The Hidden Gods of New York City | Brooklyn

Do you dare to pierce the Veil?

On this penultimate episode of The Hidden Gods of New York City Series, we venture forth into the greatest portion of Long Island: Brooklyn. Here, we uncover the Liminality and Death aspects of the City, and look forward to the connection with those deities and spirits. Building towards the ritual working, Calling to the Dark, it is as educational as it is exciting.

WE ARE GOING TO SALEM!
Instagram: @beyondtheseaspodcast
EMAIL ME: beyondtheseaspodcast@gmail.com
Tarot Collaboration: @thefeatherwitchnyc
Weekly Book: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Podcast website: https://beyondtheseas.buzzsprout.com/
More info: https://www.kierandanaan.com/beyond-the-seas

Author Interview Collaboration
Crossed Crow Books (@crossedcrowbooks)

Sources
“The Ghost of Melrose Hall: Tragic Fate of the Fair Alva.” Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 13 October 1895. Print.

Music
"Songbird" by Doug Kaufman
"Intimacy" by Ben Winwood
"Pilgrim" by Some Were At Sea
"As I Heard Them Play Their Symphonies" by The SoundKeeper
"Irish Mountains" by Ben Winwood

Cheers Magick Makers,
Kieran

Chapters

• 0:00 Threads of Time
• 3:14 Grand Tidings!
• 11:23 Brooklyn
• 26:33 Calling to the Dark
• 40:39 Outro

Transcript

Three sisters sat in a lonely subway car, their underground movements quick and hastened.

As their ears heard the Call of the Muses, so too did their hands bend and flash,

Silvery-threads of Past, Present, and Future arose from their magicks,

As the train sped forth towards the island of Manhattan. 

Leaving Brooklyn behind, they knew that their Web of Wyrd would once again reveal the path,

The Way Forward. 

By first Going Back.

The threads spun off into the flashing lights of the tunnels, flowing through the metals and walls.

Into the earth and waters of the City of New York.

There, past and future blended together, calling forth the Dark Ones:

The Morrigan, 

Osiris,

Hades,

The drumming of their footsteps mirrored the rocking and speeding of the train,

As the Hidden Gods of Death descended upon the meeting place,

Where the Hidden Ones would finally finish their work. 

Suddenly, the Spinners stopped, the threads disappearing. 

The doors opened onto the platform—showcasing the Gods of Death awaiting their company 

Joining heart to heart, and hand in hand, 

The Sisters stepped off the train and into the circle of the Liminal Ones. 

Turning as one, they slowly walked forth from the station and into the night, 

Knowing that the other circles of the Hidden were mirroring their own. 

For their work, finally Called and Conjoined,

Was about…to begin.

(transition music)

            Grand tidings and welcome to you on this, the 42nd episode, of Beyond the Seas. My name is Kieran and here we are again, back at it for another week. I have to begin the process of planting some seeds here: over the next two weeks, there will be some big announcements and premieres here at Beyond the Seas. The show is really rocking and rolling and both Claudia and myself are loving every planning, researching, editing, publishing, social media-ing moment of the journey. Thus, great segue into, the plugs time: @beyondtheseaspodcast, on Instagram, and Claudia’s account, @thefeatherwitchnyc, to follow along with the weekly tarot collaboration reels, wherein Claudia teaches the tarot one card at a time, one week at a time. And also, our collaboration with Crossed Crow Books in Chicago, @crossedcrowbooks! And don’t forget to leave a five-star rating and review, so the show may continue its trek through the interwebs towards new listeners and practitioners the world over. I am so excited to be here with all of you, and sending you my love and thanks for joining me here, on the show, today. 

            And now, artistic and literary updates! The show is the show is the show, hahaha. We are halfway through our run of Dial ‘M’ for Murder in Cape May, with East Lynne Theater, and the audience are loving it. Tickets are still available, both online and at the door, and I would love to see all the nearby Magick Makers watch me craft some magick onstage. And now, the book: so here’s the thing, I found a copy of Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell this week and, I must admit, it’s now my third time trying to read the book. But this time is the winner: I am FLYING through this hefty tome of a book and eating it up because…I did not know how desperately I was needing some fantasty and magic in my life. I think I am one of very few people left who have not yet read this entire book, which makes me rather late to the game; but Susanna Clarke’s writing style is witty, ingenious, banter-y, and quite simply, the best of what British is. Two magicians are prophesied to restore magic to Britain, in this alternative history take on the Commonwealth, and much mayhem, politics, wit, and magic ensue. Of course, both Thistlefoot and The Tombs of Atuan are on my bed and awaiting their revists; but as all bibliophiles know, there are always at least three books being read simultaneously. So much reading, I love ittttt! 

            And now, the Card of the Week! We are heading back into the Major Arcana, Magick Makers, which makes this week abundantly more powerful and appropriate: with the Blue Super Full Moon on Monday, and the moon itself going Perigee and Squaring and Conjucting so many other planets in the solar system, there is much energy to wrangle and control. Thus, we conjure the powers of Justice this week. To me, the surface level reading of it is balance, right and wrong, good and evil—very simple associations and deductions, right? But let us look more deeply into its meaning. It is the voice inside each of us that propels us to decide, when faced with more than one option. Sure, we can explore the opinions and viewpoints of others—but it is the intuitive voice within that is the best and ultimate guide. For great power and responsibility come into play when one chooses to strike with the sword of justice—and interpret the scales of wisdom. What do you feel most responsible for this week? Big projects or others in your life? What crossroad moments do you intuit arising? For, overall, allow this week to be a reminder: trust your intuition and listen to it. It will never steer you wrong. 

            And now, the Wine of the Week! So, my hosts here in Cape May pulled through, yet again, at a nightly dinner soiree. I helped make dinner that night, and it was a delicious Italian dish—that, of course, needed Italian red wine to support it. Thus, bottles of Lorenzo Sassetti 2016 Montecucco Rosso were pulled out and the party began. It was chilled, which I really enjoyed, and it brought out all the notes of an eight-year aging process. I immediately smelled the familiar bitter quality of the Italian reds—because of the high mineral content—and then tasted black pepper and oak on the first sip, with cherry and blackberry on the ride out. It was really, really good! Pair it with homemade pasta sauces, arugula salads, eggplant parm, and maple walnut fudge.

            And, finally, this week’s topic. As we continue working our way through the many boroughs of New York City, I next guide our attention to one of the most beloved parts of the iconography of what people see the city as: Brooklyn. The name in and of itself conjures visions of movie stars, film makers, hipsters, city transplants, and so many more. But what of the Hidden Ones who reside there today? What associations, practices, and magicks may we apply and work with, as a result? And, most importantly, where might we look to uncover these Gods today?

            Ergo, grab your favorite bottle of red, find a comfy chair, and close your eyes as I tell you the tale of The Hidden Gods of New York City | Brooklyn—and take you…

            Beyond the Seas.

            (transition music)

            On the most western portion of Long Island lies a great borough, one that has a spectacular history and resounding rhythm. Brooklyn sits just across the water from the island of Manhattan and borders Queens towards the north. Brooklyn was once a Dutch settlement, come to find out, before it was won by the British during what would become the Second Anglo-Dutch War. Of course, after the Revolutionary War, the Americans took control of this area and began its path towards becoming one of the most populated places in the United States. 

            In terms of its history, it was not subsumed into the greater City of New York until 1898, which apparently the borough went kicking and screaming into. If it was still its own city today, it would be in the top five most densely populated areas in the United States, after New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles. During the nineteenth century, Brooklyn was adamant in its support for the Union Cause in the American Civil War. It was a safe haven for African Americans and was greatly supportive towards providing necessary weapons and goods for the Union side. And thank goodness for that!

            Then, during the Industrial Revolition and the dawn of a new century, immigration and new arrivals to America’s shores planted the seeds for new cultural groups and areas that would populate the many neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Jewish folx, Chinese, Irish, Polish, Russian, Carribean, Italian, Arab and Muslim, Greek, and folx of the LGBTQ+ community, all found home in this westernmost portion of Long Island. And these communities continue to thrive to this very day, instilling a literal sense of what America means to those who all come from away. 

            Such notable locations and sites in Brooklyn include the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn Conservatory of Music, the view of Dumbo Bridge nearest Manhattan (the infamous background of the bridge with the brick buildings along the street where everone poses, you know the one), Coney Island, Greenwood Cemetery, Flatbush, Williamsburg, Bedford-Stuyvesant (Bed-Sty), and so, so, so many other areas. 

            Here is an interesting ghost tale from Brooklyn itself: it is centered at Melrose Hall, on Bedford Avenue between Clarkson and Winthrop Streets. The following information comes from a newspaper article in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, published in 1895—so not too long ago, right—and titled “The Ghost of Melrose Hall: Tragic Fate of the Fair Alva.” 

            “No one would suspect that the peace of that venerable, orderly, conservative old town of Flatbush has ever been disturbed by a ghost, and if it were not for the haunted house, part of which stands to this day, and the testimony of well authenticated chronicles, nobody would believe it.  But there are those in Flatbush at the present time, intelligent, educated, and quite sane, who would make a long detour rather than pass a certain spot there between 12 and 1 o'clock at night.  That site is the old site of Melrose Hall, on Bedford avenue, between Clarkson and Winthrop streets.

            “Melrose Hall stood, until five years ago, at the end of that magnificent double row of pines in Melrose Park. A regal residence it was a hundred and fifty years ago, when it was occupied by Colonel William AXTELL, a loyalist and member of the King's council.  It was the scene of sumptuous dinners, splendid balls, costly private theatricals and receptions that were attended by men famous in civil and military life and women renowned for their beauty and accomplishments.

            “Colonel AXTELL, according to tradition, was the second son of an English nobleman, and he married the daughter of a wealthy British merchant. His fiancé was accomplished and prepossessing, but unfortunately 

she had a sister named Alva whom the colonel fell in love with.

            “His engagement had been announced, the wedding day was only a week off, but he was determined to marry his intended wife's sister.  However, when he found out that if he had his way he would be disowned by 

his family and that from his future father-in-law not a penny was to be expected, he feared poverty for 

himself, as that he could offer no future to the woman he loved better than life.  

            “Shortly after the wedding he received an important appointment in the American colonies, and had 

immediately set sail for New York.  The next ship which sailed for that port from England bore the colonel's 

beautiful sister-in-law, who, as the story goes, had disguised herself by putting on men's clothes.

            “Arrived in this country she dressed herself again in women's clothes and secured a position as a maid.  

She saw her sister and Colonel AXTELL driving a magnificent carriage attended by a retinue of mounted 

servants and she decided to reveal herself to him and did so.  They resolved never again to be separated.  

It was then that Colonel AXTELL built Melrose Hall.

            “The apartment over the ballroom he fitted up with all the luxury and comfort that money could buy and 

for three years it was the living tomb of Alva. The door to this room, covered by the life size painting 

of one of the colonel's ancestors, communicated with his study, which no one, except an old Negro woman, 

was ever permitted to enter.  She was one of the hundred slaves kept by the colonel and was devoted to him 

and no one beside her and the colonel knew what the secret chamber contained.

            “Three years passed, when there was a serious Indian outbreak, necessitating Colonel AXTELL'S absence from home for a month or six weeks. Upon his return he found that the old Negress had died a week after his departure and he rushed to the secret chamber only to find Alva, dead. Of her beautiful form there 

was nothing left but the skeleton. She had gone through the horrible torture of starvation without uttering 

a sound, for fear of exposing the man for whose sake she had sacrificed home and honor.

            “The sight gave Colonel AXTELL his death blow.  He returned to the apartment at midnight, the usual hour of his visits there, carried Alva's remains out of the house and buried them at the foot of a great oak tree.  

Three days later he died, leaving a full confession. It was during the night following the day Colonel 

AXTELL'S burial that strange noises were first heard in Melrose Hall.

            “The last stroke of 12 from the town clock had hardly died out when the inmates of the house were started from their sleep by a piercing scream, followed by distressing moans, that seemed to come from far off and were yet so plain that the voice could be distinguished as that of a woman.  Servants were sent out to 

ascertain the cause and they returned with livid faces and trembling limbs.  

            “The widow was told that the voice came from the secret chamber. At 1 o'clock, with one last terrible 

wail, the voice became silent.  The next night it was heard again at the same hour. In the ballroom footsteps 

could be heard.  No one had the courage to make an investigation, but soon it was generally known that Melrose 

Hall was haunted by the spirit of the beautiful Alva, whose story had somehow leaked out, and was gossiped 

about town. The place was thenceforth shunned as much as it had been sought after before and Mrs. AXTELL, a few months after her husband's death, sold the property and went back to England with her children.”

            This tale is but one of many to have arisen from Brooklyn—which is why, coupled with my own time meandering the streets of this borough—I have equated the Gods of Death and Liminality to its borders. For, whenever I have spent time in Brooklyn, for work or pleasure, there is a sense of…ancient timelessness and otherworldly spirits that pervade its streets. 

            When I am riding the L train into Brooklyn, after having transferred at 14th Street from the C, I am reminded of Osiris, and the death and rebirth of the Nile River. For, when you travel from Manhattan to Brooklyn, you are underwater—and the pressure in your ears mounts until it pops. I remember in Grad School learning about the Abydos Passion Play, wherein Seth tears his brother Osiris limb from limb and tosses them into the underworld. Then, Isis travels throughout the underworld to regain the entirety of her brother and restore him to life. Thus, as one passes from Manhattan to Brooklyn, one regains the hidden pieces lost and hiding of the spirit and soul, so as to experience the watery rebirth alongside Osiris. 

            Then, after having crossed the borders of Brooklyn, it is to Hades that we offer our worship and acknowledgment—for the governing of the spirits of the dead is palpable along the cobblestone streets and ancient neighborhoods one ventures forth into. Hades is the god of the underworld, and the realm of dead—and in my mind, he is the coolest of the cool. He is the ultimate hipster, for he floats among all the worlds as a psychopompic leader of Them Who Have Gone Before. He is the life of the party on Friday nights in the clubs and underground parties that boom and drum in Brooklyn, wherein the spirits of the living and dead comingle and the veil between the worlds thins and opens. 

            Whenever I think of the past soldiers and battles that took place in Brooklyn, I am reminded of The Morrigan, that fierce Irish Goddess of War, Battle, and Death. She is three-in-one, much like Hecate, and she thrives off of the battle lust and animalistic instincts that drive humans to fight and wage conflict. It is no lie or hidden machination to say that New York City is full of crime—it simply is what it is. And not pinpointing all of it to Brooklyn, either. Yet, The Morrigan is also suave and cool, She of Many Faces and Names and Deeds. Which flows ever so well with the energies of those who dwell in Brooklyn’s confines: the many genders, expressions, cultures, and peoples thrive together in peace there—for that is the true meaning of The Morrigan: peace after hard battle won. And a utopian community that creates harmony and sustainability. That is the continuance of the Morrigan in Brooklyn, and one I constantly feel whenever I am there. 

            Finally, as one enters Greenwood Cemetery or other areas of hallowed ground in Brooklyn, it is the Fates—the Spinners—the Sisters Who Weave the Web of Wyrd that one inevitably encounters. They bring forth the silvery threads of Past, Present, and Future into the world as they sit tightly together, their bodies pressed and breathing as one. I see them when I encounter young hipsters in all black in Williamsburg, or in older friend groups who sit outside after dark. They are the underlying rhythm that suffuses the relaxed, anticipatory nature of Brooklyn—and live on in the many artists, poets, hipsters, and working young folx that populate this borough. For as the threads interweave and entwine, so too does our understanding of where we may look to find the Hidden Ones.        

            For, after the break, I will lead you all through a working that seeks to pierce the veil among the worlds and communicate directly with the Gods of Death and Liminality. For they are truly never as far away as we think.

            Refill your drinking horns, your goblets, your chalices, for the second half of The Hidden Gods of New York City | Brooklyn, after this brief break. 

            (transition music)

            There is no greater journey to behold than the one that comes after life itself: Death, and the Great Beyond. For therein lies the path towards reconciliation, with our Ancestors, Gods, and Spirits—and Them Over There whom we have built reciprocity with throughout our practice of the Craft. But before we leave this world and our earthly selves behind, how might we contact and work with these Gods of Death and the Spirits who serve them? What of the Ancestors we wish to connect with, along with the spirits of those who are dead? For the following ritual is not only one of worship, but also necromancy. In my readings and practices, there has been the notion of a working called The Red Meal, wherein one shares food and drink with the spirit of the dead that the practitioner seeks to work with. The following working, then, is one of my own device and builds upon the inspiration of the previous traditional working—one in which I have come to call Calling to the Dark. 

            Now, if this type of magick and practice inspire more trepidation and worry in you—totally okay! This is rather advanced work, for sure, and must be undertaken with the utmost caution and trust. For the key to success lies in the following: trusting oneself and intuition. Like Claudia explained with the pulling of Justice this week, it is the letting go of what we have been holding onto—that ultimately holds us back—as a means of reclamation and rebalancing. If you seek to move ahead with this working, continue following my voice.

            For the working of Calling to the Dark, procure the following: a black scrying mirror, a large black candle, your most treasured tarot deck, several pieces of jet, onyx, obsidian, smoky quartz, and one large pillared clear quartz—this last stone will act as your beacon, your torch, your light in the darkness. Also, a bottle of your favorite red wine and a scrumptious dessert to share between you and Those of Death. Finally, rosemary essential oil and frankincense and myrrh incense. 

            Begin the rite at midnight, in the darkest of hours, in the quietest of places. This might be your working room in your home, or far off in the wilderness where no other human might stumble upon you. If you are truly daring, a crossroads or graveyard under the starlit sky and waning moon—better it be if the moon is new. Regardless, let the hour be midnight—on Saturday, for Saturn is the planet that rules groundedness and balance. Finally, if you are truly daring, let it be in the hour of Pluto on Saturn’s day, at midnight. It always comes down to the timing, doesn’t it, Magick Makers?

            In your working space, breathe slowly and evenly, allowing the energies of the night to suffuse your body and being. Drift in this liminality and feel the spirits of death and nature floating around you—calling to you. They are truly never as far away as we think, and tonight is the moment when we reach out to them…and they will reach back. Allow your breathing to center you and focus your intention of calling forth the Gods of Death and the Spirits of your Ancestors. If there is a specific person whom you wish to communicate with, have at the ready a piece of their clothing from their lifetime, or a lock of hair—a nail of some sort. If these are impossible to procure, then their true and full name, with an identifying phrase of a location they had lived in or a school attended. This will call forth the correct spirit and leave out all others who seek to intrude on your working. 

            When ready, place the black crystals around you in a circle: this will provide a barrier of protection between yourself and the spirits of the night who look not kindly upon humans. As witches, we know that there are forces and powers that are beyond our ken, with the possibility that they seek more harm than good. Thus, with perfect love and perfect trust—and a good helping of protective crystals—we enter the circle and begin the rite.

            Cleanse the working space with water and salt, fire and incense, and breathe from your body. See the wall of protection building around you as you cast the circle or tread the compass round. Invoke the Four Watchtowers, specifically asking their blessing and aid on this night for protection and access to the Dark and realms of the Dead. Call in the Gods of Death: Osiris, Hades, The Morrigan, and the Spinners of the Web of Wyrd, asking their aid in crossing over the veil and protecting the circle.

            Breathe in this moment of liminality. Center your spirit and ground your body. When ready, place your black candle in front of you, anointing it with rosemary essential oil. Light the candle and place it between yourself and your black scrying mirror—better it be if you are facing the Northern direction in your circle, towards the realm of the Dead and the Spirits and Ancestors. Finally, place your pillared clear quartz crystal next to the candle, as your anchor to the world of the living. 

            Envision a great door in front of you, one that stands between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Knock three times upon the ground in front of you, as if knocking on this great otherworldly door. Chant the following charm:

            “By breath of my body,

            Blood of my life,

            Flesh of my spirit,

            Warmth in the cold darkness,

            I open the Way Betwixt and Between.

            “I call forth, ye departed spirits,

            To join in your fair company. 

            Riding fast and furiously on the winds of death,

            To enjoin my spirit with yours. 

            “Oh Holy Gods of Night and Shade,

            Ye rulers of the Otherworld,

            Osiris, Hades, Morrigan, Fates,

            Aid me in my quest this night,

            And open the Way Betwixt and Between.

            So mote it be.”

            Pour forth from your bottle of wine as much as you see fit onto the ground, as offering for the opening of the Way. Give forth as much of the dessert, as well, for offering and tithe. Now see this great door open in your mind’s eye, revealing the spirits of the Dead and the Ancestors. Now is the time for communication with them as a collective or, if you have a specific person in mind, to call forth with the aforementioned information. These spirits will make themselves known to you as you look into your black scrying mirror and scry: this trance-like method will signal flashes of Them Who Have Gone Before, as well more ghostly and goulish images. Do not be afraid: you are safe and protected in your circle. Allow this moment of communication to be one of reciprocity.

            Continue scrying into your black mirror, utilizing your tarot cards as a means of communication between yourself and the spirit of the dead you wish to find, or to the collective as a whole. You may also call forth to the Gods of Death themselves, asking for messages and future occurrences to make themselves known. Allow this moment of necromancy to be one of divinatory procurement, as well as communication between yourself and the spirits you seek to reach. Allow your emotions, feelings, memories, and desires to guide you. 

            When feeling the need to close the Way Betwixt and Between, drink the entirety of what remains in your wine bottle—really go for it! And eat the rest of your dessert, for these two items will not only ground you, but also anchor you on your return to the world of the living. Thank the spirits of the dead for their attendance this night, in this hour, while you pass your hands over the mirror. This action closes the open door in your mirror and essentially locks it. See once again the great door between the worlds before you in your mind’s eye and send forth your thanks for its access, speaking words of gratitude from your heart. Envision it closing and shutting the way between the worlds, brining you ever closer to the world of the living. 

            Thank the Gods of Death for being with you in this hour, and for protecting your circle, as you release them back into the greatness of the Universe. Evoke the Four Watchtowers and open your circle, breathing in the cool air of this our physical world. Slowly touch your body, feeling the solidity of the all that is you: a living, breathing being. You are now fully back in this, our reality, and have successfully ventured forth from the world of the dead. It is done. 

            For the longest time, in my personal history, I greatly feared the Spirit World. The Spirits of the Dead, and those who lead them. However, when I read Robin Artisson’s works, most especially An Carow Gwyn, my world was opened to an entire realm of possibility and reciprocity—and my Craft flourished and matured. For therein lies an example of what, again, Claudia prompts us towards working with Justice this week: let go of the blockages of the past, so as to reclaim and rebalance. To flourish and mature. To build relationships on both sides of the Veil. 

            When those moments happen, the witch may not help but smile in joy, in excitement, in happiness. For she, he, they know how greatly the Spirits not only appreciate the communication and relationship, but also the courage and bravery needed to overcome the anxiety and fear within. And that is the ultimate lesson the Gods of Liminality and Death teach us: overcome the fear within by the power within. Allow the death of anxiety and fear so as to birth the life of courage and might. 

            As a result, your magick, my magick—our magick—will always be made stronger…because of it. 

            (transition music)

            The stories, research, and production elements were done and edited, respectively, by me, Kieran, with sources attached in the description. If you want to be a guest on the show, or have a topic you wish me to explore and discuss, send me an email at beyondtheseaspodcast@gmail.com. And be sure to hit the follow button, on whichever platform you enjoy the podcast, and look forward to more content next week. Until then, seek the veil between the worlds, and allow yourself to travel…Beyond the Seas.