Wiccan spell disaster

TheLibra, thank you from the bottom of my heart for that advice. I beleive it worked quite well. One of the effects of it, she told me, was a feeling of warmth. I suppose thats a good thing! So, thank you all for contributing to this thread. If anyone cares to comment on their theories on how this happened, or how it was reversed, feel free to do so. Again, thank you all.

Originally posted by gravriderX
TheLibra, thank you from the bottom of my heart for that advice. I beleive it worked quite well.

No problem... Sorry I went off on a soapbox in the previous post, but I'm glad to hear it worked, and that she's since taken a more serious view of magic. Anyway, since you asked about my big huge mistake I made many years ago, I'll go ahead and share.

Storytime, everyone. Yay!

It's over a decade ago, and I'm a 17 year-old in high school. Up until I was 12 years old, I'd wanted to be a minister of for the United Methodist Church. Then one day, I started having a lot of questions that none of the local religious leaders could answer to my satisfaction. And my world started to tumble around me as I realized that my religion didn't hold up against the reality of the world, and the questions that I had. That was when things kind of came full circle, and one a Martin United Methodist Minister took me aside and said that God sometimes works in mysterious ways, and that perhaps my path didn't quite fit with Methodism, Baptism, or any of the mainstream Christian faiths. He said that most people can be happy believing what they are told by their religion, but that I should choose my religion based off my beliefs...and thus began a road to researching theology, different religions, philosophies, etc.

Now skip ahead about 5 years. I was now 17, and had been studying Wicca for about 4 years, because it was, at the time, the closest thing I could find to what my personal beliefs were. However, I didn't believe in magic, and (something I maintain to this day), absolutely refused to spell it "Magick" or "Majick" or any other silly nonsense. I figured that if someone wanted something to happen bad enough, and cast a spell for it, that they'd find a way to make it happen subconsciously and then say it was magic what did it. After all, if magic really existed, no one would bother working, or mowing, or doing chores... they'd just spell up some stuff to do it. So I pretty much skipped every chapter on magic in the Wicca books (which I'm still pretty grateful on. Cunningham had some good philosophy, but his spells look like a children's coloring book).

However, I also came from a strict Christian family, in an almost exclusively Baptist community, and both my best friends were Baptist as well. They already sorta spiritually looked down on me for being "one of those sinful Methodists", so I kept my religious perusings to myself. Still, they were my best friends, and one of them became very sick in the head...

For the sake of having a name, we'll call him "Ian". Ian was extremely depressed for many months straight, and every week it got a little worse. He drew up inside of himself more and more, and he often wondered what good he did the world at all. Still later, he assumed that he only made the world a worse place for his being there. Matters were not helped by the fact that my comparatively "loose" ways with religion had influenced him. He'd lost his religion, which he hid as best he could from his extremely Baptist mother. This was the sort of woman who tied everything into Jesus or Satan. If your steak was good, it was due to Jesus. If it rained and we needed it, Jesus sent the rain. If we didn't need the rain, it was Satan. Everything to her was a matter of Jesus vs. Satan. Now imagine trying to be a normal teenager with a mom like that.

Ian never really had a mother; he had a domineering live-in dramatic priestess of Jesus. Ian had a father, but apparently his father wasn't that fond of the situation either, and took every opportunity his career offered him, to travel around the world to various geologic sites. Ian had a girlfriend--note the word "had"--but things had gone sour. Ian had a car, but his father had taken away the keys during a recent stay at home. The reason? He was out too late, the previous evening, getting the "we need to talk" speech from his girlfriend. Ian had friends, but they were alienated by his depression. In short, he had no one to turn to, and despite everything I tried, he sank deeper and deeper into an emotional morass.

Ian started talking about dying, about how the only thing that brought him joy was sleep, because he could dream about being someone else. Nights would be spent burning himself with a cigarette, in the park we used to frequent. As the last glimmer of light in his eyes died out, I knew he was soon to follow, and it was perhaps a matter of days before he took his own life. He called me one night, and told me I'd been a good friend, thanked me, and said goodbye. In the background I could hear his parents screaming at him. His father yelling about discipline, his mother yelling about Jesus and Satan. He hung up, and I knew in my heart, that that night, he was going to slough his mortal coil.

I tried to call back, but his parents had taken away his phone from his room (we didn't all have cell phones back in those days), and they asked me not to call back till he was ungrounded. I panicked. I couldn't call the police, not on my best friend, that was a fact we'd established long ago. I could have tried to drive over there and sneak him out, but for what good? I'd already tried everything in my power to cheer him up, to no avail...

...or had I?

Perhaps it was by chance that I'd stacked the books too haphazardly, perhaps it was my slamming the phone down in frustration, or maybe it was a message from the Lord and Lady (at the time, I went with the whole L&L thing). Regardless, at the moment the handset hit the receiver, a stack of religious books decided to fall over, and one of the books on Wiccan rituals hit my foot and stayed there, pages seperated by my toe. On a whim, I picked up the book and looked at the page it'd fallen open to, and read a sentance in bold type.

"A spell begins the moment you start to think about it."

I won't repeat the ritual I performed, for reasons that will be apparent later. It was all impromptu, using the scan knowledge I'd skimmed over, or referenced in previously read chapters of various books, as well as folklore, and borrowing a lot from everywhere, like a salad bar. The intent of the spell was to make Ian happy again. I just wanted him to be happy. I figured that if he could just experience a little joy, for even a short while, he'd see that there was a point to going on living. Though I'd never believed in magic before, I put every ounce of faith and willpower into this endeavor, and for the length of a burning candle, Ian would experience joy. After writing everything down in my journal, I went to sleep, and left the candle burning. When I woke up, it had burnt out.

Ian and I had 2nd period together in high school, and band practice before that. But he wasn't there in band...he wasn't there in English, and more and more I became convinced the spell didn't work, and once again, a best friend had died.

We always met for lunch in the same spot. This was back when we were allowed to leave campus for lunch, and I practically leapt in joy. There he was, standing on the stairs. I waved in greeting, my hand lowering when I saw the scowl on his face. He walked up to me, grabbed my arm, pulling me aside easily for his slight frame. The first words out of his mouth were "Did you cast a spell on me last night, or something?"

That just about made me wet myself. As far as Ian knew, I was still a Methodist--who, though loose compared to Baptists, are not known for spellcasting. I knew where we were going for lunch. My house. I had to show him my journal. On the way, he related what had happened the previous evening.

Ian's mother had given him a letter from the mail. It was from Stanford University, and looked important. Ian wanted nothing more than to attend Stanford before he became so depressed, but hadn't heard anything back from them. When he opened the envelope and looked inside, it was a letter of acceptance to the University, and he ran to tell his parents, who were overjoyed. As a celebration, his father gave him the keys back to his Mitsubishi Eclipse, and his mom ceased her Jesus talk long enough to start planning how they'd get him up there that summer for orientation. During the course of this, his girlfriend called and said she wanted to work things out, so he got his phone back and spent the evening talking to her. They agreed to meet before first period to exchange high school rings. When he finally fell asleep that night, he was on Cloud Nine.

That morning, he awoke to find black ooze pouring out of his nose, and an image of my face in front of him. It was odorless, but quite sticky, and it wouldn't stop pouring. It was neither blood, nor mucus. It had the consistancy of really bad engine oil, and it freaked him out to no end. So much so that he hid in the bathroom till it stopped, which made his dad think he was going to be late, which in turned caused a big arguement between them. He took the letter with him in the Eclipse, intending to show it off to some of his friends, and his girlfriend. En route, he glances at it and notices it's actually addressed to his next door neighbor, Blake, who was applying for the same school. The letter had been delivered to his house by mistake. Unfortunately, since he was looking at the letter, he failed to notice the stop sign, and ended up wrecking his car. This, in turn, caused him to be late to school, which caused his girlfriend to assume he'd backed out on her, and distraught, let one of her guy friends comfort her. By lunch, they'd become exclusive.

We pulled into the driveway of my house, and I ran in to get the journal, opening it to the page I'd written the previous night. He read in silence as we drove to Taco Bell. Once we reached the parking lot of school again, Ian got out, turned around, and punched me right in the nose, breaking it. As I bled, he asked how I liked having crap pour out of my nose, and then told me never to cast anything on him, ever again. Ian was in an even worse place than the previous night, thanks to me, and all I'd managed in the end was to turn overwhelming depression into overwhelming anger...

Of course, eventually we became friends again. He did manage to keep from killing himself, and I devoted most of my theologic study at that point towards figuring out the cause and effect of what happened. Eventually it was explained to me by a woman who went by the name of Phoenix that I had cast a spell on someone without permission, and thus the backlash was incurred. At the time, I bought it as the sole reason, but wasn't satisfied with such scant knowledge of the consequences of casting. This caused me to do a lot more studying of theology, magic, and eventually expanded, reshaped, and redefined my views enough that I ceased to be a Wiccan some years later.

I still wonder, to this day, whether or not I actually saved him and, if I did, then at what cost? In the years following the spell, Ian went on to drop out of college, do every drug I knew of, and some that I didn't know of, hit rock bottom, and developed a violent temper which he, thankfully, only takes out on his own posessions, and not on people. Fate's funny like that, it seems, and for the most part, so is magic.

Libra, the story you've shared is a sad one. The whole time I was wishing you and your friend would've searched for a more permanent solution. If there's anything I can help with, I'll do whatever I can.

Offer still stands as well gravriderX, if you find the solution is wearing thin.

[edit on 12-1-2005 by saint4God]

Originally posted by saint4God
Libra, the story you've shared is a sad one. The whole time I was wishing you and your friend would've searched for a more permanent solution. If there's anything I can help with, I'll do whatever I can.

I appreciate it. In a way, we did find a permanent solution, each in our own way. Ian eventually married and had two wonderful children, one of which is scary-smart, and his wife and he are doing well. I eventually came to the conclusion that there is almost never a good reason to use magic, and after a sabbatical in Seattle for about 3 years, away from all the previous pagans I knew who kept me in the Wyrd World, I was able to achieve a happy, relatively dull life devoid of almost all supernatural type influences.

Sometimes I am criticized for giving it up, or holding the views on it that I do. The only response I can offer is that I got my fill , and realized I didn't want to live a life where I was constantly having to separate the fantastic from the bullchips, and second guess every odd thing that happened. I guess I liken it to a soldier who finally retires from war and wants very little to do with guns ever again. Occasionally he might take out the old sidearm and polish and clean it, but mostly it sits in the corner as a quiet reminder of why they left that life behind.

Since then I've managed to find a wonderful fiance with whom to share my life, write a few works, and a gain a renewed interest in my family.

Originally posted by thelibra
I appreciate it. In a way, we did find a permanent solution, each in our own way. Ian eventually married and had two wonderful children, one of which is scary-smart, and his wife and he are doing well. I eventually came to the conclusion that there is almost never a good reason to use magic, and after a sabbatical in Seattle for about 3 years, away from all the previous pagans I knew who kept me in the Wyrd World,

Good move.

Originally posted by thelibra
I was able to achieve a happy, relatively dull life devoid of almost all supernatural type influences.

Sometimes I am criticized for giving it up, or holding the views on it that I do. The only response I can offer is that I got my fill , and realized I didn't want to live a life where I was constantly having to separate the fantastic from the bullchips, and second guess every odd thing that happened. I guess I liken it to a soldier who finally retires from war and wants very little to do with guns ever again. Occasionally he might take out the old sidearm and polish and clean it, but mostly it sits in the corner as a quiet reminder of why they left that life behind.

Careful, that sidearm you polish and clean could go off. You've learned 'guns' are not the answer, yet you keep them. Do you think you went through this war for a reason?

Originally posted by thelibra
Since then I've managed to find a wonderful fiance with whom to share my life, write a few works, and a gain a renewed interest in my family.

Awesome. It's good that you've found peace but do think it may be time to consider your future? What happens the day after your last?

[edit on 12-1-2005 by saint4God]

wow, that story is something... Anyone who read the two... mishaps... in this thread will certainly think twice about magic. Thank you all, and hopefuly, we may have helped a few people. I beleive that Wicca, as a religion, is a good thing, but magic... is not something to be messed with. Putting all your faith into one thing is a very bad idea. And Saint4God, thanks for the offer, but this is looking to be permanent. Thanks for reading and contributing everyone!

Originally posted by saint4God
Careful, that sidearm you polish and clean could go off. You've learned 'guns' are not the answer, yet you keep them. Do you think you went through this war for a reason?

Well, the way I look at it is this: a good education in almost any subject can allow one to know the dangers and the benefits with less margin of error. Using the gun analogy again, if I am able to keep a gun well-maintained and ready, but always be aware of the dangers, that gun will be there should I need it again one day. Whether it be a robber who threatens my family, an invasion of Nazis, or an alien with a rather nasty probe, the gun will be there, should I need it. If my family is educated in the use and dangers of a gun as well, there will be much less chance of an accident. For instance, when I was about five, my grandfather noticed I took an interest in all the pistols and rifles he collected. So he proceded to sit down and give me a weeks worth of education on firearm safety, range, field-stripping, maintenance, and everything else. By the time I was actually allowed to fire a gun, it was no more interesting than homework, but I knew exactly what to do, and proper use of it. So by the time I was eight, I was already a a better marksman, and treated guns with more respect, than most adults.

The same is true for magic, IMO. Though I can't think of any good practical reasons for it's use at the moment, and would prefer to never to have to resort to using it, it's good to know that, if a great enough need arose, it's there for me.

Originally posted by saint4God
Awesome. It's good that you've found peace but do think it may be time to consider your future? What happens the day after your last?

I assume you mean spiritually? My earthly future is looking pretty bright. Spiritually, I think it's looking good as well. I'm not a Christian (though I've been baptized twice), Wiccan, or any particular religion anymore, but I've never lost my respect for God (or whatever Powers That Be are out there). I pray, privately, and keep a strong moral and ethical code. I study religious history from around the world, and so forth, but I never try to limit God to the views of one particular religion anymore. It's my personal belief that to do so is to claim we can know as much as God, which is horse pockey. So I just try to be as good of a person as I can be.

Thus, when I die, if there is anything after death, I think my heart will be judged as "good enough" to move forward, be it towards some sort of afterlife, reincarnation, or so forth.

[edit on 1/13/2005 by thelibra]

Originally posted by thelibra
... there will be much less chance of an accident.

Keeping in spirit of the analogy, my neighbor growing up across the street was both a pastor and gun enthusiast. He and his family were well aware of proper handling, experience using, etc. Three things:

1.) Once when I was over there, I'd seen a good number of them in plain view. I wondered what prevented me from just taking one. Considering who I was at the time, it was a very scary thought.

2.) An ambulance showed up there two years later because while cleaning a pistol, it went off and shot him in the foot. I know what everyone is going to say, "that idiot" but he was a very intelligent man, not in habit of keeping loaded weapons nor mishandling. I guess it only takes once.

3.) What is the purpose of a gun? To protect what, your body? in 60+ years it'll be dust anyway. Is it not more important to protect your soul?

Originally posted by thelibra
Thus, when I die, if there is anything after death, I think my heart will be judged as "good enough" to move forward, be it towards some sort of afterlife, reincarnation, or so forth.

Why take that chance? "C'mon 7's!". You already believe in God, is there something in particular in his word that you disagree with?

I'm not try to be too probing here, I'm honestly interested in how you see things.

[edit on 13-1-2005 by saint4God]

Originally posted by thelibra
... there will be much less chance of an accident.

Originally posted by saint4God
1.) Once when I was over there, I'd seen a good number of ((guns)) in plain view. I wondered what prevented me from just taking one. Considering who I was at the time, it was a very scary thought.

My guess would be "good judgement" as to what prevented you.

Originally posted by saint4God
2.) An ambulance showed up there two years later because while cleaning a pistol, it went off and shot him in the foot. I know what everyone is going to say, "that idiot" but he was a very intelligent man, not in habit of keeping loaded weapons nor mishandling. I guess it only takes once.

Oh, to be sure. It only takes once. One accident can take many many lives, and anyone is capable of an accident. My arguement is merely that the level of ignorance is directly proportional to the likelihood of an accident occurring.

Originally posted by saint4God
3.) What is the purpose of a gun? To protect what, your body? in 60+ years it'll be dust anyway. Is it not more important to protect your soul?

The ultimate purpose of a gun is to wound or kill the target. As to what to protect and why, I present this. The body may be dust in any number of years: none of us knows exactly how much time we have left in our present lifetime. However, a man robbing my house may also decide to rape my wife, children, myself, or may have yet even more sinister plans in mind. Am I to simply stand by and allow it to happen, with the justification that after we are dead, it won't matter anymore? How could any man live with himself knowing he did nothing to prevent it? A gun is the most effective method of stopping such things in progress.

Additionally, the fear of guns is a deterrant to crime. There have been numerous interviews of incarcerated criminals who, once having broken into a house they believe may be occupied, will turn around and leave at the sight of weapons. They aren't afraid of the cops, they aren't afraid of getting caught, they aren't afraid of much except for the crazed home-owner who will shoot them on sight.

Perhaps my body will someday be dust, but I must live in this body until then, and knowing that my family and our scant posessions are relatively safer gives me more peace of mind.

Originally posted by saint4God

Originally posted by thelibra
Thus, when I die, if there is anything after death, I think my heart will be judged as "good enough" to move forward, be it towards some sort of afterlife, reincarnation, or so forth.

Why take that chance? "C'mon 7's!". You already believe in God, is there something in particular in his word that you disagree with?

I'm not try to be too probing here, I'm honestly interested in how you see things.

Oh, I take no offense at all. I enjoy discussing theology, and as I've often read in your previous posts, you are one with whom I'd be delighted to speak with.

To answer your question, I don't consider it a chance. In fact, I consider it even less of a chance than choosing any particular religion. My churches are the mountains, forests, oceans, the sky...all things that I can say "God created this". I carry God within my thoughts and soul. I do good acts, and I gives thanks often for the blessings I have been offered. I do not pretend to know God's mind, but I trust in the divine far more than I put trust in mankind. Religion is an invention of man, not God.

I would like nothing more than to continue our discussion. However, this particular half of the post might be more appropriate in the "One True Faith" thread floating around here somewhere, which I believe you are already in... we've sorta gone off topic. I've got a post in there which details my personal beliefs further.

See you on the other side.

I know some on this forum really fel ike spell casting should be reserved in cases of an emergency but I have a wiccan boss who since becoming my boss I believe has done me some harm and I feel that she is truly using her "majik" to cast spells upon me and that is due to her hatred from jealousy. I am a kind hearted person who feels others paid and when I hurt is is deeper than the ocean. i am a scorpio which I know has that retribution and spite stereotype that i have not had since my 2o's. I now love people to a fault and have no flames to deal with with I fear that this boss is seriously trying to defame my character with the big boss in order to get me fired because she is secretly in love with someone in the office that I believe has a crush on me. We are 40 and 50 year old women for Gods sake>I do not want her married man and am married myself. She pretended to befriend me when I needed a friend the most and so i fell in loe with her. She then said hateful things that shocked me and made me cry and question myself and with her psychological warfare i chased her because i wanted a friend so desperately. She stabbed me in the heart by going to our boss and saying that I am too sexual and dress inappropriatly, which is both untrue and then told me that someone in the office complained to our boss and that she was called in and has to now write me up. It was her all along trying to oust me because i wear makeup and she feels makeup is a cry for help from women who feel insecure. She wants another employee who likes me and is jealous and now is using her knowledge as a wiccan to destroy my life and I have only loved her. Do you have any suggestions for me because I go from crying to anger to depression.