Self-Immolation for Fun and Profit

Oh, but had the artisan who made me created me instead – a worthy woman... ...I would say "how lucky am I"

Father in heaven who did miracles for our ancestors with fire and water... ...Who would then transform me from a man to woman? Were I only to have merited this being so graced by goodness...

What shall I say? why cry or be bitter? If my father in heaven has decreed upon me and has maimed me with an immutable deformity then I do not wish to remove it. the sorrow of the impossible is a human pain that nothing will cure and for which no comfort can be found. So, I will bear and suffer until I die and wither in the ground. Since I have learned from our tradition that we bless both, the good and the bitter I will bless in a voice hushed and weak: blessed are you [HaShem] who has not made me a woman.

Background is that back in like 2010/2011 there was a man who did not treat me right (this was back when I was living in Brooklyn).

After all of the stuff that he did came out, he left New York and was gone for a couple of years and then in 2015 I heard a rumor that he was coming back and I did not want him coming around or talking shit so I did a binding spell borrowed with some tweaks from @theheadlesshashasheen

And I can't remember exactly how I disposed of the poppet, whether I buried it or gave it to water or left it at a crossroads or what, because it was 11 years ago, right, but I found out after I did the spell that he had tried to kill himself. (I found this out because his wife called me from Minnesota and said he had left her a note that said he had booked a hotel room and was going to dehydrate himself to death and she wantd my help trying to find him.) (I said I neither could nor would help with this.) (It appears he did not succeed because he is currently alive and making a podcast about star wars.) (And my experience of learning that this person, that I had spent so long believing that if he died I would stop hurting from what he did to me, was perhaps going to die, and that it did not make it stop hurting as I had been led to believe it would, and perhaps that meant I had absorbed some misinformation about how suffering and healing and punishment work -- that's what led me to learn about transformative justice and set me on the career path that I am on at this moment.)

But anyway yesterday I was setting up tables for an event on the downstairs patio outside my bedroom window and I look over at the outside windowsill of my bedroom window -- a hundred miles from where I was living when I did the spell and disposed of the poppet, eleven years later -- and I see what is unmistakably that poppet.

Here it is before being bound, December 2015.

Here's the picture I took yesterday morning.

What the fuck how did it get here. How and why did it get here from brooklyn and how and why did it get onto my windowsill.

I'd have the heebie-jeebies, too!

Honestly, my first move would be to consult a skilled diviner, because ... damn.

I'm going to put a little more thought into this, but off the top of my head:

a funeral (or at least, highly formalized disposal) for the poppet is probably a good place to start

my go-to Saturnian offerings are cannabis and benzoin

common Saturn propitiations include charity donations and cash for panhandlers/homeless folx

i would get Hekate involved, if she wasn't already

I don't know about debt, intentional or otherwise, but I would also consider the possibilities that:

the appearance of the poppet is "just" high strangeness

the appearance of the poppet is a sign that the dude in question is No Longer Anyone's Problem and the poppet has done its work

I will do a more extensive write up when I'm at my computer but for now: the question of "how the fuck did this happen like, physically?" is not answered and will probably never be, but the magick has been wrapped and I am not under any kind of threat.