My Tío Vitali always dated women with dark skin and a certain penchant for vudu. He scattered pennies under his bed, kept locks of hair in envelopes, and always had a candle burning on his dresser. My father had his own set of superstitions that he passed along to me – don’t put a hat on a bed, never walk over a person, never open an umbrella in a house, don’t walk under ladders, if a black cat crosses you, spit to the left two times, if it crosses back, it negates the curse – no spitting necessary, if someone passes you the salt shaker, make them put it down, never take it from them directly, if you spill salt, take a pinch and throw it over your left shoulder, never leave nail clippings or cut hair anywhere where your enemy could find it, and if you have to throw bread away, kiss it first.
When I was in my 20s and married for the first time, I was living on the Northshore and working in downtown New Orleans and my life felt like it was being lived on the road, so I quit and found a job at a local seafood restaurant run by a husband and wife. Richard taught me more about superstitions than I ever needed to know – the one that stuck was don’t sweep near a person or you’ll sweep their luck away.
Some people might age out of superstitions and come to think of superstitions as ignorant. Not me. I’ve taken them into my decades, adding not subtracting, and have added ritual to my practice. If you are smudging your house with the white sage your friend gave you, open front and back doors so the evil spirits exit, it’s better if you have a cat that will run and carry the spirit on their back out the door. I mentally draw a white light around me when I am traveling to keep me protected, any curse could be undone by spitting three times over your left shoulder, nose itches, someone wants to kiss you, hand itches, scratch it with your ass and money will come faster. I packed my father’s tzi tzit in my suitcase for years when I travelled – my father wore one under his clothes all of his life. His yellowed silk tallit hangs in my hallway as another talisman.
When I was in a Battle Royale with a despicable person, someone advised me to write their name on a note and put them in my shoe so that I kept their powers beneath me. I did this for months!
The day I came into ownership of the 100 Men Hall, I walked to the backyard and there was a circle of large white feathers perfectly arranged. I called my friend, Wanda, a Yoruba priestess in Oakland, California, and she said, “Get libations quick like and pour into the circle, tell the ancestors thank you.”
I did.
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