Ritual

This post was originally written by my flatmate and I for the Vice blog.

Hey! We’re Karley and Bunny. We’re homeless. Well, in three weeks we’ll be homeless, as our beloved squat of two and a half years is finally coming to an end. Bummer. As we’re not too into the idea of being vagrants, we’ve decided to try and use magic as a method of salvaging our home. You know, rather than, like, looking over the paperwork and associated legality of randomly destroying our house with little prior warning.

Eager to learn some spells that could protect our home, last weekend we attended a convention of London-based witches and wizards entitled Occulture. The mystic gathering was slightly discouraging. Everyone there was fat and wearing dirt-stained togas (i.e. there were no supernatural hotties, or those chicks from The Craft). One guy performed an hour long, one man version of Oedipus Rex (which was painful). Then another dude gave us a half-assed tarot card reading in which he told me (Bunny) that my life is going to suck, alongside the vaguely disconcerting echo of a drunk wizard screaming “You’re going to die!” over and over again. Bleak.

Garnering no actual help from these weirdos, we decided to abandon ship and enlist the help of our shaman friend, Matthew Stone. In his infinite wisdom, Matthew suggested we perform a ritual to ask the Spirit Gods for an SOS (save our squat, duh).

We performed the ritual at midnight in an abandoned warehouse in south London. As we don’t know much about the logistics of magic, we let the shaman take charge. The ritual began by lighting a circle of thirteen candles in which to contain the spiritual energy. We then spread rose quartz along the edges of the ring, to entrust that it was a circle of love and friendship, rather than of evil. Next the shaman told us to get completely naked. We were a bit freaked out at first, but it’s common knowledge that you should always trust people who keep lots of crystals and weird looking sticks in their bedroom, so we obliged.

Next came some freestyle chanting, ceremonial lipstick application, and a little bit of naked kissing. Around this time we all blacked out, so the details of the ceremony are difficult to recount- partially due to the amount of gin we consumed, but also partially because of, like, the constraints of the English language or whatever. Still, it’s amazing that simply running around naked, making strange noises and possibly contracting tetanus can be such a profound and beautiful experience.

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