is not necessarily a bad thing. The media likes to pick up on the wild and terrifying horror stories about Faerie/Alien Abductions and usually ignores the peaceful happy ones. Terror sells better than joy. But while there are good experiences out there, I must warn you that the #1 reason for Faeries to contact Humans is fetus harvest: they abduct humans, breed with them, erase their memories of the abduction, than 3 or 4 month later return, abduct the girl again, remove the fetus transplanting it into one of their own, return the girl and erase her memories again. Often this is done so early that the girl never knew she was pregnant at all, but she will begin having nightmares about having babies or small children kidnapped from her: these are not nightmares, they are the memories of the abduction breaking through. If the girl knew she was pregnant she will asume she had a misscarriage, but nightmares of stolen children will still come.

There have been over 50,000 reported cases of fetuses stolen by Angels, Faeries, Little People, and Aliens, and over 20 million reported abductions worldwide by people currently alive today, with millions more dating as far back as the 1300s. And this is why I warn to use EXTREME CAUTION when working with Faeries, because they are VERY powerful and no amount of grounding or protection ritual is going to stop a Faerie from doing whatever the hell they want. They are not from this plane of existence and they are not bound by it’s laws. However, they do know the ways of Humans and they are watching you all the time whether you know they are there or not, and they will already be there when you are setting things up, and doing your grounding and protection rituals, and MOST Faeries work under a code of honor and trust, and will respect your boundaries if you respect theirs. Seeing you do the grounding and protection ritual, tells them that you want to talk to them, but you don’t want to go with them, and MOST Faeries will respect this and not make any abduction attempts while you are “protected”. In other words the rituals themselves have no power against the Faeries taking you, but doing the rituals stops the Faeries from taking you, because they respect your wish not to be taken. Now that I’ve scared you, know too that while abduction and reproduction/fetus harvesting are usually the motives Faeries have for contacting Humans, this is not always the case, so accepting an invitation from Faeries is something you should do, just use caution, when you do it.

Remember too, that if abduction was their motive they’d have just come in and abducted you and you’d be remembering nightmares of being chased or kidnapped, not dreams of peaceful invitations. This is a sign that the Faeries whom are contacting you can be trusted on some level and are not likely to hurt you, and that is a good thing. It is also a sign that you may quite possibly have Faerie blood in you, and given that your great-grandmother knows so much about Faeries, it is highly likely that she was abducted by them (as this is how most people, myself included, learn the art of Faerie Magic and Faerie Lore – directly from the Faeries themselves) and this also means that your grandmother may very well have had a Faerie for a biological father. I also want to note here, that nearly 90% of all Faeries in existence now are male, for some reason by the late 1800s (our time – their time is different though it move parallel to ours) most all of the females suddenly died off, and this is why Faeries take female humans. The fact that Faeries and Humans can mate and produce offspring, indicates a DNA link between the two races at some point in the distant past, with the going theory held by scientists who study the phenomena believe that Faeries/Angels/Aliens/Gods/Goddesses are in fact Humans of the future and are Time Travelers from our very distant future (we are talking millions of years into the future here) and have evolved physically, scientifically and psychically, but have also suffered a plague which killed off nearly every female and also left many of the males horribly deformed and pschoticlly sadistic, thus resulting in the “trickster” activity as well as the blood thirsty human flesh eating and blood bathing activities. It is believed that they are the Human race as it will become at the very end of Human existence and that they are desperatly in danger of extinction, thus why they are now desperatly traveling back in time to abduct girls and harvest fetuses in a final desperate attempt to save the Human Race. Yeah. I freak people out when I tell them that, because they think Faeries are just cute fluttery things, but the only thing that can mate with a Human and produce a baby is another Human, so that really does a lot to change one’s perspective of Faeries.

So, all of that cautionary stuff out of the way, lets get to answering your question, which was: “Do you have any suggestions on faerie magic, or rituals that would be good for a first time in actively working with the fae?” Well, I can’t speak for what others do, I can only tell you what it is that I do and hope that something I said will help you with your personal goals.

I have done channeling and medium work for 30+ years, and so I’ve dealt with Faeries quite a bit, in fact, probably a lot more than most people seeing how Faerie Magic and working with Faeries is the main thing I do. Timing is something to consider. Many races of Fae will only come out at certain times: dawn, dusk, twilight, torrential storms, and any time of the day/night during a heavy fog are the most common times to see Faeries. I know people are always saying: “But moon phases, you gotta work with the moon phases!” Uhm? What? No one ever taught me moon phases and like I said, I was taught by my grandmothers, who were taught by their grandmothers, and so on, all the way back to the 1400s – and probably farther back than that, we just don’t have a written record before than, there is no mention of Moon Phases in the magic traditions my family passed down, so before I meet a Wiccan in 2005, I had never heard of working with moon phases before, and I didn’t even know the moon had phases. All I knew was there’s the moon, and for 3 days it’ll be full, than go back to normal.

I’m assuming moon phases to be mostly a Wiccan tradition as every one whom I’ve heard mentioning them seems to be Wiccan (I’m not) and work predominatly with the Goddess (I don’t), and thes Goddess being largly connected with the moon, it therefor makes sense to work with moon phases if you work mostly with the Goddess. So there may be some advantage to working with moon phases, when working with Faeries but as I’ve not done it myself, I can’t advice you on those, and I’m guessing here, but if you think your Faeries may be female, than working around moon phases may be an advantage as I would assume working with a female Fae would be similar to working with the Goddess, though I’m not certain, because as I said, the Faeries I’ve worked with are males.

Another thing to consider is where I live: in a swamp, in the forest, on the cold North Atlantic coast, with a beach and the raging ocean a few feet in front of me, and a large majority of the locals are highly superstious fishermen and rifle toteing lobstermen.

Locals call me “The Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach” and my native gypsy blood (I’m the Princess of The Royal Highland Clan of the Scottish Travellers and the Queen of The Ricker Clan of Scottish Travellers) causes people to walk around on tiptoe terrified I’ll drop some ancient gypsy curse on their head. Okay so many my grandmothers sent curses left and right (they did actually) and yeah I was taugh by them, but sheesh, I live by the creed: “Love thy neighbor, harm none, and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” so you know curses are kind out against that. But anyways, my point is you should pay close attention to the local geography and local superstitions of your area, because this is going to help you to determin what type of Faeries you are dealing with, and as is obvious in my case, I am usually working with Water Faeries of swamps, marshes, and the ocean, because I live in that type of area.

Anyways I do work with the moon, slightly, I was taught full moon stuff, like how the tides are higher during a full moon, the waves are stormier, and the light being brighter makes it a better night for working on the cold dark North Atlantic beaches. I was also taught that the Faeries come out in the full moon, making it the best time to work with them, or at least the best time to work with the type I work with: Water Faeries; because the full moon changes the ocean. Did you ever watch the waves during a full moon? They’ll capsize a ship. There’s reason fisherman stay home during a full moon. But than there is the fog, it doesn’t matter how big and bright the full moon is, you just can’t see it or the ocean, because the fog comes rolling in, and this, is the best time to work, because this is when the Faeries come ashore, hidden under the cover of the fog, and this is when I time my work: to make the storms and fog, when the powers of the Water Faeries are at their highest points. I love fog, it’s my favorite weather, but nothing beats standing on the beach during a driving hurricane. Insane? Yes. But I never miss a chance to stand on the shore with the wind trying to lift me off the ground and toss me into skyscraper tall waves while thunder and lightening flash and crash all around me. Believe me – you haven’t lived until you stand on the beach and literaly look a hurrican right in the eye. It’s exhilerating. (Almost as good as a hurrican is a February Blizzard at -48F below zero tempuratures. There is a reason why locals call me “That crazy sea witch.”) I live for hurricans! Of course, I’m homeless today because in 2006 a flood came through and took my house with it, but that just gave me an opertunity to spend three years living under a tarp on the beach! LOL! Right now I live in my car on the beach while saving up for an RV to continue living on the beach with. (I still own my land, just there is no house on it any more.) As you may have noticed by now I work mostly with the ocean itself. I work around the shifting tides and raging storms.

Huge Water Element factor going on there, in fact, you can’t get much bigger on Water Element than the ocean itself! LOL! But yeah, I’ve found the best time for working with Faeries, or at least the ones I’ve worked with, to be during a big freaking storm. But you also have to consider that the Faerie I work with most is a type of Brackish Water Faerie (living in peat bogs, swamps, marshes, etc) and can live in both fresh and salt water as a result and has a preferance for fog and storms and due to the delicate nature of his skin (which is stark white and has a slimy frog-like texture) he can’t come out durinf sunlight or during dry hot weather, so this makes a difference as to when I can contact him. However, every type of Faerie is different, some like sunny days and open fields; some like dark nights in dense forests; the only way to know what tome and weather is best for contacting your Faeries is to figure out what type of Faerie they are, what their favorite habitat is, what types of weather do they prefer, and work accordingly.

Now before you can work with Faeries you have to locate a “place of contact”. Avoid trying to contact Faeries while inside a house. This is particuraly dangerous, as Faeries are not used to indoors and they are less than careful.

People often try to contact spirits using a Oujia/Spirit Board, than complain because all they could contact was “an evil spirit” which screamed, yells, threw stuff all over the room, and started smashing things. No, no, no, no, no. “Evil spirits” are incredibally rare, to the point that I personally believe there is no such thing.

A closer examination of what happened, often reveals signs that what came through to you was in fact a Faerie, but upon finding itself inside a house it panicked, freaked out, and started making a desperate attempt to get back outside, but not knowing how to do this it started screaming and running around the room throwing things and sometimes physically lashing out and clawing at the people in the room. The real danger here is Faeries have no concept of doors and windows so opening a door and telling it, it is free to go, does nothing, and you are now stuck with a frightened utterly scared out of it’s mind Faerie in your room, whom, the more frightened it becomes the more violent it is going to act. It feels deeply threatened, and it sees you as the threat and it’ll make your life a living hell. This is how houses become haunted by poltergiests. And this is why doing Faerie Magic indoors is seriously dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.

If you have access to such a place, it is best if you try contacting Fearies outdoors, the wilder the better (think swamps and old growth forests) preferably while standing within a natural Faerie Ring. They will understand if you can not find such a place, but they will also know if you made an honest effort to find such a place, so it is in you best interest of negotiations if you make a good solid effort to seek out such a place. If you live in the city, seek out a park, garden, or cemetery, or take a day trip to a nearby rural area, or just sit on the lawn or sidewalk in front of your house. Do whaever it takes to find a place where you can do this out doors, because there is nothing worse than accidently trapping a Faerie inside a house. Even the gentlest good natured Faerie will become “evil” and violent when frightened and feeling that you have trapped them in a cage.

Next, Prepare the place. This can be difficult if you do not know which race of Faerie you are dealing with. If you can determin the race, you can determin if they like willow trees or hawthorns and bring branches of their preferance, for example. Some Faeries like gifts of coats and scarves (Far-Darrigs and Lephrechauns especially love gifts of fine clothen) however MOST Faeries are deeply offended by gifts of clothen so gifts of this nature should be avoided at all costs, unless these Faeries tell you they accept such gifts. As far as I know EVERY race of Fae enjoys recieving gifts of milk, cream, cheese, melted ice cream, honey, sugar, and pudding – the sweeter the better, and gifts of candy, lolipops, cakes, and chocolates are welcomed as well. Flowers are usually welcomed, with wild five-petaled white roses being prefered above all other flowers. Even better than gifts of cut flowers, is to plant some live potted flowers around the Faerie Ring. Colored streamers and ribbons are loved by many races and red ribbons being prefered by most.

The place where I do a magority of my Faerie work is a mossy patch of land on the outskirts of a swamp and boarded by a brook and tucked away inside and old growth pine forest dotted with maples and oaks and covered in dense fern growth. The area has a harsh fungus musk scent to it, due to the fact that the area is littered with mushrooms. It is hard to walk without stepping on mushrooms. Faerie Rings abound in endless abundance here through out most of the year. One Faerie Ring in particular though stands out: it is made up of hundreds of murshrooms – with caps nearly a foot across and the ring itself covering an area 13 feet across, and boarderd by a circle of 7 everygreen trees each about 8 feet tall. The numbers are significant: 13 feet across and 7 trees, as both numbers are used in Faerie Magic. (When working with Faeries do everything in odd numbers: 3, 7, 9, 13, 15, 21, etc). Even more significant however is how I found this place.

I wandered into this swamp looking for frogs, when I was 4 years old. At the edge of the swamp stood a tall oak tree, with a large low limb. In the limb was siting what I had than described as “a white monkey” which talked to me and asked me to follow it into the forest. Instead of following him, I ran home and dragged my parents out into the swamp to see “the talking white monkey”. At first my parents were convinced I had meet a kidnapper who had at that time escaped prison and was rumored to be in the area, so a search party went out into the woods and swamp. All they found was an ancient Indian Grave and a human skeleton in the swamp, which they assumed to be the remains of a dead French settler from 400 years ago. I made a habit of returning to the swamp and talking with my “white monkey”, which was a tiny old man, about 4 feet tall, with huge blue eyes and wilf wooly white hair, dressed in a long red dress worn as a coat about 5 sizes too big for him. Again and again I tried to introduce him to my parents, aunts, uncles, etc, but they all laughed at my “vivid imagination” for as I soon found out, not a one of them could see or hear him.

As I got older and my contact with him did not cease, my extremely fundamentalist Christian mother had the tree cut down and chopped up, and burned claiming that I was talking to demons. The stump of the tree was tossed out into the swamp. Where the tree once stood, is now the giant ring of white mushrooms and 7 pines, and about 30 years later, I found the stump of that tree, rotted and covered in moss, and broke it back out of the swamp and put it back where the tree once stood: where it is now used as my altar. The little “red man” Far-Darrig still lives in the swamp today and my contact with him never ceased. And as you can see, my initial contact with Faeries was through one of them contacting me, not the other way around, and every one I’ve ever heard of whom has contact with Faeries, this is the case: it is the Faeries that open contact. The altar is under an arbor, which has vines growing up it, on the arbor over the altar hangs bird feeders, bird houses, wind chimes, and suncatchers. The altar itself sits in a circle of mushrooms and ever green trees which makes up my permanent sacred circle, which also never needs opening or closing, and in the center of which is where the faeries, angels, and spirit guides I talk to, appear. This spot was chosen because it is a natural circle, a faerie ring, and the site of the first sighting of Etiole (my Far-Darrig Spirit Guide) nearly 40 years ago.

My altar is not connected to any religion or theology or tradition or ritual, it is all about nature, connecting to the universe, peace, quiet, contemplation, prayer, meditation, and connecting with the spirit world. It has many uses: during meditation/prayer sessions it is my seat – yes, I sit ON the altar to pray, the shape of it is perfect for lotus position and the thick moss makes a wonderful cushion (and if you look at the photos of me on my web site, http://laughing-gnome-hollow.webs.com/apps/photos/album?albumid=11461140 you will see me sitting on it in most of them); during a reading I lay my cards out on it; divination sessions are done here too, as are candle prayers, and pretty much everything else. As it is outdoors in my garden, when I am not using it, I cover it with birdseed and let the birds, mice, chipmunks, and squirrels eat off of it.

I have no altar cloth, when I need one I just take off one of my kimono and throw it over the altar.

I have no statues on it, don’t need them.

I own no ceremonial knives, don’t believe in them.

My icons are Catholic prayer cards of Jesus, which I glued to cardboard and than dipped in glitter and decorated with rhinestones – each one cost less than $3 to make.

My prayer beads are a cheap plastic children’s rosary given to me by a nun who was walking around handing them out to people.

When I leave gifts for the Fearies (tapioca being the most common) they are left on the altar.

As you can see, there is no fancy set up, no rushing out buying things to get it just right, I just use what I have already.

When working with Faeries it is best to wear lose fitting robes, simple straight lines from neck to feet. This make you less “threatening” to them. The strangest things can set off a Faeries fiery temper, including your being over dressed or dressed in a way which is viewed as “military” or “warrior”. It is also best to leave things like pins, tote bags, purses, wallets, pocket knives, nail clippers, cell phones, radios, and shoes away from the area. One owrong move, one wrong item could send the Faeries scurrying away and once offended they may never return, so you have to be very careful to leave EVERYTHING behind. Which is why it is best to wear a simple robe and nothing else: no socks, no shoes, no pants, no undies, nothing. If you are not carrying anything and the only thing you are wearing is a robe, you bring nothing which could accidently offend the Fae. I personally wear muu-muu (pink with pink butterflies) and kimono (light blue under kimono and purple outer kimono) when contacting the Faeries (the muumuu and kimonos belonged to my Kickapoo grandmother).

Some Faeries are attracted to certain colors. The Far-Darrig (aka The Red Man) is a perfect example of this, for as his name implies he can be lured forward with gifts of red clothen. Note however that this is one of the only races which accepts gifts of clothen and the cloth MUST be bright vibrant blood red. Far-Darrigs are violent tricksters though, a brackish water Faerie who dwells in swamps, and a type of Poltergeist which takes great delight in “haunting” houses and smashing breakable things. They are very wild, hyperactive, tempermental and can be inadvertantly deadly…they do not intend to hurt humans, quite the contray they love humans and make wonderful guardians and protectors, but they when playing pranks they can work themselves up into a frenzy and cause serious injuries to any one in throwing distance.

A side note on Far-Darrigs: they are a cousin of Red Caps and dye their coats red with Human blood, though rarely are they the Faerie which killed the human – they tend to be scavangers, following Phookas around and well use the blood from the Phooka’s Human killings. A word of caution: if you are dealing with Far-Darrigs than you are in an area that has a Phooka living near-by.

Additional side note: If you suspect the Faeries you are dealing with are Phookas, END CONTACT IMMEDIATLY: a Phooka has ONLY one goal: to kill. Phookas are psychotic shape shifters – they can take on the form of anything or anyone: a horse, a stray dog, your cat, your mother…They are the most dealy race of Faerie there is and their shapshifting ability allows them to get closer to Humans than any other race, fortunatly they are endangered and close to extinction so Phooka contact is rare. In recent years the largest Phooka population is in Mexico where they are more commonly known as Chupacabra. Phookas are attracted to black, so when contacting Faeries avoid wearing black.

As a general rule the best color to wear around Faeries is a pale purple, lilac or lavender color. Use the chart below when working with Faeries, making poppet/dolls, creating new spells, and doing altar work:


Red Magic: Passion, sex, and love magic. Also used for Faerie contact but ONLY with certain races, such as Far-Darrigs and Gnomes. 


Orange Magic: Anti-depression, happiness, and energy drawing magic. 


Yellow Magic: Healing and good health magic. 


Green Magic: Money, success, good luck, job, career, and gambling magic. Also used for Faerie contact but MOSTLY with certain races, such as Leperachauns and GreenMen. 


Dark Blue Magic: Knowledge, wisdom, school, and education magic. 


Light Blue Magic: Protection, home, reconciliation, and family magic. Also used for Faerie contact but ONLY with certain water races. 


Purple Magic: Spirit work, knowledge, wisdom, school, and education magic. 


Lavender Magic: Spirit work, attracting positive energy, rekie, same-sex true love romance, meditation, channeling spirits, and angel & faerie contact. 


Pink Magic: Romance, true love, and marriage magic. Used to attract Flower Fairies. 


Brown Magic: Court case, legal issues, justice, and stay our of prison magic. Also used for Faerie contact but ONLY with certain races, such as Dmovies, House Elves and Brownies. 


Gray Magic: Moon, family, marriage, and spiritual blessings magic. 


White Magic: Cleansing, ridding negative energy, and angel magic. 


Black Magic: Protection, exorcism, hot-footing, and driving away evil magic. Do not use when contacting Faeries as this color attracts Phookas. 


Silver Magic: Moon, family, marriage, alien contact, and spiritual blessings magic. Also used for Faerie contact but ONLY with certain water races. 


Gold Magic: Sun, money attraction, and good luck magic. Also used for Faerie contact but ONLY with certain solitary races attracted to glitter, such as Far-Darrigs and Leprechauns.

Once you have picked a spot and prepared it, next you must prepare yourself (and when working in a group EACH person must do this as well). I do, what I call “The 30 Day Ritual” – a 30 day period of cleansing to remove all negative energies from my body. This however is a lifestyle for me that I do 24/7/365 for close to 40 years, so for me it is no longer a 30 day ritual. What it means is, that for 30 days PRIOR to your attempting to contact Faeries you must not eat meat, you must not smoke, you must not drink, you must not do drugs, you must not have sex, you must not have contact with any guns or knives, you must avoid contact with any one who owns a gun, and you must eat only “pure” healthy foods (fruits, vegetables, grains, ect. in other words not packaged). You must become “as an innocent child” and do everything in your power to revert your body’s energy feild back to the way it was when you were a small child. Faeries come to children more often than to adults for a reason: purity of soul, is that reason. So when people ask me why they tried to contact Faeries and nothing happened, I tell them about the 30 Day Ritual, and if they do it, they nearly always are successful next time they try to contact Faeries. Its not required, but, it certainly does greatly enhance your chances of successful contact. Now we come to the point of attempting actual contact.

Go to the place you have prepared. Plan to arrive 3 hours prior to attempting to make contact. Ground yourself, clear your mind of negative thoughts, and do some heavy deep meditation before you start calling up spirits. If you are nervous or stressed out or angry at your boss or just had a fight with your friend – these things are going to affect your outcome.

Remember: like attracts like, so if you are frigging pissed at your boyfriend and want to wring his neck, than you try calling up spirits, you are going to attract and an angry spirit who just like you wants to wring someone’s neck. See the problem here?

Do a minimum hour long meditation session prior to attempting contact. Clear your mind of all thoughts and emotions. Become an empty vessal with which to capture messages. Use a grounding ritual, to plant yourself firmly on the ground, before trying. Myself, personally, I do a 3 hour meditation session. First of all, you do not want to be destracted by inner thoughts, worries, or fears, as the Faeries can use this to their advantage against you. You must empty your mind completely and totally. There are thousands of meditation methods and styles and I am afraid I am not well versed in any of them and really know very little about so-called “Meditation Tips & Techniques”. I have never studied meditation on any level, so my advice on meditation is purely my own methods and not connected with any formal style or tradition and may or may not be what others do or recommend.

That said, I will tell you what it is that I do and you can decide what to do from there. First I like to choose a time when I know I will not be disturbed for several hours. My meditation sessions last from a few minutes to 7 or 8 hours. Generally I feel the longer the better, and if I do a meditation session less than an hour long it is generally because I was disturbed by someone. My life is such that I can usually take 2 to 4 hours a day for a meditation session 4 or 5 days a week.

Next set aside a regular time of day so that you can get into the habit of meditating at the same time each day. I personally find it best to meditate in the late afternoon or early evening, depending on the time of year. In the winter it gets dark by 3PM while in the summer it does not start getting dark until 9PM, so I set my meditation time by where the sun is in the sky, not by where the dail is on a clock. For me this means that most meditation sessions start about 4 or 5 hours before sunset. (And I use the setting sun as part of my meditating.) I choose the place, depending on the weather. (I am homeless and having no house means where I am outside is dependent largely on how cold, hot, wet, dry, or windy the day may be.) I own a small plot of land (about 60 feet by 50 feet) on which sits my meditation garden. The land is surrounded by swamp and forest both of which are owned by one of Maine’s largest RV park campgrounds, meaning there are acres of nothing but forest and trails all around me, and I have permission from the owner to use the parks land for my meditating and hiking. In my garden runs a brook, which stretches back for miles into the forest and feeds the Atlantic Ocean which sits on the opposite side of my garden. My places of choose for meditating are along this brook, on the shore of the ocean, at the edge of the swamp, or deep within the forest on the higher banks of the brook. In any case water, running water, flowing brook, or crashing waves, water is my “trigger” for getting into deep meditation. Listening to the water and the birds and the wind in the trees or dune grass, these are the sounds which help to clear my mind and empty it of all the stresses of the day so that I can relax and meditate.

Next I find a place to sit: a soft patch of moss, a tree stump, the sand, whatever, some place comfortable, where I can sit on my bum with my legs crossed, feet over my thighs and can just sit for several hours with my eyes closed and breathing in the fresh salty pine air. Once settled in my spot, eyes closed, legs crossed, back straight. I take out a pen and paper and write down my daily mantra 15 times, to get it into my brain in a rhythm, than once it is flowing in my head, I close my eyes again and let it float through my mind until it reaches the point that it just disappears and my mind is empty of all thoughts and fears and worries. A few of the things I have written down and meditated on where: “I can relax, everything is okay. I can let go of worries. I can let go of fears. I give them to the Universe. I remove them from my life. I don’t need them. I don’t want them….I am the silver violet flame.” “I believe without a doubt that I will have every thing I want and need from life. I am the silver violet flame.”

“I believe without a doubt that I am happy and have a wonderful life to look forward to. I am the silver violet flame.”

“I believe without a doubt that I will be guided to the right situation at the right time. I am the silver violet flame.”

“I believe without a doubt that every day in every way I am getting better and better. Life if good. I am the silver violet flame.”

“I have everything I need to achieve my goals. I am the silver violet flame.”

“I accept that my prayers have already been answered. I believe that everything will work out for the best. I am the silver violet flame.”

So, you get the idea of my mantras, right? I also like to use the following poem as a meditation mantra:

God sees me as a beautiful child of life.
God sees me as a beautiful soul.
God sees me as a divine light for the world to see.
God sees me as a purposeful and powerful person.
God sees me as a strong and courageous person.
God sees me as an intelligent person.
God sees me as love in motion.
God sees love.
God sees good.
God sees joy.
God sees peace.
Today I see myself as God sees me.
(“God Sees Me” by Iyanla Vanzant)

But yeah, that’s pretty much it. Just find a spot where you can sit and relax for several hours and than just sit and relax and empty your mind.

Next you want to ground yourself firmly and securly to this physical plane, so they do not abduct you and so that you are not overwhelmed by their deeply emotional states of being. A Faerie’s emotions are intense, raw, and powerful beyond what the Human mind can comprehend. Their emotions are also Chaotic riseing up in huge elation than crash down in pits of sorrow than wirling by in blazen anger and doing it all in a matter of seconds. Think of them as being very bio-polar and expect the unexpected. By all mean build a psychic barrier around yourself, and ground yourself. You must have a firm spiritual foundation, otherwise their emotions will overwhelm you and cause you to fall into terrible fits of depression. Their joys can lift you high and than once out of their pressance send you crashing down into fits of dispear and feeling that you can not live in this life, now that you’ve seen the emence joy of the other side. Likewise their sorrows can overwhelm you and crush you emotionally. If you allow their sorrows to bring you down, than you will become useless and unable to help the people who need you most.

There are many techniques to grounding yourself and putting up barriers. Wiccans for example use the “Sacred Circle” ritual. Myself I prefer the shamanic ritual, of visualizing a large tree standing on a hill, I am under the ground, below the roots of the tree, I am a vine, I send tendrils up through the dirt, and around the tree, upward and over the tree, I envelope it and engulf it, and as strong as this giant tree is, my roots are stronger and go deeper beneath the ground. I am now grounded and I reach my vines forth to the sky and birds come to seek shelter in my leaves, so they know they are safe with me and I will protect them from the great hawks and eagles which hunt them down.

Try this – become the vine, the great and powerful vine with roots so strong and deep that you can conquer even the mightiest tree. Your vines are branches of joy, happiness, laughter, and hope. You welcome the scared, sad, and frightened little birds into your life, you offer them love and protection from the terrifying sorrows and fears that torment them. Ground yourself, than set out to help the sorrowful and let your powerful light shine in their lives and be a beacon of hope and joy. Keep this image in your mind. It’ll help you to connect with the Faeries and remain firmly planted in the physical realm. Remember – you are not the tree, who’s roots are shallow and uplifted by the wind – you are the vine whos roots are strong and you protect the tree with your tight grasping vines that refuse to let go! The wind blows other trees right off the cliff, but you hold this tree firmly grounded in it’s place.

Finally you begin contact. Now if you are of strong faith and firm grounding, you may not need any tools, however, there are tools you can use to help you out. The Spirit Board being the most commonly used by others, and most likely the tool you would end up using if you went for using a tool to help you out, so I’ll talk about Spirit Boards for a bit, to tell you how it is I have personally used them. Well, you don’t need an actual board even, you could spread rune stones or cards with letters and numbers or even Tarot or Oracel cards or just draw in the dirt with a stck, and use an upturned glass or seashell or stone as a planchette.

As I mentioned, I’ve been channeling spirits since 1978 and I bought my first Spirit Board in 2010, so yeah, it’s a tool, but you can use other things as tools as well. Just use what you are comfortable with.

But most people wanting to contact Faeries want to use a Spirit Board and if you do, will here’s what I do: Both my grandmothers were witches, both of them were steeped in superstitions and had lots of little warnings about things to avoid and so I learned everything I know from them, including: “Stay away from those evil Ouija Boards”. I learned divination by throwing (pebbles, dice, marbles, and shells) and card reading (every type of card EXCEPT Tarot as another of their sayings was: “Stay away from those evil Tarot Cards” – my grandmothers were strange that way) and thus I grew up avoiding Ouija Boards and Tarot Cards like they were the plague.

As I grew older I heard stories of how “evil” Ouija was and as a teen some of my cousins told me one day, how they had gone off in secret with some friends and used one of those Ouija Boards and “NEVER AGAIN!” was their terrified exclamation. A year or so later a girl from our church one day came into our classroom scared out of her mind, with a story of how she had the night before been attacks by Jack the Ripper after her and some school friends had specifically called him up to interview him for their history class project. It was stories like these that kept me faaaaar away from Ouija Boards for the next 20 more years. Than something happened.

I’m not sure exactly when or how, but about 3 or 4 years ago, I started thinking – “It’s just a peace of wood. It can’t of itself call up evil spirits – only the person using it can do that.” The more I thought about it, the more I start rethinking my “fears” and finally I realized that, all of the stories I had heard, people had used their boards in ways that specifically attracted evil spirits. I started thinking, what if it wasn’t that the board was attracting evil spirits, it was just that the person using the board went into it EXPECTING to attract evil spirits and did attract evil because that is what their mind was in tune to at that moment? My cousins had used their board in a “horror movie” way: at night, in a cemetery, acting all spooky and shivery, and EXPECTING to attract some evil ghost. I thought to myself: “What if they had done it in the daytime, in a rose garden, acting relaxed and confident, EXPECTING to attract an archangel?” The girl from mt childhood church, had REQUESTED Jack the Ripper SPECIFICALLY BY NAME. What if she had asked for Mother Teresa or Princess Diana or Liberace instead? So I mulled over these questions for a few years Today I have several hand made (about 5 or so) and I have 12 store bought spirit boards. Yes, you did read that correctly, it is 12 as in one dozen. I was planning to buy a wooden one, but than I found the ones I really liked were all in the $300+ range and I did not have that much cash with me, so I checked out the “gameboard” style non-wooden (chip board) ones with all sorts of faeries and angels printed on them. They cost like $2 a piece and I was thinking – “Hey, if they don’t work, I can frame them and still not have spent much money”. But than there were 12 of them and I kind of have this problem where when I buy something, I have to buy one of each so I can have a “matched set”, I do it with everything and so when I went out to buy a spirit board last summer, I came home with 12 of them instead of one. YAY!

So as soon as I was back home I rushed to my moss covered altar in my rose garden and set out to trying out my 12 new spirit boards. But than here’s the thing: All I had were these boards no instructions or pointer or anything and I didn’t know the first thing about how to even use a spirit board! I did however know about channeling spirits and using cards and throwing-stones to talk to spirit (which I had been doing for 31 years at that point). So I started using the illustrated boards like cards and using them as a guide to toss my divination pebbles-dice-marbles-shells on and at the time I had also just bought a pendulum (I’d never used a pendulum before) so I was using the pendulum over the boards as well. With the pendulum I was getting conflicting “answers” and after a week of daily practice, I had yet to call up any sort of spirit good, bad, or otherwise. I got better results using them as throwing boards, tossing my stones and stuff on them and “reading” the answers. So I did this for a while, but still, no spirits were showing up, or at least not physically or visibly to the naked eye – which is typically what I strive for during channeling. I like to see who I am talking to.

Than about a month after buying the boards, I pulled out my card decks, lined up all of the spirit boards in a grid, and started doing a card reading. I was 5 cards into a 5 card reading when a tiny minty green entity suddenly started hovering inches in front of me. She had 4 wings and a brilliant glow emanating out from her body. (I call it a her, but I could not see her face or features, she was formless, sort of like a shifting orb with 4 fluttering wings, but somehow I just “knew” she was a she, which is odd, because in all of my 30+ years of calling on Faeries, Angels, and Spirits, this was the first female one to appear, all the others have always been males.) She hovered in front of me for a few seconds and than as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. While she was there I was washed over by a feeling of peace and calm, like she was saying to me: “You can relax now, because everything is okay.” Which really was a feeling I needed right than, see, I am homeless (my house burned down in 2006, I’ve lived on my land in my car ever since) and my car had just been stolen, so I was really freaking out and over stressed at the time, and the message: “You can relax now, because everything is okay.” and feeling a wave of peace and calm, was REALLY what I was needed right than. (My stolen car was since found and returned to me, btw, and things have been going in a better direction ever since, so her message turned out to be true: I CAN relax now, because things ARE okay again. But this experience REALLY changed my views on Spirit Boards A LOT, because it proved to me just exactly what I thought: the board is a tool that can be used for bad or good, and it is how you use it and what type of spirit you wish to attract that is going to affect the outcome.

My main style of magic work, is Scottish/Welsh Faerie Magic, aka Hoodoo, so most everything I do with the intent to attract Faeries and Nature Spirits using roots and herbs and natural curios. I went to a place built especially for attracting Faeries, I used a Spirit Board which had Faeries printed on it, and I was seeking help from the Faeries specifically, and when a spirit finally did come, it was in fact a Faerie, or rather the Spirit came to me in the form of what I personally identify as a Faerie. So, I know I was not using the boards the right way, seeing how I had no pointer and no rule book and just sort of jumped in using what I knew of other styles of divination, but in the end, it worked out okay for me, my encounter with the green Faerie was a really good experience, and I plan to use Spirit Boards more often in the future. Since than I started making my own Spirit Boards out of white cardboard and crayons and lots of glitter.

Now I have heard people recommend doing certain things when using Spirit Boards:

“If you use a board be sure affix a pentacle on the underside of the board or table. It helps contain the spirit.” 

A pentacle? I don’t own one and in fact I’ve been practicing magic since 1978 and the first time I ever even heard the word pentacle, was in 2005, the first time I came face to face with a Wicca and also the first time I ever heard the word Wicca. I had no idea what the heck they were talking about. I had never even heard the word before. I had no idea what they were even saying, it was like a  foriegn language to me.  A pentacle? What the heck is a pentacle? It’s not part of the Scottish and Native American traditions I was taught by my grandmothers.

As for containing a spirit, that’s a Geni in a Bottle spell, and really, should only be done as part of an exocism, to get an evil spirit out of a house, into the bottle/item and than release the item in a place where the spirit can do no harm. I really would not recommend this other than during an exocism, because you are not only inviting the spirit to LIVE in your home with you, but you are also cageing it up so it can not leave your home willingly, and that’s how a good spirit can go bad, because no one not even spirits like to be locked in a cage.

“Remember to call the spirit by name, never call on a random spirit. If you know the sigil, or have a picture of the spirit, then place that under the board too.” 

Calling a spirit by name – is ify. If a person is just starting out, than yeah, it’ll be safer to call on a spirit that is known to be safe: your grandmother or an archangel for example, before moving on to just calling up any spirit at random, and I don’t recommend calling on Faeries unless you are very advanced in prior spirit work, because Faeries are chaotic, tempermental, unpredictable, and can become violent without warning. Once you’ve made contact with a Faerie do try to find out it’s name, but don’t push the issue. Fae consider names sacred and rarly use their real names, and are more likely to tell you their race as their “name”. If you can get their name, or at least a title they prefer to be called, it’ll be easier for you to call on this same Faerie again.

I do sometimes use sigels not always, but it helps to focus the mind just on calling one spirit in particular if he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.

NEVER summon any spirit or Faerie to come from their realm to ours. Calling them just to chat is bad manners. They have jobs to do and it is not only immoral to summon them, but it could flare their tempers and result in them being very violent and angry when they arrive. You don’t want this! You should only ask/summon Faeries to come if you need their help in an emergency, and it should be an invitation, not a demand. If they come invited but not summoned it is different because they came through on THEIR terms and in THEIR time. This is why I deal mostly just with my personal Spirit Guide -the Far-Darrig- because he was “assigned” to me and it is HIS JOB to be my personal guide through this life. (He said this to me, and said that he specifically choose me, because he wanted to be my guide.)

Every one has a private personal spirit guide who stays with them, and when people want to connect with the spirits I always tell them, try getting in touch with your personal spirit guide first. You don’t know if it’s a man or a woman, or what they look like or what their name is, so you can’t call them by name, but you can ask them to reveal themselves to you and you can ask them their name and you can ask them to help you get in touch with other spirits. I find that you will getting better results if you let your Spirit Guide act as a go-between, rather than you calling up random spirits yourself. Also I do think it is best if you have a specific reason for contacting the spirits as they get annoyed if you just call on them because youare bored and needed something to do.

Remember to, there are spirits and Faeries everywhere, talk to the ones around you, don’t go looking for them as this is just asking for trouble.

REMEMBER: they are around you for a reason and usually have something to say. If you keep calling and summoning Faeries who are not already with you, it will insult the ones which are trying to contact you and could cause you to lose contact with all Faeries . Respect them and they will respect you. You should use your contact and tools/Spirit Board ethically, morally, and with respect.

“Always cast a circle of protection first, and never work alone always work in groups of 2 or more.” 

Since I am not one to follow the do’s and don’ts much in life I went by my own styles and have enjoyed the experiences. I don’t cast anything for protection prior to using it…nor do I use two people and etc. As with the pentacle, casting circles is something I had never heard of until I crossed paths with a Wiccan. Every time I hear some one mentioning casting circles of protection, I stare at them blankly and go: “Uhm — why would I do that?” I know I keep hearing Wiccans talk about it, but I’ve never studied Wicca so I have no idea why you would do the whole casting circle thing. It’s not part of the Scottish and Native American traditions I was taught by my grandmothers, so I’m just clueless as to why it is done. I do however work out doors (obviously – seeing how I’m homeless and have no indoors to work in) and seek out Faerie Rings to do my work in, as I deal with Welsh/Scottish Faerie Magic (not the new age neo-pagan fairy magic – they are different) and my personal familiar/spirit guide is a Far-Darrig Trickster, who prefers to show himself only in natural Faerie Rings (a naturally occurring circle of mushrooms, bushes, flowers, or trees). So I suppose in a way I do use “magic circles” and I was working in the center of a giant white mushroom Faerie Ring when the green Faerie appeared to me, so maybe there is something to working inside a circle, but as far as casting them, nope.

I can see the point of the groups of two or more thing. More faith = more power = more likely to call up a spirit and more likely to not be abducted by said spirit.

Most of my Faerie Work however is done without the use of a Spirit Board and uses divination instead:

CARD READING: Card Decks – many, varied, including playing cards, memory matching cards, old maid, authors, game cards from various games, children’s trading cards (Sara Bella, Pokemon, Star Wars, Star Trek, ect.), tons and tons of Oracle decks featuring faeries and angels, but not a single Tarot deck in sight. I don’t read cards in the “standard” way, and I may read a card today as one thing and read the same card tomorrow as something else entirely. I read cards psychically, not “by the book”.


THROWING BONES, STONES, DICE: It is very similar to rune divination, but uses a bag or bowl filled with random found items: seeds, nuts, stones, egg shells, bones, feathers, domino, dice, marbles, broken bits of plastic, etc. The reader marks a grid (usually a divided circle) in the dirt, than tosses the mix on the ground and reads them objects by where and how they landed. Personally I use a bag filled with beach pebbles, seashells, glass marbles, polished gemstones, and Dungeons & Dragons RPG dice and a handmade cardboard Spirit Board. I don’t use bones as by the traditions I was raised with, this is disrespectful of the dead.

SCRYING/SEER STONES: beach pebbles, river rocks, glass marbles, Japanese glass net balls from the beach, drift wood, ocean bricks, tumbled gemstones, glitter filled rubber balls, D&D dice, but not one “crystal ball”. I was self taught…sort of…uhm, my Spirit Guide taught me divination skills for throwing stones & things. I ALWAYS obey the advice of my Spirit Guide as I’ve never known him to be wrong. I trust him. I had a set of “Memory” cards when I was a kid and instead of playing the game, I would sit there “reading” the cards, like I was reading a book, going on and on with all the things I could “see” in them. I was about 5 or 6 at the time. I never stopped doing it – postcards, Pokemon cards, playing cards, greeting cards, it doesn’t matter what type of card it is. It’s weird and I can’t explain it, and I’ve never heard of any one else who reads cards the way I do. I don’t read the “meanings” like one does with Tarot: I just pick up a card and all of a sudden it’s like I have pages and pages of words in my brain and I start reading them. I’ve also tried other methods which failed:

Tea leaves – just couldn’t get the hang of it. I think I was distracted by thinking it was all just too messy. Mirror scrying – I keep trying it but get no where with it.

Pendulums – I keep trying pendulums, but I get nothing. I think I’ve not found “my” pendulum yet. I mean, I have some that I bought to try out, but usually when I buy my tools it’s a spur of the moment thing because I saw the tool and it just “clicked” and I knew this was the tool I was meant to use. But that has not happened yet with a pendulum, so I think I’m just not in rune with the pendulums I have. I keep looking for a pendulum and someday I’ll find one that clicks with me and I’ll try again.

Here’s another tidbit people say: “Don’t ever do a reading on yourself!” I disagree. Yes. Yes I do. No one ever told me not too. It was only recently that I’d see folks online saying you shouldn’t and I’d be like: “Why?”

Anyways, as I said I have a Spirit Guide and I use divination to talk to him and his messages to me are very personal and pertain to my own life. He has helped me many times with many situations and I will continue to stay in touch with him daily. I do not believe in a client going to a reader or channeler more than one a month or even less, but when it comes to private personal divination done between yourself and your spirit guide, I believe you can and should do them daily. My advice for you is to do what you feel safe and comfortable with and go from there. I prefer to do divination alone actually – long distance – I find it much easier to focus than if the client is not hovering around getting all nervous and antsy at me. When working with a Spirit Board, I had no idea what the dos and don’ts were, so I just went with my gut and did what felt right to me. Like I said, the things I have mentioned here are the things which I personally do, and they work for me and the type of Faeries I work with. However they are not hard and fast rules and each person is different as is each Faerie, so what works for me, may not work for you, and likewise what works for you may not work for me. It’s a trial and error thing. Go with your gut. Do the things that seem right to you, add-change-delete anything you feel needs it.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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FAQs: Why don’t you use a black cat bones or chicken’s feet or doves eyes like other rootworkers do?

Why don’t you use a black cat bones or chicken’s feet or doves eyes like other rootworkers do?

There are multiple answers to this. But first let’s look at this from the persepective of rootworkers who DO use these items. For starters they are not doing Traditional Scottish Hoodoo. Taking a life to get something you want is not a part of Traditional Hoodoo. What you are referancing is in fact part of Hatian Voodoo loa sacrifical ritual. You often see New Orleans Style Hoodoo using these items, because they have taken Scottish Hoodoo and mixed it all up with Hatian Voodoo. Killing black birds is an African tradition, which the slaves of the “old South” brought with them and continued to do in the Americas. Hoodoo in it’s purest form, uncorrupted by African traditions, has no killing of anything, black feathered, black furred or otherwise. Hoodoo is a Scottish Faerie tradition very similar in nature to Welsh Faerie Faith, and as such hold a high reverance for life, be it plant, animal, or human. To take a life is to call down the rath of the Faeries and is never wise, and therefeor is NEVER used in TRUE Traditional Hoodoo.

You must remember that I am Scottish. Some of my family came to Maine from Nova Scotia and others came direct from Scotland. I live in a region that is 99.9% white, with the .01% being Native American. They are no “black” people in the area, and there is no Southern influance on our Hoodoo Traditions. We practice Hoodo in an uncorrupted form, straight as it came to America from Scotland, and as such we practice a form of Hoodoo VASTLY different from the much changed, adapted, interpreted, converted, and translated form of Hoodoo found in African American, Old South, or New Orleans Hoodoo. Now I’m not saying that there is anything wrong or less valid about these modern style Hoodoo traditions, I am simply pointing out, that they are different styles of Hoodoo, and that is why you see other rootworkers doing things which none of us Scottish rootworkers would ever even consider doing. We do what was taught to us and passed down to us through Scottish traditions since the 1400s, while the other rootworkers you are dealing with are doing a much altered version which was created in the late 1700′s by the African slaves of the Scottish landowners. The African American Style is different because the slaves who created it had little understanding of the English language or the hows and whys behind the things they saw the white folk doing, thus they created their own version of Hoodoo by “filling in the blanks” with traditions they brought with them from Africa. And that is where you see the addition of items such as black cat bones and chicken’s feet, for the slaves could not understand why the white folks were doing magic without these things.

It’s a simple matter of doing your research and learning your history.

You ask why I do not use items which other rootworkers use? The simple answer is this: they are doing one type of Hoodoo tradition and I am doing another.

The other reason of course being: I am EelKat, founder of the Proctor and Gamble Boycott, and well, if you don’t know what that means, than Honey, you have absolutely no idea who the heck you are talking to! I’m not just AN animal rights activist, I am THE animal rights activist: I created the modern day animal rights movement, I’m the one who got the words “Not tested on animals” on your bottle of shampoo.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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So sick of people calling Hoodoo an African American Folk Magic! Hoodoo is Scottish NOT African! Get with the program people!

Someone sent me a link to a blog post with the words: “You’ll want to read this one!” I did. Here it is if you want to read it as well. The post is written by a New Orleans style Hoodoo practitioner, in response to comments received on an older post s/he had written. S/he was quite upset over the fact that readers had misunderstood a spell s/he had quoted from Hyatt’s book on Hoodoo. S/he than goes off into a snit over the fact that his/her readers are idiots for not knowing how to interpret African American dialect. In short the post was a rant, in a style not to unlike what you’d expect me to have written.

The part that gets me is this:

I guess I now have a clearer understanding of why some teachers of hoodoo have to make it mandatory that their students actually *speak to an African American person,* because some people never have and never would and yet would think to undertake a study of African-American folk magic. The mind, it boggles.  My takeaway point from this was, in part: 

If you can’t understand the dialects of the people who perpetuate these practices, you can’t really study the sources, living or passed on. It’s part of why cat in her rootwork course encourages students to actually learn about African American culture(s) and requires that they interview people instead of just trying to learn from books (which *cannot* be done, not really, not thoroughly).

S/he is of course referencing “cat” owner of Luck Mojo. As usual, what we have here is yet another person who is too lazy to do their research and is content to quote cat’s absurdities as gospel truth. The thing that gets me is the arrogance of this rootworker, condemning their reader for not doing their research when s/he her/himself has not even done their own research! Can anyone say “Blind leading the blind”?

Well, you know me (of course you do or you would not have thought to send me the link to this blog post!) I just had to comment on this rootworker’s absurd ignorance of the origins of Hoodoo. The comment awaits moderation. whether or not it gets posted is anyone’s guess. In any case, I never comment on any blog with out first posting that comment as a post on my own blog and here it is:

I must ask: Outside of the utter nonsense preached by the owners of Lucky Mojo and it’s followers, when exactly has Hoodoo got anything to do with “African Americans” AT ALL? Answer: never. Lucky Mojo creates a good fairy tale yes, but lacks considerably on both facts and history. The history of Hoodoo according to Lucky Mojo is based, 100% on ONE BOOK, that of Hyatt. And while Hyatt’s book, does tell the history of Hoodoo FROM ONE AREA, it tells only the “than current” history of it, as it was being used in his time period by people in his local area, whom happened to be illiterate non-native English speaking former slaves, incalculable of telling him who taught them these traditions or why, and Hyatt in his ignorance, rather than to do a background check, simply ASSUMED the info was brought with them from Africa. Luck Mojo founders, in their ignorance started quoting Hyatt’s ignorance as actual fact, without doing any historical research in the the ACTUAL history of either the word Hoodoo or it’s practice. Lucky Mojo followers in turn quote cat’s ignorance, likewise never lifting a finger in research, and blindly assuming everything that comes out of cat’s mouth is gospel truth or well researched facts.

FACT: The word Hoodoo originates from Pictish Scotland. Hoodoo by translation means “haunted, paranormal, or supernatural”. It dates back to around 300BC-300AD and was used by the Picts of Scotland. The word “witch doctor” by translation means: “hunter of witches or one who drives out witches”. African Vodun was introduced to America in the 1700s. Scottish women taught their house slaves hoodoo poppet magic at the same time Catholic priests were teaching the house slaves about Jesus, Mary, and Saints. The end result was the slaves combined the words hoodoo and vodun to get voodoo. And yet, you hear practitioners today telling you that hoodoo is a “new word” created in the 1800s in New Orleans? How do they explain “hoodoo mountain”, “hoodoo gorge”, “hoodoo rock”, “hoodoo valley”, and the hundreds of other places in Wales and Scotland, which have used those names close to 2,000 years? Today you hear people talk about hoodoo and witch doctors as though they originated in Africa, and neither hoodoo nor witch doctors were ever in Africa AT ALL – both originated from Scotland! Go to Africa, look for hoodoo, you won’t find it no where. Go to Scotland, look at all those witch bottles and clooties hanging in the trees, look at the gris-gris hanging in doorways, look at the hoodoo dollies sitting on porches. Do your research, Honey, there ain’t no Africa in hoodoo, and there ain’t no hoodoo in Africa.

FACT: The word “Voodoo” is a corruption of the word “Hoodoo”, not the other way around as started on Lucky Mojo’s website. The word Voodoo does not exist in any document prior to the 1700′s. The word Hoodoo can be found in Britannic documents dating as far back as 300BC

Hoodoo is a Scottish word not an African word and dates back to before the 1300′s, though it’s use as a magic art did not become popular until the 1300′s , and was used to describe anything of a paranormal or supernatural nature and often meant “haunted”, thus why you have Hoodoo Mountain, Hoodoo Valley, Hoodoo Forest, Hoodoo Peak, Hoodoo Gully, Hoodoo Canyon, etc.. The word Voodoo comes from mixing the Scottish word hoodoo with the African word Vodun.

FACT: A practitioner of Hoodoo is CORRECTLY called a “Witch Doctor”, a “Hedgewalker”, or a “Hoodooer” NOT a Rootworker. A witch doctor is a spiritual leader, shaman, or medicine man/woman who specializes in the removal of negative energy, curses, and hexes. Hoodoo Witch Doctors with their hoodoo doll spells, originated in ancient pre-Christian Scotland, however, in modern times, the term is usually used for African, Indonesian, or South American tribes, as well as being used by some modern neo-pagan Native American and Wiccans as well. In recent years, the term is most commonly used by hoodoo root workers and Voodoo priests.

A witch doctor is not a medical doctor, but rather a spiritual healer and one well-versed in herbal remedies, hex removal, massage techniques, and guided meditation. He or she also provides spiritual or psychological counseling for other members of their group, tribe, coven, whatever, through the use of divination, card readings, and channeling spirits.

The term “Witch Doctor” comes from the fact that they are traditionally said to be feared by witches, because of their ability to “cure” or remove and reverse curses, hexes, and the evil eye. The are commonly called upon to bless houses, crops, livestock, fresh graves, newlyweds, and babies to protect them from being cursed by witches. Like a minister they perform marriages, baptisms, exorcisms, and funerals. A witch doctor is a type of shaman. A shaman is a seer or “one who sees into the spirit world. A witch doctor is a shaman who specializes in removing negative energy, bad karma, hexes, etc., but most especially, the removal of witches and evil spirits. In other words they are exorcists.

To fully understand the meaning to the title Witch Doctor one needs to understand the ORIGINAL meaning of the word “witch”. The word “witch” did not exist prior to 1486 from Heinrich Kramer and his book Malleus Maleficarum . Heinrich Kramer created the word “witch” which means: “the wicked whom follow Satan”. The word “witch” was a slang word created to give one simple word to lump together under one label, every one that was “evil” or in other words, a “witch” was any one of the following: Catholics, Christian Enochains, Alchemists, Coptic Christians, Gnostic Christians, Jews, Rabbis, Lutherans, Friars, Hebrew Prophets, Persian Magi, Celtic Druids/Magicians, Medical Doctors, Mid-Wives, Dreamers, Visionaries, Seers, Revalators, Soothsayers, Prostitutes, women with red hair, men with red beards, children with green eyes, every one who knew how to swim, Herbalists, and Wizards.

To technically be a witch one must be born with green eyes, have red hair, and be a female who had sex, was raped, gave birth to a daughter instead of a son, and be any religion other than Puritan. Puts a new perspective on being a witch when you actually read Kramer’s infamous “Witch’s Hammer” doesn’t it?

Did you know that the words “witch”, “witchcraft”, and “sorcery” were NOT in the Bible prior to 1611? They were added to the King James Version, to replace the words: “herbalist”, “doctor”, “physician”, “medicine”, “mid-wife”, and “healer”. Why? Because it was a trend in the 1600′s to believe that sickness was a punishment from God and medical doctors who cured illnesses were doing Satan’s work by removing God’s punishment from the wicked, and therefor were guilty of witchcraft and so the Bible was ordered to be re-written to reflect this.

The word “witch” is German and means “one who consorts with devils/demons/Satan”. The word “witchcraft” is also German and means “removes disease”. The word “witch doctor” is Scottish and means “one who undoes the evil of witches”. It was not until 1953, the the word “witch” come to mean ANYTHING other than this. There are many neo-Pagan Witches today who proudly brag that thier’s is the oldest religion and that calling one-self a witch is a good thing. I pity these poor delusional idiots and their blatantly stupidity and total lack of historical knowledge. Witch is not a good word. It NEVER was. It NEVER was a religion. It NEVER was a title worn proudly by women. It is a derogatory Christian term, which always did, always has, still does, and always will mean: “Satan worshiper”. To proudly call one-self a witch is to proudly call one-self a Satan Worshiper, for that is what the word means.

Because the term “Witch Doctor” has come to have a derogatory meaning in some regions, many modern practitioners have adopted the term “Conjure Doctor” or “Root Doctor” instead, in order to make themselves sound politically correct.

Contrary to popular myth, witch doctors did not originate in Africa (or any other indigenous tribal region), but rather originated in Medieval Europe where it was first used by Scottish alchemists as a way to drive witches out of the villages. They often use wax dolls, called hoodoo dollies, stuck with sewing pins to send hexes back upon the witches, than would search the area until they found someone with boils and accused that person of witchcraft, citing that the boils had been caused by the pins in the wax doll. Hoodoo dollies have been mentioned in Scottish history dating to BC times.

The term witch doctor was not used in relation to African tribes until the late 1800′s. And the use of hoodoo dolls stuck with pins, was introduced to Vodun by Scottish Witch Doctors in the late 1700′s. The plantation slaves adopted the use of these dolls into their religious practices, and thus the dolls became known as “Voodoo Dolls”, however while in Scottish Witch Doctoring the dolls are used to cause harm, in Vodun they were used instead as a way to cure sickness and disease.

I am myself both Native American (Kickapoo) and Scottish, and follow the traditions of my grandmothers. A tradition passed down, in writing in a 1400′s Bible brought here from Scotland and passed down in my family these 600 years. A tradition that comes 100% exclusivity from my family, which has never been south of Maine, and has never even seen an African American let alone talk to one. Lucky Mojo is filling your head with fairy tales. Stop being lazy and do your research. Any one who does even a minute bit of research will find the huge error of cat’s teachings. The problem with research is folks is lazy, and only turn to Google, but Honey all you will find online if cat’s teachings, quoted and requoted over and over again. Every site out there toughting the “history” of hoodoo, always references Luck Mojo as their source. Every one of them. Lucky Mojo is not a source, it’s a store that tells you what you want to hear to get you to buy their products. There is not an once of historical evidence to back up any of cat’s “so-called facts”. If you tried to back up your case in court, using just what you find on Lucky Mojo, your evidence would be inadmissible and kicked out as hear-say. Try going to museums and historical societies, find yourself some REAL history about Hoodoo – you’ll be floored by what you find, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself feeling hurt, betrayed, and lied to by your beloved cat of Lucky Mojo.

I really wish people would actually research REAL history and actual ancient documents, instead of running around quoting the delusions of cat, Hyatt, and Lucky Mojo like they were gospel truth.

Hoodoo is a Scottish word dating back to the 300′s and means “haunted” or “supernatural” or “magic”. Vodun is an African religion, dating back over 10,000 years BC, and involved worshiping Dambala-Wedo (The One God) and his servants the Lwa (The Spirit Messengers of God or The Lesser Gods). Vodun is the oldest know recorded religion and pre-dates the Genesis story of the 7-Day Creation, by more than 4,000 years. Voodoo was created when Scottish Hoodoo Witch Doctors taught the African slaves Celtic Magic arts, the same time while Christian preachers (mostly Catholic) were trying to convert the slaves to Catholicism. The word Voodoo (American/Haitian) was the combining of the words Hoodoo (Scottish) and Vodun (African). Voodoo takes the Vodun religion, adds Scottish Hoodoo Witch Doctor magic, and than throws in Catholic saints, prayers, and altars.

Hoodoo and Voodoo are nearly identical, the basic difference is Hoodoo focuses on Scottish magic with a little bit of African religion mixed in, while Voodoo focuses on African religion with a little bit of Scottish magic mixed in. VOODOO is African American folk magic, NOT Hoodoo. Voodoo was created by African Americans, based on blending Vodun and Hoodoo together. Get your facts straight Honey! Vodun is a Hatian religion. Hoodoo is a Scottish Gypsy folk magic, and Voodoo is an African American folk magic made by combining the two. *SHEESH* get you head out of Lucky Mojo’s ass long enough to see the truth for a change.

Scottish Magic (aka Hoodoo) is taking a faith powered prayer (spell) and empowering it even more (making it stronger) by attracting certain energies with the use of colors, herbs, incense, crystals, and other items. It is done with few tools and focuses largely on use of poppets, dollies, bags, and pillows or in other words, various forms of gris-gris. This requires many years of studying the energetic properties of colors, herbs, etc. in order to know which colors and herbs attract with energies and is a tradition passed down by word of mouth from grandmother to granddaughter. It is almost exclusivly practiced by women, however in recent years men have been learning the art of hoodoo as well.

Thanks to the internet having almost no accurate information on the history of hoodoo at all (Lucky Mojo controls nearly every hoodoo site out there and very little of their information is even remotely accurate, and what few sites are not owned by Lucky Mojo are owned by the students of it’s school, so are still teaching inaccurate crap as gospel truth.) You want to know about REAL hoodoo – go to the familys that have passed down the tradition for centuries. Don’t go to the internet, because accurate info is not there.

It’s like the Wiccans who run around calling themselves Warlovk! Warlock by translation means: “oath breaker” or “one who tells lies” – it has NOTHING to do with witchcraft AT ALL! It never did prior to the 1920′s! Wiccans like to say it is what witches called a witch whom ratted out their coven. That is pure Silver Ravenwolf made-up-fantasy-fictional-history-of-witchcraft crap! It was used by Christians to describe any one who told a lie in court.

Lucky Mojo is a strange sort of school, telling you they are the know all end all of Hoodoo, and yet, very few actual long time pre-Lucky Mojo Hoodoo Rootworkers do ANYTHING Lucky Mojo says we do. Strange really. I mean one one hand it’s good thing, the way Lucky Mojo is teaching new folks about Hoodoo and how to be rootworkers and all, but on the other hand it’s frustrating and infuriating all the new age fairy tale mumbo jumbo Lucky Mojo preaches as actual facts, and even more infuriating when graduate students of Lucky Mojo start spouting off the same silly made up historically inaccurate “facts and rules of Hoodoo” nonsense as though they were the top authority on all things Hoodoo. They talk about how great they are because they studied at the Lucky Mojo school, but than in the same breath they spew nonsense as facts and do nothing but prove how ignorant they are of anything Hoodoo at all. All they have to do is describe what they think Hoodoo is, for you to know they don’t know a thing about Hoodoo.

Test them, by asking them this simple question: “What is Hoodoo?” If they answer with anything that suggests that Hoodoo is “an African American folk magic” you right off the bat they are only quoting Lucky Mojo bullcrap and haven’t got a clue what Hoodoo is, because Honey, there ain’t no Hoodoo in Africa and there ain’t no Africa in Hoodoo. Do your research Sugardoll, and yoou won’t be wearing that graduate of Lucky Mojo badge so proudly when it hits you you wasted $400 to be spoon feed shovlefulls of lies. I’m sorry, but just because Lucky Mojo told you it was so, doesn’t make it true, in fact, chances are pretty high that if you got the information from Lucky Mojo, there’s probably not an once of truth in it at all. Don’t belive everything Lucky Mojo says, in fact better yet, don’t believe a word Lucky Mojo says. Just because Lucky Mojo told you something about us rootworkers, doesn’t mean they know shit about what we do or do not do.

Than there is the question of Conjure. Students of Lucky Mojo, keep saying again and again that the word Hoodoo and Conjure are interchangable, that one is the same as the other. NOT TRUE! They go o far as to say that a person who practices Hoodoo is called a Conjure Doctor! Conjure is African American folk magic. Hoodoo Scottish folk magic. If you want to say you are a Conjure Doctor practicing African American folk magic – fine. If you are practicing Conjure than yes, you are a Two-Headed Conjure Doctor who practice African American folk magic. But don’t go calling yourself a Conjure Doctor if you are practicing Hoodoo and especially don’t go calling Hoodoo African American! Conjure is African American, Hoodoo is not! Conjure IS NOT Hoodoo and Hoodoo IS NOT Conjure. Te only place where Hoodoo and Conjure are interchangeable is inside the warped brains that created the fantasy history taught by the Lucky Mojo school. In the REAL world, Conjure and Hoodoo ARE NOT the same thing.

Remember hoodoo is a Scottish word. Hoodoo by translation means “haunted, paranormal, or supernatural”. It dates back to 300AD and was used by the Picts of Scotland. The word “witch doctor” by translation means: “hunter of witches or one who drives out witches”. African Vodun was introduced to America in the 1700s. Scottish women taught their house slaves hoodoo poppet magic at the same time Catholic priests were teaching the house slaves about Jesus, Mary, and Saints. The end result was the slaves combined the words hoodoo and vodun to get voodoo. And yet, you hear practitioners today telling you that hoodoo is a “new word” created in the 1800s in New Orleans? How do they explain “hoodoo mountain”, “hoodoo gorge”, “hoodoo rock” and the hundreds of other places in Wales and Scotland, which have used those names close to 2,000 years? Today you hear people talk about hoodoo and witch doctors as though they originated in Africa, and neither hoodoo nor witch doctors were ever in Africa at all – both originated from Scotland!.

How do I know all this? I’ll tell you. Both of my grandmothers were witches, I was taught by them. We are Scottish Travelers, we can trace our genealogy to the 1200s, with hoodoo witches and witch doctors all along the way. I am a Princess of The Royal Highland Clan, I am the granddaughter of the first “Traveler King” born in the Americas (he was born in Canada). He married a Kickapoo (Native American Indian) “weather witch” (rain woman/shaman). Our family is steeped in over 500 years of witchcraft passed down from both my Scottish side and my Native American side. I myself have been practicing hoodoo magic arts since 1978. I view witchcraft as a CAREER not a RELIGION. I am a professional/practicing/career hoodoo witchdoctor (Scottish not African hoodoo – they are different) and psychic reader. Spellcraft and altar work is my full time career. I don’t have a “regular” job, this IS my job. I work spells, altar work, do prayer requests, card readings, channleings, and divination for clients. I’ve never meet an African/African-American, and it’s very unlikely any one in my family ever has, because for close on to 700 years we have lived in the far North were the population is 99.9% white and most of the .01% in Native American or Romi Gypsy. Until I discovered the internet (rather recently) I had no idea that the world of African Hoodoo, voodoo, and Vodun even existed. I had never heard of it before.

Lucky Mojo, in spite of the bad reputation it’s arrogant students give it’s school, is one of the best suppliers of some of the highest quality Hoodoo supplies out there. The items are semi-mass produced in that they have a whole team of employees making their products, but they are still being handmade in small batches, just lots of them, by lots of people. Lucky Mojo is doing a huge world of good by attempting to preserve the “lost art” of Hoodoo. Fact is, Hoodoo is a dying art and a lot a young folks these days have no interest in taking it up from their grannies.

Traditionally Hoodoo is passed down from grandmother to granddaughter, with it’s secrets closely guarded and fiercely protected. Often information given to interviewers and folklorists (such as Hyatt) is deliberately inaccurate, told to the interview wrong, in order to protect the “family secrets”. That is where Lucky Mojo runs into trouble with it’s school, because nearly everything they teach is based 100% on the HUGELY INACCURATE writings of Hyatt. Inaccurate because #1 the grannies he talked to only gave him half truths to protect their secrets, #2 they could barely speak a word of legible English and much of what Hyatt wrote was hit and miss guessing, and #3 being descendants of the African slaves, not descendants of the Scottish rootworkers, they didn’t know what they were doing to begin with! Granted Hyatt only wrote what he was told, but rootworkers of the 1930s were well known for not telling Hyatt “the truth” leaving out vital bits of information in spell workings, for the intent of not allowing spells cast from Hyatt’s writings, to work, thus preserving the need for people to come to the rootworker. Lucky Mojo however runs on the belief that the writings of Hyatt are “good enough” as they are, and that the spells are usable just as Hyatt wrote them down, when in fact, they are not. Yes, the students of Lucky Mojo get results from using Hyatt’s spells, however, they are not getting the mind blowing amplified results that those old granny rootworkers were famous for.

The other problem is, Hyatt in his ignorance, never bothered to do his research about the history of Hoodoo, and how the illiterate non-native-English-speaking African Americans of his hometown came to learn Hoodoo, an art which they barely understood, and were hardly able to speak about properly due their not know how to even speak English in a legable manner. Instead, Hyatt simply assumed that “Oh, they must have brought it with them from Africa, so that’s what I’ll tell people in my book” and left it at that. Had he headed north and interviewed the WHITE Scottish Rootworks of New England and Eastern Canada, he would have learned some vastly different facts about Hoodoo, been given far more accurate spells, and not had to bend over backwards trying to figure out what they were trying to say, seeing as they actual spoke English and knew what the words they were saying ment.

Fact is, Hoodoo is a adjective with means “haunted”, as in Hoodoo Hill, Hoodoo Valley, Hoodoo Mountain, aka Haunted Hill, Haunted Valley, Haunted Mountain. Scotland is full of them, and they where given these names, not hundreds, but thousands of years ago. To Hoodoo, a verb, means to communicate with the spirit world. In the 1400s Scotland was rife with Witch Doctors Hoodooing in order to uncover who was a witch and should be burned at the stake for it. A Hoodoo Dollie is a doll with captures the spirit of a Faerie, Brownie, or other type of Little People to compel them to do work for you, usually to help you determine which house contained a witch in need of burning – dolls were often set fire to and tossed in the house to burn it and the witch inside, while the Faeries stood guard outside and refused to allow the inhabitants out. Gris-Gris were known as Witching Balls, those big glass balls you set out in your garden or hang from your front porch; they were made with spotted swirl colors or mirrored glass in order to confuse, confound, and reverse the curses and hexes of witches. Very little of what folks refer to as “African American folk magic” originated in Africa, in fact the ONLY part of Hoodoo that comes out of African tradition is the use of black cat bones, chicken feet, dove’s blood, and other animal parts. Animals are protected by the Faeries and harming, killing, or offending an animal is to bring down the wrath of the Faeries upon your head, and as such, no one practicing unadulterated Hoodoo would EVER use bones, body parts, or other remains of a dead animal in their work. Killing animals to please the gods is a distinctly African belief system and has no place in actual Hoodoo.

The problem I have with Lucky Mojo’s school is not the fact that they blatantly, willfully, and KNOWINGLY teach misinformation about the history of Hoodoo and falsely promote Hoodoo as an African American folk magic, but rather the students of Lucky Mojo themselves, who are so idiotic stupid that they haven’t got enough brains to do any REAL research and find out that what they are being told by Lucky Mojo is nothing but a load of hooey meant as a marketing scheme to promote scaring students into buying Lucky Mojo products! Students come out of Lucky Mojo, quoting marketing gimmick crap as though it was hard fact! Their conversations become rife with misunderstanding and it is becoming clearer and clearer that these people are just repeating the misinformation they are getting from websites owned by Lucky Mojo. They can’t get it through their heads that Lucky Mojo is a store, whose owners will do, say, write, and teach ANYTHING true or false, that will help to boost the sale of their products! The school is a marketing scam, which forces students to buy $400 in Lucky Mojo products prior to becoming a student and another $1,000 or so in Lucky Mojo brand products to stay a student while taking the online classes. To remain a student in good standing (and keep their certification status) they must continue to purchase no less than 4 $100 orders from Lucky Mojo every year for the rest of their life, AND pay Lucky Mojo $100 a year to remain on it’s list of “recommended” rootworkers, at Association of Independent Readers and Rootworkers, an organization which, oh look, is owned by Lucky Mojo and only accepts members who have graduated from it’s school. But let’s not end there, of the 300+ websites online about the history of Hoodoo, how many do you think are owned by Lucky Mojo and are nothing more than great big giant advertisements for their products? EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!

Lucky Mojo is run by a marketing guru and advertising specilist who knows how to do and say WHATEVER IT TAKES to make a sale, including to make up fake histories which falsely state that Hoodoo is an African American folk magic, complete with made up false histories to “prove” their lies. But as I said, the problem here is not Lucky Mojo or it’s massive marketing scem full of historical decit and lies, because let’s face it, lying to the public to trick them into buying goods, is what every single add campaign is all about: just look at cigerrett ads if you want proof of that! No, the problem is the idiots who can’t tell the differance between historical evidance and a damn good fake history created by a marketing team to convinse you to buy their product! Lucky Mojo is no different from any other coorperation out there looking to make a buck off the suckers of the world. It’s these modern day new age neo-pagan so-called rootworkers who are running around requoting everything Lucky Mojo says as though it was fact, that are the problem. “What is Hoodoo? Oh, well, Hoodoo is an African American folk magic….blah, blah, blah…and I know this to be true because cat of Lucky Mojo told me it was.” Yep. Go get yourself a kick up side the head and when you got the shit out of your skull, go buy yourself a brain, put it in your head, and than try using it, you know to think, and research, and learn the truth and the facts about what Hoodoo REALLY is and how different REAL Hoodoo is from the bull crap cat wants you to believe. You can’t blame cat for trying to sell her product, she just doing what all curio shop owners do: telling a tall tale to make you want to buy her goods. Heck they don’t call curio shop owners “snake oil peddlers” for nothing you know! cat is only doing what every other snake oil peddler before her has ever done. The problem is that people attending her school and reading her website can’t tell the difference between a load of made up hooey and actual facts, and they are now building masses of websites and blogs which do nothing but spew out Lucky Mojo’s marketing lies as fact!

Yes I do buy and use Lucky Mojo products, no I’ve got no problem with Lucky Mojo or cat or her questionable marketing methods, yes, I do have huge issues with folks who are so idiotic that they read cat’s words and assume she has the slightest idea what the heck she is talking about. I am just so fed up with the self righteous arrogant think they know it all students that come out of the Lucky Mojo Correspondence School, who a running around spreading a pack of lies about Hoodoo claiming it is an African American folk magic, when there ain’t nothin African American about Hoodoo, and there never was.

Now granted, I’m not saying New Orleans Hoodoo is wrong. I’m simply saying that it is a tradition borrowed from the Welsh, Scottish and German land owners, which the slaves blended into their religious practices. It is wrong to say that Hoodoo originated in Africa when it did not, it originated in Scotland. New Orleans Hoodoo is a new form of magic art, derived from blending other magic arts together. It is folly to say that the only way to understand it is to get to know an African American. Heck, they barely understand it themselves! They are only passing down what their grannies taught them about what their Scottish slave owners taught them! You REALLY want to understand Hoodoo – go to the taproot source: head to Scotland. All those little “hidden mysteries” that African Americas tell you “no one understands” about Hoodoo, will become glaringly clear when you talk to a real Hoodoo Practitioner of the Scottish Traveller Gypsy clans.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Laughing Gnome Hollow’s Traditional Gypsy Magic and Scottish Hoodoo Blog @ http://laughinggnomehollow.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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Hoodoo is Scottish not African

someone sent me a link to a blog post with the words: “You’ll want to read this one!” I did. Here it is if you want to read it as well. The post is written by a New Orleans style Hoodoo practitioner, in response to comments received on an older post s/he had written. S/he was quite upset over the fact that readers had misunderstood a spell s/he had quoted from Hyatt’s book on Hoodoo. S/he than goes off into a snit over the fact that his/her readers are idiots for not knowing how to interpret African American dialect. In short the post was a rant, in a style not to unlike what you’d expect me to have written.

The part that gets me is this:

I guess I now have a clearer understanding of why some teachers of hoodoo have to make it mandatory that their students actually *speak to an African American person,* because some people never have and never would and yet would think to undertake a study of African-American folk magic. The mind, it boggles.  My takeaway point from this was, in part: 

If you can’t understand the dialects of the people who perpetuate these practices, you can’t really study the sources, living or passed on. It’s part of why cat in her rootwork course encourages students to actually learn about African American culture(s) and requires that they interview people instead of just trying to learn from books (which *cannot* be done, not really, not thoroughly).

S/he is of course referencing ”cat” owner of Luck Mojo. As usual, what we have here is yet another person who is too lazy to do their research and is content to quote cat’s absurdities as gospel truth. The thing that gets me is the arrogance of this rootworker, condemning their reader for not doing their research when s/he her/himself has not even done their own research! Can anyone say “Blind leading the blind”?

Well, you know me (of course you do or you would not have thought to send me the link to this blog post!) I just had to comment on this rootworker’s absurd ignorance of the origins of Hoodoo. The comment awaits moderation. whether or not it gets posted is anyone’s guess. In any case, I never comment on any blog with out first posting that comment as a post on my own blog and here it is:

I must ask: Outside of the utter nonsense preached by the owners of Lucky Mojo and it’s followers, when exactly has Hoodoo got anything to do with “African Americans” AT ALL? Answer: never. Lucky Mojo creates a good fairy tale yes, but lacks considerably on both facts and history. The history of Hoodoo according to Lucky Mojo is based, 100% on ONE BOOK, that of Hyatt. And while Hyatt’s book, does tell the history of Hoodoo FROM ONE AREA, it tells only the “than current” history of it, as it was being used in his time period by people in his local area, whom happened to be illiterate non-native English speaking former slaves, incalculable of telling him who taught them these traditions or why, and Hyatt in his ignorance, rather than to do a background check, simply ASSUMED the info was brought with them from Africa. Luck Mojo founders, in their ignorance started quoting Hyatt’s ignorance as actual fact, without doing any historical research in the the ACTUAL history of either the word Hoodoo or it’s practice. Lucky Mojo followers in turn quote cat’s ignorance, likewise never lifting a finger in research, and blindly assuming everything that comes out of cat’s mouth is gospel truth or well researched facts.

FACT: The word Hoodoo originates from Pictish Scotland. Hoodoo by translation means “haunted, paranormal, or supernatural”. It dates back to around 300BC-300AD and was used by the Picts of Scotland. The word “witch doctor” by translation means: “hunter of witches or one who drives out witches”. African Vodun was introduced to America in the 1700s. Scottish women taught their house slaves hoodoo poppet magic at the same time Catholic priests were teaching the house slaves about Jesus, Mary, and Saints. The end result was the slaves combined the words hoodoo and vodun to get voodoo. And yet, you hear practitioners today telling you that hoodoo is a “new word” created in the 1800s in New Orleans? How do they explain “hoodoo mountain”, “hoodoo gorge”, “hoodoo rock”, “hoodoo valley”, and the hundreds of other places in Wales and Scotland, which have used those names close to 2,000 years? Today you hear people talk about hoodoo and witch doctors as though they originated in Africa, and neither hoodoo nor witch doctors were ever in Africa AT ALL – both originated from Scotland! Go to Africa, look for hoodoo, you won’t find it no where. Go to Scotland, look at all those witch bottles and clooties hanging in the trees, look at the gris-gris hanging in doorways, look at the hoodoo dollies sitting on porches. Do your research, Honey, there ain’t no Africa in hoodoo, and there ain’t no hoodoo in Africa.

FACT: The word “Voodoo” is a corruption of the word “Hoodoo”, not the other way around as started on Lucky Mojo’s website. The word Voodoo does not exist in any document prior to the 1700′s. The word Hoodoo can be found in Britannic documents dating as far back as 300BC

Hoodoo is a Scottish word not an African word and dates back to before the 1300′s, though it’s use as a magic art did not become popular until the 1300′s , and was used to describe anything of a paranormal or supernatural nature and often meant “haunted”, thus why you have Hoodoo Mountain, Hoodoo Valley, Hoodoo Forest, Hoodoo Peak, Hoodoo Gully, Hoodoo Canyon, etc.. The word Voodoo comes from mixing the Scottish word hoodoo with the African word Vodun.

FACT:

FACT: A practitioner of Hoodoo is CORRECTLY called a “Witch Doctor”, a “Hedgewalker”, or a “Hoodooer” NOT a Rootworker. A witch doctor is a spiritual leader, shaman, or medicine man/woman who specializes in the removal of negative energy, curses, and hexes. Hoodoo Witch Doctors with their hoodoo doll spells, originated in ancient pre-Christian Scotland, however, in modern times, the term is usually used for African, Indonesian, or South American tribes, as well as being used by some modern neo-pagan Native American and Wiccans as well. In recent years, the term is most commonly used by hoodoo root workers and Voodoo priests.

A witch doctor is not a medical doctor, but rather a spiritual healer and one well-versed in herbal remedies, hex removal, massage techniques, and guided meditation. He or she also provides spiritual or psychological counseling for other members of their group, tribe, coven, whatever, through the use of divination, card readings, and channeling spirits.

The term “Witch Doctor” comes from the fact that they are traditionally said to be feared by witches, because of their ability to “cure” or remove and reverse curses, hexes, and the evil eye. The are commonly called upon to bless houses, crops, livestock, fresh graves, newlyweds, and babies to protect them from being cursed by witches. Like a minister they perform marriages, baptisms, exorcisms, and funerals. A witch doctor is a type of shaman. A shaman is a seer or “one who sees into the spirit world. A witch doctor is a shaman who specializes in removing negative energy, bad karma, hexes, etc., but most especially, the removal of witches and evil spirits. In other words they are exorcists.

To fully understand the meaning to the title Witch Doctor one needs to understand the ORIGINAL meaning of the word “witch”. The word “witch” did not exist prior to 1486 from Heinrich Kramer and his book Malleus Maleficarum . Heinrich Kramer created the word “witch” which means: “the wicked whom follow Satan”. The word “witch” was a slang word created to give one simple word to lump together under one label, every one that was “evil” or in other words, a “witch” was any one of the following: Catholics, Christian Enochains, Alchemists, Coptic Christians, Gnostic Christians, Jews, Rabbis, Lutherans, Friars, Hebrew Prophets, Persian Magi, Celtic Druids/Magicians, Medical Doctors, Mid-Wives, Dreamers, Visionaries, Seers, Revalators, Soothsayers, Prostitutes, women with red hair, men with red beards, children with green eyes, every one who knew how to swim, Herbalists, and Wizards.

To technically be a witch one must be born with green eyes, have red hair, and be a female who had sex, was raped, gave birth to a daughter instead of a son, and be any religion other than Puritan. Puts a new perspective on being a witch when you actually read Kramer’s infamous “Witch’s Hammer” doesn’t it?

Did you know that the words “witch”, “witchcraft”, and “sorcery” were NOT in the Bible prior to 1611? They were added to the King James Version, to replace the words: “herbalist”, “doctor”, “physician”, “medicine”, “mid-wife”, and “healer”. Why? Because it was a trend in the 1600′s to believe that sickness was a punishment from God and medical doctors who cured illnesses were doing Satan’s work by removing God’s punishment from the wicked, and therefor were guilty of witchcraft and so the Bible was ordered to be re-written to reflect this.

The word “witch” is German and means “one who consorts with devils/demons/Satan”. The word “witchcraft” is also German and means “removes disease”. The word “witch doctor” is Scottish and means “one who undoes the evil of witches”. It was not until 1953, the the word “witch” come to mean ANYTHING other than this. There are many neo-Pagan Witches today who proudly brag that thier’s is the oldest religion and that calling one-self a witch is a good thing. I pity these poor delusional idiots and their blatantly stupidity and total lack of historical knowledge. Witch is not a good word. It NEVER was. It NEVER was a religion. It NEVER was a title worn proudly by women. It is a derogatory Christian term, which always did, always has, still does, and always will mean: “Satan worshiper”. To proudly call one-self a witch is to proudly call one-self a Satan Worshiper, for that is what the word means.

Because the term “Witch Doctor” has come to have a derogatory meaning in some regions, many modern practitioners have adopted the term “Conjure Doctor” or “Root Doctor” instead, in order to make themselves sound politically correct.

Contrary to popular myth, witch doctors did not originate in Africa (or any other indigenous tribal region), but rather originated in Medieval Europe where it was first used by Scottish alchemists as a way to drive witches out of the villages. They often use wax dolls, called hoodoo dollies, stuck with sewing pins to send hexes back upon the witches, than would search the area until they found someone with boils and accused that person of witchcraft, citing that the boils had been caused by the pins in the wax doll. Hoodoo dollies have been mentioned in Scottish history dating to BC times.

The term witch doctor was not used in relation to African tribes until the late 1800′s. And the use of hoodoo dolls stuck with pins, was introduced to Vodun by Scottish Witch Doctors in the late 1700′s. The plantation slaves adopted the use of these dolls into their religious practices, and thus the dolls became known as “Voodoo Dolls”, however while in Scottish Witch Doctoring the dolls are used to cause harm, in Vodun they were used instead as a way to cure sickness and disease.

I am myself both Native American (Kickapoo) and Scottish, and follow the traditions of my grandmothers. A tradition passed down, in writing in a 1400′s Bible brought here from Scotland and passed down in my family these 600 years. A tradition that comes 100% exclusivity from my family, which has never been south of Maine, and has never even seen an African American let alone talk to one. Lucky Mojo is filling your head with fairy tales. Stop being lazy and do your research. Any one who does even a minute bit of research will find the huge error of cat’s teachings. The problem with research is folks is lazy, and only turn to Google, but Honey all you will find online if cat’s teachings, quoted and requoted over and over again. Every site out there toughting the “history” of hoodoo, always references Luck Mojo as their source. Every one of them. Lucky Mojo is not a source, it’s a store that tells you what you want to hear to get you to buy their products. There is not an once of historical evidence to back up any of cat’s “so-called facts”.  If you tried to back up your case in court, using just what you find on Lucky Mojo, your evidence would be inadmissible and kicked out as hear-say. Try going to museums and historical societies, find yourself some REAL history about Hoodoo – you’ll be floored by what you find, and don’t be surprised if you find yourself feeling hurt, betrayed, and lied to by your beloved cat of Lucky Mojo.

I really wish people would actually research REAL history and actual ancient documents, instead of running around quoting the delusions of cat, Hyatt, and Lucky Mojo like they were gospel truth.

Hoodoo is a Scottish word dating back to the 300′s and means “haunted” or “supernatural” or “magic”. Vodun is an African religion, dating back over 10,000 years BC, and involved worshiping Dambala-Wedo (The One God) and his servants the Lwa (The Spirit Messengers of God or The Lesser Gods). Vodun is the oldest know recorded religion and pre-dates the Genesis story of the 7-Day Creation, by more than 4,000 years. Voodoo was created when Scottish Hoodoo Witch Doctors taught the African slaves Celtic Magic arts, the same time while Christian preachers (mostly Catholic) were trying to convert the slaves to Catholicism. The word Voodoo (American/Haitian) was the combining of the words Hoodoo (Scottish) and Vodun (African). Voodoo takes the Vodun religion, adds Scottish Hoodoo Witch Doctor magic, and than throws in Catholic saints, prayers, and altars.

Hoodoo and Voodoo are nearly identical, the basic difference is Hoodoo focuses on Scottish magic with a little bit of African religion mixed in, while Voodoo focuses on African religion with a little bit of Scottish magic mixed in.

Scottish Magic (aka Hoodoo) is taking a faith powered prayer (spell) and empowering it even more (making it stronger) by attracting certain energies with the use of colors, herbs, incense, crystals, and other items. It is done with few tools and focuses largely on use of poppets, dollies, bags, and pillows or in other words, various forms of gris-gris. This requires many years of studying the energetic properties of colors, herbs, etc. in order to know which colors and herbs attract with energies and is a tradition passed down by word of mouth from grandmother to granddaughter. It is almost exclusivly practiced by women, however in recent years men have been learning the art of hoodoo as well.

Thanks to the internet having almost no accurate information on the history of hoodoo at all (Lucky Mojo controls nearly every hoodoo site out there and very little of their information is even remotely accurate, and what few sites are not owned by Lucky Mojo are owned by the students of it’s school, so are still teaching inaccurate crap as gospel truth.) You want to know about REAL hoodoo – go to the familys that have passed down the tradition for centuries. Don’t go to the internet, because accurate info is not there.

It’s like the Warlock by translation means: “oath breaker” or “one who tells lies” – it has NOTHING to do with witchcraft AT ALL! It never did prior to the 1920′s! Wiccans like to say it is what witches called a witch whom ratted out their coven. That is pure Silver Ravenwolf made-up-fantasy-fictional-history-of-witchcraft crap! It was used by Christians to describe any one who told a lie in court.

Remember hoodoo is a Scottish word. Hoodoo by translation means “haunted, paranormal, or supernatural”. It dates back to 300AD and was used by the Picts of Scotland. The word “witch doctor” by translation means: “hunter of witches or one who drives out witches”. African Vodun was introduced to America in the 1700s. Scottish women taught their house slaves hoodoo poppet magic at the same time Catholic priests were teaching the house slaves about Jesus, Mary, and Saints. The end result was the slaves combined the words hoodoo and vodun to get voodoo. And yet, you hear practitioners today telling you that hoodoo is a “new word” created in the 1800s in New Orleans? How do they explain “hoodoo mountain”, “hoodoo gorge”, “hoodoo rock” and the hundreds of other places in Wales and Scotland, which have used those names close to 2,000 years? Today you hear people talk about hoodoo and witch doctors as though they originated in Africa, and neither hoodoo nor witch doctors were ever in Africa at all – both originated from Scotland!.

How do I know all this? I’ll tell you. Both of my grandmothers were witches, I was taught by them. We are Scottish Travelers, we can trace our genealogy to the 1200s, with hoodoo witches and witch doctors all along the way. I am a Princess of The Royal Highland Clan, I am the granddaughter of the first “Traveler King” born in the Americas (he was born in Canada). He married a Kickapoo (Native American Indian) “weather witch” (rain woman/shaman). Our family is steeped in over 500 years of witchcraft passed down from both my Scottish side and my Native American side. I myself have been practicing hoodoo magic arts since 1978. I view witchcraft as a CAREER not a RELIGION. I am a professional/practicing/career hoodoo witchdoctor (Scottish not African hoodoo – they are different) and psychic reader. Spellcraft and altar work is my full time career. I don’t have a “regular” job, this IS my job. I work spells, altar work, do prayer requests, card readings, channleings, and divination for clients. I’ve never meet an African/African-American, and it’s very unlikely any one in my family ever has, because for close on to 700 years we have lived in the far North were the population is 99.9% white and most of the .01% in Native American or Romi Gypsy. Until I discovered the internet (rather recently) I had no idea that the world of African Hoodoo, voodoo, and Vodun even existed. I had never heard of it before.

Now granted, I’m not saying New Orleans Hoodoo is wrong. I’m simply saying that it is a tradition borrowed from the Welsh, Scottish and German land owners, which the slaves blended into their religious practices. It is wrong to say that Hoodoo originated in Africa when it did not, it originated in Scotland. New Orleans Hoodoo is a new form of magic art, derived from blending other magic arts together. It is folly to say that the only way to understand it is to get to know an African American. Heck, they barely understand it themselves! They are only passing down what their grannies taught them about what their Scottish slave owners taught them! You REALLY want to understand Hoodoo – go to the taproot source: head to Scotland. All those little “hidden mysteries” that African Americas tell you “no one understands” about Hoodoo, will become glaringly clear when you talk to a real Hoodoo Practitioner of the Scottish Traveller Gypsy clans.

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Good morning Starshine! Liked this post? Looking to connect with me online? I love social networks and am on most of them. You can find me on: BloggerEtsyFaceBookGoogle+KeenMySpaceNaNoWriMoProBoardsScript FrenzySpoonflowerSquidooTwitterULC Ministers NetworkWordPress, and Zazzle Feel free to give me a shout any  time. Many blessings to you, may all your silver clouds be lined with rhinestones and sparkle of golden sunshine. Have yourself a great and wonderful glorious day!

~Rev. Wendy C. Allen aka Empress EelKat of Laughing Gnome Hollow

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

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Have I Told You Lately That I Love You? (Final Essay for Spring 2012 Semester at SMCC)

The final essay of the class is worth 90% of my grade. That’s somewhat stressful. Everything else we have written this semester is just scratch working up to this one. Well, it’s now been turned in, and all I can do is sit and wait for my grade. Here is the essay I wrote, if you want to read it:

Wendy C. Allen
English 100-15
Dan Clarke
Revised Essay
(A Revision of Essay #2: Eva)
(April 25, 2012)
May 9, 2012



Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?

One of my earliest memories was of a road trip to Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. I was 6, maybe 7 at the time. I was sitting in the backseat of a 1964 Dodge 330 4-door sedan, a former Old Orchard Beach police car, now painted metallic orange. On either side of me sat an old lady. The older one, at five foot one, was only inches taller than I was, had short curly hair, was known for her wild temper, spiteful ways, starting fist fights, putting curses on everyone in sight, spoke with a Scottish accent so thick you could barely discern she was speaking English, and in the 1960s had embraced the passion of wearing purple polyester. The other, twenty years younger than the first, with hair not quite as grey, stood five foot eight, had very dark tan skin, kept her hair tied in two long pigtail braids, and having just arrived back home from (yet another) trip to Hawaii, was dressed in a long ruffled muumuu with butterflies so huge, that only two fit across it. Neither had ever driven a car; both remembered the days long before cars existed.  

“Nobody ever takes me anywhere,” complained one.

“Oh, I know it, isn’t it terrible, nobody ever takes me anywhere either,” answered the other.

They spent the next several miles discussing how they each did nothing all day but sit home alone, never got out of the house, and had overall dull, boring lives. The conversation was ironic, considering neither had any idea where they were, seeing as some 100 miles or so back, we had taken a wrong turn and were now wandering aimlessly on the unmapped dirt roads which weave their way around the New Hampshire White Mountains.

Their conversation went on in endless babble, until the Scottish woman pulled out a ham sandwich and offered it to the Indian woman, a Seventh Day Adventist and Huna practitioner, and therefore a strict vegetarian and animal rights activist. An all out food fight ensued with pieces of ham sandwiches being thrown from one side of the car to the other. It was always eventful sitting between my two grandmothers on a long road trip, because you never knew whether you should wear yellow to match the mustard or white to match the mayo. I was quite used to this by now, as we took a road trip every weekend and airborne slices of tomato, flying lettuce, and hamburger patties sliding down the windshield, was just the way it was. My parents had long ago given up on asking their parents to sit down and behave.

Until that moment you would have thought the two women best of friends. However, nothing could have been further from the truth. The two women hated one another, had spent many years feuding, and had only been sitting peacefully together in the red shag backseat of a giant orange car, because one’s son had married the other’s daughter and any chance to spend time with their grandbaby was worth having to put up with one another’s company for a few hours. To the untrained eye, the ham sandwich had been an innocent mistake; however, any one who knew Helen Ricker-Allen knew all too well that she did not normally eat ham, and had gone out of her way to buy ham, specifically for this event, knowing full well that meat of all kinds, but most especially pig, was off Eva’s menu. The screaming and yelling died down when we reached the top of Mt. Washington, but the slices of ham were firmly stuck to the windows and ceiling for the rest of the trip.



My memories of Grammy Helen are few, many of them involving hospital visits, though most are of her screaming and waving knives as she chased someone down the road. Was she a crazy woman or was it just for show? I do not know. I was too young to know. People around town called her “Helen the Hellion.” Seems like she was always screaming, always waving knives in the air, throwing ham sandwiches, and always running down the road, whenever she wasn’t reading bird books or tending to her massive flower garden. I was just 8 years old when she died of cancer. I remember her funeral. She wore a blue velvet gown. Some Atwaters showed up and started a fight. I don’t remember why. Grammy Helen was the oldest of my grandparents. She remembered horse drawn carriages and both World Wars. When Grammy Helen died, I inherited her land, her grandmother’s 200 year old rosebush, her Liberace records, her 1971 MTD 3-Wheel MudBug (yes, she was an 82 year old woman with an ATV), her comic books (which set a Guinness Book Record, for containing the largest and most complete run of Disney comic books), the family Bible/Grimoire (a giant and ancient Medieval volume weighing close to 40lbs and passed down through our family for centuries), and her title: Queen of the Gypsies, Hedgewitch, Witch Doctor, Fortune Teller, and caster of spells. Grammy Helen was a Scottish Traveller, part Christian, part Pagan (Welsh Faery Faith aka Traditional Witchcraft and Scottish Hoodoo aka European Voodoo) and all Witch. She called herself a Methodist, yet was a practicing Witch. Not a fru-fru Wiccan witch wannabe, like what you see today, but the real deal black magic, curses, hexes and everything. Witchcraft wasn’t a religion back then, not like it is today.  Today Witchcraft is is fad, a thing to do; back then it was a way of life, a career, a job; it paid the bills.


My other grandmother was also a Witch, but a very different kind of Witch. She was known as “The Weather Witch of Biddeford,” a title she was given from her habit of predicting with alarming accuracy, minute by minute, day by day weather forecasts, from reading the smoke from the towering mill-stacks. Only two of the tall brick smoke stacks still stand, and only one is still in use. However, she was not content to let people know how she did it; rather, she found it to be far more fun, to “get back at people” with it. By this she meant, say a woman in the grocery store accidentally ran into her with a shopping cart, she’d turn on the woman and say something along the lines of: “You apologize for that right now or I’ll make it rain this afternoon.” It was going to rain whether the woman apologized or not, but we were Gypsies and people expected to be cursed by us, so Grammy had fun with it.



Her name was Eva Viola LittleJohn/Dyer. She was an Indian, who disliked and refused to use the term “Native American.” Some records say she was Kickapoo, others say Micmac. Orphaned at age 3, no one really knew much about her family, other then she was a “red skinned savage”, and the child of a unmarried flapper of the 1920s. Her mother’s favorite book was Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and she was named after the character “Little Eva”.   Her mother was a prostitute and a colored woman, who in 1921 did the unthinkable and attempted to be a single unwed mother, raising a child on her own. She had two other children as well. Records are unclear as to how exactly she died, just that she did, leaving 3 small children alone. The older girl had lighter skin, could be passed off as white, and was quickly adopted, but her beauty was her downfall and as a teenager she was raped and beaten, her head bashed in with a baseball bat. 
Miraculously she lived, but remained for the rest of her life with one side of her skull, pulverized and flattened, looking as though half of her head had been cut clean off, barely recognizable as having once been human, and in a mental institute for the rest of her 80 long years. We found out what happened to her only weeks before she died, when Pineland Center shut down and sent its patients free to wander the streets. In what would be yet another long road trip we drove Grammy to see her sister. It was the first and only time the two sisters had seen each other since their mother had died.


Raised by the Shakers in the 1920s, Eva lived in abusive foster care, told she was worthless due to her race, seen as free labour to do the hardest dirtiest tasks of the Shaker Village at Sabbathday Lake, Maine. If you go to the village today, which is now a living history museum, look at the old photos on the wall, and notice the little girl, the scullery maid hard at work scrubbing clothes at the washboard – that’s her, that’s Little Eva, scrubbing till her fingers bleed, then locked in a closet each night without supper to punish her for being born “red as the devil”.

As a teenager, Eva ran away, hitch-hiked to Portland, Maine, joined the Seventh Day Adventist church, and married the getaway driver of Honeyfitz Kennedy’s rum-running gang, who also claimed to be “the one true” king of all kings of the Gypsies, Scottish Traveller David Henry Atwater of Nova Scotia. Their early years had been happy, but in his mid-20s David Henry went blind, and became a bitter, angry, violent man, mad at life and every one who still had their sight. David originally blamed his blindness on his having had Scarlet Fever at the age of 12. In later years, he claimed his blindness had been caused by  having seen God in person, face to face. Folks who had known the young gangster, blamed his blindness on a swig of bad moonshine. Eva’s young adult years were spent in terror of an abusive husband, who took to locking her in dark closets, to punish her for not having gone blind as well.

Eva and Helen meet each other in the 1950s through David. Helen had been born and raised in Old Orchard, she was a Ricker after all, and the Rickers had founded the town. David and Eva had moved from Portland to Canton. While in Canton, David began to have visitations from God, angels, demons, spirits, and ghosts of varying degrees of strangeness. He decided after one such visitation, that God wanted him to move first to Saco, then to Old Orchard Beach, then back to Saco, then to Biddeford, then back to Old Orchard again. No one moved into Old Orchard without the Rickers knowing it. Normally Gypsy Clans get along one clan with another, but the Atwaters, lead by the infamous David Henry, were far from normal, and saw other Clans not as fellow comrades, but as mortal enemies to be cut down and eliminated. It was after all, God’s will, and they could prove it was God’s will, because David spoke on on one with God Himself.

In about 1811 the Ricker Clan of Portland, Maine, married into the Googins, Lewis, and Allen Clans of Portland, then moved to a nearby bay. George Ricker, declared himself  “ruler” (as well as mayor, road commissioner, and fire chief) of this new land, which he named “The Orchard by the Sea”. In 1821, it was renamed The Town on the Old Orchard Beach, and the Travellers set out to do what they did best: set up a carnival, only this time a permanent one known as The Palace Playland. To celebrate the founding of his new Kingdom (town) he gave his wife Rose Ricker a rosebush, which, now, being at least 191 years old, is still alive and growing, standing at 13 feet tall.  Their daughter Helen Ricker went on to run the school board, the firefighters wives society, and founded nearly every women’s group active in Old Orchard between the 1920s through the 1980s. During that time she also maintained a hobby of collecting comic books, crocheting, obsessing over Liberace, and casting spells and curses on everyone in sight.

The Rickers ran the town, which some nicknamed “The Dynasty of Old Orchard Beach,” on every level. Every town official, public works officer, school board member, police officer, fireman, and business owner was a Ricker, a Googins, an Allen, a Lewis, or a cousin of one of the above. Tourists were the income and the original fairgrounds were massive, spanning for nearly 5 miles along the beachfront. The Ricker Dynasty came to a horrific end during the Burning of the White Way or the Second Great Fire of Old Orchard Beach in 1963 (the first was in 1907) which took out every ride, shop, and motel along the shore. This event came on the heels of the arrival of a brutal, violent, scam artist, polygamist, extreme Fundamentalist Mormon crime family: The Royal Highland Atwater Clan, lead by none other than the soon to become infamous murder-suicide cult leader himself: David Henry Atwater. When one thinks of Gypsies, most think of Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves” along side of news reports of terrorist crime families. For most Travellers this image is far from the truth, but for the Atwater Clan, this was a perfect image of who they were. The Atwaters brought with them honky tonks, bar rooms, drug dealers, prostitutes, pickpockets, petty thieves, fist fights, knife fights, and gunfights in the town square.

In 1968, feed up with the Ricker Dynasty, appalled by the Atwater arrogance and lack of moral decency, and recovering from one of the largest fires in Maine history, the Old Orchard Beach townspeople gathered together in arms, and with the help of several shotgun armed State Police officers, drove the Gypsies and Travellers out of Old Orchard Beach at gunpoint. Residents today, old enough to remember the march, are quick to retell the nightmare tale of “The day the Gypsies were run out of town”, with its parade of over 300 cars, trucks, vans, jeeps, buses, trailers, wagons, and motorhomes escorted by police officers from every department of York County. The Atwaters were marched to the New Hampshire border, where they were met by New Hampshire state police who in turn marched them straight through to Vermont. The march continued, from state to state, until they arrived in Utah, the first state to not greet them at the border with an army of rifle toting patrolmen. The Atwaters settled in Ogden Utah, where they remain to this day.

Back in Old Orchard, the Rickers resigned their town offices, and most of the family relocated back to Portland. Only one family remained in Old Orchard Beach: the now elderly daughter of George Ricker, Helen Ricker-Allen and her son Kenneth Ricker-Allen with his wife, Eva’s daughter, Jeannie Atwater and, me, their daughter Wendy. The Atwaters were gone, the Rickers had left office, but the drama was far from over. For Eva, the Atwater drama was just beginning.

It was on this police guided march out of Maine in the 1960s, when Eva gained her freedom. A revelation from God told David the joys of white supremacy and hatred of all blacks, red skins, and Jews.” He promptly divorced “the red skinned evil spirit”, took her 12 children, married another woman (who was found strangled to death a few years later, her murder remains unsolved), and left Eva, literally standing on a roadside in the middle of a desert in Utah. He abandoned her in the desert, hundreds of miles from the nearest town. Eva spent the next several months, walking back to her hometown, Biddeford, Maine, stopping in all 48 states along the way, discovered Jesus, took her first of several trips to the brand new state known as Hawaii, discovered Huna, took a trip to Alaska, started tracing her Native American roots, then flew to Japan and made her way East to West, through Australia, New Zealand, China, Russia, Germany, Holland, and dozens of others. Having discovered a love of traveling and walking the open road, she would continue to take a world walking tour every year, for the next twenty-odd years. To fill the void she now had without her husband and her children, Eva took up travel and education.



By the 1980s, Eva had been to all 50 states and 114 counties. Alaska was her favorite, and the place she would return to several times. I grew up surrounded by Grammy’s countless books, tour guides, postcards, maps, view masters, souvenirs, and trinkets of Alaska and Hawaii. Each time she left, she would return with more stories of bear and moose and mountains and glaciers. Alaska was her home away from home. I spent 17 years of my life, daily listening to Grammy tell of the glories and wonders that were Alaska. “If you never go anyplace else, you must at least see Alaska before you die,” she would always say.

While she had little education in childhood, as an adult, she got a degree in Graphology, the psychology of handwriting. From looking at a sample of someone’s handwriting she was able to tell them, the type of person they were, and how their personalities would affect their futures. She used this skill, like she did her meteorology skills, to wow people and scare them into thinking she was a powerful psychic witch. Education through travel and hands on cultural learning, was the schooling she loved best of all.

David, in the mean time, went on  to call himself first a prophet, then later the right hand of God, before making friends with a man called Applewhite and helping him form the UFO suicide cult known as Heaven’s Gate. David abandoned Heaven’s Gate shortly before the whole group offed themselves with Kool-Aid under the shadow of Comet HaleBop. He next crowned himself “the one true prophet of the Mormon Church,”  moved to Salt Lake City, and made attempts at convincing the Church leaders God wanted him running the church. David would go on to have leadership connections to five more murder-suicide cults and two cult compounds. By the time of his death, in 2004,  he was close to claiming he was God made flesh and was ordering everyone he met to obey him or be cast into the “tar pits of hell”.  I generally avoid telling folks I’m related to the Atwaters, because just to mention the name Atwater often results in the response: “You don’t mean that murder-suicide Gypsy-Mafia cult family do you?” Yeah. That would be them. My family, the cultists. You can choose your friends, unfortunately you can not choose the family you are born into. Such is life. At least I can say each of my grandparents had colorful personalities.

In spite of the fact that David was clearly insane, Eva never stopped loving him, and never gave up on the hope that one day he would come back to his senses, remember he had a wife and give up his mad chasing after God at the expense of everyone who loved him. Eva remained single the rest of her life, in spite of several proposals of marriage. She remained firm in her belief that love was stronger than religion. She loved David. She knew David. In his heart still loved her, so she said. Eva waited for 30 long years, for him to come to the realization that in his search for God’s love and approval, he had thrown away the true love he already had.

When I meet Eva, she was in her 60s and lived in a giant Victorian mansion in Biddeford, Maine. Eva was by that point being called Maine’s Crazy Cat Woman, famous throughout the Greater Portland Area for being decked out in outlandish flowing South Pacific robes, flying down the street on roller skates while pushing an 1800s baby pram, with cats, not babies, riding inside, her trusty broomstick slung over her back, and singing America the Beautiful. Her house was decorated for Halloween, all year round, complete with jack-o-lanterns in every window. She’d greet you on the veranda with a black cat in one arm and a broom in the other. Her shrill laughter sent children running. She once said she had spent years perfecting her cackle to get it just right. Over her bed hung a sign which read: “Here’s Lives the Original Salem Witch”. No one dared go near the creepy old mansion. Locals were terrified of her, and called her a witch and she relished it.

What people did not see was that Grammy liked to put on a show, and the pumpkins, black cats, baby pram, and broomsticks were all the act of a carnival clown. Grammy’s early life, overshadowed with many years of neglect and abuse, had taught her to see the world through the eyes of compassion. A closer look inside that baby pram, revealed more than cats enjoying a ride, but also food to hand out to the homeless. The cats were more than just there for the ride, many of the homeless had lost pets when they lost their homes, and hugging cats is often desired more than food. The roller skates got her on her daily “walks” from Biddeford to Portland faster. The long flowing robes, hid the many coin purses, used to fill all the expired parking meters of downtown Portland. And the broom? Eva stopped at every door step along the way, to sweep it clean. The song? She had seen the world and it was beautiful, but here back home was so much suffering and sadness, people starving in the streets, with nothing to hope for.

While her ways were bizarre, there was a method to her madness: “I was the mother to many, the friend to all, I’ve seen the world, I want to share the joy, and make you smile.” Making people smile, bringing a little joy into their otherwise dreary day, was why she did the things she did.

Because of her actions and her spending so much time with the homeless, people often said of her “That’s that crazy homeless cat woman.” By the non-homeless, she was often criticized, had rocks thrown at her, more then once put in the hospital, and was several times beaten up by good upstanding citizens who “don’t want your kind around here – go get a job you filthy bum”. She was not, as they had falsely judged, either jobless or homeless. They didn’t know she went home each night to one of the biggest sea captain mansions in Biddeford, that she had not 1, but rather 3 jobs, working in the shoe mill, a nanny, and caring for elderly in nursing homes, or that when not putting on her clown act show to entertain the homeless of Portland, she looked just as normal as you or I.

Eva often remarked at how surprised she was by the difference in how people treated her, the exact same people did not recognize her as the same person, when all that had changed was the addition of a baby pram full of cats and a pair of roller skates. “It’s pitiful, that they have such a lack of compassion and judge a person only by her clothes.” It was through this discovery, that she made a radical decision in the 1980s, to stand up for gay rights and the transgendered community of Portland, Maine. Many of her dearest and closest friends were glamorous women only on the outside. Glitter. Silks. Sequins. Glam. Ruffles. Lace. Fur and ball gowns. Eva went from entertaining the homeless by day, to having glamorous girls nights out with her drag queen and transvestite friends. The more outcast you were from mainstream society, the more Eva would seek you out and just to say: “You’re beautiful and God loves you just the way you are.” Compassion for others motivated everything she did.

It is from Grammy Eva that I learned compassion for everyone, regardless age, race, gender, gender identity, religion, health, lifestyle, income, social status, or species. Everyone deserves a second chance. Everything has the right to live. Through her combining Adventism with Huna, and Native American traditions, Grammy Eva taught me to love and respect life: humans, animals, plants, water, all of it. Compassion for everything and everyone; to live and to let live. Her friendships with with everyone from the unbathed homeless in rags to the wealthy glamorous shemales in their sequined dresses, and everyone in between, taught me to look beyond outer appearances and see the person inside the clothes. Her religion and her traditions motivated her actions. “Jesus said to love everyone. Judge no one. See them as God sees them”, Eva would say, again and again. Every night she would put me to bed with the words: “Never let the sun set on your anger. Forgive your enemies. Pray for them that hurt you. I pray for your grandfather every night.”

In the end, her faith, or rather her church and religion, let her down, and ultimately cost her, her life. A devout Seventh Day Adventist, she lived the strict lifestyle, denouncing foods from animal products, eating only church owned soy products made by SDA owned companies Morning Star, Worthington, and Kellogg’s, eating what she was told, when she was told, denouncing meat, pants, short hair, jewelry, and make-up as being the cause of all sickness and disease, avoiding doctors because doctors were a sin, all because her pastor told her to. When she got sick, she was told to praise the Lord, avoid Satan’s evil doctors, and ignore the pain.



1988 was a bad year. In 1988 Eva’s massive mansion on 3 Graeme St burned to the ground, her best friend Dr. Roberts died, and she was told the lump on her breast was cancer. David phoned from Utah to tell her he had burned her house down, via his psychic abilities. He also proudly took credit for killing her friend. She did not tell him about the cancer. She told no one but me. Grammy moved into a run down apartment on Foss St. on the bad side of Biddeford, down by the Mill.  Gangs. Drug dealers. Thugs and bars. Eva now found herself in the heart of Biddeford’s Section-8 slum  district.

Grammy took to strange walking habits; picking up the black cat and walking aimlessly around town in the middle of the night. The 17 years of weekly weekend pleasure drives across New England in the 1964 Dodge, suddenly turned into daily panic drives to look for Eva, pick her up, and calm her down by driving her to a new place each day. Nights were spent “following stars”. Look up in the sky, pick a star and drive wherever it leads us.

January 1989. The old Dodge stopped running. The transmission died and parts were nowhere to be found. Not unexpected, considering only 5,000 of these cars were built and only a handful are known to still exist today.  The weekly road trips came to sudden end. Eva’s good spirits died with the Dodge. Depression sunk over her and it became clear that she could not be left alone. Arrangements were made that I would stay with her during the day, and her illegitimate daughter by Dr Roberts would stay with her at night.

This semi-moving in with Grammy, living with her from 6AM to 9PM 6 days a week, for the next 4 years, gave me a new look into the world of the Atwater Clan. My eyes were opened the living hell that Eva’s life was and the monsters her children had grown up to become. Every night, Eva called David, each of her 11 remaining children, and each of her 64 grandchildren, to say one simple phrase: “Goodnight, I love you.” For four hours, every night, 76 phone calls went out to Utah, Wyoming, Nevada, Illinois, Vermont, Australia, Germany, Russia. Every night. Her phone bill was monumental. The responses to her phone calls were horrendous.

“Burn in hell you old bag!” said one daughter.

“NanaBanana the big fat bofana. Can’t get to heaven…” sang the words of a toddler.

“Love? What do you know about love? You aren’t capable of lovin, you ain’t got the brains God gave an ape! Why don’t you drop dead you hideous non-Mormon hag!” sneered one son.

“I’m praying for you to die soon, so we do your baptism of the dead temple work, it’s the only way we’ll get you baptised a Mormon and save your soul from being cast out into eternal damnation of outer darkness,” said her self proclaimed favorite son.

“All non-white, non-Mormons deserve to die,” roared Grandpa.

She begged and pleaded, between the insults, “I’m dying, please come visit me.”

“Yeah, good one,” came the response, again and again, repeated by each person, in every phone call, like broken record. “You? Dying! Ha! You’ll never die, you’re too evil to go to Heaven, and you’re so wicked Satan don’t even want you in hell!”

“What have I done? What did I ever do to make you hate me?” she’d ask between the tears.

“You were unfaithful to the Lord thy God.”

“What did I do?”

“You are not a Mormon.”

Every night. Seventy-six phone calls. Seventy-six insults and several lectures on why all non Mormons, especial evil non-white ones like her, will go to hell. I have to ask, how white do they think they are if their mom wasn’t white herself? Did they ever think of that, I wonder? They claimed she was not Mormon enough to have her family, and yet, when she tried to attend church with them, they laughed at her, and told her she was not welcomed inside. No matter what she did, there was no pleasing them. She stopped going to both churches, hers and theirs. What was the point? No one loved her in either. She had attended both churches for more than 50 years. After family, nothing mattered more to Eva then church.  I knew there was something seriously wrong the day she stopped attending church.

After 6 years of ignoring the pain, Eva went in secret to a doctor, and was told needed surgery. Her pastor found out and condemned her as a sinner for having seen the doctor, than forbade her to have the surgery. Three more years of pain and suffering passed before she fell on the ice, broke her hip, returned to the doctor and while there, had the tumor removed. By this time however the cancer had spread to her liver and pancreas.

Every night Eva went to bed crying. Every night as I tucked her in, changed her diapers, brushed her hair, and brought her cat to her, she would turn to me and ask, “Why do they hate me? I love my family. They threw me away. They abandoned me. They left me alone to die in the desert. Why do they treat me so badly? What did I ever do to any of them? I’ve never even seen my grandchildren! Why do they hate me? I keep trying to tell them about the cancer, but they won’t listen, they won’t give me a chance to talk. I just want to see my children before I die.”

After 748 days and 55,328 insults, Eva stopped calling. She stopped walking. She stopped wandering. She stopped going for car drives. Stopped roller skating. Stopped going to Portland. Stopped helping the homeless. Stopped hanging out with her transvestite friends. Eva became despondent. She stopped eating. She refused to get out of bed. She rarely spoke. She gave up. For weeks she cried uncontrollably, but then she stopped crying, and did nothing by lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, through the blurred eyes of despair. Her family was her life. Her hope of one day being reunited to her husband and children was the only thing she lived for. It had finally hit her, there was no reuniting her family. The man she loved hated and abandoned her because his church had commanded it. Her children abhorred her because their father demanded it. Her grandbabies despised her because their parents set the example of it.

One by one I confronted them. Grandpa, the Aunts, the Uncles, the Cousins. “Why? Why do you say these things to her?” They denied it. Every one of them. “She’s lying to you. That’s what she does. Don’t believe her evil lies about us. She’s an evil woman. We never said those things. We’re Mormons, we wouldn’t talk like that. She’s just making stuff up to poison your mind with hate, that’s the sort of thing she does.  That’s the sort of thing non-Mormons do.”
They did not know Grammy had a speaker phone. They did not know I lived with Eva. They did not know that Grammy had never told me what they had said. She didn’t need to say anything. I had heard every word, straight from their own lips. I watched in silence as every night, for 4 years straight, she picked up the phone, said “I love you”, got an earful, hung up the phone, tears streaming down her face, dialed the next number, said “I love you” again, and got another earful.

Summer 1994. Once a talkative person who chattered non-stop about everything, a vast change now had come over Eva. She lay in silence, day after day. “My family hates me,” she’d say as I changed her diapers. “Why did he take my babies away?” she’d ask as I changed the bedding and flipped the mattress. “Why did he teach them to hate me?” she’d whimper as I cooked her meals. “I loved him you know,” she’d say as I waited for her to open her mouth so I could put the spoon in. “That’s why I never remarried,” she said as I brushed her hair. “I never stopped loving him.”

November 1994. Grammy was refusing to go to the hospital. A friend of hers, who was a doctor, stopped by every few days to check on her. Her skin was turning orange, the white of her eyes  over in a brilliant yellow, and she suddenly lost 60lbs in a matter of days. “Her liver has stopped working,” he said one day. “She won’t make it to Thanksgiving. This silly game her family is playing has to end. It has to end now. She wants to see her children before she dies. She deserves that much.”

That night, my dad called Eva’s favorite son.  He called from Eva’s phone. The doctor was still in the room. He got to hear for himself the vile spewing hatred her children spoke to and about her. The son picked up the phone and without stopping to hear who was on the other end of the line, went into a venomous hate filled rant of how evil Eva was. He thought he was talking to his mother. He was stunned to hear my dad’s voice on the line and the doctor’s voice in the background. He got an earful from my dad, which included every swear word under the sun and just exactly what my dad (a Ricker) thought of Atwater scum. Somewhere in my dad’s words however, it occurred to the son, that something was wrong, and he’d better get to Maine fast, if he ever wanted to see his mother alive again.

And then they came. From all points of the globe, the Atwaters headed back to Maine. Droves of Atwaters scurried into Biddeford under the cover of darkness like the deviant rats which they were.They brought their friends and their in-laws. Some of them entered Eva’s house singing “At last the Wicked Old Witch is dead!” They filled Grammy’s house with loud blaring music, and stay up til the breaking of dawn, partying, drinking, and singing. It was a joyous time of celebration, for the woman they hated was at death’s door, and nothing made them happier. They brought with them chips and dips and punch, pork rinds, turkey, and a giant roost honeyed ham. They knew about Eva and ham. They laughed and sang in the living room, while she lay dying in the bedroom. They joked, they drank, they sang. Not one of them entered the bedroom to see her.

When the partying was over, they stripped down the house stealing moldings, curtains, shelves, door knobs, furniture, and light fixtures. They ripped the sink out of the kitchen, they cut the copper pipes out of the basement, they tore the walls open and pulled out the wires, laughing at how they could melt off the plastic to get at the copper inside.  Like the Grinch who stole Christmas, they left behind not a crumb. When the house had nothing left to steal or cut off of it, they left like rats fleeing a sinking ship.  Not all of them made it back to Utah. At least 3 of them ended up in jail while still here in Maine: one for attacking a homeless man with a machete, one for stealing shoes at the Maine Mall, and one for holding up the Kentucky Fried Chicken. Of the nearly 300 people who came and went out of Grammy’s house that week, only 4 of them entered her bedroom to see her before she died. David himself, however, did not come.

Eva died on Thanksgiving morning only a few days after the Atwaters had arrived. Several of the Atwaters were still here in Maine trashing the house when she died. Her children were visibly stunned and baffled, and vocally made their radical opinions known. Several asked why she had not told them she was ill. For 6 years she begged them. Four years she told them she was dying, every night before bed. They never heard a word she had said, they were all too busy putting her down to listen to what she was saying to them.  Each of them commented on how quickly the cancer had spread, and how rare it was for someone to die from cancer “so fast” after only getting it “a few weeks ago”. David attributed her “speedy fall to cancer” to have been “proof she was possessed by an evil spirit”. The Atwaters nodded and murmured in agreement, “Yes, that must be it. God wanted to rid the earth of her evil spirit, that’s why he took her so young, and so fast.” On David’s command, her children buried her in a cardboard box, in an unmarked grave, without a wake or a funeral in order to “get her evil spirit in the ground fast so we can forget about her vile, evil existence.”

Two years after her death, the son whom had treated her the worst of all, whose children had the vilest of all things to say to the grandmother they’d never met, came to Maine to beg forgiveness. I do not understand his actions, or why he came to me of all people. I did not know him. He, like the rest of the snobbish Atwaters, had long maintained a vow of no contact with me due to my “being on evil Eva’s side and working against us”, as the Atwaters like to put it. I am shunned and ignored by the Atwaters, due to my evil sin of having taken care of my dying grandmother for so many years. So when an Atwater suddenly seeks me out for anything other than to throw rocks at me, it’s an occasion for raised eyebrows. But here he was, an Uncle I hardly knew existed, telling me he had had a vision, his mother had visited him in a dream and she, to his surprise, loved him. I fail to understand why he was so surprised at this, but he was stunned, shocked, and flabbergasted by the discovery that his mother, wasn’t as he previously had thought, an evil bitch who hated his guts. He said he could not ask her for forgiveness, so he was asking me to forgive him in her place. He said to show he truly was sorry, he was buying a grave marker for his mother, which contained the phrase: “Have I told you lately that I love you?” to make up for a lifetime of having never once told his mother he loved her. As stunned as I was by this visit, another such request of forgiveness would come 8 years later, by the most surprising Atwater of all.

David Henry died 10 years after Eva, at age 100 years and 14 days. Before he died, he wrote me a letter, saying he regretted the hell he had put her through, and since he could not ask for her forgiveness, he asked me for mine, knowing that it had been me who had taken care of his beloved Eva those last four dreadful years of her life. He said he regretted not coming back to Maine to visit her before she died. He regretted hanging up the phone, all those many times she had called pleading with him. He regretting leaving her standing alone in the desert all those years ago. He regretted taking from her the things she loved most in life: her husband and her children. He especially regretted having raised her children to hate her, and bemoaned the appalling actions they had taken against her on her deathbed. He closed the letter saying he wished he had never found the Mormon Church and had never set out on his quest to get closer to God, because it cost him the woman he loved. He said he still loved her and that he was booking a flight to Maine, planning to visit her grave. He did make the flight, but not alive. He died 3 days before the plane left. His body was shipped back on that same flight, in a gold plated pink metal flake coffin. David wass buried along side of Eva’s cardboard box, one week after writing me that letter. David Henry finally realized what he had given up to gain the approval of God, but that realization had come 10 years too late. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” Like his son before him, David said he wished he had put love of family, before love of church. He wished he had put God aside, just long enough to say “I love” to the woman who had devoted her life to loving him.






Photos:



1) Helen Ricker-Allen, December 16, 1971, out front of an Old Orchard Beach hardware store, picking up her brand new ATV. Maine.

2) Eva Viola Atwater, 1976, at a boat race in Hawaii.

3) Eva Viola Atwater c.1980, at a flower show in Holland.

4) Eva Viola Atwater c. 1982, on a reservation in Alaska.

5) Eva Viola Atwater, c. 1985, another trip to Hawaii.

6) Eva Viola Atwater, c. 1983, at Otter Cove, Acadia National Park, Maine.

7) Eva Viola Atwater, February 21, 1921 – Thanksgiving Day 1994. Grave marker at Deering Cemetery, Saco, Maine. Easter Sunday, 2010.


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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat


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Stop the Hate – My Life as a Scottish Traveller Gypsy (exploration #4 for SMCC ENGL100)

Wendy C Allen                                                                                                          
Dan Clarke
ENGL 100-15
Exploration #4
April 4, 2012

Stop the Hate

Bullies should be banned. Bullies. Bigots. Racists. Trolls. Self righteous arrogant bastards. Religious pomposity. For me those words are interchangeable. Bullies, vandalism, and hate crimes have been a part of my life for several years now. There are some who say to me: well, just avoid these people. Don’t go anywhere, where you’ll run into them. The problem with that theory is I had agoraphobia for 27 years, so, it’s not like I ever went anywhere outside of my house and garden. I had a bit more freedom than most folks with agoraphobia, because I could at least step outside of my room and even outside of my house, and I had a garden I could putter around in. I did not leave my yard, which being in a swamp, in a forest, on the coast of Maine, is somewhat difficult to get to, so the only way for me to have any contact with anyone, on any level, period, was if they trespassed onto my land, invaded my privacy, and intrusively initiated contact with me. You really had to be determined if you wanted to try to have face to face contact with me.

In spite of my never leaving my yard, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to talk with dozens of members of dozens of religions, on their reasons why they hate, loath, and protest against women ministers, witches, and Gypsies. It’s easy to have access to these people when they are protesting in your driveway, after all. One common rumor on the mouths of these protesters was that I started my own religion. I didn’t. It’s not like I ever went out and said “this is my new religion and I’m going to call it…” Nothing like that ever happened. The rumor of my starting a new religion was propagated in 1991 by Mormon Bishop Paul Morgan of Cape Elizabeth, Maine. He found out I was by race a Gypsy, and by career a psychic fortune teller. Federal law requires all legally operating, tax paying psychics to be ordained ministers, because psychic readings are classified by the IRS as a form of pastoral counselling or spiritual advising. Thus I had to become an ordained minister in order to legally do my job. My overreacting Bishop blew the whole thing out of proportion from there. He ran around jumping to conclusions, spreading false rumors and lies about me, and before I knew it I had reporters in my yard asking questions and snapping pictures, with me utterly clueless as to what the heck they were talking about. Me? Start a religion? I did? When? Where? How? What the heck are you talking about? By 2001 there were several local church groups marching around my lawn. *sigh* Well, at least I can say my life has been eventful.

It just seemed like there was always someone new joining the group, bringing with them, a whole new set of rumors. As the years progressed, so did the rumors, which eventually included such ludicrous things as casting death spells (and being accused of having caused nearly every death in the Saco Bay area), sacrificing animals, and sending demons out “to get” people. By 2007 people throughout quite a large section of York County had begun to call me “The Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach”. Perhaps they had been calling me this earlier. I do not know, as it was the sudden lack of a house, in 2006, which inspired my wandering around the streets. No house to putter around in, I started puttering around in a progressively larger area, thus the non-protesting locals began to come into actual physical contact with me for the first time. In their words, “The crazy demon consorting, death-spell casting, animal sacrificing, hermit-witch had emerged from her lair.” I already knew the religion crazy protesters thought these things of me, but I thought they were just delusional fundamentalists; I was unaware that they had convinced others to believe their hateful delusions. I’d walk down the sidewalk and people would all cross the street. Mothers would grab their children while saying: “I don’t look at her. It’s that evil gypsy witch. She’ll curse you with a death spell. Give you the evil eye!” I found this both alarming and amusing. Was this the 21st century or the 16th century? I mean, I know we are only a few miles from Salem but still…  

It was more than words and stares however. A few of the more radical Christians, egged on by Old Orchard Beach town manager and fundamentalist Mormon high priest, Jim Thomas, began to proclaim it was their “God given duty to punish” me for my “sins”, exorcise my demons, and “drive out this evil that lives among us”. The first drive by shooting occurred in 2001, it was one of the first act of physical violence, and it would be far from the last. The ensuing hate crimes and acts of vandalism would become a daily event for the next 9 years.

You remember that hysterical Mormon Bishop of 1991, the one who started all of this with his outlandish rumors of my founding a new and in his words “anti-Mormon apostate religion”? Over the years he riled up more Bishops, a total of 16 Bishops altogether, several high priests, and a few stake presidents. He went so far as to contact the Prophet in Salt Lake City and request my excommunication. During those 9 years, just under 400 separate individual Mormon church members have shown up in my yard to tell me they hated me and my “new religion”.

On October 18, 2006, just a few months after Hurricane Katrina took my house, a mob of crazed religious fanatics burned down its replacement. I was asleep inside. I used to have hair down to my knees. The firemen said I was lucky to be alive. I had no money to rebuild yet again, and have been homeless living in first a tent, than a car, and now a motorhome on the now empty lot these past 6 years.

The protests reached their height in 2010, when in April, two of my cats were killed and their heads left in the driveway, and the following May my car was cut in half. And they were calling me crazy? A broken hip followed shortly after, not long followed by a broken wrist. The fear and hysteria of my being by race “a gypsy” and by career a “psychic” clearly had gone beyond the point of lunacy. Police were called in to assist.

The question remained however: what the heck were these people getting so upset about? Why were they here? And where the hell were they coming up with their wild accusations? Demons? Animal sacrifice? Founding new religions? What the hell? Clearly these people knew nothing about me, for everything they said about me was wrong, wrong, wrong. I was a mystery to them. My cultural dress marked me as outlandish in their eyes. My never setting foot in public, made them suspect I was doing foul deeds. My Autism and desperately slurred speech made my ability to communicate difficult, and easy to misinterpret. Over the years, it became clear to me that everything these people did and said was based on one thing and one thing only: fear of the unknown. Though my family had lived on this land since 1548, and were even the founders of this town, I myself, because of my agoraphobia, was unseen and unknown, and therefore, a thing to be feared.

It had become clear to me that there was only one way this madness of hate and fear was going to end. In 2010, I did something I had never done before: I let them in, invited them to see for themselves the “church” they claimed I ran. The protesting died down after 2010, when for the first time, people were allowed to see for themselves, just exactly what it was they were protesting against. What they saw, stunned and baffled them. I don’t know what they expected to see, but clearly a 3 foot wide by 5 foot long by 6 foot high garden shed, painted white, with a 10 foot wooden cross standing in front of it, was not what they expected. Nor did they expect to see that my “animal sacrificing alter” (as they called it) was nothing more than a moss covered rotted tree stump, which I used for a chair. The animals they claimed had been sacrificed, were alive and well, and as baffled to see the strangers, as these trespassers were to see them. These home invading intruders, likewise did not expect to see “the tent”, an 8×6 tarp under which I had lived for 6 years though 5 hurricanes and 3 blizzards, with nothing more than a sleeping bag for protection. They were flabbergasted.

“This is it?” asked one.

“You call this a church?” asked another.

“No. I don’t.” I said. “I never did. You’re the only ones saying I’ve got a church out here. You are the ones saying I started a religion. Not me. You are the ones saying all of it. I have Autism. I don’t talk. I never said a word.”

“Where’s your congregation?”

“What congregation?”

“Where’s do you hold your meetings?”

“What meetings?”

“What do you do here?”

“I grow roses. I feed the birds. I pray for people. I’ll pray for you. I light candles and hang their prayer requests on the wall in the shed. I read cards for people, I lay them out on that tree stump. This is where I do my writing. It’s a meditation garden. In 31 years I have written 30+ books, 200+ short stories, 2,000+ articles, 5,000+ sermons, a few comic books, and a few dozen plays. This is where I do all of that. I’m a full time professional writer. I’m a Scottish Traveler Spiritual Advisor, what you would call a Gypsy Fortune Teller. This is where I do everything. This is my home. This is where I live. This is where I do my readings for folks, this is where I get my writing done. That there, that is the tent I have lived in for the past 6 years, since you people burned down the house I was rebuilding after the flood took the first one. There is no church, there is no religion, there is no congregation, it’s just me and my cats, in a tent, in a rose garden in the swamp, doing a heck of a lot of writing.  Do you have any idea what you have done? You burned down my house, you killed my cats, you chopped up my car, you broke my hip, and for what? Because you listened to some fantasy prone jackass Bishop who didn’t have his head screwed on straight, and had nothing better to do than run around flapping his mouth off and making up nasty rumors about me some 20 odd years ago! You never stopped to think the man was insane and lying to you. No. Of course not. He was a man of God. You hung on his every word. I’ve never bothered any of you, heck I don’t even know most of you. I’ve spent my entire life struggling with agoraphobia, I haven’t even set foot outside of this garden in 27 years! I only started wandering around in public in 2006, after the fire, which you started. Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you judge me. How dare you call me evil. You want to see evil? Take a good long look in the mirror.”

They still go out of their way to cross paths with me, so that they can remind me how much they hate me, hate my books, hate my life, hate my race, hate my culture, hate everything about me, but at least, they have stopped accusing me of running a church or having founded a new religion, which seems to have ended the violence. But still, it begs the question: What is their friggin problem? Why did they do this? I did find out, when some people, now realizing the error of their huge misjudgements about who I am and what I do, have come to me with the sheepish question: “I’ve got to ask you, if you didn’t start a new religion and you are not running a church, why the heck did you become an ordained minister. It makes no sense to me. You don’t use it? Why?” Really? Seriously? Is that what this was about? All of this because I am a female and an ordained minister? Is there really that much hatred for female ministers? Why become a legally ordained minister? The keyword here is legal, something I noted was not in the question asked.  It is illegal to be a life coach, a reiki master, practitioner of the magic arts, a lightworker, a spirit channeler, a medium, a spirit healer, a witch doctor, a spell caster, a practicing witch, a shaman, or a psychic reader, without a legal ordination as a minister. Silly, and probably unlikely to be enforced, but the law does exist. These are federal IRS laws used to regulate income taxes, and some states have additional laws, which states that no pastor, preacher, bishop, priest, psychic, life coach, witch, etc can provide family, couples, or marriage counseling (this includes prayers and card readings) unless he holds a Masters Degree in Psychology. In short, the law sucks, but it is what it is, and one must obey. I am a Hoodoo Hedgewalker. Fourteenth century Scottish/Welsh Hoodoo, a career, is not to be confused with the 18th century religion African Hoodoo (now known as New Orleans Voodoo). While one was based on the other, they are not the same thing. Hoodoo is a Scottish word meaning “spirit” or “ghost”. Hoodooed, means “haunted”. “The Hedge of Life” refers to the misty plains of twilight which separates the spirit world from the physical world. A Hedgewalker, is a person who communicates with the spirit world on behalf of someone from the physical world. In other words a Hoodoo Hedgewalker is a psychic medium or shaman, who communicates with angels, faeries, and the spirit of dead loved ones. By race I am a Scottish Traveller, aka a Gypsy. While I am correctly called a Scottish Hoodoo Hedgewalker, most people refer to me by the more common slang term of Gypsy Fortune Teller. For us, this is not a religion, it is, quite simply, a way of life. But in today’s world there exist laws regarding what is and is not religious practice, and who can and can not lead such practices. The law considers me to be the leader of a religious movement, and a spiritual advisor, and as such, requires me to become a legally ordained minister, with a legally recognized church, even though by religion, I am a Mormon and am not running a church of any sort at all.   

I suppose in a way, them burning down my house was a good thing, because it got my off my land and out into the world, and I am now a college student. If I still had a house, I’d probably still be agoraphobic. It’s been 6 years and, today you’d never know I had agoraphobia; but this doesn’t change the fact that what these people did was wrong, mean, hateful, bigoted, and completely uncalled for. Interestingly enough, as a result of all of this, the FBI got involved, town manager Jim Thomas was found to have embezzled $3million in town funds, had placed his close buddies as law enforcement so as to keep hidden what he was doing, and had used Bishop Morgan’s hysterical rumors as a way to draw the town’s attention away from the fact that funds were fast disappearing. Old Orchard Beach, recently saw a huge overthrow in leadership as the entire town counsel and police force were fired and replaced. Bishop Morgan, has since been removed from the church and sent to a mental hospital; it seems I was not the only person he had started rumors about, and that he was getting his information “from demons”. And so, in the end I lost my home, my pets, my car, my privacy, and my health, because one man was clinically insane and another was criminally greedy, and both were in positions of church leadership and able to use their charismatic personalities to stir their congregations into a frenzy. 

What possessed people to listen to these two men, and act violently on their orders, I do not know. I remain to this day clueless and confused as to what set these people off or how they felt justified in their actions. In any case, these two men were bullies and they instigated what can only be described as “an angry mob”, and thus I come to the conclusion that bullies must be banned. Racism must be stopped. Bigotry must be ended. These sorts of things must cease before anyone else gets hurt.


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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat


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The People of the Mists: A Short History of Scottish Traveller Gypsies, And How I Came to be Known as the Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach Essay #1 for SMCC ENGL100 Spring 2012

Here is essay #1 for class:

Wendy C Allen                                                                                                          
Dan Clarke
ENGL 100-15
Essay #1
Inspired by Explorations #1 & #3
March 26, 2012

The People of the Mists:
A Short History of Scottish Traveller Gypsies,
And How I Came to be Known as the Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach

*It is important to note that what is said here, is not a history of all Scottish Traveller Gypsies on a whole, but rather the history, simply of one Clan (family) within the race, as much as is known through family records, diaries, and verbal traditions. The accuracy of the words found within these documents and traditions is unknown. The documents were written between 1611 and 1948. The later events which take place in Old Orchard Beach from 1811 onward, are very well documented and are known from family records, newspaper clippings, court records, photographs, postcards, and documents found at both the Town Hall and the Old Orchard Beach Historical Society. Events taking place after 1975, are personal first hand witness accounts of my own life. This essay is written in response to reader comments of two prior articles I had written: “Dark Inspirations” and “Hidden in the Shadows”.  Specifically this essay seeks to answer the following questions: “Could you give the reader a bit more about who you are and how you ended up in Old Orchard Beach?” (in reference to “Dark Inspirations”) and “How might you bring yourself into this piece more, either as a character or narrator or both? Do you have any experiance with this group? If so, what is it?” (in reference to “Hidden in the Shadows”).

They are a strange people the Scottish Travelers. Their origins are a mystery, their history shaded and sketchy, and their customs seen as outlandish and other worldly. Ceàrdannan is their native name, spoken in their native tongue; it means “The Craftsmen” or “The Tinkers” in English translation, (a name they receive due to their many crafting traditions including tin smithing, weaving cloth, and carving bright colored wagons) though most folks tend to call them The Indigenous Highland Travellers of Scotland or The Scottish Traveller Gypsies. While many consider them to be Celtic, they were in fact discovered by the Celts. Nationalities between family groups (known as Clans) varies, with some clans claiming Romanian or Indian descent, and others claiming German or Egyptian descent. The common thread is that each clan makes the same claim of Pict descent. The theory thus being that the Travellers descended from the Picts, and picked up mixed nationality marriages along their travels. Unfortunately, these histories come to us after being passed down for centuries via word of mouth. Very little written documentation exists regarding Travellers, or rather, very little written by the Travellers themselves. Much of what exists is hate-filled propaganda written by Christian witch hunters of the 16th century and Nazi soldiers of the 20th century; these documents being of course written to promote hate and to document the massive, tens of thousands of Gypsies who were killed during these two devastating “racial cleansings”.

My own family is unique among Travellers, in that, detailed documents were written and passed down for generations. I am today, in possession of what Christians refer to as “the family Bible”, or what Pagans call “a Witch’s Grimoire”. The Bible itself it a rare item. Difficult to carry due to its massive size, this giant hand tooled, hand illustrated, leather bound volume contains testament books and scriptural verses not found in currently published editions of the Bible. Within its pages, however, lie more than curiosities for the Bible scholar. Careful turning of pages reveals herbs, flowers, feathers, and four-leaf clovers pressed between its brittle yellow pages, along with letters, notes, spells, prayers, recipes, and at the very heart of the book, written on its pages a list of names, dates, births, deaths, and marriages dating back for centuries.
Even with written documents, our family’s exact origins are sketchy. Older traditions come from 19th century writings, romanticizing the past, and are questionable as to their accuracy. Putting together the bits and pieces of both written and oral information I was able to assemble a timeline of sorts. While all 300+ living members of the Clan call themselves Scottish, tradition suggests that the earliest roots of our Clan, descended not from Scotland, but rather, from North Asian Russia, specifically to the Shaman of Siberia or perhaps Alaska which was still connected to Russia, all those many centuries ago. There is the suggestion that they may have migrated to Siberia from Mongolia, due to our current families physical appearance, as well as magical arts traditions which have a Mongolian “flair” to them. Both the Siberian and Mongolian connections, however, appear to be little more than romantic speculation.

While the exact place origin is a guess at best, the one fact which remains clear and consistent, regardless of time or place, is that our family has remained throughout the centuries within only one, single, solitary career: religion or rather a form of witchcraft. Often the words “priest” and “priestess”, are used to describe family members throughout the centuries, as well as the words: “holy woman”, “witch”, “witch doctor”, “weather witch”, “shaman”, and “healer”. In the earliest mentions, these titles seem to be exclusive to female members, but beginning in the 1920’s males are also seen with these titles. The earliest ones appeared to have been Shaman or Holy People, who wandered from village to village, performing sacred “magic” rites (blessings, curses, and communications with spirits), having no true home and simply living with whomever had requested their services that week. It is this wandering nature and the mention of place names from all reaches of the globe, from North America to Europe to China to Australia, which makes tracing my family’s exact place of origin, nearly impossible. The travelling tradition appears to run deep in our blood, dating at least as far back as the 7th century.

These Shaman eventually arrived in Scandinavia, though both the date of arrival and the exact country is unknown, where they seemed to have settled for a brief period and married into the local families. From here the Shaman tradition mixes with the Norse tradition, and was brought to, what is now, Scotland via the Viking voyages. In Scotland, the already mixed marriages mixed even farther, this time with the Picts. Though not native themselves, the Picts were there before the Roman Celts, and presumed to be natives, thus the current name: The Indigenous Highlanders, or just The Scottish Highlanders. Highlanders remain, to this day, a unique and somewhat mysterious part of Scotland’s cultural landscape. While in Scotland, Hoodoo and Witchcraft are picked up and become the grounding force of all following religious practices. My family’s history does not end here, however, because though Scotland remains their home for apparently 3 or 4 centuries, they do eventually take to the nomadic lifestyle once again.

Our history becomes clearer in the 1400’s, though still in scattered bits and pieces and heavy with speculation. What is known, is that they were landowners, lords, rulers, aristocrates, considered to be a form of royalty among the Scottish natives, and living in a vast stone fortress, the remains of which still stands today in what is now Kent, England. There was a war or invasion, caused by what, is unknown. What is known it that several families/Clans were forced out of their homes, off their land, and marched out of Scotland.

Vowing never again allow any man to steal their homes from them, they declared the entire world as their home, and refused to ever again settle down. They became known from that point on as The Tinkers or Scottish Travellers. Some set out on foot, others set out in wagons, a few took to the sea. In the early years, most wandered about in Germany, resulting in horrendous tales of terror of bands of brightly colored pipers using witchcraft and sorcery to enchant everything from rats to children. Countless stories abound through Germany, of ‘The People of the Mists” and their “Pied Pipers”, dressed in outlandish robes of bright colored striped cloth (they knew of no other way to describe kilts and plaids), marching through their streets while playing “magic pipes” (and likewise knew not what to call bagpipes). The most famous of these tales about the German “invasion” by the Scottish Travellers, was of course “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” and its tale of being sent a gypsy curse of a plague of rats, only to have a bright colored piper gypsy remove the curse, than bring a worse curse by kidnapping the children. Few people are aware of the fact that Robert Brownings poem was based on actual events.

By the late 1500’s the German witch hunts had started, and 20,000 “witches”, most of them Gypsies, were tortured to death, often ending with being drawn and quartered. The Scottish Travelers fled Germany and went into Romania (from where the common, yet inaccurate, title of “Rom”, “Romany”, or “Romi” comes). What happened between Romania in the 1500s and Canada in the 1800s, is unknown, with the only fact being that at some point the Scottish Travellers ended up in France and had a major falling out with the French, so bad, that the Travellers destroyed all “memory” of their connections to the French, and maintains a bitter feud with and hatred for, any French person whose paths they cross.

It is not until the 1700’s that the details of our family history, become clearly documented. The family today is a blending of several Clan, most predominantly the Rickers of Portland, Maine and the Atwaters of Nova Scotia, Canada. The Rickers married into the Googins and Lewis families in the early 1800s, and married into the Atwater Clan in 1973. It is in Maine and Canada, through connections to the Jacob Cochran and Joseph Smith Sr (father of the founder of Mormonism) of Saco, Maine, that the Travellers picked up Christianity or rather more specifically Cochranite worship, later renamed Mormonism by Smith’s son, in the early 1830s.

The Googins arrived in Saco Bay in 1648, where they settled a 300 acre plot of land on what is now 128 – 152 Portland Avenue in Old Orchard Beach, Maine. Over the years the land was sub-divided and given to children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Today all that remains still owned by the original family is the quarter acre lot at 146 Portland Avenue, where lives the Clan’s current Shaman/Holy Woman, Miss Kitten the EelKat, Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach and Queen of the Gypsies, also known as Maine’s infamous Crazy Homeless Cat Woman, with her ever growing army of rescued cats (84 cats at its height, though only 16 cats today.).

In about 1811 the Ricker Clan (owners of the ancient Bible) of Portland, Maine, married into the Googins, Lewis, and Allen Clans of Portland, then moved to a nearby bay. George Ricker, declared himself  “ruler” (as well as mayor, road commissioner, and fire chief) of this new land, which he named “The Orchard by the Sea”. In 1821, it was renamed The Town on the Old Orchard Beach, and the Travellers set out to do what they did best: set up a carnival, only this time a permanent one known as The Palace Playland. To celebrate the founding of his new Kingdom (town) he gave his wife Rose Ricker a rosebush, which, now, being at least 191 years old, is still alive and growing, standing at 13 feet tall.  Their daughter Helen Ricker went on to run the school board, the firefighters wives society, and founded nearly every women’s group active in Old Orchard between the 1920s through the 1980s. During that time she also maintained a hobby of collecting comic books, crocheting, obsessing over Liberace, and casting spells and curses on everyone in sight.

The Rickers ran the town, which some nicknamed “The Dynasty of Old Orchard Beach”, on every level. Every town official, public works officer, school board member, police officer, fireman, and business owner was a Ricker, a Googins, an Allen, a Lewis, or a cousin of one of the above. Tourists were the income and the fairgrounds were massive, spanning for nearly 5 miles along the beachfront. The Ricker Dynasty came to a horrific end during the Burning of the White Way or the Second Great Fire of Old Orchard Beach in 1963 (the first was in 1907) which took out every ride, shop, and motel along the shore. This event came on the heels of the arrival of a brutal, violent, scam artist, polygamist, extreme Fundamentalist Mormon crime family: The Royal Highland Atwater Clan. When one thinks of Gypsies, most think of Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves” along side of news reports of terrorist crime families. For most Travellers this image is far from the truth, but for the Atwater Clan, this was a perfect image of who they were. The Atwaters brought with them honky tonks, bar rooms, drug dealers, prostitutes, pickpockets, petty thieves, fist fights, knife fights, and gunfights in the town square.

In 1968, feed up with the Ricker Dynasty, appalled by the Atwater arrogance and lack of moral decency, and recovering from one of the largest fires in Maine history, the townspeople gathered together in arms, and with the help of several shotgun armed State Police officers, drove the Gypsies and Travellers out of Old Orchard Beach at gunpoint. Residents today, old enough to remember the march, are quick to retell the nightmare tale of “The day the Gypsies were run out of town”, with its parade of over 300 cars, trucks, vans, jeeps, buses, trailers, wagons, and motorhomes escorted by police officers from every town in York County. They were marched to the New Hampshire border, where they were met by New Hampshire police who in turn marched them straight through to Vermont. The march continued, from state to state, until they arrived in Utah, the first state to not greet them at the border with an army of rifle toting patrolmen. The Atwaters settled in Ogden Utah, where they remain to this day.

Back in Old Orchard, the Rickers resigned their offices, and most of the family relocated back to Portland, in fact only one remained in Old Orchard Beach: the now elderly daughter of George Ricker, Helen Ricker-Allen and her son Kenneth Ricker-Allen with his wife Jeannie Atwater and their daughter Wendy. Newcomer King Weinstein took possession of the abandoned lands, plowed under the apple orchards, and began building the dozens of condominiums which now dot the beachfront.

When Grammy Helen died in 1983, I inherited her land, her grandmother’s rosebush, her Liberace records, her comic books (which set a Guinness Book Record, for containing the largest and most complete run of Disney comic books), the family Bible/Grimoire, and her title: Queen of the Gypsies, Holy Woman, Witch Doctor, Fortune Teller, and caster of spells. The Travellers are a highly religious people, part Christian (predominantly Mormon), part Pagan (Welsh Faery Faith aka Traditional Witchcraft and Scottish Hoodoo aka European Voodoo); they take with them in their travels, portable shrines to Jesus and The Little People and devoutly seek the services of their clan’s Holy Woman, a Hoodoo Witch Doctor. The Gypsy Holy Woman is one of the most glamorized, yet least understood traditions, of the Scottish Traveller Clans (Gypsy Fortune Teller, being the derogatory slang term commonly used by outsiders). The Holy Woman, communicate with the “Little People” (Faeries, Goblins, Leprechauns, etc). She is the clan member seen most often by outsiders, often she is the only clan-member non-Gypsies will ever encounter, due to her setting up a shop in town to read cards, tell fortunes, heal the sick, cast out demons, and make amulets to protect homes from evil spirits. This was a sacred tradition passed down from grandmother to granddaughter and the secrets of the craft closely guarded, with no one else in the clan knowing how she does what she does. The clan’s Holy Woman is considered to be the messenger between the gods and the mortals; she would be picked for training at an early age (3 or 4) based on her natural ability to see the Little People. As an ordained minister, counsellor, advisor, exorcist, spellcaster, card reader, and officiant of weddings and funerals, she would be one of the few  clan members knowing how to read and write, a result of a strict education in a Bible Seminaries, but not in a school. Emphasis of the Holy Woman’s education lay in Bible Studies and Christian Theology, again as with the rest of the clan’s children, her education is also often devoid of mathematics and sciences.

Of the many hundreds of members in my family, only a handful have been to school, fewer have attended high school, less than a dozen graduated, I am the first and one of only 2 non-schooled members to receive a GED, and I am one of only 2 to attend college. Though I did not go to school, I did attend 12 years of Bible Seminary instead. I am an ordained minister, however, while my formal training was through a Calvinist Bible Seminary (no traditional schooling) and my informal training came from three grandparents: Grammy Helen, a Scottish Witch, Grammy Eva, a Native American/Kickapoo Shaman, and and Grandpa David Henry, a Nova Scotian/Scotch Seer, Revelator, Prophet, and Mormon High Priest Patriarch.

I am the current Spiritual Leader of the Scottish Travellers of Maine. I am a ChristoPagan. I believe in the teachings of Jesus as a way of life, yet question him as God himself or the son of God, and in fact question if God is God, or just one of many more intelligent beings who exist in a plane of existence we yet to understand. As a practitioner and minister of the Faerie Faith, I also believe in Faeries, Leprechauns, Fardarrigs, Red Caps, Pixies, Silkies, Merrows, Phookas, Boggles, etc. I am a professional Hedgewalker, also known as a Hedge Witch, or Hoodoo Witch Doctor. In other words, I’m a medium who channels spirits and walks through life standing on the hedge dividing the physical world from the spirit world. When someone wants to talk to god, angels, faeries, spirits, a dead loved one – they come to me and I carry the message across the hedge of the mortal plain into the spirit realm.  I also read cards, cast spells, read crystals, hang clooties, sew Hoodoo Dolls, remove hexes, cast out evil spirits, and perform exorcisms, blessings, weddings, and funerals. Because I do most of what I do during massive storms, blizzards, and hurricanes while standing on the beach, lashed by 70mph winds and 20’ tides, I am known to the locals as “The Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach”. Most of the local residents are terrified at my presence. when I walk too the beach, mothers grab their children, crying “Avert your eyes, don’t look at her, she’ll put a curse on you!”. There are some, so bold as to say it is my presence on the beach, which caused to storms. I simply laugh at them.

There are those who laugh at the thought of Faeries as a religious belief or that anyone in this day and age would take belief in Faeries seriously, or that Witches exist and Gypsy Magic is real, but Faerie Faith is in fact the ancient pre-Christian and pre-Celtic religion of the Pictish natives who inhabited the British Isles prior to the Celtic Invasion, and it, along with Witchcraft and Gypsy Black Magic Arts,  is the religion still practiced by my people. And, in spite of the laughter of many, thousands of people come to me, from all over the world, seeking my help, advice, and spiritual assistance. I am daily swamped with letters and emails from people in desperate situations, pleading for the removal of curses and the casting out of demons and evil spirits.

And that is the history, of my people, The Scottish Travellers, of my hometown, Old Orchard Beach, founded by my great-grandfather George Ricker, how I came to be a ChristoPagan Mormon, and how I came by the title of The Gypsy Sea Witch of Old Orchard Beach.


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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat


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Hiding in the Shadows – SMCC ENGL100 – Exploration #3

Wendy C. Allen                                                                                            English Composition
February 29, 2012                                                                                        Dan Clarke

                                                
Exploration #3: Reporting on an Issue
 
Hiding in the Shadows
                                          
In the time when freedom is claimed to be available to all, and racial persecution a thing of the past, one race in America still lives in mortal fear, terrified to set foot out their front doors, terrified to shop in supermarkets, terrified to send their children to school, terrified to settled down and stay in one place for more than a week at a time: The Scottish Gypsies and The Irish Travellers. They live each day dodging rocks and repairing the damages of last night’s vandalisms. Their children flee school yards with faces bloody and bones broken. They pray they still have a home to run to, but often find they were burned out – again.  Those that can pass themselves off as ”white Americans” slip through the crowds unnoticed. They are a race still suffering from the abuses of a Salem Witch-trail Mentality and forced to live in the shadows just to stay alive.

Travellers in the UK have got it somewhat better. They have human rights activist groups petitioning for their rights. The Traveller Education Service (TES) was set up in the UK to help Irish, Scottish, Welsh, and English Gypsy (collectively known as Traveller) races, gain access to education services. The Travellers are to Europe what the Native First Peoples are to America, they are the nomadic pre-Celtic indigenous clans native to the British Isles. Many Traveller clans still live by “the old ways”, speaking native languages, wearing native dress, obeying clan laws instead of government laws, and living off the land. They keep to themselves and few have contact with the rest of society, resulting in most having no education. The job of the TES is to seek out members of this illusive, secluded, and highly secretive race and attempt to build a bridge between their self contained isolated world and the rest of society. Agents of the TES commonly seek out and interview with Traveller parents in attempt to understand why they refuse to allow their children to attend schools.

During their interviews, TES agents discovered an overall fear of non-gypsy races. To understand this fear, one must understand the lifestyle of the Gypsy culture. Travellers live by strict moral codes.(1) For example sex outside of marriage is strictly forbidden; children are considered adults at age 12 and will go out on their own, get jobs, and marry at this young age; many extended generations live together resulting in huge families (as many as 700 people in a single group) all living together in one camp, each living in their own tent, wagon, motorhome, or trailer; each family group is lead by a tribal chief or clan leader, often referred to as a King or Patriarch; men are “breadwinners” and earn all the income, while women are “homemakers” rarely allowed to set foot in public, and careers strictly forbidden to them; because the women raise the children and the men work with their hands at craft trades or farming, they often see no need for such things as learning to read, write, or do math-things which they never use in their daily live. The few children who do attend school are rarely allowed to take courses in mathematics and science, both seen as taboo and anti-religious. The Travelers are highly religious, part Christian, part Pagan, they take portable shrines to Jesus and The Little People with them and devoutly seek the services of their clan’s Holy Woman, a Hoodoo Witch Doctor.

The Gypsy Holy Woman is one of the most glamorized, yet least understood traditions, of the Scottish Traveller Clans (Gypsy Fortune Teller, being the derogatory slang term commonly used by outsiders). Each clan has a Holy Woman, who is able to communicate with the “Little People” (Faeries, Goblins, Leprechauns, etc). She is the clan member seen most often by outsiders, often she is the only clan-member non-Gypsies will ever encounter, due to her setting up a shop in town to read cards, tell fortunes, heal the sick, cast out demons, and make amulets to protect homes from evil spirits. This was a sacred tradition passed down from grandmother to granddaughter and the secrets of the craft closely guarded, with no one else in the clan knowing how she does what she does. The clan’s Holy Woman is considered to be the messenger between the gods and the mortals; she would be picked for training at an early age (3 or 4) based on her natural ability to see the Little People. As an ordained minister, counsellor, advisor, exorcist, spellcaster, card reader, and officiant of weddings and funerals, she would be one of the few  clan members knowing how to read and write, a result of a strict education in a Bible Seminaries, but not in a schools. Emphasis of the Holy Woman’s education lay in Bible Studies and Christian Theology, again as with the rest of the clan’s children, her education is also often devoid of mathematics and sciences. The Scottish Gypsies are more secretive and traditional than the Irish Travellers. Like the Amish, Scottish Gypsies live in communities far separated from society, holding on the oldest customs and rarely seen by the rest of the world. When non-Gypsies encounter a Scottish Gypsy in public, the Holy Woman is often the only one whom they encounter.

Gypsy traditions, customs, and way of dress are considered outlandish, outdated, and extreme to most of non-Gypsy society, resulting in myths, rumors, and bigotry rising up against the Traveller race, which in turn results in their fears of and isolation from society in general and schools in particular. Many Irish Travellers give up the old ways and customs and attempt to blend into “white” society, as a means of survival. The theory being, if they don’t know you are a Gypsy, they won’t treat you like shit.

The Traveller parents, interviewed by TES agents in 2010 (2), told of hate crimes, being bullied, and an over all fear for the safety of their children, after the schoolyard murder of one 14 year old boy was tossed out courts by a judge saying no trail was needed because “he was only a gypo”. Those whom had sent their children to school, quickly removed them after violent incidents. Many Traveller parents having no education themselves, felt that the only education needed was to learn to read and write, and sent their children to school only during elementary grades, removing them well before they had any chance for high school learning. These parents also feared their children being negatively influenced by the promiscuity of the non-gypsy races, expressing great fears of sex education, white-teen drug use, media corruption of white races (Travellers rarely have televisions or radios for this reason), and crimes in school. They also felt contempt for what they called “the immoral” attitudes taught in school which promoted women not staying home to raise children, as well as the lack of being taught topics of any useful value, such as shoeing horses or wood carving. )

Many Travellers put an emphasis on the need to read and write, and said they would willingly send their children for English classes, but refused to allow the learning of other topics if those topics  not proven relevant to their family trade. For example they refused to allow their children to attend a general math or science class, but would welcome a farm biology class which would help them in their work with horses, dogs, and sheep. They also expressed desire for a business management class to help with running a traveling carnival business.  Other classes mentioned were those advancing trade skills in sewing, woodworking, etc. Most concerns expressed by parents to the TES agents, focused on the  lack of relevance of the curriculum,  cultural erosion, and the general safety of their children. The TES’ conclusion was a need to curtail racial bullying against Gypsy children, to make it safer for Travellers to attend school, and to create a curriculum relevant to a nomadic race which lives off the land and works closely with nature, crafts, traveling shows, fairgrounds, and animals. The TES set out to create such a curriculum.(3) (4)

It is in the UK where the Traveller communities are much more in the public eye. In the USA their race is largely uncounted by USA census, many families having no income, are also uncounted by the IRS, and others having no SSN gets them uncounted by the government on any level at all. There are several large Traveller Gypsy communities across the USA, one of the largest (with more than 3,000 members) residing in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, but they slip through the cracks ignored and unnoticed, publicly seen only at amusement parks, fairgrounds, and festivals setting up the rides and selling their wares, than as quickly as they coame, they a gone, not to be thought of again until next year’s festival comes around. Out of sight, out of mind, no one asks where they came from or where they are going, no one asks where they live, no one welcomes them as friends or equals, no one asks if they have access to health care or education, they exist like ghosts drifting in the sidelines, a minority race largely ignored.

There is very little accurate information about Traveller Gypsies available. In the USA  most  who know of “the gypsies” know nothing but false myths, rumors, and hugely inaccurate urban legends. When  mentioned in conversation or in the media, people speak of “the gypsies” as though we are mythological creatures of fantasy. On the USA Census, they are not even listed as a race, they are not Caucasian, not Asian, not Native American, not African American, not Hispanic, not Latino. Their race is not listed on polls or surveys or IRS forms or college admissions papers. Their race walks, unseen, unheard, unthought of, stereotyped, ignored, invisible, like they don’t even exist. UK case law has now recognized ‘Gypsy’, ‘Romany/Romani’, ‘Irish Travellers’ and ‘Scottish Travellers’ as ethnic minority groups protected against racism and discrimination under the Race Relations Act 1976. America has no such law. In America, Gypsy parents often send their children to school, only to be told by school officials “their kind” is not welcomed, an explanation they also receive from hospitals and doctors whom routinely refuse to give medical treatment to Scottish Gypsies and Irish Travellers. Often denied the right to have immunization shots, American Gypsies often find their children barred from school on those grounds. American discrimination and violent hate crime against Gypsies is the same today as the violent hate crimes were for Black Americans in the 1950s. There can not exist access to better education, until there is the awareness that there exists in America, an entire race of people who have little to no access to not only the education system, but also health care and basic civil rights.




Works Cited:


1.) Lane, Pauline.  Spencer, Siobhan.  McCready, Muzelley.  “Perspectives on Ageing in Gypsy Families” Joseph Rowntree Foundation (January 2012) Print. Web: http://www.jrf.org.uk/sites/files/jrf/ageing-in-gypsy-families-summary.pdf

2.) Myers, Martin.  McGhee, Derek.  Bhopal, Kalwant.   “At The Crossroads: Gypsy and Traveller Parents’ Perceptions of Education, Protection and Social Change” Race Ethnicity and Education 13:4  (2010) 533-548. Print. Web: : http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/13613324.2010.492138

3.) Bennett, Lizz.  Simpson, Marie. Green, Sue.  Ranson, Fiona. “Out of Sight” Give Racism the Red Card  Print. Web:   http://www.article12.org/pdf/Out_of_Site.pdf

4.) The National Association of Teachers of Travellers + Other Professionals Web: http://www.natt.org.uk/

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This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat


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The Devil Went Down to Georgia: A Blog MeMe

Saturday, July 16, 2011


The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Welcome to Saturday: 9. What we’ve committed to our readers is that we will post 9 questions every Saturday. Sometimes the post will have a theme, and at other times the questions will be totally unrelated. Those weeks we do “random questions,” so-to-speak. We encourage you to visit other participants posts and leave a comment. Because we don’t have any rules, it is your choice. We hate rules. We love memes, however, and here is today’s meme!

Saturday 9: The Devil Went Down to Georgia

1. Do you believe in the concept of the devil?

2. What’s your favorite nickname that you’re called?

3. What would you do if someone cheated on you?

4. Do you ever cry at a movie?

5. Have you got “a ball & chain” or are you single? Are you happy with your status?

6. Who do you got to for advice?

7. When was the last time someone yelled at you?

8. When was the last time you spoke with someone that you met online?

9. Where did you go on your honeymoon? OR Where would you like to go on your honeymoon?

Thanks so much for joining us again at Saturday: 9. As always, feel free to come back, see who has participated and comment on their posts. In fact sometimes, if you want to read & comment on everyone’s responses, you might want to check back again tomorrow. But it is not a rule. We haven’t any rules here. Join us on next Saturday for another version of Saturday: 9, “Just A Silly Meme on a Saturday!” Enjoy your weekend!

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Saturday 9: The Devil Went Down to Georgia

1. Do you believe in the concept of the devil?

I used to. Not so much any more.

2. What’s your favorite nickname that you’re called?

I’ve never had one.

3. What would you do if someone cheated on you?

You mean, what did I do. Contacted the cheatees (there were more than one) to find out why they thought it was alright to break up another couple and found out that none of the women knew anything about any of the others, and all were upset by the fact that they were being cheated on.

4. Do you ever cry at a movie?

Yes. Death and happy endings and any character crying always makes me cry too.

5. Have you got “a ball & chain” or are you single? Are you happy with your status?

Single and going back and forth between happy about it and not wanting to be.

6. Who do you got to for advice?

Me? Are you kidding? I’m too busy giving advice and answering  the 30,000 emails I get from my fans to have time to ask for advice for myself! LOL! It’s probably why I’m so good at answering these blog memes: I’m so used to answering a stead stream of questions from every one who needs help with some area of their life and I’m always the person they turn to to get advice from, though I’m not entirely sure why that is.

7. When was the last time someone yelled at you?

When a day goes by that some crazed hatemonger doesn’t show up in my yard yelling and screaming at me and threatening to kill me, I’ll let you know.

8. When was the last time you spoke with someone that you met online?

Every few weeks actually. Outside of my relatives and local church members, EVERYONE I talk to is someone I meet online. All of the writer’s at my writing group, I meet online, we formed the group online than meet in person, same goes for my coven, it started online and we meet in person from time to time. I’m constantly in the store or the library and someone will come up to me and say: “Hey,, I know you…you’re EelKat, I talk to you online, I’m _____” Happens all the time.

9. Where did you go on your honeymoon? OR Where would you like to go on your honeymoon?

Didn’t and probably wouldn’t. Honeymoons, weddings, bridal showers, ect, are NOT part of the Scottish Traveller/Gypsy tradition, it’s not something I could even imagine doing. Just a huge waste of money as far as I can see.

This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com  If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat

What Is A Traveller? Are You a Gypsy?

What is a Traveller?

The short answer:
Scottish Gypsies are called Travellers. They are a separate race from “regular” Scottish. Travellers are the Natives of Scotland, descendants of the Picts, while “modern” Scots are descendants of the Celtic Invaders whom invaded Scotland in the 1400s.
The Celts drove the Picts from their homes, murdering the women and children of any family refusing to give up their land to the invaders. The Picts, fought back, but in the end were driven out of their native homeland and forced to wander the world in search of a new home. They decided that having their families alive and well was more important than having land of their own. Vowing to never again be forced out of their homes, while watching their women and children be slaughtered, they decided to never again settle down in any place long enough to allow invaders to rob them of their loved ones.
The Picts were known for their metal work and their psychic abilities. The men became traveling tinkers, tooling metal ware and peddling their wares from town to town, while their women helped out by telling fortunes and communicating with the Faeries. They lived in covered wagons, called vardos, towed by spotted horses.
The Picts became known as The Traveling Scottish Tinkers. Over the centuries they have also been known as: The Scottish Gypsies, Witches, Witch Doctors, Hoodoo Conjurors, Peddlers, Tinkers, and as they are most commonly known today: The Travellers.

The long answer:



A few days ago I was asked a question about belly dancing in connection to gypsies, and asked also who are the gypsies, and what about you as a Traveller, are Travellers gypsies? I’m bringing my answer to that question here, and here it is:
I would like to start out by saying I am one of the princesses of The Royal Highland Atwater Clan, I can trace every member of my family from multiple branches all the way back to the 1400′s. Our history starts in Scotland, and as the name of our clan implies, back prior to the 1400′s we were royalty, from the line TRUE natives of Scotland, The Picts. Unlike what most people think of stereotypical Scottish appearances, (fair skin, red hair, etc) we are much darker, resembling Native American Indians, and also Native Scottish did not wear tartans or kilts as became popular with the invaders now thought of as the Scottish today. The castle which our family lived in is still there and is today known by tourists as “The Atwater Castle”. The history of the castle and our family, is that when the early Christians (St Patrick, etc) and the Celts invaded the area and drove out the “heathen pagans” who refused to convert to Christianity, the Atwater Clan held out and became warriors of the Highlands, rather than be forced out of the country with the rest of our people. At some point around the 1400′s, however, the castle was taken by the invaders, and the Atwater Clan because the last of the Native Highlanders to be driven out of their native lands.
The Atwater Clan, refused to settle down, and thought only of retaking the castle and returning home, and became travelers across Scotland as a result. Over the generations however, plans of retaking the castle, turned to “fantasy tales” told to grandchildren, tales of “the old ways” and “how it used to be” and “why” we travel with no home of our own, but gone are the plans, hopes, and dreams, of ever “returning home”. While much of what I know of my family’s history comes from word of mouth and is open to speculation, but the dates and brief notes in the ancient Medieval family Bible which has been passed down for centuries, can confirm that there is at least some truth by which the stories were based, and after much research, I did find that The Atwater Castle does indeed exist and local stories around it do match the stories my grandparents told me. I do not know my family’s history prior to the dates in the ancient Bible.
Our more recent history is easier to verify, with the help of diaries and photographs and government documents. In the late 1700′s, the Atwater’s joined up with great-great-grandson of Sir Francis Drake, when Capt John Drake married one of the Atwater girls. Our family has a tradition of, if you marry into the family from the outside, you join the clan. Capt Drake left Scotland, sailed across the Atlantic and took with him the entire Atwater Clan. The family went from land dwelling travelers to sea dwelling cut-throat “pirates”. They settled down in what is now Nova Scotia, and Capt Drake and his Atwater Clan crew, became blueberry smugglers, invading blueberry farms and using ship sails to carry the loads of fruit. This resulted in his fleet of ships having purple-blue sails. Capt Drake meet a terrible end when he fell through the deck of his ship, got an infection and lost his leg to gangrene, than died a few months later from the same infection. His wooden leg, several sea chests, and some of the blue sails have been passed down through our family every since and today are owned by one of my uncles.
The death of Capt John Drake, brought an end to our family’s brief life of piracy, and life on the ocean, and it also left a rather large group of Scottish Travelers stranded in Canada with no way back to Scotland. Their life with Drake however had brought a change to morals and most of them became criminals: murderers, thieves, prostitutes, drunks, and over all spent most of the 1800′s doing everything in their power to give Travelers everywhere a bad name.
In the 1920′s my grandfather joined the Kennedy family’s “rum running” business and was their gun toting driver bringing whiskey into Maine, from Canada. His job was to bring the whiskey to Old Orchard Beach, Maine, and fill the carousal horses (their tails unscrew and they are hollow – next time you visit Old Orchard, look for these horses, they are still there.)
Old Orchard Beach, Maine was a crime district back than and most of the town was run by the Ricker family, another group of Scottish Travelers, whom had settled down in the 1820′s and founded the Town of Old Orchard Beach.
After the Kennedy rum running business was broken up, my grandfather married a Native American girl and than moved the Atwater Clan from Canada to Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where the Atwaters and the Rickers joined forces, with members of each clan marrying members of the other clan, creating one big huge giant clan.
By the 1960′s there were over 200 Atwaters (my grandfather had 12 children, each of them had no less than 8 children PER wife, and some had several wives) and the entire town had become over run with campers, trailers, tents, shanties, etc. The Rickers (who lived in houses and shunned the nomadic lifestyle, and tried very hard to be good upstanding citizens with regular jobs) and the Atwaters (houseless squatters, living in cars and campers without permission on other people’s front lawns and who were still mostly criminals, and made a living out of breaking and entering and than selling stolen goods at flea markets) had started feuding. And when I say feuding, I mean gun fights and shoot outs, knife stabbings and sword fights. Very violent, very bloody, and required a lot of police and FBI to break up.
Ask the old people (senior citizens) of Old Orchard Beach today, and they will tell you horrendous stories of: “The Day the Gypsies Were Driven Out of Old Orchard”. They’ll tell you of the long parade of cars and vans and jeeps and trailers and campers, that stretched on for 10 or 12 miles, as they drove out of town and headed West for Utah, with police escorts. They will talk for hours of the violent crazy gypsies that tore up the town and almost destroyed Old Orchard Beach. I was a small child when this event occurred, but it instilled in me a life long fear of guns, as it had become a daily thing for me and my cousins to be dodging bullets and hide behind cars praying our parents and their parents wouldn’t murder each other.
Today the Atwaters have turned on each other, several have gone to prison, one created a UFO cult called Heaven’s Gate and than killed off his entire group with Kool-Aid, in the past 10 years there have been 5 different mass murder-suicides done by the Atwaters, one just last April. Several have now been diagnosed with severe metal illnesses, and genetic problems, both attributed to nearly 400 years of inbreeding between siblings.
There are many groups of Travellers and Gypsies who attribute the Royal Highland Atwater Clan with having single handedly created the stereotype that Gypsies are crazy criminals, and most Travellers and Gypsies will tell you that looking at one family and judging the entire race based on them alone is wrong, but the fact is, that is what has happened.
Those of us, in the younger generation of the Atwater Clan, look back on our parents and grandparents with shame, not because they were Travellers, not because they were Gypsies, but because they were arrogant people who acted like animals and did horrible things because they thought they could get away with it. For every criminal act they did, they always justified it by saying: “We are Atwaters. We are royalty. You should be glad I decided to let you live.” They arrogance was their downfall.
For the most part Gypsies are just your average ordinary, hard working family, they just live in a house on wheels. The crime family stereotype is not the norm and only became a stereotype because what few crime families there are got themselves in enough trouble to get all over the media. The Gypsies that stay out of trouble don’t get on TV, so are out of sight and out of mind, thus resulting in the only time people see any info about Gypsies it’s on the news when one does some crime, in the end resulting in people thinking, every time they see a gypsy it’s a bad news report therefor all gypsies must be bad. It’s sad but true. And it’s not just the gypsies – I know a guy who was in WWII and every time he sees an Asian person he starts ranting on about “these evil Japs” and the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I know another guy who lived in the “inner city” growing up, and now today he says “all blacks a no good gangsters”.
Now you ask:
[QUOTE=Jane;182058]I keep reading references to “Gypsy dances” in connection with belly dance. What exactly are “Gypsies”? I thought they were a specific ethnic group. Besides the Roma influence on Turkish Oryantal, what do Gypsies have to do with the development of belly dance? I know they came in several migratory waves from India; that I have figured out. I’m becoming lost and confused as to who Gypsies actually are when people reference them. Why are they being credited with creating belly dance and why are Ghawazee and other marginalized ethnic groups being put under the Gypsy umbrella if they are not genetically related? I never thought of belly dance as a Gypsy dance: always a Middle Eastern social dance adapted for the stage. :think:[/QUOTE]
I can tell you this:
I am a gypsy. I was born a gypsy. I lived in a car with my family and our cats and our dogs, until I was 9 years old, when my parents left the Clan and settled down to live on a farm in Maine. We did not take to no-mobile life well and spent much of the year on road trips, for the next 30 years. Throughout that time we have had to deal with a steady stream of hate crimes and violence at the hands of several of Old Orchard Beach’s locals, who remember the crimes of the Atwater Clan and though my father is a Ricker, his wife, my mother is an Atwater, disowned by the rest of the Clan, but still has Atwater blood and that’s enough to cause great hatred from people who remember “The Gypsies of Old Orchard”.
As an adult, I too had a house, once. It was burned down by anti-gypsy bigots in 2006 and I spent the next 3 years living on my land under a tarp, than in a Volvo, and now in a motorhome as I can not afford to re-build my house.
We are from Scotland. There is no Middle Eastern connection. We are a different culture than the Romani. Gypsy is the term used for ALL traveling cultures, NOT JUST the Romani, that is why they are more correctly called The Romani Gypsies or just The Roms. There are Irish Gypsies and Turkish Gypsies and Ethiopian Gypsies and Native American Gypsies and Mexican Gypsies and Mongolian Gypsies…. you get the idea now right?
A Gypsy is any person with a mobile home, be it a tent, car, trailer, vardo, wagon, RV, motorhome, sailboat, houseboat, or plane. If your house can move from one location to the next, than you are a gypsy. If you live in a trailer park, you are a gypsy. If you live in a campground, you are a gypsy. If you live in a Winnebago, you are a gypsy. You can deny it, but like it or not, if you do not live in a standard non-mobile building, you are a gypsy, because that is what the word gypsy means. The word “gypsy” when used CORRECTLY is the name of a TYPE OF LIFESTYLE. However the word is very rarely ever used correctly.
Most people when they say “Gypsy” they mean “Romani Gypsy”, but using “gypsy” in this manner, as the name of a race, is considered a racial slur and the same as calling an African American a Nigar or a Latter Day Saint a Mormon or a Native American and Indian. Gypsy, Nigar, Mormon, Indian – these are all racial slurs used by people on the outside of the group in question. Just as no Latter Day Saint would ever refer to themselves as a Mormon, so too would no Rom ever refer to themselves as a Gypsy. Mormonism is a theology held and practiced by 64 different religions, the original of which being The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and members within these religions call themselves Later Day Saints and say they practice Mormonism, and while a few may call themselves Mormons, most do not and are deeply offended by the term. Likewise the Gypsy Lifestyle is held and practiced by over 300 different ethnic groups, and each group calls themselves by their race (Scottish, Navaho, Irish, Mongolian, Romani, etc), and while a few may refer to themselves as Gypsies, most do not and are deeply offended by the term.
Scottish Gypsies are called Travellers. They are a separate race from “regular” Scottish. Travellers are the Natives of Scotland, descendants of the Picts, while “modern” Scots are descendants of the Celtic Invaders whom invaded Scotland in the 1400s.
The Celts drove the Picts from their homes, murdering the women and children of any family refusing to give up their land to the invaders. The Picts, fought back, but in the end were driven out of their native homeland and forced to wander the world in search of a new home. They decided that having their families alive and well was more important than having land of their own. Vowing to never again be forced out of their homes, while watching their women and children be slaughtered, they decided to never again settle down in any place long enough to allow invaders to rob them of their loved ones.
The Picts were known for their metal work and their psychic abilities. The men became traveling tinkers, tooling metal ware and peddling their wares from town to town, while their women helped out by telling fortunes and communicating with the Faeries. They lived in covered wagons, called vardos, towed by spotted houses.
The Picts became known as The Traveling Scottish Tinkers. Over the centuries they have also been known as: The Scottish Gypsies, Witches, Witch Doctors, Hoodoo Conjurors, Peddlers, Tinkers, and as they are most commonly known today: The Travellers.
And your question:
[QUOTE=Jane;182058]what do Gypsies have to do with the development of belly dance?[/QUOTE]
The answer is: not a thing.
From what I (speaking as an insider) have personally seen of dancing in gypsy culture, gypsy dance has more in common with Voodoo dancing: big colorful skirts, scarfs on heads, swirling around, leaping, clapping, joining hands, holding long skirts up at the hips to expose the knees, with a big group of people laughing and whopping as they prance around a bon-fire. It’s NOT belly dancing. Not even close!
From what I’ve seen of modern “gypsy belly dance”, it appears that they take “gypsy” outfits and use them while belly dancing, and call it gypsy belly dance based on the costume not based of the style of dance, just like what is done with Gothic belly dance: dress in goth while belly dancing = gothic belly dance; dress like a gypsy while belly dancing = gypsy belly dancing.
You noticed as I was telling you the history of my family, I made no mention of belly dancing? Yeah, there’s a reason for that, and it’s because THERE IS NO HISTORY of belly dancing. No one in the long and colorful history of my family has ever been a belly dancer – I’m the first one, and when I took it up, I never once thought of it as being a “gypsy” dance. The first time I found out about belly dancing, I was about 8 years old, and I did not know what it was called, so for several years I called belly dancers “Egyptian Snake Charmers”. I have no idea how I came up with the term “Egyptian Snake Charmers” or why I used it, but as a child there was a long time when I would tell people: “When I grow up I’m going to be an Egyptian Snake Charmer”. What I meant when I was saying that, was I wanted to be a professional belly dancer.
But there you have it: I, as a gypsy, born in a gypsy culture, raised in a tradition-heavy multi-generational gypsy family (with 200+ members all living together), grew up associating belly dancing with Egypt and cobras. And I myself a gypsy, never associated belly dancing with my own culture, nor did I associate myself with Egyptians (as one popular myth does, when it says Gypsies are of Egyptian decent).
I am speaking as one who is a “Gypsy” and there is absolutely no history of belly dance in my culture, but I think I can help you find a reason why belly dancing is often associated with gypsies. Traveling around a lot, my ancestors did pick up things from each place they went. For example we are Scottish and not Japanese in any way, and yet wearing kimono became a tradition at some point after a brief visit by some of my ancestors, to Japan. Hula dancing, grass skirts, and wearing muu-muus, became a tradition in my family after my grandmother spent several years living in Hawaii. Can you see where this is going?
Psychic abilities, witchcraft, curses, contacting spirits, reading cards, yes. That sort of thing is HUGE in my personal family’s history. Both my grandmothers were witches, as were their grandmothers, but this in not the norm for ALL Gypsies, because witchcraft was only passed down in certain “select family lines” and most families had no connection to the psychic arts at all. I think it is the same with dancing.
You see traditions and passing things from grandparent to grandchild is a BIG part of the Gypsy lifestyle. Think about it: “regular” folks pass on material things: the house, grannies best chine, etc. But when you live in a car, what do you have to pass to your children? Nothing, at east not any material thing. You pass along your traditions instead. If you weave cloth than you pass on a cloth weaving tradition, and end up with generations of cloth weavers in a single line. It’s the same if you tool leather, make tin pots, shoe horses, read cards, and of course if you dance, than dancing is the tradition you pass on to your children. Do you see what I’m getting at?
While my own family has no connection with belly dancing, I have known other gypsy families who had several generations of belly dancing in their family line, and the dance was a tradition passed from grandmother to granddaughter.
So I am guessing, based on what I know of how my own family picks up things from other cultures, and how most gypsy families are heavy on the passing down traditions, tradition, I am guessing that at some point, some where in time, a gypsy family picked up belly dancing from one of the places they visited and passed it on to their children, and being professional traveling dancers they meet enough people to give the impression that belly dancing was a traditional gypsy dance, when in fact it was just something they picked up on their travels. It seems to be the most likely reason for the connection between gypsies and belly dancing.
The problem with romanticizing gypsy culture via the whole belly dancers and fortune tellers gig, is that it shows the world that gypsy live a life of endless fun and games, when in fact, most gypsies are short live, malnourished, half-starved, and often too sick or too tired to even think about dancing.
FACT: Gypsies are homeless. Many try to move into normal homes only to have “regular” folks burn them out and force them to be homeless all over again. Bigotry, war, and hatred made them homeless. Bigotry, vandalism, irrational fears, discrimination, and hatred keeps them homeless.
FACT: Gypsies are often uneducated. Discrimination against gypsies is high. Gypsy children rarely attend school and those that doe are often beaten and bullied until they are so terrified of school they don’t dare go back. Yes, I’m talking about the United States of America. I was not allowed to go to school. I was 35 years old before I was allowed to get my GED.
FACT: Gypsies are often jobless. Many can not get jobs because they do not have a high school diploma and can not get a GED. Many are forced to do odd jobs such as mowing lawns, because “regular” people REFUSE to hire gypsies.
FACT: Gypsies can not get medical/health insurance.  Having a permanent address is required. Live in a car = no health insurance. Live in a car = no job. No job = no money. No money = no way to get medical care. No medical care = high rate of deaths in children and young adults and a race nearly devoid of senior citizens.
FACT: Most gypsies are hungry, many gypsy children starve to death before they reach 10 years old. Few gypsies live more than 30 years. Live in a car = no job. No job = no money. No money = no way to get food.
FACT: It is not a myth that the crime rate is higher among gypsies than other people. Not allowed the rights of other citizens = no schools, no house, no jobs, no medical care, no food = desperate measures need to be taken to keep your family alive = theft crimes in order to ensure your children get at least one meal PER WEEK (no, not per day – one meal PER WEEK is NOT uncommon in gypsy families.) As a child the longest I had ever gone without food was 12 days.
It is wrong, WRONG, WRONG to portray gypsies as happy go luck people with no cares in the world and days full of dancing, just as much as it is wrong to portray them as cut-throat thugs. They are people, just like you, with families, trying to get by, and working hard to get keep their families alive.
You want to know more about the gypsies? You don’t have to travel to some far away land… just walk down to your local homeless shelter, or head to the nearest train station and look for the rows of houses built out of cardboard boxes. Those are gypsies. Take a good look at them, their clothes dirty rags, their bodies sticking from not bathing in months, their babies half dead from starvation- that’s the REAL gypsy lifestyle. No dancing. There’s no time for dancing when you are praying you 30 pound 10 year old lives long enough for you to find a job, and praying the tomorrow some one ANY ONE will hire you so you can at least buy a last meal for the child. That is the reality of gypsy life.
All that said…I’ve no problem with people using the term “gypsy belly dance”. It’s not being used as a derogatory slur, and while possibly stemming from misinformation, I consider it more “fantasy play” than “historical dance” so it doesn’t bother me.
This post was written by Wendy C Allen aka EelKat, is copyrighted by The Twighlight Manor Press and was posted on Houseless Living @ http://houselessliving.blogspot.com and reposted at EK’s Star Log @ http://eelkat.wordpress.com and parts of it may also be seen on http://www.squidoo.com/EelKat and http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com  If you are reading this from a different location than those listed above, please contact me Wendy C. Allen aka EelKat @ http://laughinggnomehollow.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile and let me know where it is you found this post. Plagiarism is illegal and I DO actively pursue offenders. Unless copying a Blog Meme, you do not have permission to copy anything appearing on this blog, including words, art, or photos. This will be your only warning. Thank you and have a glorious day! ~ EelKat