Blue Moon (Stone) Witchery

Yesterday while relaxing and surfing, I read some ideas for a bit o’ blue moon magic on Julie’s The Domestic Pagan  (have you seen that pic of her blue moon glass jar? It’s gorgeous!). Now some of you may swear by candle magic, but unless I’ve crafted the candles, I have had a success rate of 0.0% when using candles as aids  — IF  I don’t count the Seven African Power candle spell I tried after reading about the candle in a book by Zsuzsanna Budapest. And even then, I’m not sure that I can count that because a store manager, not I, anointed the candle. I didn’t request anything specific, either. I just saluted the orishas according to the corresponding colors and — I  hope anyway — asked for  their blessings. Good news after good news poured in. Since then, though, when it comes to asking for favors, I must’ve pissed off the orishas — with the exception of Yemaya.

Bearing in mind my history with store bought candles, I tried Julie’s talisman spell. Since no silver jewelry came to mind, I used my moonstone/silver pendant.

I placed the pendant on the windowsill, where it would receive moonlight. At that point,  the gemstone lay dead as a rock (hyuk). Nightfall approached, and though I usually have no difficulty falling asleep, I found it hard to relax. The best way I can describe it is, there seemed to be a lot of white noise — not the kind you hear, but the kind you can feel. Think chaotic energy, or energy without direction. Either I imagined it, or the crystal buzzed its ass off. It seemed to scream that it was alive, and it didn’t care who knew it. The little fucker must have been created under an Aries moon.  My bed was beneath the windowsill, and I raised up on one elbow and whispered to my crystal. “You are beautiful.”

Just like that, the gemstone went lifeless, as if someone had unplugged it. Either I had a loose screw,  or the moonstone didn’t like to be fucked with while it did its stone thing.

After a while when the thing seemed to be dead with a DNR order,  I gave up. The moonstone started up again, though with somewhat subdued energy. Rather than screeching, the energy loudly hummed. My teen son walked past  my sleeping quarters, and Moonstone increased its psychic volume. Moonstone didn’t settle down again until Sebby had closed the door to his bedroom and, maybe from a crystal’s point of view, was safely from thoughts of mischief.

Because this is a gratitude journal, I guess I should be grateful that I have the balls to dig out a lesson from last night, puff up,  and pontificate on it. The lesson is that some of us have a streak of skepticism, and no  matter how hard magic or super science (I didn’t make up the term. The first time I heard the term was on a cartoon, and I thought ‘what a cool term) thumps us on the head, we’re going to doubt what we feel. Maybe   two days ago, I told my Virgo chemist husband, “Everything follows the laws of the universe. We just  haven’t nailed down all the laws.”  Gut instinct tells me the moonstone gave off some pretty strong vibes, but the rational side of me says that everything alive releases energy. Perhaps after reading all those blog posts about the blue moon,  a suggestion was planted in my mind, and I WANTED to believe the vibes from the stone were amped. Now, this doesn’t explain the energy emitted by the altar in my bathroom upstairs. I suspected super science was afoot when my husband and son behaved differently around the altar. That altar will be discussed in a future blog post.


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