A Painful Toad Gnosis

Some weeks ago, I found a dried toad corpse in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I stopped and looked at it, ultimately deciding to take it. Via pendulum, I conversed with my primary familiar about whether I should undertake some kind of toad work. The very idea is conditioned by reading The Pattern Under the Plough, etc.

I got affirmative answers, and did some basic work over several weeks: I kept the corpse in a small, lidded, cauldron, propitiated it with offerings, and attempted to view a toad spirit in the Otherworld.

Meanwhile, I did notice an uptick in discussions on Facebook regarding the toad bone rite, etc.

It occurred to me also that -- it being summer -- this work corresponded with natural cycles of toad and frog mating. I began hearing them in the courtyard of the apartment complex every night. At times the calls became cacophonous.

Ultimately, on a full moon, I opted to utilize Isobel Gowdie's formula and shapeshift into a toad in the Otherworld. I also glimpsed ethereal frogs and toads emerging from a fountain in a place like Blockula.

In summary, over the course of days and nights, I experienced, as it were, an increasing alignment with both this Otherworld hypostasis as well as the natural crescendo of summertime toad and frog mating.

The day after the full moon I discovered that the fountains and lazy river in the courtyard of my apartment were filled with hundreds of tadpoles. I watched them with awe, and had a feeling of total fulfillment. I dipped my oak wand into the water -- mirroring the way I dipped the wand into a cauldron on the Summer Solstice -- attempting to impart some small amount of energy for their growth.

The next day, when I returned from work, I discovered that the maintenance people had dumped dangerous amounts of chlorine or bleach into the water, either to kill algae, the tadpoles, or both. A horrible smell filled the air and I found it difficult to breathe. I could see vapors rising from the water, which was now cloudy white. The tadpoles, which had swum so quickly that morning, were all dead.

I was overwhelmed with feelings of horror and sadness: despair at the brokenness of things.

Awareness of the record temperatures was a part of it. I had an impression -- fear, really -- of final desolation brought about by capitalist ecocide.

I cannot say that I have fully recovered. It is a reality of our situation that "connecting with nature," spiritually and otherwise, implies increased awareness of the danger facing all life.

Nevertheless, I want to do the work of the toad spirit, whatever that is.