Black Magic


When we think of black magic we might think of the three old crones in Macbeth spouting “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble”; or of the zombies created by voodoo masters, or burning at the stake and evil spells. And in the 21st century we probably feel that these are things of myth and legend and that they have no relevance today. But consider this.

If black magic involves the modification of behaviour of a person so that they make decisions they might not ordinarily make if they knew the full truth, then is that still not something that is very real even today?

The answer of course is yes. And even without frogs legs, hemlock and toadstools, spells can be cast that cause damage to people in many ways. The pity is that for the most part these things are done unknowingly, and because of that they are not expected nor noticed, they simply have an insidious capacity to damage people and relationships, be they at work or at home, between friends, family or lovers, for matters of minutes until things are clarified, or at their worst, to change a life’s journey.

I have not truly understood this until I read Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements, but I have seen it happen and now that I understand it I know that it is the truth.

Gossip in all it’s forms is black magic. Whether it is an innocent comment about a particular person or situation, or whether it is said in spite, or with the desire to harm a person’s reputation, gossip can make people make decisions or behave in manners that they would not ordinarily do. At the best it will make people see someone in a manner that imposes someone elses reality on their perceptions, and, in some cases, we wake up and say that the gossip was wrong and therefore choose to believe the evidence of our own eyes or feelings. At its worst, however, it can totally change someone’s opinion and forever alter their opinions and belief system.

The first casualty of that is faith, the second trust and the third is the future. Make no mistake, entire futures can be altered by the whispers of gossips. They may not consider that they are casting spells, that their words are as much black magic as the witches at Macbeth’s cauldron, but those words have the power to destroy kingdoms, to make the strongest relationships crumble.

When we lose faith and trust, when we allow doubt to creep into our thoughts then the magic becomes very powerful and we must do our best to understand what is happening. If we don’t do that, if we allow doubt to become our overriding belief, if we accept the opinions of others before our own faith, or the belief of our own hearts and minds then we do run the risk of altering our future.

Beware the words of gossips. Trust yourself to form opinions that are valid, rather than grasp at the poison in the words of others.

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Black Magic


When we think of black magic we might think of the three old crones in Macbeth spouting “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble”; or of the zombies created by voodoo masters, or burning at the stake and evil spells. And in the 21st century we probably feel that these are things of myth and legend and that they have no relevance today. But consider this.

If black magic involves the modification of behaviour of a person so that they make decisions they might not ordinarily make if they knew the full truth, then is that still not something that is very real even today?

The answer of course is yes. And even without frogs legs, hemlock and toadstools, spells can be cast that cause damage to people in many ways. The pity is that for the most part these things are done unknowingly, and because of that they are not expected nor noticed, they simply have an insidious capacity to damage people and relationships, be they at work or at home, between friends, family or lovers, for matters of minutes until things are clarified, or at their worst, to change a life’s journey.

I have not truly understood this until I read Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements, but I have seen it happen and now that I understand it I know that it is the truth.

Gossip in all it’s forms is black magic. Whether it is an innocent comment about a particular person or situation, or whether it is said in spite, or with the desire to harm a person’s reputation, gossip can make people make decisions or behave in manners that they would not ordinarily do. At the best it will make people see someone in a manner that imposes someone elses reality on their perceptions, and, in some cases, we wake up and say that the gossip was wrong and therefore choose to believe the evidence of our own eyes or feelings. At its worst, however, it can totally change someone’s opinion and forever alter their opinions and belief system.

The first casualty of that is faith, the second trust and the third is the future. Make no mistake, entire futures can be altered by the whispers of gossips. They may not consider that they are casting spells, that their words are as much black magic as the witches at Macbeth’s cauldron, but those words have the power to destroy kingdoms, to make the strongest relationships crumble.

When we lose faith and trust, when we allow doubt to creep into our thoughts then the magic becomes very powerful and we must do our best to understand what is happening. If we don’t do that, if we allow doubt to become our overriding belief, if we accept the opinions of others before our own faith, or the belief of our own hearts and minds then we do run the risk of altering our future.

Beware the words of gossips. Trust yourself to form opinions that are valid, rather than grasp at the poison in the words of others.

Black Magic


When we think of black magic we might think of the three old crones in Macbeth spouting “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble”; or of the zombies created by voodoo masters, or burning at the stake and evil spells. And in the 21st century we probably feel that these are things of myth and legend and that they have no relevance today. But consider this.

If black magic involves the modification of behaviour of a person so that they make decisions they might not ordinarily make if they knew the full truth, then is that still not something that is very real even today?

The answer of course is yes. And even without frogs legs, hemlock and toadstools, spells can be cast that cause damage to people in many ways. The pity is that for the most part these things are done unknowingly, and because of that they are not expected nor noticed, they simply have an insidious capacity to damage people and relationships, be they at work or at home, between friends, family or lovers, for matters of minutes until things are clarified, or at their worst, to change a life’s journey.

I have not truly understood this until I read Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements, but I have seen it happen and now that I understand it I know that it is the truth.

Gossip in all it’s forms is black magic. Whether it is an innocent comment about a particular person or situation, or whether it is said in spite, or with the desire to harm a person’s reputation, gossip can make people make decisions or behave in manners that they would not ordinarily do. At the best it will make people see someone in a manner that imposes someone elses reality on their perceptions, and, in some cases, we wake up and say that the gossip was wrong and therefore choose to believe the evidence of our own eyes or feelings. At its worst, however, it can totally change someone’s opinion and forever alter their opinions and belief system.

The first casualty of that is faith, the second trust and the third is the future. Make no mistake, entire futures can be altered by the whispers of gossips. They may not consider that they are casting spells, that their words are as much black magic as the witches at Macbeth’s cauldron, but those words have the power to destroy kingdoms, to make the strongest relationships crumble.

When we lose faith and trust, when we allow doubt to creep into our thoughts then the magic becomes very powerful and we must do our best to understand what is happening. If we don’t do that, if we allow doubt to become our overriding belief, if we accept the opinions of others before our own faith, or the belief of our own hearts and minds then we do run the risk of altering our future.

Beware the words of gossips. Trust yourself to form opinions that are valid, rather than grasp at the poison in the words of others.

The flutter of butterflies wings


I’m not a physicist, in fact I failed physics in Form 5 in 1973. That’s year 11 for those who are younger than I. And therefore I have no real idea about chaos theory nor about the underlying theory of the interconnectedness of matter. I have, however, read a few things that make a bit of sense to me.

Somewhere somewhen someone wrote that even the flutter of a butterflies wings has the potential to trigger a hurricane. In life things may happen with an innocence and a seeming irrelevance or with innocuous ease that can lead to life changing decisions. And sometimes even in retrospect it isn’t easy to find the first flap of those wings.

All I know is that for me at this particular point in time I need to journey back from the hurricane, through the gale force winds and the eye of the storm to find that point where the butterfly emerged and stretched its wings to the drying sun before leaping into the air. And it may well be that there were many such times and many storms. When does the flap of the wing become a zephyr which then manifests as the eye of a storm? Why do some peter out and others have such capacity for change? Which ones become destructive and what do they destroy and is the destruction always bad?

In understanding that and in finding the answers can we work out where the next stage of our journey leads?

The flutter of butterflies wings


I’m not a physicist, in fact I failed physics in Form 5 in 1973. That’s year 11 for those who are younger than I. And therefore I have no real idea about chaos theory nor about the underlying theory of the interconnectedness of matter. I have, however, read a few things that make a bit of sense to me.

Somewhere somewhen someone wrote that even the flutter of a butterflies wings has the potential to trigger a hurricane. In life things may happen with an innocence and a seeming irrelevance or with innocuous ease that can lead to life changing decisions. And sometimes even in retrospect it isn’t easy to find the first flap of those wings.

All I know is that for me at this particular point in time I need to journey back from the hurricane, through the gale force winds and the eye of the storm to find that point where the butterfly emerged and stretched its wings to the drying sun before leaping into the air. And it may well be that there were many such times and many storms. When does the flap of the wing become a zephyr which then manifests as the eye of a storm? Why do some peter out and others have such capacity for change? Which ones become destructive and what do they destroy and is the destruction always bad?

In understanding that and in finding the answers can we work out where the next stage of our journey leads?

The flutter of butterflies wings


I’m not a physicist, in fact I failed physics in Form 5 in 1973. That’s year 11 for those who are younger than I. And therefore I have no real idea about chaos theory nor about the underlying theory of the interconnectedness of matter. I have, however, read a few things that make a bit of sense to me.

Somewhere somewhen someone wrote that even the flutter of a butterflies wings has the potential to trigger a hurricane. In life things may happen with an innocence and a seeming irrelevance or with innocuous ease that can lead to life changing decisions. And sometimes even in retrospect it isn’t easy to find the first flap of those wings.

All I know is that for me at this particular point in time I need to journey back from the hurricane, through the gale force winds and the eye of the storm to find that point where the butterfly emerged and stretched its wings to the drying sun before leaping into the air. And it may well be that there were many such times and many storms. When does the flap of the wing become a zephyr which then manifests as the eye of a storm? Why do some peter out and others have such capacity for change? Which ones become destructive and what do they destroy and is the destruction always bad?

In understanding that and in finding the answers can we work out where the next stage of our journey leads?

The Weight of Expectations

At various times in our lives, in fact most of our lives, people carry the weight of expectations of others. Major assumptions are made about how one should behave, or whether or not we have done right or wrong by others.

There was a little boy once who on becoming a man thought that he shouldered burdens placed upon him by others. Burdens that he carried unwaveringly all his life until he began to stagger under the weight of expectations. And the stupid thing was that while some of them were the expectations of others, most of them were the expectations he had of himself.

Once, a long time ago, he was told he was the man of the house, for a long long time he thought that he had assumed that burden and placed his recollections about how he grew up and what sort of man he had become on that belief. The truth was that he actually rejected that burden and turned inward. He didn’t want to be the man of the house at 8 years old, but he could hardly refuse, could he. An absent father, two younger sisters and a mother, no question, he was the man of the house.

So you shrug your shoulders and refuse to cry, and when you are frightened you don’t reach out and tell people of your fears, you construct a mask of calmness and rationality. You square your shoulders and carry yourself upright. You don’t let your temper show itself. And when things do get a little shaky and you find that fear or anger are coming to the surface, you clamp down even harder.

The little boy grew up alone, not in the sense of being on his own or homeless, but in the sense that he didn’t really engage socially with others. His world for much of his journey from childhood to teenager and into young adulthood was his bedroom. Things were safe there, he could read his comics and his books, listen to music and play with his toy soldiers. That was his world and he could control that, a private space where the music or the Saturday afternoon football games could drown out the outside world. And when on occasions he had to venture out into the wider world, he made sure that one or several of the masks came with him, so that little boy could hide his fears and anger from anyone who might try to place the burden of expectations upon him.

As the boy became a man it became harder to shed the masks and with that happening the little boy inside retreated behind more and more doors. Sure at times he could peek out, but he never really stepped outside since that time as an 8 year old that he was told he was the man of the house.

The Weight of Expectations

At various times in our lives, in fact most of our lives, people carry the weight of expectations of others. Major assumptions are made about how one should behave, or whether or not we have done right or wrong by others.

There was a little boy once who on becoming a man thought that he shouldered burdens placed upon him by others. Burdens that he carried unwaveringly all his life until he began to stagger under the weight of expectations. And the stupid thing was that while some of them were the expectations of others, most of them were the expectations he had of himself.

Once, a long time ago, he was told he was the man of the house, for a long long time he thought that he had assumed that burden and placed his recollections about how he grew up and what sort of man he had become on that belief. The truth was that he actually rejected that burden and turned inward. He didn’t want to be the man of the house at 8 years old, but he could hardly refuse, could he. An absent father, two younger sisters and a mother, no question, he was the man of the house.

So you shrug your shoulders and refuse to cry, and when you are frightened you don’t reach out and tell people of your fears, you construct a mask of calmness and rationality. You square your shoulders and carry yourself upright. You don’t let your temper show itself. And when things do get a little shaky and you find that fear or anger are coming to the surface, you clamp down even harder.

The little boy grew up alone, not in the sense of being on his own or homeless, but in the sense that he didn’t really engage socially with others. His world for much of his journey from childhood to teenager and into young adulthood was his bedroom. Things were safe there, he could read his comics and his books, listen to music and play with his toy soldiers. That was his world and he could control that, a private space where the music or the Saturday afternoon football games could drown out the outside world. And when on occasions he had to venture out into the wider world, he made sure that one or several of the masks came with him, so that little boy could hide his fears and anger from anyone who might try to place the burden of expectations upon him.

As the boy became a man it became harder to shed the masks and with that happening the little boy inside retreated behind more and more doors. Sure at times he could peek out, but he never really stepped outside since that time as an 8 year old that he was told he was the man of the house.

The Road to Old Mans Town – Banjo Patterson

The fields of youth are filled with flowers,
The wine of youth is strong:
What need have we to count the hours?
The summer days are long.

But soon we find to our dismay
That we are drifting down
The barren slopes that fall away
Towards the foothills grim and eye
That lead to Old Man’s Town

And marching with us on the track
Full many friends we find:
We see them looking sadly back
For those who’ve dropped behind.

But God forfend a fate so dread –
Alone to travel down
The dreary road we all must tread,
With faltering steps and whitening head,
The road to Old Man’s Town.

The Road to Old Mans Town – Banjo Patterson

The fields of youth are filled with flowers,
The wine of youth is strong:
What need have we to count the hours?
The summer days are long.

But soon we find to our dismay
That we are drifting down
The barren slopes that fall away
Towards the foothills grim and eye
That lead to Old Man’s Town

And marching with us on the track
Full many friends we find:
We see them looking sadly back
For those who’ve dropped behind.

But God forfend a fate so dread –
Alone to travel down
The dreary road we all must tread,
With faltering steps and whitening head,
The road to Old Man’s Town.

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