Of The Virtues of Living Harvests by Christopher Winters

At one point or another, we as practitioners of whatever chosen/given/accepted system of magick have been obligated or inspired to harvest certain resources for unique purposes. Whether it be herb, flower, branch, physical remains of creatures (or their living parts), very rarely do we consider the specifics of the items needed; incidentally, there are often not specifics given in the least—why not? In any occult practice, it is one’s pursuit to make any and all conditions involved in the working harmonious with the desired result. As Agrippa wrote, “…for every agent, when it hath begun to act, doth not attempt to make a thing inferior to itself, but as much as may be, like, and suitable to itself.” Fire moves to fire, after all, and water always returns to water.
Regarding those workings that require an order of very specific plant life (or any life, really), there are some variables to consider that do implicate reasonable necessity. All matter, every dense, physical expression on this planet, is eventuated by the mingling of the celestial forces. Therefore, when considering the world of flora, we can safely assume that each plant is a unique expression of some such celestial forces. If, for instance, we were to pursue a working involving Mars, a plant that is attributed to Mars would be used (the nettle, the dandelion leaf, and countless others). It might prove interesting, too, to the practitioner to give attention to part-specific requirements—the dandelion leaf should serve as a fine example. Notice that, for a Mars working, not the flower of the dandelion is needed? This is due, again, to practicing fidelity to the essence of Mars; only the leaf serves as a proper vessel for the essence in this particular organism. Of course, as time has gone on, such tacit correspondences have evolved, and traditions have become as diverse as the flora they employ.
When it comes to fauna (animals), the labors involved become far more intensive due to compromises in our own perceptions of ethics, the legality of the harvests, and our own resolve to embrace the required force; nonetheless, the same variables are at play. Agrippa writes briefly on the topic, stating quite clearly that, should we need to incorporate an animal of any sort in our work, it is best done while the animal is live—a dead animal simply won’t do. He references the effects of the gaze of the basilisk, while horrifying in life, as being worthless to it in death. In their parting, something of the divine essence which bestowed such incredible powers unto them is diminished, and we cannot reclaim them through the corpse. He mentions too the act of swallowing the warm heart of a Swallow (extracted while the bird is alive), it will aid the practitioner in divining more powerfully.
The effect is purportedly stronger still should the animal remain alive post-extraction (unless, of course, you’re taking the feathers of an eagle—they seem to be an exception per the older texts). As Democritus wrote, “If anyone take out the tongue of a water-frog, yet living, no other part of the body sticking to it, and she be let go into the water again, and lay it upon the place where the heart beats, of a woman, she shall answer truly whatsoever you ask her.” The right eye of the serpent, after all—if applied—will stop the watering and swelling of the human eye should the serpent be kept alive. It should be mentioned that here, again, we arrive at material denoting the significance of isolated parts of the specimen, and the material does so for the same reason posited earlier: celestially-bestowed virtues.
Of course, you might be asking yourself about the efficacy of plants in modern practice considering these are most frequently bought after they’ve been dried. Worry not—these dried harvests, at least in the world of flora, still hold their potency due to the process of preserving them along with the cementing of their essences through the idea of their virtues (don’t worry; much of that has to do with the plastic qualities of the Astral Light, and that’s a topic for another time).
Past trials of harvesting are probably coming to mind. Perhaps you’re recalling one of your first books concerning magick that provided instructions for making a wand? Most of us traversed a similar rite of passage: tying a ribbon of some color about the trunk of a tree, asking permission of the tree, visiting it for three consecutive days, and then ultimately harvesting the sapling. Are we feeling grateful for not settling for the interesting stick along the hiking trail that had long since abandoned its parent tree? Years ago, I attempted to harvest the feet of a chicken from a local restaurant kitchen. Sure, I was successful. But I wasn’t the one that did the work to claim the feet. Worse still, the feet came from an animal that had been dead for some time, well before the actual dismemberment.
We should always be mindful of the legal restrictions of harvesting living things in whatever part of the world we inhabit. Many cultures/religions that honor sacrificial rites and harvesting face considerable oppression daily, but this article is not intended to delineate any perspectives regarding ethics, etc.; the article is meant to stimulate thought and provide some conceptual value to otherwise abstruse requirements.
Could you bring yourself to part a serpent with its right eye or a frog with its tongue if a working demanded it? Furthermore, could you do it while the creature was alive? Have you already?
Will you?
Lay the tongue of the frog under the pillow of a sleeping man sometime; the results might encourage you to go further.
In L.U.X,
IVALITAS