S is for Sickness

Cross-legged in my front of the fireplace in my basement, I tear the kindling into smaller pieces. Mindfully, I light the fire and count myself down into a meditative state. While centering, I notice that a circle has been cast.

Other circles are light and cool. Their edges spark like static electricity. This circle is heavy. Its edges are thick and viscous. Instead of spiraling up, my circle spirals down.

I intended my ritual to be one of healing, but unconsciously I began a ritual of destruction.

I hold the copy of the x-ray in my hand. I surround the healthy organs with protective white light, leaving only the cancer vulnerable to my magic. I toss the x-ray into the fire and as its consumed by the flames, I say:

“May you now be consumed as a coal upon the hearth. May you shrink as dung upon a wall. And may you dry up as water in a pail. May you become as small as a linseed grain, and much smaller than the hipbone of an inch mite, and may you become so small, you become nothing, never to abide here again.”

I opened my circle and allowed the fire to burn itself down. The next morning I released the ashes to the wind to carry my magic.

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