tie the knot bracelet

Ritual to celebrate friendship

Announcement: I have the best friends.

Time and again things happen that remind me of that fact. And sometimes I’m not  as good a friend to them as they are to me. I forget birthday dates, or postpone replying to letters. Too often, I only offer them my sour temper and use them to complain to.

And yet they remain great friends. Those online and those irl. Those I’ve shared the school table with and those I never met in person.

So today, when something happened that reminded me yet again of how great my true friends are, I decided to honour them with a little practical ritual of my own devising. I made it to strengthen the existing bond, and to remind me that I’m supposed to work on it.

The ritual had two parts, the more magical-symbolic one and the very practical one.

Part 1 - Enchanting

I’ve enchanted a reel of linen string to use in the second part of the ritual. To do that, I took:

  • the reel of string (tying together)
  • two white candles (for goodness, purity,spiritual strength, being together)
  • a rosemary plant (remembrance and growth)
  • a vial of forget-me-not flowers (their name in my native language carries the same connotation)
  • letters and postcards from my friends, as well as other things I was given by them or borrowed from them (the small basked in the picture is one of those, I recommend using a larger receptacle even if you don’t have one related to friends per se, because it has that “being together” vibe)
  • white cloth.

The letters are placed on the table, flat, and covered with the cloth (to be safe). The basket is in the center and the plant and candles close beside it.
Light up the candles, put the object associated with friends into a small pouch, and pass it around the two flames. Then put the pouch into the basket, and add the flowers (in the vial, or loose). Pass the reel of string through the heat of the flames (not flames themselves! it’s flammable) while speaking the names of your friends (I also spoke a personal vow I devised for the ritual). Add the string to the basket, and water the rosemary plant, as a symbol of nourishing the bond of friendship. I sprinkled some water on the string, too.

Part 2 - Weaving

The practical part of this ritual is using the string to weave something lasting out of it - tie knots that will stay tied. It can be a bracelet you will wear (or give your friend to wear… or two, for both!) or it can be something to serve you around the house. In my case, I used the string to weave a handle wrap for the wicker basket that I use to take out shopping, but there’s no limit to what you can do - tie creeping plants to poles, hang pictures… it’s string. There’s always use for string.

Knot Magic, A Summary:

A fantastic, lowkey way to practice witchcraft. Knot magic involves knotting (oh really?) strings, shoelaces, ribbons – basically anything that can be tied – while focusing on your intention. For example, you could make a friendship-bracelet-style amulet for protection, focusing on protection with each knot you make. A great way to get an extra boost is by using colour magic when you pick out strings, enchant some beads, weave in corresponding symbols and bless and charge your amulet. There are no limitations to knot magic. Whatever your intention, you can make something to help you achieve it. It’s also inconspicuous as *heck*. Literally everyone wears some sort of woven bracelet. And even if you don’t want to make a bracelet per se, you can tie your shoelaces with knot magic before starting your day, make a study-aiding bookmark or focus on your intention while plaiting your hair and tying ribbons in it. The ideas are endless, it’s completely secret and you are making it yourself - therefore imbuing your own creation with your own energy and making it that little bit extra special, powerful and personal.

- From my grimoire. Blessed be, everyone!


@miraculoussparrow​ requested more information about an Animorphs and Wicked fic I speculated about a while ago.  My idle thoughts turned into a whole mini-fusion, so here’s part one of two—I divided it in half for the sake of sanity.  [You do not have to be familiar with Wicked to follow, although I do recommend the soundtrack strongly.] 

No One Mourns the Wicked
Some small part of Cassie is perversely grateful when she steps up to the podium at Rachel’s funeral and never gets the chance to utter a single word.  She’s already choking on fear, desperate to get this right and devastated by the knowledge she won’t be able to—and then she’s drowned out by the sudden and devastating poppoppoppopBANG of fireworks that rattles the graveyard with a horror of sound.  

Someone, somewhere across town is having a parade.  Because of course.  Because the war’s over, and this is a happy occasion.  She can hear them singing, in the silence left between explosions.  The graveyard itself is silent, the mourners shellshocked into stillness.  

Later she’ll stumble away into the city, tear-blind, inadequate eulogy a crumpled wad of paper in her pocket, and a total stranger will pull her into a hug so suddenly she starts morphing in surprise.  After she registers what the woman is saying—it’s a babbled string of gratitude and joy, nearly incoherent—she pulls away more gently.  Later that night someone will thrust a bottle of wine into her hands; someone else will gently place a pileus on her head.  Five more total strangers will shake her hand; sixteen will recognize her long enough to shout thanks or praise.  It’s the single largest celebration their small city has ever seen.  

Surrounded on all sides by singing and clapping, wearing a crown of yellow flowers she doesn’t remember receiving, Cassie thinks back to the last sight she saw before leaving the graveyard.  Jake was silhouetted against the last light of dusk, shoulders hunched and shaking as he stood over the far headstone two rows down from Rachel’s, smaller and unadorned but part of the Berenson family plot all the same.  They both deserve better than this gaudy horrorshow.  All of them do.  

One Short Day
The first time Cassie suspected that girl Rachel she knew from camp was going to be her best friend, they were on the playground in third grade.  Rachel had marched over to where a fifth-grade boy was making fun of Cassie’s shoes to shove her face up against the older boy’s.  “Yeah, Cassie’s got old sneakers,” she said brazenly. “So what?”  

Amazing the power of those words, so what, to shut down anyone who criticized their clothes or their voices or anything about them.  Cassie never learned to say them with the confidence that Rachel used, but she learned to hold her head up high all the same.  

Rachel was the one who taught Cassie about the sheer power that came with not caring—or at least appearing not to care—what other people thought.  They were both weird, both not quite perfectly aligned with what the other girls in their class thought they should be.  Rachel kicked all the boys’ butts at soccer in gym class and shouted out correct answers without bothering to raise her hand, even though girls were supposed to scorn sports and wait their turn before speaking.  Cassie wore jeans with bird poop and cared more about equestrian health standards than My Little Pony dolls, even though she was supposed to wear pink dresses and fantasize about horses without actually owning any.  The thing was, Rachel could get away with being the wrong kind of girl, because she was joyous and unapologetic in her rebellion, able to laugh in the face of anyone who had a problem with the way she acted.  Cassie could get away with it too, because when you were friends with Rachel there was pride rather than shame in standing out from the crowd.

What is This Feeling?
Dearest Daddy and Mom, Rachel wrote in her best penmanship.  (Given that she was seven years old, the best that can be said is that it was legible.)  Sleepaway camp has a lot of fun things.  Today I made a friendship bracelet and learned how to tie a knot.  The only thing is my bunkmate.  Here, Rachel chewed on her pen in thought, trying to come up with a way to describe the weird girl with the overalls and the boyishly short hair without being mean.  It wasn’t like there was anything wrong with Cassie, after all.  She just didn’t know anything about Limited Too or Boys 2 Men or Nintendo.  And she had the weirdest stories.  She’s weird, and her clothes are awful, but she’s the best in camp at woodcrafts which is dumb, Rachel wrote at last.  I miss you guys.  Please write back.

Hi Dad, Cassie scribbled on camp stationary.  I hope you and Cinnamon and Misty and Star and Blaze and all the other horses and the sick crow and the baby foxes and also Mom are all good.  I am not good.  Camp is stupid.  Our cabin leader is super old, like 15 or 16, but she STILL doesn’t know the difference between ash leaves and elm leaves.  My bunkmate is the stupidest part.  She thinks ponies are a type of horse and paints her nails before we go pick up bugs in the woods and wears dresses on the jungle gym.  She brought 5 pairs of sandals to camp and wears more hair clips than anyone I ever saw.  Just because she’s the best in camp at gymnastics doesn’t mean I like her.  Please please please please please please please come pick me up.

Walter didn’t come to pick Cassie up, and good thing too: later that week she and Rachel beat every single other pair of bunkmates at the Nature Fun Time Obstacle Course, working together to rush through the activities (and across the rope bridge, and underneath the zip line, and all over the Fun Facts Path) in record time.  They won tickets to free ice cream at a shop downtown for the entire summer.  But it meant far more to Cassie when Rachel ran up on their last day, friendship bracelet in hand, and tied it around Cassie’s wrist.  

For Good
Cassie always knew that Crayak would find a way to get revenge against Rachel and Jake for the way they’d hurt him.  She just never imagined it would come like this: the sharp whistle of a rock in the air followed by a hideous wet crunch of gristle and bone.  She never knew the fallout could be this bad, Rachel’s skin so pale it has gone a dull grey color except for the places on her hands where David’s blood seeped between her fingers.  Rachel came out of the warehouse silent and shaking, and Cassie couldn’t find it in herself to say anything.  

Not until, a hundred yards down the sidewalk, Rachel drew a sharp breath and started crying in near-silence.

“You’re right about me,” Cassie blurted, for something to say.  “I’m not strong enough.  I can’t do it.  I can’t be like you.  I’m sorry.”

Rachel whirled around, grabbing Cassie by the arm.  “That’s a good thing.  Don’t be sorry.  People like me would be nothing without people like you.”  She shook herself off.  “No.  Worse.  Without you…”  She made a sharp gesture back to the warehouse.  “I’d be him.”  

“That’s not…”

“I know myself.”  She barked a laugh.  “You’re the only reason I’m still a halfway decent person.”  

Cassie did her best not to notice the splotch of David’s blood that had transferred to her arm.  “You realize it goes both ways, right?  Without you, I’d have quit years ago and left the rest of you to die.”  

Thank Goodness
People cry during weddings, Cassie reminds herself.  It’s perfectly normal to be crying on her wedding day.  So what if she happens to be crying for entirely the wrong reason?  

It’s the dress.  It’s the long cakelike frills of the dress and it’s the fact that when she looked in the mirror after the stylist was done with her veil, all she could think of was what Rachel would say to see her so swankified.  It’s the way that Ronnie is so patient and kind and loving, so willing to wake Cassie from nightmares and hold her close every year on Christmas, on Victory-Earth Day, on the anniversary of the date Marco and the others were officially declared Missing Presumed Dead.  It’s the fact that he is so good to her, in a way no one else ever has been… and she still can’t bring herself to love him.

Ronnie has never lost patience, has never stopped being devoted and sweet.  He’s also never killed someone to save her life.  He’s never stood shoulder-to-shoulder and flank-to-flank with her as they marched into battle.  He’s never committed a terrible crime so that Cassie herself wouldn’t have to, and he’ll never know the terrible crimes Cassie herself has had to commit anyway.  

He never tore a piece of her heart out, either.  He never went and died on her because she couldn’t find the words to keep him here.  

Cassie lowers her veil to hide her tears, and she picks up her bouquet.  She’s as ready as she’ll ever be.

Not That Girl
“And then,” Rachel said, “he showed me this spot downtown where they’re putting new tar down on a parking lot, and my god.”  She whistled between her teeth.  “You can just coast up and up until you’re miles off the ground, and then you dive… And he just figured this out, all on his own.  He’s, like, some kind of genius at this.”

Cassie shifted to a more comfortable position on the end of her bed, trying to look like she was enjoying this conversation.  She got it, really she did.  Tobias had those big soft eyes—well, sometimes—and that sharp sense of humor and that knack for picking up new skills on the fly… He was sweet but also practical, melancholy but willing to be sarcastic too.

It didn’t stop her from wanting to cry sometimes when Rachel talked about him.

“Anyway, how are you and Jake?” Rachel asked, flopping over in her sleeping bag to look Cassie in the eye.

Cassie laughed, looking down.  She and Jake were experimenting.  Feeling each other out.  Hoping for a spark that would probably never come.  They were friends, and she loved him as a friend, but… But she wanted what she couldn’t have.

Because if she had it her way, Jake wouldn’t be the one who held her hand and tried to work up the nerve to kiss her goodnight.  Tobias wouldn’t be the one that put that starry-eyed smile on Rachel’s face.  Rachel wouldn’t be on the floor during their sleepovers, she’d be right next to Cassie in the bed—

“Enough about boys,” Cassie said quickly, shocked by the direction of her own thoughts.  “You want to go get some of my dad’s hot chocolate with chili powder?”  

The Wizard and I
During the war, sometimes, Cassie would think back to the call she got late one night in eighth grade.  Rachel had been almost laughing as she spoke, enthusiasm bubbling through in every word.  It took Cassie a while to parse what Rachel was talking about, but finally she figured it out: Melissa’s dad had given them the number of this new organization in town, and the new organization was willing to sponsor any young athletes who joined it.  

Sponsor, in this case, meant just about anything.  Mr. Chapman had assured them that student athletes who joined the Sharing could access its full resources for buying uniforms, connecting to coaches, and even meeting the big names in the field.  (“Dominique Dawes!  Amy Chow! Kerri Strug!” Rachel said, and Cassie made noises of agreement like these names meant anything at all.)  She might not have understood some of what Rachel was gushing about with competition levels and professional trainers, but she found herself grinning anyway.  It was always so cool to hear how amped Rachel got about everything from sales at Express to WNBA results, because Rachel was the kind of person who could make anything brighter or more special with the way she saw it.

They’d taken a shortcut home through the construction site the very next night.  Cassie thought of that phone call, sometimes, as the last time their future had been clear and bright and easily understood.  


How to tie a Half Hitch knots - ZIPPER BRACELET in Macrame.
in this Zipper bracelet is used Half Hitch knot or oldest name - Basket Stitch. They can be used as part of plant hangers, or to make belts, bracelets, and other items. This is very easy to make (: can be used as a friendship bracelet and good for beginners :)


On the topic of gender and sexuality, something that can be difficult is coming out. As someone who hasn’t come out yet (that wants to) and is nervous about it, a coping method I’ve found is wearing a bracelet that has the colors of the flag that corresponds with my gender or sexuality. That might sound kind of far fetched, but it really has helped me. Anyone else will just see a bracelet and nothing more than that, but I see something that is who I am and that I am proud to wear that I don’t have to be afraid of wearing.

Here is how to make a flower patterned bracelet (my favorite kind of bracelet I know how to make) that uses three colors! In the above picture is the nonbinary flag colors in the pattern.


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FRIDAY FRENZY | etsyfindoftheday 4 | 10.23.15

leather + elastic hair tie, many colors available by giftshopbrooklyn

so. freaking. cool. are you seeing these glam shiny leather hair ties?! and the ladies that are rocking them?! i want to BE them. love it all.