Finding Your Familiar

Meeting with our Familiar is of the utmost importance before delving into the oftentimes murky waters of witchcraft. A Familiar not only helps protect us from psychic and spiritual harm, but also provides insight into the many scenarios in which we will find ourselves. They are like trail guides who want to help us reach our destination, and who never intentionally put us in harm's way. 

The following meditation is to be attempted at home and in solitude. All you need is a quiet hour or so, completely disconnected from your phone and media. I recommend doing this at dawn or dusk, as these are the liminal times.

Getting a Glimpse: Sit comfortably and stare at a point on the wall. You may place a target object if you’d like, such as a small strip of tape or paper. Your eyes should be rested, as if you are daydreaming, and not focused on anything else. If your eyes get heavy, let them close. When you come to, whether by an alarm or sudden waking, record any of your findings or visions. If you have fallen asleep, try again when you are more rested and have the energy to keep awake. 

…Crow has arrived in my mind’s eye. A purple and gold aura emits from its head, and it hovered still, frozen in space and time…

Another way to meet with a Familiar is to seek assistance from someone who can help navigate. With this method, you will be entering a trance into your ‘Inner Landscape,’ a term used by author and Wiccan elder, Ivo Domingeuz Jr. For convenience, I have laid out every step so that you can refer to it at a later time.

Note: Ventures into the Otherworld, as well as the general practice of witchcraft and the occult, are not without their risks. This is the reason why we begin with the importance of meeting and connecting with our Familiar. Without their guidance and protection, serious psychic stress or injury can happen. The study and practice of the occult does not provide us with a one-way mirror! Magical Practitioner Draja Mickaharic says it best with,

“As we enter into the study of magic and the occult, we lose the protection that our ignorance provides.”

Therefore, before proceeding, we should take a moment to talk about personal protection. Assuming that many of you have a background or strong interest in witchcraft, you may already have on you an amulet, pouch, or other charmed object. This is a great start to establishing personal protections, but it is not always enough. Something that is often overlooked is that we need to be specific about what we need protection from. For example, I wear a silver ring that I have charmed to protect against the Evil Eye, but it may not be so great at guarding against dog attacks or lightning.

A simple form of protection is the ‘Circle-Cross Method.' I originally came upon this method in the book “Treading the Mill,” by Nigel G. Pearson. While his method is great, I have amended it for the absolute beginner. With it, we will establish an internal compass, positioning ourselves and our work in the world, ordinary and not.

Circle-Cross Method (amended): Stand facing North and place your feet about a foot apart, and place your arms by your side. Close your eyes and take a few full breaths.

Take your dominant hand and touch your brow. Say;

“From Above”

Trace a line from your brow to your navel and say;

“To Below”

Raise and outstretch your left arm, say;

“From my left”

Do the same with your right, say;

“And to my right”

Cross your arms over your chest, say;

“I am whole and contained.”

With this method, we are creating an orb or bubble of protection against unseen forces while in trance. You may also choose to do this before any spellwork. There are many variations of this, and if you’d like to learn more, I encourage you to research the term ‘Laying / Hallowing the Compass.’

The prolific Christian Mystic, Dion Fortune, offers a different method in her book, “Psychic Self-Defense.” She writes, “[Facing east] Touching his forehead he says “To Thee, O God (touching his solar plexus) be thy Kingdom (touching his right shoulder) and the Power (touching his left shoulder) and the Glory (clasping his hands) unto the ages of the ages. Amen.”

Before entering the daimonic realm, the Otherworld, we will go over each step laid out before us. This is to provide you with a template of intent.

I’d like to discuss the method of drumming to induce trance. While this method of auditory stimulation has been done for a millennium by people the world over, it is retained in modern-day by Indigenous and First Nations communities. It is not my intent to replicate or falsely portray any Indigenous practices. Drumming is an auditory stimulation, and it works for me and many others. Additional methods include visual stimulation, repetitive movement, gazing, inducing physical stimuli, ingestion of psychedelics, breathwork, etc. The inclusion of transformational drumming draws inspiration from multiple wisdom traditions, but is offered today as a modern practice.

TEMPLATE OF INTENT

1) Set your intention of meeting with your Familiar and cleanse yourself with the fumigation of herbs. I recommend using cedar because of its fiery, cleansing, and protective qualities. It is also used to designate spaces as sacred. Mugwort is also a good choice and will aid in easing the mind.

2) Next, break up the still air with sound. This is another form of cleansing, and it also helps shift our minds into a ritualistic setting. Designating a space for ritual is just as important as the ritual itself.

3) We then read aloud the following incantation, offered by the authors of “Besom, Stang, & Sword,” Christopher Orapello & Tara-Love Maguire.

“Familiar spirit of my soul, 

Please make your presence known. 

Familiar spirit of my head

From birth, through life, till I am dead.

Familiar spirit of my flesh,

Show yourself at my request.”

ENTERING TRANCE

4) Lie down and listen to the sound of drumming. Drumming works as a means of accessing trance because it affects our brain waves. Slowing down brain activity allows inspiration and untapped wisdom to flood in. The lull of the drum feels like being pulled out to sea and onto other shores. It is your raft and windsail. Eventually, you might acquire a drum of your own and come to think of it more as an ally than as an object. When I can’t drum for myself, I use an iPhone app called 'Drum Journey' by William Langton of Mindful Bear Apps.

5) Picture in your mind's eye an actual place from your memory that was private and special to you. For example, I think back to a tree that stands in a field in my hometown. I would sometimes sit by this tree on my walks after school. Some people imagine bedrooms, attics, pools, or lakes. As long as you can summon it clearly in your mind, it will work for you. In this place, imagine that you can descend into the ground, down a flight of stairs, or in an elevator. Descend in the direction of a left-turning corkscrew spiral.

…I am walking in a field and approaching the tree. I can hear the chirping of crickets and feel the gentle heat of the afternoon sun on my shoulders. I place my hand on the bark of the tree, and a creaking moan emits from its core. The ground has swallowed me up. I cling to the roots of the tree until I realize that I am not in danger. Acceptance is necessary, and so I slip further into the open Earth…

6) As you feel yourself lowering into the ground, you will start to sense a new space. Allow your vision to adjust to the surroundings. For me, it is a dirt tunnel. Others have told me that they see a room with a door on the other end of it. Either way, you will begin walking down the tunnel or towards the door very slowly. We use this time to further entrench ourselves and distance our minds from the surface of our physical body. It is at this point that another shift happens, and with it comes another barrier. For me, it appears as an old stone archway that I must draw upon with a symbol for it to open.

…The tunnel is dark. I place my hands on either side to navigate my way. I can feel the cold of the dirt and smell the earth. I’m pulled deeper into the bowels…

7) Upon passing the barrier, again allow your vision to adjust. A lot of time in the Otherworld is spent doing just that, taking in new surroundings and trying to make sense of them. Your first time entering might be very dark, and you may be without peripheral vision. Over time, this will come to be your Sacred Center, Grove, Otherworld Garth, or, as I’ve begun calling it, your Launching Pad. You might hear the fluttering of wings, buzzing of insects, primal howls, heavy footsteps, or any array of sounds. Focus and bring these beings in front of you, one by one, and ask, “Are you my Familiar?” Eventually, one will stop and connect with you telepathically or verbally. Be sure to ask its name. If it does not offer it right away, be patient. It may require many visits before it does.

…It is here that Crow tethers itself to me. Its reveal during meditation was not just a vision of kinship, but an invitation to the Otherworld. It flies upon my shoulder and presses its head against mine and says, “Finally, you’re here, let’s fly!”…

8) Once you have connected with your Familiar Spirit and made conversation, thank them and turn back around and leave. Ascend in a right-turning corkscrew spiral. The drumming will assist with this as its rhythm will change and encourage you to end your session. When you return to your physical body, be sure to immediately write down everything you did, saw, heard, and felt. Afterwards, drink some water and eat a small snack.

Psilocybin Therapy, First Session

First Session took place on January 19th, 2026

The following account was recorded the day after a six-hour psilocybin therapy session.

“My therapist, [redacted], arrived at my house around 10:30 am. We spoke about the effects of psilocybin and what I should expect to feel, as I’ve never used it before. I set up a comfortable space on the floor of my studio. We did a general grounding exercise, and I invited my “spirit team” to join us in the space. I then drummed for a short time to get into a proper headspace. [Therapist] then instructed me to eat the mushrooms. To me, they smelled slightly cheesy, but tasted almost like dried porcini mushrooms. They did not taste good, though not entirely unpleasant either. It wasn’t long before I began to feel the effects. The sensation was creeping, as though English ivy had spread to every end of my body. I could visualize the spreading as frost on a window. I did become very cold and needed a space heater and an additional blanket. The cold, though constant, began to feel pleasant, like stepping into the cold for a fresh breath of air. As the creeping sensation spread, I sensed it in my many scars. I felt that the “ivy” could not pass through the scars at first. The scars were a foreign body that the “ivy” could not grow over. A small fear arose. I reassured the “ivy” that the scars were, in fact, a part of me, natural or not. The fear subsided.

A short time passed, and I began to feel very feminine. I could visualize myself as a young woman in 1700’s France. I wore a ruffled celadon green dress with matching ribbons in my hair, which was long and brunette. It was at this point that I said, aloud, that my lips were going numb. My therapist asked if I related that feeling to anything, and I responded, “opium.” My therapist asked if I had done opium, and I replied, “Not in this lifetime.” I have always felt as though I had died from opium, and this sensation was familiar. I then held a strawberry aloft and ate it delicately. I was then back in 1700’s France, lounging on a blanket by the river. I was alone at first, save for my valet in the near distance. I then felt the presence of a younger sister with me, though I could not see her face. I said aloud how good it feels to gossip and be out of view from others. It felt delicious. I then felt as though I would be found out or caught in some way. Being too happy could be met with admonishment. It was around this time that Cleo (my cat) entered the room. She scanned the perimeter before settling in my arms. She stayed with me the entire session.

In the trip, I was then brought to the Alps. I was an eight-year-old blonde boy and was lying down again. This time, I was in front of a small hearth fire. My cat, Cleo, then became a very large dog in this scene. The dog was wolf-like, and we lay together in front of the fire. The feeling was that we had just come indoors after a long day outside. I felt imaginative, as if my entire day had been spent playing make-believe in the forest. It was one of the best feelings in the world. I did not see my parents, but knew them to be nearby. I was unafraid. The mountains themselves became “Mother.” The name, “Frau Holda,” came to my mind as I viewed the mountains as “mothers.” I did not encounter her visage, although I could feel her embrace. She was stern yet loving. On one hand, she was as harsh as a winter’s wind, and on the other as warm as fresh-baked bread. She felt respectfully distant and not overbearing.

As my thoughts turned to my own mother, my thoughts were directed to a pond. This pond looked very much like the one at my grandmother’s house. My mother’s energy was that of a fish in this pond, and also of a clear quartz. My energy was like that of a toad or a frog, and also a deep garnet. My grandmother was a turtle in this pond, and her stone was an emerald. The three of us experienced the pond in very different ways. My mother, the fish, felt separated from me (as a frog), and even more so from her mother, the turtle. Although I felt distant as a frog, I knew that my mother had the company of other fish. As a frog, I could spend much of my time underwater, with the fish, but also on land with the turtle. I was a familiar guest to the fish, but was at home along the banks of the pond. My grandmother, the turtle, lived like the frog, but spent more time on land than the frog. As a frog, I spent time equally on the back of the turtle’s shell and in the water with the fish. The turtle and the fish rarely encountered one another. In this realization, a memory came forth of a time when my grandmother showed me a bucket full of daddy long-legs. Today, the day after the session, I called my grandmother, and she confirmed this memory.

I left the scene of the pond and saw myself as a young child. I was playing in the swampy woods behind my father’s house. I spent a lot of time in a small creek searching for salamanders under the rocks. I also caught frogs and collected tadpoles for the day. Sometimes, I’d find small turtles or even mice that I’d play with. These memories were a very enjoyable part of the session. It is my thought that these memories were the last times I was truly worry-free. Around this part of the session, I required a bathroom break, and then ingested more mushrooms. The second part of the session was not related to me or my memories.

It felt like I was witnessing the collective memory of the mushrooms. The story was presented in a way that was passed down through generations for millions of years. I was shown a vast network of enormous mushrooms, the size of skyscrapers, covering much of the Earth. The sky was greener than it was blue. I was shown triangular crafts falling into the ocean. Each craft carried a small number of beings. These beings emerged from the water and were frightening to the life forms on Earth. Their skin was pale and simmering, and also somewhat translucent. Their eyes were like burning coal. They had no outwardly formed ears, but had small holes which could be covered by an equally small flap of skin. Their noses were similar to ours, except that their nostrils were larger. They had human-like mouths. As a group, these beings were outcasts. What their transgressions were, I do not know. They spent a great many years looking up at the sky, yearning to return. They survived on rations and collected what little water they could gather. Over time, many lost hope of ever returning to the stars. A wise few turned to the mushrooms for guidance. The mushrooms instructed them to go underground, and so they did. They abandoned their crafts, bringing only essential survival tools. For a millennium or more, it rained. Time underground was indistinguishable. After many generations, the beings adapted to their new existence underground and, in time, had forgotten that they had ever come from the stars. They changed physically as well. Their eyes grew larger and paler to better perceive the dark. Their skin, still pale and translucent, became thick to withstand the cold. One day, the continuous hum of rain against rock stopped. Again, the wisest among them ventured out into the newly vegetated world. It was a world lush with life, but also one of harsh light. The mushrooms, no longer the height of skyscrapers, diversified and became smaller. Two factions formed among the beings: those who remained underground and those who ventured above it. Those above adjusted to this new world. Their skin turned dark, and their eyes cooled to the color of amber. The beings underground developed more amphibious traits and were able to traverse immense distances through vast cavern networks and bodies of water. In time, the two factions forgot both of one another, and of their origin among the stars. The beings who dwelt above allied with the mushrooms, who are the stewards of original life on Earth. The consciousness and breadth of the mushrooms were vast and ruling. The amber-eyed people learned from them, and the mushrooms were happy to teach. Another pact was made with the help of the mushrooms. This one was between the animals and the amber-eyed people. Souls were traded and bargained for in exchange for sustenance, and the mushrooms enforced this pact for generations. In time, the amber-eyed people grew greedy. They wanted the souls of all of the animals. They took much more than they gave, and so the animals became fearful. Reason among the amber-eyed people became rare, but was not lost. The animals then trusted only the reasonable. The mushrooms hold onto this story and share it so that we can remember. We were outcasts, orphans on a cosmological scale, but they took us in and taught us how to survive in this world that we call home.

Creating a Servitor

What is a Servitor?

Artificial Elemental, Golam/Golem, Enlivened Thoughtform, Servitor; all these names and more share a general definition: ‘An isolated lesser spirit created and tasked by a magical practitioner’ [my definition]. Servitors are isolated and lesser spirits because of their site-specific (or person-specific) influence, and because they have neither command nor dominion over others. Servitors function solely on behalf and benefit of the magical practitioner. However, this does not mean that they can not stray from their objective. Forgotten or taskless, a Servitor may ‘turn feral’, not unlike how an abandoned domesticated hog will transform into a wild boar. This can happen in a variety of ways, though it happens most often when a magical practitioner does not provide a definitive end for the Servitor. I have also seen this happen when a magical practitioner dies before the decommissioning of their Servitor. Years ago, I was asked to remove a maddened and listless artificial elemental (also known as a Servitor) from a cemetery in Mystic, Connecticut. It took the form of a grey short-haired hound with an abstracted human face. Though its creator died centuries ago, it remained by their grave and would audibly growl and bite at the legs of visitors. The reasons for its decommissioning will be explained later.

In recent times, the Servitor has been compared to a computer script. Written in code to run a specific task, the Servitor knows only their function and will carry it out effectively. The comparison to a computer script is apt but too lifeless an image for my liking, and it does not fully reflect the embodied nature of the Servitor. Also, like a script, a Servitor may be tampered with and adjusted by its creator. 

The most well-known example of a Servitor might be the legend of the Golam/Golem (Hebrew for ‘servant’) of Prague. One of the stories goes that in the 1700s, Rabbi Liwa (also called Rabbi Löw) was seeking a way to protect the Jewish people from a plague. Known to have the power to transform the four elements into living beings, Rabbi Liwa molded an enormous humanoid form from the mud of the Vltava River. The Golem was brought to life by the insertion of a clay tablet bearing the name of God into its mouth. Every Shabbat, Rabbi Liwa would replace the clay tablet with another, which caused the Golem to rest. However, one Friday night, the Rabbi forgot to do this, and as soon as he recited Psalm 92 to mark the beginning of Shabbat, the restless Golem wreaked havoc upon the ghetto. Thankfully for Rabbi Liwa, the solution was as simple as removing the clay tablet from its mouth. It is said that the Golem was never again awakened and was stored in the attic of the synagogue. 

It is known that Rabbi Liwa was a historical figure and a Jewish scholar. The earliest account of his Golem is from Joseph Seligmann Kohn’s anonymously published novel, Der Jüdische Gil Blas (The Jewish Gil Blas). The date of publication is disputed, but it seems to have been written between 1834 and 1837, approximately a century after the Golem incident. Kohn wrote many other publications under other names, hence the confusion. The attic above the synagogue was eventually opened by the journalist Egan Erwin Kisch, but to his dismay, nothing was found. What became of the Golem remains a mystery.

Creating Your Servitor

Unlike Rabbi Liwa, you do not need to construct a golem to serve your needs (though if you do, tell me how it goes). The life of a Servitor starts with its purpose. What area of your life could use improvement? Are you in need of a research assistant? How about a guard dog? Or, do you need a reminder to clean your room? Of course, you could just hire an assistant, head to the pound, and clean your damn room, but where’s the magic in that?

Clearly writing the intent for the Servitor is paramount to its success. Do not write long paragraphs listing all the things you want it to do, nor a single word that lacks direction. For example, writing ‘assist’ does not provide enough information; assist with what, whom, why, and when? These should be clearly defined. A good example of this would be, ‘Assist me with research during work hours so that I may more easily find relevant information.’ This tells the Servitor what it is doing, for whom, when it should be doing it, and for what reason. 

You must also determine the “death date” of your Servitor. This date need not be a literal calendar day, but can be dependent upon the completion of its task. It can also be done before moving into a new home or, more drastically, before your death. My two most-used Servitors have separate death dates. One will be decommissioned if I should ever move into a new home, and the other before my death, should it not be unexpected. For our example, let us say that our research assistant is to be decommissioned upon completion of a written thesis paper.

After you’ve given your (so far imaginary) Servitor its task and instruction, now is the time to form its image. This is a fun way to use your creativity and talents. If you have a knack for drawing, this will be easier, but I firmly believe that everyone can do this to some degree. If you are inspired to sculpt your servitor, please do! What does your servitor need most to be able to carry out its task? Let us keep with the example of a research assistant. Presumably, it will need eyes and hands, or perhaps one big eye and a pair of talons; there is no need to keep it realistic. This is a spirit born of the imagination. Is there an animal that comes to mind when you think of a research assistant, perhaps one that folklore deems as wise? My first thought is of an owl. An owl has perceptive vision and talons of impressive finesse. This owl is now our research assistant. It also wears rounded spectacles and stands atop an open book.

Once you’ve drawn, sculpted, or otherwise fabricated your Servitor, it will need a name. Names can come to us while working on the thing at hand. This is certainly true of titles for paintings; they come to me in the doing. Mothers-to-be frequently think of names that they believe will suit their baby. Your Servitor will tell you its name. Our owl research assistant is named Rodney. 

As practitioners, we have the power to give life to the lifeless. We are not gods, but we do pluck at the web which connects all things. All matter is a result of the collective, or World Soul, without which there would be nothing but consciousness. We, as part of the whole, wield the power of creation and destruction. As an animist, I believe that all things contain life and are a part of this web. There is nothing in this universe that exists independently, not even in the vacuum of space. The creation and existence of our Servitor is no different. It is born of our intent, given form by our hands, and given life by our will. 

Let us review the facts thus far.

Occupation — Research Assistant

Task — Assist me with research during work hours so that I may more easily find relevant information.

Form — Drawing (sculpture, crocheted form, etc.) of an owl wearing glasses and standing atop an open book. 

Name — Rodney

Death Date — Rodney is to be decommissioned upon completion of my written thesis.

This next step should be done on a dark or new moon. 

In all caps and a single line, write the name and occupation of your Servitor like so: 

RODNEYRESEARCHASSISTANT

You will then cross out repeating letters and reveal which letters remain.

RODNEYRESEARCHASSISTANT

RODNEYSACHIT

With the remaining letters, you will create a sigil. This sigil gives your Servitor its identity. It imbues both its name and its occupation into its very being. Creating a sigil can be as straightforward or as complex as you want it. I recommend keeping it somewhat simple, as you will need to draw or etch (or embroider) it onto your Servitor. The sigil must include every letter, though some letters may be combined, such as H and I, I and T, or even O and C with an interjecting I. You get the idea. Below is just one example of what RODNEYSACHIT could look like as a sigil.

With your sigil complete, draw it at the center of a square piece of paper. The size of the paper does not matter as long as you can comfortably complete the next step. Around your sigil, you will write out, in unbroken script, the task of the Servitor. In our case, it will read,

AssistmewithresearchduringworkhourssothatImaymoreeasilyfindrelevantinformation.

The chain of letters should not end midway, but the entire phrase may repeat if need be. This may take you several attempts to get it right. Below, I’ve provided an example of what it would look like without repeating the phrase.

At this step, you should now have 1) A physical form for your Servitor, 2) its sigil, which embodies its name and occupation, 3) its task written in unbroken script encircling its sigil, and 4) 2 and 3 on a square piece of paper. The last step to be done during the dark moon is to charge the sigil upon the square paper.

Place your paper upon your altar and invite your Familiar (Personal Daimon) to aid you in your work. With your wand in your dominant hand, point or place it directly at or upon your sigil. Soften your gaze and steady your breathing while imagining the image of your Servitor upon the sigil. When doing this, I think of a hologram which slowly rotates and gains clarity the longer I stare. This sigil, with the projection of your will, contains the very life essence of your Servitor. Once you’ve established a clear vision of your Servitor, you must hold your breath. Hold it until it hurts. Hold it until you are at risk of fainting. Hold it until your lungs burn and your head feels light. Then breathe. Your sigil is charged with a small amount of your lifeforce and ready to pass it along to your Servitor. Place the form of your Servitor atop the charged sigil.

Every day, from the dark moon to the full moon, you will spend time with your Servitor. You will speak to it. Tell it how well it’s doing and how much you are looking forward to it becoming a part of your life. Remind it of its task and call it by its name. Do not stray far from its intended purpose, as it can only retain so much information.

On the night of the full moon, you will first draw its sigil onto its form and then breathe life into your Servitor. It has been growing steadily throughout the waxing of the moon and is now ready to be put to task. After you’ve drawn the sigil, hold the form of your Servitor and bring it close to your mouth. Speak and do the following:

”[Name], you are born of my intent. 

(Blow one long breath into its form.) 

[Name], you are given this form by my hands. 

(Blow a second breath into its form.)

[Name], you are given life by my will. 

(Blow a third breath into its form.)

So be it.”

Keeping Your Servitor Fed

Like all forms of life, your Servitor will require feeding to stay alert and on task. Offerings should be done on a schedule and reflect the nature of the Servitor. For example, I feed Robert Bailey, my assistant baker Servitor (I’m bad at baking), the first baked good each time I make cookies, cakes, or any other baked dessert. With each feeding, Robert Bailey becomes more invested in my baking and helps ensure that each batch is more successful than the last!

My other main Servitor, Bramble, takes the form of a toad and brings good luck into the house. I feed her rare coins and banknotes, should I happen to find them. Every Wednesday, I also place and light a small red candle atop her wart-covered back and say a short and simple charm — “Bramble, bramble, bring good news.”

Some ideas for offerings include songs, food, small items, acts of service, incense, light, water, alcohol, and blood (not recommended for beginners).

Decommissioning Your Servitor

Earlier, I had mentioned a time when I had been asked to remove a Servitor from a cemetery in Mystic, Connecticut. I had not known that it was a Servitor before encountering it, as it was initially described to me by my friend as a ghost dog elemental. This spectral dog was notorious for disrupting (I say enhancing) the nightly ghost tours of a historic cemetery. 

“Very often, people on the tour will see something,” he said. “We know the names of some of the spirits, so I tell the groups to address only the good ones, but sometimes the bad ones show up. There’s even a dog elemental who will bark and snarl at people during the late-night tours.” It wasn’t a problem until one night when a woman reported that she had been bitten in the leg by an invisible dog!

I inquired about his use of the word ‘elemental,’ and he said that it was the word that one of the other tour guides used to describe it. I thought back to Dion Fortune’s abbreviated definition of an elemental, “... many of these Elemental systems of reactions have, as it were, been domesticated by adepts. Elementals thus domesticated become imbued with consciousness of a human type. These developed (or initiated) Elementals are sometimes met with by psychics.”  If true, this domesticated elemental would be nearly four centuries old. Without firsthand experience of this being, I could not disregard the possibility of it being an elemental nor give an educated opinion. Curious, I offered to visit the site remotely and report back with my findings. He accepted and told me only that the cemetery was in downtown Mystic, Connecticut, behind a True Value store.

A week or so passed before I was back home in Philadelphia and was able to prepare for the journey. The preparation included a twelve-hour fast and a circle casting. As with most of my journeys, I began by visualizing myself beneath the branches of a tree. This tree stands alone in a field so vast its edges are veiled by fog. The ground shifts under my feet, and I am dragged underground by its enlivened roots. I’m pulled lower and lower through the soil until I am released into a tunnel. It is dark, and its length is long, but I have walked it many times. During the slow walk, I focus on my surroundings and let go of my thoughts of the day. As I wander deeper underground, I see a circular stone door before me. Using my wand, I cast a symbol that grants me access to the room beyond it.

“As I step over the threshold, I am dressed in a hooded dark blue robe. Here I am, not wholly Erik, I am also someone else. Someone I once was? I step in and see that the room has remained relatively unchanged. Large mossy stones stand upright and in a spiral formation. At the center is a shallow pool of water. At the eastern edge of the water lies a white stone slab. During this visit, it is my Familiar, Greylock, who stands atop it. He is pacing and eager to greet me.

Greylock expands to the size of a horse and motions for me to mount. I do so, and we enter the shallow pool, now deeper than a lake. We pass through the water and appear above Mystic, Connecticut. We fly over a bridge, above a white steepled church, over many streets and trees, and finally to a cemetery. As we land, I observe that just beyond a small iron fence and a line of trees is the True Value. Its red sign is ghastly bright in the dark of night. A narrow row of aged headstones is to our left, and ahead of us is a shadowed area beneath one of the larger trees on the site. 

I ask Greylock to patrol ahead and find this elemental before it has the chance to happen upon us. As he hops along the headstones, I see that he is suddenly startled by an aggressive bark. I run ahead and see a stout grey short-haired dog baring its teeth and standing guard over one of the graves. Its face is difficult to make out and not altogether hound-like.

Upon closer inspection, I see that its face is as human as it is a beast. Made manifest through extreme circumstances, this being is the result of a lifetime of torment, anger, fear, and paranoia. It is at this moment that I see the letters S-T-A upon the gravestone, but I cannot read them in full.

I look around and see that the graves here are as old as they can get in New England. Whomever this beast is guarding is long deceased. With my wand raised, I shield myself and Greylock from this tormented elemental. A large ball of blue light emerges from my solar plexus and ensnares it. Like a bug in a Venus flytrap, the ball of light holds the elemental in place. Feelings of immense empathy, anger, sadness, and finally relief come over me as it decomposes before my eyes. From flesh to bone, bone to ether, and ether to ash. I cast its ashes into the western wind and know it to be finished.”

With this artificial elemental, I used compassion and strength to put it to rest. These are the same traits you will use to decommission your Servitor. You must have the utmost respect for the Servitor; after all, it was born of you. Once your Servitor has completed its task, you will need to end it, lest it become like the lonely and terrible guard dog. The best way to do this is to burn its sigil paper and then destroy its form. It does not “die,” as consciousness cannot. The Servitor returns to you, its source.

At your altar, you will have your Servitor’s square sigil paper and physical form. With reverence, light a white candle and use its flame to burn the paper. Drop the burning paper into a fire-safe cauldron. No part of the paper should remain. You have now cut the symbolic cord between your Servitor and its identity and purpose.

If you have drawn the form of your Servitor, you should also burn it within the cauldron. If you have sculpted it or otherwise made it three-dimensional, you will need tools that can adequately destroy it. If it is made of cloth or crocheted, scissors will do the job. If it is ceramic, a hammer will do (for safety, put a towel over the form before smashing it). In any of these situations, you will hold the form of your Servitor and bring it close to your mouth. Speak and do the following:

”[Name], you were born of my intent, and with my intent you are now gone. (Inhale until the air fills your lungs.) 

(Exhale) [Name], you were given form by my hands, and by my hands you are made undone. (Inhale a second time.)

(Exhale) [Name], you were given life by my will, and by my will, you are released. (Inhale a third time.)

(Exhale) So be it.”

This is an emotional experience. Allow yourself to cry if you are moved. If you are left with ashes, cast them into the western wind. If you are left with more substantial remains, bury them at the westernmost available plot of land.

Cave Initiation

In the previous post, “Kripalu Retreat,” I detailed a few trance experiences that helped shape my practice by introducing a significant figure, the man in the white robe. Jung would certainly describe him as the Sage archetype, which he certainly is. If he was ever at one point “real,” and by that I mean human, is unknown. More will be revealed about him as I write this blog. In this post, I detail my first encounter with another powerful entity by the name of Gwynn ap Nudd. Those of you who are well-versed in Welsh mythology or listen to Jo Hickey-Hall’s podcast, “The Modern Fairy Sightings Podcast,” will be familiar with him.

At the time of this experience, I was reading “By Oak, Ash, & Thorn: Modern Celtic Shamanism,” by D.J. Conway, and decided that I would give the “Cave Initiation” (page 76) a try from the comfort of my bedroom. Conway’s works (died Feb. 1, 2019) receive a lot of criticism for not being entirely historically accurate. Those critiques are valid, though I must agree that a resource does not always need to be historically precise for it to be meaningful. Heck, all of Wicca is built on a false notion of an unbroken witchcraft tradition, and thousands of people find that their magic works. Margaret Murray’s “research” and thesis, though untrue, still sparked the imagination and laid the groundwork for a modern-day witchcraft revival.

In this “Cave Initiation,” Conway gives a framework for a guided meditation that is meant to introduce the reader to an “elf, faerie, or one of the Celtic deities” who “asks why you wish to become a shaman.” You can already see the historical incongruities here (the word “shaman” would not have been known or used in Celtic societies). Nevertheless, what she is instructing is a valid approach to entering daimonic reality and meeting with a daimon. I know this not because of historical documents, but because it worked.

The cave is as archetypal an image as my white robed man, the Sage. Plato believed it represented ignorance, while Jung thought of it as the realm of the Unconscious. In Celtic traditions, caves were portals to the Otherworld or even the domain of supernatural beings. If you don’t have access to a cave, homemade is fine! Create a blanket and pillow fort or set up a tent. The important part here is to limit the amount of light that gets through. I suppose you could wear an eye mask, but where is the fun in that?

Lastly, you’ll want to either have a friend drum for you or listen to an audio recording. In this post, I won’t lay out the exact meditation. I am only describing to you what my experience was like. In the future, I will post on how to make contact with your Familiar (personal daimon) and will provide step-by-step instructions. Below is the detailed account.

“I opened my eyes, and to my right, I could see before me a low mountain range in the distance. In front of me was a vast plain, as far as I could see. There were short trees and small winding creeks. I walked onto the tall grass of the plain and heard the buzzing of insects and chirping of birds. I turned toward the left and walked down a hill. As I walked, the smell of moss and river water overtook my senses. The path led to a forested valley. I was naked, but did not appear like my physical self. I was older and covered in ornate spiraling tattoos. The markings covered my bald head, trailed down my neck, and covered the entirety of my back. I came upon a great mound with an entrance made of three stones. There were two slabs on the side and one across the top. On the top slab was a symbol carved into it. It was covered in dirt and moss. I removed the moss and saw three dots in a triangular formation. Lines appeared to connect them into the shape of a spiral with a circle in the center (pictured below). I entered the mound. It was dark except for a pale outline of what I thought was a blanket. I got closer and saw that it was the hide of a white bull. The hide was damp but warm. Freshly skinned? What happened next can only be described as being within a dream within a dream; I was pulled deeper into trance and awoke facing a tall, pale humanoid being. He was very fair-skinned, thin, with long dark hair, pale blue eyes, and elongated ears. I noticed that his ears were shredded in parts, like how a street cat’s ear might look. His eyes were further apart than a human’s, and his brow and nose bridge were wider, too. I asked him what he was. He responded, “The faery of the mound.” It was then that I noticed a much smaller figure poke out from behind him. This being, or creature, was genderless from what I could tell and was much uglier than the tall one. It had straggly grey hair, wandering lazy eyes, a slight hunch in its back, and skin covered in dirt. The tall one placed a large snake skin on my chest. The small one took it and wrapped it around my feet, legs, belly, chest, and up to my neck. I did not feel afraid despite being very much fearful of snakes in “real life.” The tall one then dumped many small snakes on top of me. What I saw next was like watching a time-lapse video of the lifecycle of a snake; they grew, molted, died, decomposed, and started all over again. Crow was with me the entire time. He grabbed a few of the small snakes and ate them, perhaps wanting to be a part of the action? The small being shook his head and left for a moment. It soon returned to me with a bowl of liquid. The tall one lifted my head while the small one put the bowl to my mouth. The liquid moved like smoke and was warm. I felt soothed. When I finished drinking, the tall one placed his index and middle finger to my forehead, between my eyes. I saw a vision of my older self. I was cloaked in a black feathered hooded cape. I wore a bird mask and held a staff. I was standing at an unknown forest’s edge. A murmuring dark mass flew all around me. It felt menacing, but I was not afraid. I reached into the darkness and grabbed at a screaming face. The face attempted to bite at my hand, but I held firm, and it could not escape. The longer I held on, the louder its screams became. Using my staff, I knocked the tip of it against the face, and it turned to ash. I then sat upright and was given some time to speak to the two beings. I asked if I would be seeing more of them. They nodded. I then asked for its name. The taller one responded. “Gwynn.”

Kripalu Retreat

Up till now, I have done my best to recount events in chronological order. Some of what I’ve told happened over twenty years ago, and while my memory of the events is clear, the timeline is not. Luckily, I had written down nearly every single “Big Dream,” trance experience, and daimonic encounter in my life. Unfortunately, I never wrote down the dates, and so each written encounter is dependent on another for me to puzzle together the order in which they happened. Overall, this does not affect the impact of the experiences, but it does create some frustration for me when compiling them for you in the form of this blog.

Today I am writing about my time at Kripalu, a yoga center in picturesque Stockbridge, Massachusetts. My mother gifted me with a three-day retreat to take a course called “Reiki Shamanism” with Jim PathFinder Ewing (Nvnehi Awatisgi, in Cherokee). Jim is an elder of the Manataka Indian Council of Hot Springs, Arkansas, as well as an enrolled member of the Southern Cherokee Tribe and Associated Bands in Texas and the Bear Clan Medicine Society of Russellville.

I will admit that at the time, I was wary of both Reiki and Shamanism, though I had no other words to explain what was happening to me. To me, Reiki was a scam. It was something that white people co-opted along with yoga. My mother was, and still is, a “Reiki Master,” a title I thought ridiculous and conceited. Frankly, I still think that. Taking a few courses does not make anyone a “Master” in anything. She had performed Reiki on me on a few occasions, and I could never determine if I had felt the effects of Reiki or a placebo. My mind changed when I witnessed her perform Reiki on my half-sister after she was in a horrible car accident. She had broken her pelvis in four places and needed to be catheterized to be able to urinate. For a long time, she was confined to stay on a gurney in our living room. She’d go from wailing in pain to falling asleep in only a few minutes whenever my mother performed Reiki on her.

The term “Shaman” never sat well with me. This is why I use the term Magico-Spiritual Practitioner when describing myself. I know now that it is because the modern West does not have a word of its own to describe similar sets of skills or experiences. In “tribal” or pre-Industrial and pre-Christianized societies, Shamans / Medicine Men / Wise Women / Cunning Men & Women, etc., all performed (and still do) similar tasks. They are mediators between the daimonic realm and the physical one. They negotiate with spirits to ensure good weather and healthy crops; they heal both physical and spiritual sicknesses; they find lost objects; they deliver babies and perform abortions; they meet with denizens of the daimonic realm to acquire knowledge; and so much more. These skills are not lost or left in the past; they are alive within people all over the world. They are also not confined to specific cultures or ethnic groups, although the traditions in which to learn them are - this is the basis of the entire debate over cultural appropriation and closed practices.

It is my personal belief that anyone can access at least a portion of these skills, although not everyone should. Tapping into daimonic reality is challenging in every sense of the word. It challenges your preconceived set of beliefs, it challenges your ethics, and it challenges your sense of self (& selves). Left unbalanced, it can cause paranoid delusions or an aggrandized ego. On one end, you have the folks who believe that absolutely everything is connected and that everything has meaning; nothing happens during their day that is not related to a thought they had or an event that has occurred. And on the other end, you have the folks who believe that they are the most powerful person who has ever lived, and woe to anyone who dares think otherwise! Anyone who browses Reddit or attends Pagan Pride festivals will have run into more than a handful of these types… If you are one of these types, touch grass.

During the “Reiki Shamanism” course at Kripalu, we were led into trance two times a day; once before breakfast and again before dinner. Being without food assists in reaching trance, and eating immediately afterwards helps to ground and return to the physical. The following paragraphs are my experiences.

Entry one - “As the drum lulled me deeper into the trance, I could sense an end to the tunnel. I now stood at the entrance of a vast cavern, its size unknowable in the darkness. My hands raised before me to feel my surroundings. Wind grazed my face, and I heard the fluttering of wings. A crow approached. He grew larger and larger until we stood face to face. I caressed its dark beak, and it nuzzled my neck. Its texture was like that of a fingernail. I ran my hand through its feathers. The crow slowly became violet. It then urged me to hop onto its back! I climbed on, and together we flew over a river. I became very nervous and asked for it to bring me back, and it did. I spent the remainder of the session apologizing to the crow for not feeling brave enough to venture with it, but it seemed completely indifferent.”

Entry two - “I appeared at the tree again (my entrance into the Otherworld), stepped into the hole, and walked down the dirt tunnel. The crow sped past me to show me that the “room” at the end of the tunnel was different than before. It was no longer a completely dark cavern. It was lowly lit but bright enough to make out a stone circle. The stones were enormous, easily three times my height, and covered in moss. On the stones, there were worn and blurry symbols. There were none that I could immediately recognize. The number three popped into mind. In the center of the circle was a small pond. The crow flew over it and landed on the shoulder of a man with a white robe. His facial features were blurred like the symbols, but I could see that his eyebrows were very bushy. The crow then flew onto my shoulder. He, the crow, grew larger and larger until he scrambled off my shoulder and landed by my feet. The man in the white robe instructed me to look into the water. Crow, now much larger than I, grabbed my shoulders with his talons and dove into the little pond. We appeared over a vast ocean, and the word “Norway” came to mind. Crow flew us to a small and cold island off the coast of what I gathered to be Norway. As we walked along the coast, I saw clothes tied together and dangling off of rocks. More clothes were strewn about, but I could see no people. I became very uneasy. I told Crow that I wanted to see more of the island, but he brought me back to the stone circle and the robed man. Facing the pond, the man told me to put my hands out and to send a blue mist to the island. I did so, and soon enough, the entire island was covered in a thick mist. It felt like a healing session for the land itself, but I did not understand how I was doing it.”

Entry three - “I met up with Crow, but this time we did not go anywhere. I began to feel very warm. Memories of past events and conversations flooded my mind. I may have fallen asleep. Crow and I stayed underground and in total darkness. My body began to tingle, and I felt hotter and hotter. Surely I was sweating. I put all of these flooding thoughts into a bottle, which I then strapped to my belt. The thirty minutes went by very quickly.”

Entry four - “I recalled a dream that I had last night. Black feathers were pushing through my skin and growing out of my arms. I was half man, half crow.”

Entry five - “I became Reiki attuned for the first time by a woman named Grace Walsh. After dinner, we met on the terrace and then walked around the grounds until we came upon a very tall tree. In truth, this tree was three trees that had grown together. Their trunks wrapped around each other at the base and sprawled out towards the top. She performed a ritual on me while I sat on a wooden bench facing the trees. I had my eyes closed and could feel the symbols she was making on my head. She put my hands together against my chest and then to my head. She repeated this several times. I began to feel lighter and less anxious. At the end of the ritual, she told me that she felt a very strong monkish energy within me. She also said that she saw a robed man emerge from the trees.”

In entry number two, I believe that what I had viewed was the aftermath of the 2011 massacre by Anders Behring Breivik on the island of Utøya. He slaughtered 69 people at the AUF’s summer youth camp, half of whom were children.