My little brother believed in La Virgen de la Altagracia, in Jesús, and in his big sister’s Eclectic Witchery. Sometime back, he called me at around two in the morning. He sounded pissed off, but he was mostly frightened. He had just found out that someone he trusted very much had gone to see a Voodooist, who dabbled into harmful magic, in order to procure an estrangement curse.
The jinx was a nasty thing that called for broken glass, bark ripped dishonorably from a poisonous tree, stolen blood, non-polar chemicals… I understood why my little brother was scared.
I got out of bed and began preparing a protection charm with him on the phone. I told him I would mail it in two days time, but that it would be best if he cleansed his body and his place. He still had some of the infusion I made for him the prior Winter Solstice, so he used that on himself. “I don’t have anything to clean the house,” he said. There was panic in his voice. And at that moment, I felt something very ugly towards the person who betrayed my little brother’s trust.
“Do you have salt and cinnamon?” He told me he did. “Then you’re fine,” I said, and instructed him to boil 3 sticks of cinnamon in 13 cups of water for 13 minutes; to let his need for protection infuse the brew. Once he was done, I asked him to wipe the walls with it, mop the floor, put some down the drain, and flush the rest down the toilet. Then, he was to scatter salt around the four corners. Almost two hours later, he was in bed.
I was still up. My witchy cabinet wasn’t looking all that rich, so I raided the kitchen pantry and my closet. I grabbed the following ingredients:
- a jar of honey with comb
- my silver hammer
- my Dragon’s Blood palm
- my favorite black headscarf (it belonged to my grandmother)
- my red and black power-tube-top (it makes me feel feel extra stunning and unstoppable)
- a wand Mina and her husband made for me (I use it when I need a hand)
- a Baby Crow ACEO I got from Stacy (the black bird and pink daisies always make me smile)
I sat cross-legged in the middle of my bedroom with all the ingredients on my lap, except the honey. The latter, I held against my chest. After I felt that the honey had drank a lot of the wonderful emotions and power the rest of the ingredients evoked in me, I pricked my finger and let a drop of the blood that loves my little brother become one with the honey.
The sun was already out when I finished the first part of the protection spell. I found a spot outside, where I knew the tiny jar would not be disturbed, and I let the blazing magic of the sun fill my charm with light.
My little brother called me when he received the jar, and said, “Are you turning into Papi? Buying people stuff they can get easier by themselves?”
“You didn’t eat it, did you?” I said.
“No, Brujita (little Witch),” he said, “I still remember the last time I washed my hair with something of yours that looked like shampoo.”
“Good,” I said. “Just put a drop of your blood in it. Think good thoughts, bright thoughts, happy thoughts, protective thoughts, play some nice music if you need to—my little brother wasn’t great at sitting still—and then put it under your bed for three days and three nights.” After that he was to bury the jar someplace where it wouldn’t be disturbed.
I brewed a great number of spells for my little brother over the years—mostly for cleansing, but there were other protection charms. The one above always comes to mind when I think of him these days. I’ve named it Pabelo’s Blood, Light and Honey, and will add it to my grimoire.
Two months ago, on February 28th, my baby brother travelled to the Summerlands, 10 days before he 26th birthday. I wish his Virgen de la Altagracia holds him in her protective arms. I wish he still laughs with his entire face. I wish he still remembers how much he was (and always will be) loved.
The strongest magic is empowered by symbols of Nature, love and trust.