Llewellyn's 2012 Witches' Companion by Llewellyn (i wanna iguana read aloud .TXT) 📕

stay only until the wind dies down. As a spirit, she’s able to fly, so presumably the storm has only blown her off course. She was, in fact, on her way to visit her husband-in-life, Isaburo, who was also her father’s adopted son. She is going to persuade him to return to her father’s house to care for the old man in his dotage.

In the northwest of Japan … those who met their deaths in snow were believed to persist as snow ghosts, flying silently over the frozen landscape, haunting those left behind.

Oyasu is a polite house guest, as far as ghosts go. She pays her respects at Kyuzaemon’s ancestral altar. Then, as soon as the storm abates, she goes on her way. The next morning, Kyuzaemon heads to the neighboring village to confirm her story. Yes, Oyasu did indeed appear to Isaburo in the night and convince him to return to his adoptive father’s house. To lend an air of truth to the event, Smith informs us that it took place on January 19, 1833.

In the northwest of Japan, where this story was collected, those who met their deaths in snow were believed to persist as snow ghosts, flying silently over the frozen landscape, haunting those left behind. For some reason, it is only women, like Oyasu, who live on in legend.

Snow Boy (Lenape)

To meet a male snow spirit, we travel to the mid-Atlantic. New Jersey (along with parts of Delaware, Pennsylvania, and New York) is Snow Boy territory, for this is the ancestral home of the peoples now known as the Lenape or Delaware. The tale of Snow Boy is unique to them.

According to the story, Snow Boy’s mother was very young when he was born, and her child’s paternity was a mystery. When other children upset him, the little boy had the habit of putting their fingers in his mouth and sucking them until they turned black from frostbite. By his own account, his name was “Snow and Ice.”

Then, one day in early spring, Snow Boy announced to his fellow villagers that he had to be moving on. Though he never named his father, he said he had been sent from the sky in order to show his mother’s people how to track both game and enemies. When the winter came, he told them, he would return in the form of the falling snowflakes.

Down by the river, he asked to be placed on an ice floe. The people obliged him, placing beside him a birch bark container full of kahamakun (see below) and off he went. He returns every year, just as promised. Lenape Indians living in Oklahoma re-enacted this ritual into the twentieth century, though presumably with smaller chunks of ice. Snow Boy never again appeared to his people as a human child, but he was still given his portion of kahamakun and bid a fond farewell.

Kahamakun is parched, or dried, white corn that has been toasted over the embers of a fire or in a cast iron skillet. The corn is then pounded, sifted and mixed with maple sugar. This was the favorite snack of hunters on the go because it was easy to carry and packed with carbohydrates. Because the corn had already been toasted, it could be prepared with either hot or cold water. That way, the hunters could eat quickly, devoting all their energy and attention to tracking the deer over the white blanket Snow Boy had laid upon the ground.

Resources

Bierhorst, John, ed. The White Deer and Other Stories Told by the Lenape. New York: William Morrow, 1995.

Harrington, M. R. The Indians of New Jersey: Dickon among the Lenapes. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1966.

Haviland, Virginia. Favorite Fairy Tales Told in Russia. Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1961.

Hearn, Lafcadio. Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things. New York: Dover, 1968.

Seiki, Keigo, ed., translated by Richard J. Adams. Folktales of Japan. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1963.

Smith, Richard Gordon. Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan. London: A & C Black, 1908.

Zvorykin, Boris. The Firebird and Other Russian Fairy Tales. New York: The Viking Press, 1978.

When not concocting recipes, Linda Raedisch writes about holidays, obscure traditions, and witches of all sorts. She continues to live in northern New Jersey, despite the long winters.

Illustrator: Bri Hermanson

Being the Change

Tess Whitehurst

The year 2012 is finally here, and it’s lived up to its promise of marking an uncommonly interesting moment in the history of our species. To many of us, it appears that we’re at a critical juncture, which may very soon culminate in one of two main outcomes: we humans might destroy or decimate ourselves by blowing ourselves up or making our environment unlivable, or we might find a way to harmoniously evolve into a peaceful and mutually beneficial relationship with our planet and each other.

You must be the

change you want to

see in the world. —Mahatma Gandhi

While it remains to be seen whether or not this big change is true, it is nonetheless significant that so many people, regardless of their spiritual and/or scientific persuasion, have a strong feeling that it is. Furthermore, no matter what the future may or may not hold, moving toward greater harmony is never a bad thing, and there has never been a better time for it than now.

As shapers of reality, our role during this time is extremely vital: our thoughts, words, rituals, and visualizations, when directed toward universal healing and harmonization, have the potential to be a precious contribution to the future of the human race, wildlife, and the environment as we know it. In addition to our work in the ethereal or spiritual realm, working in the physical realm—as activists, disseminators of information, artists, healers, teachers, volunteers, etc.—can fortify our efforts, empower our intentions, and generally help heal the world in a concrete, tangible way. And, as we know from the Law of Returns, each of our positive intentions and generous actions will return to us multiplied,