When you were growing up, I’m have no doubt people never would have told you that in life you are going to be measured by your perceived behavior rather than your intent. Meanwhile, your own internal dialogue has and will always measure your choices and associated actions by the understanding behind your intentions. I call this the delta of knowingness.

If you have read any of my fiction stories you will recognize there is a large portion of influence leant towards the edges of various cultures, religions and the occult. You may not initially detect a direct association to the idea of ‘religion’ per say. This has been divined intentionally in this way. Why? Because I have always tried to ensure there is room for readers to develop within the themes rather than being given complete direction. The magic is held within the writer telling a story and the reader embracing its essence with their own imaginings. In reality a large portion of people I have met have not accepted or associated the pursuit of magic as a form of religion. Yet from my perspective it is. I don’t push this view point within my works but I don’t shy away from it either.

An example of this would be Voodoo (or Vodou if you prefer), a religious belief system that is heavily themed right across my adult contemporary romantic trilogy, Wantin, Unrequited and Sated. There is magic interlaced in the story to add weight to the beauty of people and their ability to utilize their beliefs in the support and well being of the world.

Chickens Feet

Chickens Feet


I was raised in an environment where the occult and the practice thereof was taboo. Although my mom dabbled from time to time in reading tarot or attempting to cast a spell, she never openly spoke of it. Sure there were discussions about ghosts and experiences of deja vu. Many a night had been spent watching countless A and B Grade horror flicks, anything we could get on hands on really.

At the age of ten I had a quick growing wart rather mysteriously appear on the inside of my right palm in a strange position. When I spoke to the old lady who lived down the way she told me that it was a mark placed by someone who was jealous and set to own my hand. In a sense, be a person of influence or control over my life. She told me that upon the full moon I needed to select a milk weed from the fields outback, cut open the wart, place the content of the weeping milk from the weed onto the wart and then sleep with my hand outside the window exposed to the light of the moon. I held no doubt. My instructions were clear so I executed them precisely as she had advised with a couple of added deltas. I woke the next day post the execution of this spell to be greeted by a clean palm. There was no wart to be found. The only evidence of it’s existence was a tiny mark that healed. I bear the scare to this day.

Here’s the interesting part for me, a lesson learnt which I shall never take for granted. In my naivety or untapped subconscious wisdom I added a few additional steps to what the old lady had instructed. My curiosity held me drawn to wanting the alleged person to be revealed to me. I lit some candles, sat in the middle where the light shone brightest, cut open the wart with the tip of the blade I had doused in the light and said the words ‘Go back to whence you came, there you shall remain. Show me your true form.’

In little over a week the person had presented with a wart on their hand in the exact same position. You can say it was a coincidence, sure there is always a possibility of this being an option. I just know my truth. The reality is that I had confronted this individual because not surprisingly at the ripe old age of ten I was a feisty little creature. I received a confession about the ill tidings and was asked to offer forgiveness. When I was calmer I told them this, ‘When you forgive yourself only then will you heal. It starts and will end with you.’

The purpose of sharing my experience was purely to demonstrate that my exposure in life around pagan, voodoo, magic rituals has me repeatedly witnessing people driven by their need or desire for fair and positive results. They are tapping into their own essence of imagination, drawing upon the universal energies to unite and channel magic. The old lady who guided me had been mercilessly teased and harassed for years before I came along. She was considered a haggard witch and was known across the district. Imagine being an immigrant widower in your late sixties being aggressively ostracized, spat on, windows smashed, eggs thrown at your home and having no-one to turn to for support. I’m certain this would give the average person rise to become resentful and bitter, perhaps tempted to place a curse or three … Hmm.

Instead of her using this as a reason to squelch what she believed or place a mask across it to conform to what her peers were attempting to pressure her into. She never faltered in who she was and what she believed in. When I crossed her path she welcomed me without prejudice from her past experience of the neighboring children. To me she was a dear soul who only wanted to be accepted and loved. It was her who taught me that holding resentment toward peoples behavior in essence meant an adoption of self loath. This allowed me to recognize I needed to find my inner peace with the way people choose to be.

Now that my friends is magic.

Blessings – Truth

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