Epiphany: it’s the HOUSE that needs work.
To the casual observer, one perhaps a bit less well-adjusted, it seems that Mike and I have had a string of bad luck ever since we moved into this townhouse. The moment Mike and I opened a champagne bottle, I suspected something might be up: the cork ricocheted off walls until it finally hit me in the forehead before landing.
The bad luck thing is sort of true: in the past year, Mike has wrecked two cars, been assaulted, I have had a massive delay on the book that should have been published by now, I pinched a nerve within a month of moving in and I had to have emergency surgery. Each disaster, however, has come with an accompanying comfort and joy. Mike’s latest accident will most likely be declared unavoidable. The first accident was met with an outpouring of help from friends. While the first book is delayed, I have a contract for two other books with a different publisher. Sure, I’m not getting singular moments of triumph but I am being steadily herded towards higher goals.
Yet I don’t feel any particular forboding about the situation. These feel like random life accidents despite how close together they are. I did my uncrossings and protections. I’ve planted reversal candles in the stairwell to good effect in the past. Most of the magic I practice is about keeping my home peaceful and protected. I must have done something right – when the theft ring hit our townhouse row last summer, they didn’t hit us. (I feel awful for our neighbors, although amused that their minimalist lifestyle left only rugs for the thieves to steal. Pretty sure they wanted our absurd TV.) Whatever is going on, it isn’t that my routines have failed me.
I am doing some work on a house in Saint Paul right now, one with a long, complex history. It got me thinking about my own house’s history.
Given the newness of the house – it was build in 2005 – it’s actually got a bit already. The first owner developed Parkinson’s very shortly after she moved in and the house had to be sold from her estate. The second owner, the one we bought it from, had some sort of financial failure. I noticed she also had some gigantic freaking crosses tacked up in all the places I consider energetic trouble spots now. The nails remain.
Something about the house precipitates bad luck – but also motivates necessary changes. (That surgery should have happened long ago. Whenever a friend in transition crashed with us, her life took on forward movement, both good and bad.) So what’s going on isn’t evil… but it is a bit harsh. This looks to me like a natural force, rather than an entity or even an unhappy neighbor situation. Although there was an unhappy neighbor hangover when we moved in.
The source of the change could be hard to detect – I have some suspicions of where the land energy may be that might motivate it. But I have an immediate feeling that I’ve got this. Whatever this is, recognition is the hard part. Altering it is easy-peasy and I’m on course. I’m already burning some bayberry candles and now it may just be a matter of working a few charms under the porch.
- Friday the 13th: Common superstitions(manchestereveningnews.co.uk)
- Animal Crossing: Bad Luck Days(gadgetspage.com)
- Is It Bad Luck to Give a Knife as a Gift?(thekitchn.com)