The world of Conjure practice escapes the attention of many souls and calls like a siren to others. I am blessed to have experienced not just one of the vibrant Conjure practices covered in this book, but all three of them. I did not merely study them from a removed, academic perspective, but lived in each of them.
Conjure came to me when I was an older Witch who thought there was nothing new under the sun … not for me, anyway. I worked as a Wiccan high priestess for over a decade. My husband and I created our own rewarding spiritual path, CUSP, and its generous nature allows it to function independently or to blend seamlessly with any other spiritual tradition. It became a comfortable home for me and I thought it was where I would stay.
Over time, I noticed that the magical practices that came very naturally to me were nothing like those of the other Wiccans I knew. I am comfortable with being the oddball in any group, so I thought nothing of it until a friend of mine, Wulf, who seems to be instrumental in many of my most significant life changes, pulled me aside and said, “You need to study Conjure. It is important.”
I asked him why. I was perfectly content with my existing path and my arrogance that I had learned all I needed to know clouded the enthusiasm I might otherwise have shown at learning something new.
“Because it is who you are and it is what you are already doing,” he replied.
Things happened quickly after that. They say that when the student is ready, the teacher will come, and right away, mentors appeared as if by magic. After decades of magical practice, I was busted down to a novice again, but the information and techniques I learned felt organic and familiar. I learned quickly … or I guess I should say that I remembered quickly.
Since I left Kentucky in 1978, I thought little about the magical practices I knew growing up. I was eager to leave my country home behind and see the world, and those memories were part of what I left behind. As my study of Conjure continued, that incredible cache of cultural and ancestral lore came back to me in a flood.
In the case of Granny Magic, it was like doors blew open in my mind. “Yes, I’ve done this.” “I have done this as well.” “Yes, we did this.”
Hoodoo came easy to me. The British Witches with whom I trained in the early 1980s became frustrated with me over time because of my complete inability to keep herb names straight. They all looked like weeds to me, and my teachers would throw up their hands in dismay because I could not learn or retain their herbal language.
The roots, flowers, and barks of Hoodoo practice, however, were so familiar to me that I could correctly name them just by touching them. For twenty years, I thought I had no proclivity for herbs because of my early experiences, when it was simply a matter of getting me into the environment that grew the herbs I instinctively knew. The words, the scriptures, the incantations were all locked away in my mind and the keys of Conjure unlocked them and reminded me not only of what I did not know, but of what I did know.
That is not to say I did not have a great deal to learn. Patient teachers and mentors worked with me, answering my many questions with grace and correcting my many errors. Some of my mentors I named in this text, and some prefer to remain closeted.
After Hoodoo came Curanderismo, and in my experience, the study became a long drop down a rabbit hole that I have no interest in escaping. Along with Curanderismo came total immersion in the magical life.
Every spiritual path I have followed in my life remains with me today and informs not only how I practice, but who I am in the world.
I was raised as a devout Christian surrounded by folk magic and superstition. I found Paganism and it addressed needs inside me that found no solace anywhere else.
Rootworking/Hoodoo got my hands dirty. As Maya Grey puts it, “where your hands and feet are in mud, bone, smoke, and whiskey.” Hoodoo taught me about service to others in a way that no spiritual path had done before. It also taught me about the false prisons we assign to ourselves when we accept the theologies and dogmas created to control us through fear. Hoodoo taught me something that spoke to my spirit in a way Christianity and Wicca did not. It said that there comes a time when we no longer must passively turn the other cheek and wait for karma to kick in, and that sometimes, we ourselves must be the instrument of our own deliverance out of oppression.
Brujería and Curanderismo took me to the next level and showed me not only how to live in service to others, but how to go to the mat for them, how to throw down in the magical arena and give beyond what you believe your magical limits to be.
This was my progression, and each person will have their own experience under that broad and beautiful umbrella of Conjure, if they are called into its practice. I feel blessed to stand at the crossroads of Conjure, influenced strongly by each of these three folk magic systems. Each one defines me in some way.
As some of these paths fade away more with each passing day, threatening to wink out of existence, I remind myself that, above all, in nature there are cycles. What was once old is now new and what was gone returns in an ever-shifting dance of progress forward. Now we enjoy a return to the Conjure practices that address basic needs and, above all, personal accountability. I am honored to be a part of this time and the practice of Conjure.
If you are called to do so, I hope that you will join me at the crossroads of Conjure and find the practice that resonates in your spirit.