Because the internet is – the way that it is, now – I recently had the opportunity to watch two witches argue about the necessity of casting protective enchantments around the house.
The first witch thought that the changing of the seasons is a good time to remember to reinforce the old protective wards. She shared the details her practice, things like pouring salt along the windowsills.
A second witch spoke up in disagreement. Instead of using magic, she thought it would be better to cultivate a relationship with “the spirit of the home,” something which is different for each place. She said that if you are on good terms with the spirits of your home, they will protect you. This leaves you free to spend your time and energy on other pursuits instead of worrying.
At best this is some kind of folklore being passed down across the information-sharing platform which is the little videos people make and share for everyone with a cellular telephone and a wifi connection to witness. Maybe this is just whimsical fantasy and storytelling.
Anyway, I liked this particular thought.
Rationally, scientifically, perhaps befriending the spirit of your home in practice causes a person to take better care of the place itself – keeping it neat and clean and functional, consequently creating a safer and more welcoming space to live.
“Doesn’t stop being magic…”
The spirit of the place I’m living now seems… friendly. Quiet, peaceful. Much different from the rambling old farmhouse where I grew up. Younger, less familiar.
The spirit of this place is somehow wrapped up in the smell of coffee brewing in the morning, the ticking of a clock in the quiet hours, the birds chirping in the trees outside the windows. A cold glass of water from the fridge. Christmas lights left up all year. Comfy blankets on the couch. A well-stocked pantry, much more carefully maintained now that I’m here, with spices and vegetables and bread. Bookshelves. A jigsaw puzzle. Candles we aren’t technically allowed to burn. Black mold which always grows back. An old stove which will catch on fire if it isn’t used properly. A cat who can see ghosts and watches bugs in the corners.
This place has been my partner’s home for about twelve years; nobody stays in one apartment for that long, nobody except for him, but Steve has a strong tendency to put down roots somewhere and stay put. He watches other people come and go. I am the third partner of his to cross this threshold, or any threshold, and I won’t speak to how I’m different from the other two, but their “ghosts” in this place don’t bother me. If anything I wish them well. I think the spirit of the house has an old alliance with the spirit of my partner, if such things exist, because he takes care of this place as diligently as this place takes care of him.
I do not sprinkle salt along the windowsills. Salt is expensive to buy.
Just in case there’s any substance to this story, I whisper a “thank you” to the spirit of this place.
Thank you.