Magic is fucking real.

I come from a long line of people that grew up on the land. Yes. They were poor. Very poor. My papaws were both abusive alcoholics. My grannies were both abused at-home wives and mothers. The kids were abused as well. My papaws worked the coal mines all day long which was exhausting and stressful, as well as dangerous. They could have been killed in those old dust filled mines, then the 8-10 kids that they were responsible for would have went hungry and maybe even died.

My grannies bore child after child until i guess they couldn’t have any anymore. They stayed home but they had no lack of work in their lives. They had babies to keep an eye on and huge gardens to tend to. They had to slop the pigs and feed the chickens. They helped plow the fields and took time to pray for rain to keep the crops growing. They harvested the vegetables and fruits right from the Earth with no help from pesticides and garbage that commercial farmers coat the food with these days. They hand washed all the laundry for the whole family on a washboard and tore their knuckles to pieces. After a day full of drawing water from a well, and maybe killing a chicken or two with their bare hands for dinner and cutting up all the potatoes or whatever they had for sides, my papaws would come home dog drunk on moonshine.

They’d turn the table completely over not giving a shit if my grannies had worked all day long to prepare it. They were resentful and angry that they were bound to a life of hard, lung burning work. They had a whole clan to take care of. There was no way out. This was their life and they were resentful. They were so mean that my grannies no doubt found them repulsive. So repulsive that they were probably raped more than they were made love to. Forced to stay pregnant with absolutely no such thing as prenatal care or the promise of a safe delivery at a nearby hospital. In fact, the nearest doctor was about an hour away.

Now my mamaws had nothing to get them through except the promise of a loving, healing, powerful God. An entity that could get them through this horror filled life they were stuck in because of being born into poverty in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. People came from miles around to have my Granny McIntosh heal them. To have her whisper a secret prayer over someone and remove the fire from a bad burn. To relieve the pain from someone who was sick and could not afford to or get to a doctor. They relied on energy healing. Energy manipulation. Witchcraft. Praying. Mind over matter. Whatever it is that you choose to call it. It’s all the same thing. Faith. Knowing . Trusting that what you desire will come to you.

There were intuitive people in my mom and dad’s family. They knew things. They knew things before they would happen. My Aunt Wanda told me that she took a pretty good beating from my Papaw Fox for telling him that someone was coming to visit. Not because they didn’t show up, because they did show up. Back then, the only means of transportation was on foot or by horse, that is if you could afford one, which most could not. Plus my dad’s family lived way back in the holler as they called it. They had no means of contact with anyone. No one had a phone in that time and place. Not my mom or dad’s family at least. So my Aunt went and announced that so and so was coming for a visit. When that so and so, whoever it was showed up (I have to say I’ve forgotten who it was), my Papaw Fox gave her a good whooping calling what she did the devil’s work. They were fearful of clairvoyance, but utilized energy manipulation for healing, labeling that God’s work.

it’s my belief that since my family grew up way back away from the influences of society and the brainwashing of corporations as they burst into control over the collective consciousness, that they held onto their own belief systems. The magic that they were taught for the purpose of healing. They also grew up eating organic foods that were tended to with love and animals that they raised and slaughtered had names and were also treated with kindness, despite being submitted to their own death at the hands of my uncles and my papaws. My mom and dad’s family could not afford shit. They were broke as they could be, but they were blessed with each other’s love and assurance that they would grow up and get out of the poverty that they seemed cursed by all their lives.

I think magic grows strongest in the hearts of those who are in need the most. Those who have hit the bottom. Those who seem to have no where else to turn. I mean, in the bible stories my Granny Mc. used to read me, Jesus went to the poor and the down and out people first. The arrogant rich people had no need to listen to him, for they thought they had everything all figured out. Sometimes you have to be at wit’s end to try something new. To try magic. To manipulate energy in your favor. You have to be up against a wall with a lot of emotion behind it. Whatever it is, you’ll know when it is time to stop talking about it and stop thinking about it, and walk in it. The universe will bend for you, but it’s time to stop learning about it and talking about it and just walk it. Set the intention and imagine the result in your mind. Invite the feeling of having what you want right now. Magic never ceased to exist, only your belief in it has.

 

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