An oil to allow you to love oneself as a whole, in all light and darkness we carry. A spell to transform our thoughts to not be afraid of the realms of the unknown within our souls. Inspired by my all time favorite planet Pluto.
St. Johns Wort. May happiness attend me in the darkest of places. Lavender. ‘For there is beauty and knowledge that dances within the dark. Eucalyptus essential oil. Cast off the veils of fear, * Lily of the Valley essential oil. as I travel the darkest depths of my soul. Silver glitter. Stars guide me, be the flashlight that reveals all of me.
* Lily of the Valley is poisonous. Do not consume or put on skin. If you do not feel comfortable using this, you can substitute it.
To charge this spell I recommend having a crystal relating to energy power, shadow play, or has relations to Pluto. Personally, I used my clear quartz crow crystal because like Pluto, crows represent life and death, the cycle of rebirth. Bonus, clear quartz is an energy booster. You can also charge under a clear night where the stars are shining bright or on a full moon night.
As I said before, this contains poisonous ingredients, so please do not place on skin or consume. It is more for smelling the aromas and letting it flow around you as you work with your shadow self. (And don’t place the oil right near your nose and inhale, you don’t want the fumes to go directly into you.) Personally, I put the oil in a seashell and place it a good distance in front of me with candles around so that aroma fills the air around me.
Oh hey, so I went on a backstage tour of Shakespeare’s Globe...
…and I totally forgot to upload the photos til now.
Let’s start in the ‘heavens’ right up top, where the cast pour libations for Dionysus before each run:
There’s also a bell made by the same company that made the original Globe’s bell, and a trap that goes right down to the stage. Someone fell down there during the opening season and broke their leg, and there followed a spate of leg/foot-related injuries until Mark Rylance called in a shaman, made a little paper replica of the Globe (complete with teeny paper players) and performed a secret ceremony before hiding the whole thing in the rafters. It’s still there, apparently, but no one knows where it is.
(Spot the gold confetti leftover from Charles Edward’s Richard II… It’s EVERYWHERE.)
View from the musician’s balcony. In the original theatre, wealthy playgoers could sit up here to show off their outfits to the audience. Ditto in the pretty painted boxes to the immediate left and right of the balcony:
Next: backstage. Are you ready?
(There are grease-stains above those little square windows because actors lean their foreheads against them to peek out at the stage, listening for their cue…)
View from the stage. Imagine the yard filled with groundlings…
The fucking detail…
I wanted to stroke the walls. And hump a pillar. And lie on the stage and cry. But I restrained myself. I am a professional.
Then we went down into ‘hell’, under the stage, where no one has swept since forever and there is still SO MUCH RICHARD II GLITTER.
(The tour guide told a great story about logistics of rigging up plastic drainpipes that stretched to each of the four corners of the stage so that Hamlet’s ghost could be lowered down into the trap and deliver his “SWEAR!” lines from different locations without having to scurry about under the stage. It is TIGHT under there.)
Finally: props department. I tried to hide behind a stack of shoes so that I’d get left behind and could live out my days as a little Globe hermit but they found me.
We got to feel up some of the costumes though - all made by hand with authentic materials and techniques of Shakespeare’s time - aaand none of them can be washed (vodka and febreeze ftw). Each principle actor gets a handmade, tailored outfit of their very own to the cost of about £3,000 each. Rylance’s Prospero robes cost EIGHTEEN FUCKING GRAND.