by Silver RavenWolf
I often think about the mindset of the German people that practiced Braucherei on a daily basis a hundred years ago. Hardworking. Practical. A focus on agriculture, animal husbandry, and the family. Even the Amish permitted flowers around the property, indicating that since plants were a gift from spirit -- they could be celebrated and admired. One's property should be well-tended -- as what shows without indicates what is within. Makes you wonder about all those folks with rotted out vehicles sitting in their front yard, doesn't it?
In Braucherei, protection and healing practices were mainstays of their energy work. And, let me explain -- they didn't see Braucherei (PowWow) as magick per se-- they saw it as active prayer blessed by deity. What seems silly to us now as far as medical need, could kill you if left untended back then. Like a bee sting. Today, we have Epi Pens and Benadryl, and bracelets to let medical personnel know if we are allergic to something. A hundred years ago MAYBE you knew what herbs to use to counteract some poisons. And maybe not. Many times your fate was left to the Gods. Even now, just because cures exist, doesn't mean we have access to them. I mean, seriously, we are in the middle of a world pandemic!
And not everyone is getting help.
In the past, sometimes, people with allergies just didn't make it. Take Tille, for instance. She is highly allergic to quite a few things -- she can't eat fresh carrots and bees, to her, are harbingers of death.
Late in the evening, after healing circle, we congregated on the front porch, sipping our herbal iced tea provided by Celia and doing our normal after-magick-gab. I'm plopped in my rocking chair. Celia is beside me. Dan is leaning on the porch rail. Tillie is standing by the front door. Her husband is talking to my husband off the porch on the gravel driveway. Others are milling around.
"Shit!" Tillie says, jumping sideways.
"What?" someone asks.
"I just saw a bee!" she exclaims, her eyes wide.
We all know she is allergic to bees, so we are all looking around. Bees? At night?
"Darn! There it is!" she says, quickly moving away from the door. The evil thing (to her) is climbing on the glass. "Get away!" she shouts, waving her hands. And it promptly stings her.
"It burns, it burns, it burns!" she shouts, rubbing the sting frantically.
Her husband races to their vehicle.
"The Epi Pen is in the glove," she calls.
"Not there," he shouts.
"What? No! Do you have any Benadryl?" she asks me.
I shake my head. "There is a convenience store exactly seven minutes down the road," I replied, mentally kicking myself for not thinking to stock such a thing. "I know. I've timed it."
"Why would you timedbit?" Her tongue is starting to swell.
"I'm a Virgo. You better go! The hospital is exactly 19 minutes from here."
Wisely, she didn't ask how I know that, instead, she is running down the steps heading toward the vehicle. She turns to say something about going to the hospital, but none of us can understand her. We don't ask her to repeat. In seconds her husband is gunning it out of the driveway, stones flying, exhaust pluming through the night air. We can hear the whine of the engine strain up the mountain, and then...
Dead silence.
We're looking at each other like -- damn! She could really die before she gets there, and she's the bloody medic for heaven's sake!
Our group has been together for a long, long time. Some of us have worked side by magickal side for over twenty years. No one said anything. We didn't join hands. We didn't stand in a circle. We just started to work.
Braucherei.
I closed my eyes and began rubbing the palms of my hands together. I'm still sitting on my rocking chair, and I instantly begin the gentle movement of rocking back and forth. "Zing, Zing, Zing -- Venom lose thy sting!" is the powwow chant that comes to mind. I begin whispering that, and then I move into one sentence to concentrate better -- "Venom lose thy power!" I say it over and over and over, rubbing my palms, focusing on Tille. Seeing her face. Feeling her energy. Every person has a pattern, you just don't usually notice. It has nothing to do with the color of her eyes, what her hair is like, or how tall she is. It is...energy that is unique to that person. I can smell it with my mind.
Yeah, I know, odd.
To me? Tillie is paisley. That's what I see...what I feel. I know her like she is my own kid.
Well. I guess. She sorta is. All us oldsters think she is our progeny. She's a third degree plus some, lol.
Within a short time, Dan has entered the house and brought back ice. I begin rubbing the ice between my hands to lessen her swelling, continuing to chant. Its cold. I don't care. I'm not letting go of that ice. I know that when the ice has melted, she will be okay.
Celia is also chanting. She is focused on Tillie's breathing. "I hold you dear, airway clear." She's not stopping either.
Dan is helping us to direct the energy we're raising. Sort of like a ringmaster at our magickal healing circus.
Five minutes. We're still chanting.
Six minutes. Chanting.
Seven minutes. Chanting.
Tillie feels the switch right as they zoom into the parking lot of the convenience store; but, we know none of this as we are working. "I couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe and my tongue kept swelling and then...well...it was like someone flipped a switch! It just stopped getting worse, like someone put the brakes on the let's kill Tillie train. It was...Wow!...weird!" She stumbles into the convenience store, rampaging the counter to find the Benadryl. The clerk stands there, eyes wide, not sure if this is a holdup. Her husband rips open the package and she eats the medicine. "Man, that stuff tastes like shit if you have to chew it," she said later. She texts her daughter, who is waiting on the front steps of their home with the Epi Pen.
Ten minutes. Chanting.
Fifteen minutes. Chanting. The ice has melted. They've driven past the hospital, they are sure they can now make it home. I seal my working, then wipe my cold dripping hands on my jeans and thank the universe. Job done.
Modern medicine -- Old World Work -- I'll take both...anytime!
And yes, this is a true story.
Can you work long-distance healing? Absolutely!
Today's Challenge-- write one new chant that goes to the heart of a matter in as few words as possible -- then, take a photo, sigil, candle, or gemstone...
1. Set the sea of potential. 2. Work the chant for fifteen minutes while rubbing the object you chose. Don't forget to breathe!
You can do this -- I hold you dear, airway clear!
If you do today's challenge earn 100 stars!
Throw or give one thing away -- physically move something into the space you just emptied.
Peace with the Gods Peace with Nature Peace Within!
Silver
