But what does any of this have to do with magic? Everything! Even though the
Moon is a part of our everyday lives, She’s always been surrounded by a certain
amount of mystery. Unlike Her counterpart, the Sun, She’s capable of changing
form and shape, seemingly at will. She also has a hypnotic quality that often
makes Her appear other than She really is. We’ve all, for example, seen a Moon
so big and bright that we felt we could reach right out and touch it, yet we knew
we couldn’t. And more than likely, that inherent ability to mesmerize and
captivate humankind is at least partially responsible for the Moon’s association
with the magical realm.
More important, though, is the Moon’s connection to the emotions. Because
emotion is the matrix from which all successful magic flows-and the Moon
evokes strong emotional responses that are completely independent of all logical
thought the Moon is a very valuable tool when it comes to magic. In fact,
performing magical operations in conjunction with the Moon is a little like
filling a car with gas. Even though everything’s in perfect working order, it has
to have fuel to get it started and push it down the road. That’s what the Moon
does for magic; it provides the catalyst necessary to get our spells off the ground.
Since the Moon does affect the emotions so strongly, though, it’s important
that you, as the practitioner, learn to exercise some emotional control. Otherwise,
these emotions-that same wonderful substance that fuels magic and sends it
soaring into the Universe-can fly off helter skelter and bring manifestation in
ways you hadn’t planned. In fact, it can bring magic to fruition even without a
formally executed spell. I know what I’m talking about here because it happened
to me.
Many years ago, I decided that my black Lab, Sadie, was in dire need of
some training, so I boarded her with a man who could do the job. The result was
not what I expected. After three weeks, the trainer told me in no uncertain terms
that my dog was not only untrainable, but completely incorrigible.
Of course, this was a complete surprise to me. He was, after all, speaking of
the same dog who’d been housetrained in two days and taught to sit in a matter
of minutes. But I reasoned that this man was the trainer and knew what he was
talking about. There was nothing left for me to do but pick Sadie up, take her
home, and figure out a way to sort through the problems by myself.
Help often comes in unexpected ways, though, and such was the case with
Sadie’s training. I received a phone call later that day from a fellow archer. And
during the course of the conversation, I discovered that he not only trained Labs,
but had five of his own. Even better, they lived in his house, and he was more
attached to them than most folks are to their children. It was just the sort of
training atmosphere I wanted for Sadie, and before it was said and done, he’d
agreed to work with her.
With Sadie back in training and making progress, I decided to leave town
for a Full Moon ritual. And it was while I was on the road that I got a call from
her new trainer. Apparently Sadie had developed a fear of the training dummies.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Those little canvas-wrapped tubes had always been
her favorite toys, yet her fear was such that she not only hid under the bathroom
sink to avoid them, but resorted to an uncontrollable fit of trembling.
Of course, it didn’t take long for me to figure it out. The previous trainer,
quite frustrated by Sadie’s refusal to respond appropriately, had beaten her with
one. And with that realization came a fury so irrepressible and uncontainable
that I’ve never again experienced its like. Then the visuals took over. I mentally
constructed literally thousands of punishments befitting the crime-all of them
horrible, slow, and excruciatingly painful-and visualized each in full detail.
Finally, I managed to clear my mind and pull myself together. Charges this
serious called for mundane handling, and since I ran an animal shelter I knew
who to call. I decided to have the man’s training facility investigated just as soon
as I returned; I’d see what transpired and go from there. It was a simple solution
designed to bring the desired results.
Except for one thing: It was already too late. The next phone call brought
the news.
It was my then-mate and he was babbling excitedly. I only managed to
catch the first trainer’s name, something about a truck, and a very nastily
delivered, “What the hell did you do to him, Dorothy?” Once I got him to slow
down, the gist of the conversation was that the previous trainer had just been hit
by a truck. The good news? He wasn’t dead. The bad news (or other good news,
depending on how you looked at it) was that he’d be incapacitated for a while
and wouldn’t be able to train any more dogs for at least three months.
To say I was dismayed was an understatement; I was shocked beyond
belief. Who’d have thought that the very first horror I’d imagined not only would
manifest, but manifest along with every minute detail I’d managed to construct?
It was almost too much to fathom.
Needless to say, that episode delivered a lesson I won’t soon forget. Left
unchecked, even for a moment or two, emotions can take on a life of their own.
And once they do, nothing can keep them from magical manifestation. Not
calmness. Not mundane action. Not even good oldfashioned common sense. The
magic is already soaring into the Universe, and any effort to call it back is a
futile one, indeed.

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