The Beginning Before the Beginning.

I had started a series of posts on multiply® about my apprenticeship into a Mexican Indian cult of medicine men (and a few women) who were called brujos or brujas.  It is a mixture of witchcraft and sorcery, perhaps leaning more to the sorcery side of the description.

My last post was one moment in the apprenticeship where I left the practice.  Or perhaps more precisely, it rejected me.

I wont defend the practice.  My own opinion of it is that it is an evil spiritual path, and those who consult with a Brujo become his victims.  I was more of a traveler who took a side trip into the realm in the aftermath of the beatnik/hippy era, when so much of my youthful idealism foundered on the rocks of reality.

I think I will resume the essays for a few weeks, and this is the disclaimer for them.

I had peeked into a hidden universe that is connected to ours.  An old mystical saying is: “As above, so below”.  The images I saw were breathtakingly beautiful and hideous.  Oddly, when I was in a trance with my Brujo, we would see the same things.  He would often tell me what I had seen, and offer his unique explanation for those visions.

What did I bring from my two years in Brujeria?  I did NOT find God.  I discovered that Satan does not protect his pupils.  There was no mercy in the practice. One careless incantation, one omission of a key ingredient, one incorrectly gathered ingredient, one step outside of the warding circle, and you were destroyed.

The Brujo is also the actor.  What he knows and practices in private is not what he shows the public who solicit his services.  When someone comes to him for a healing, an incantation, or even a cursing, the Brujo will perform magic tricks and mix useless potions, extracting as much cash as he can from the unsuspecting Rube.

If you want Brujo magic, you must become a Brujo.  It is inherently a solitary practice that requires long periods of isolation.  A Brujo’s home is not easily found.  Some Brujo’s have a shelter in the Sonora desert in summer, and another in Arizona or New Mexico.  They tend to be the most reclusive ones.  My Brujo was such a shaman, and most of the public who supported him were native Pueblo and Navajo Indians.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll start at the beginning …

Good morning!


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