No area of magic other than cursing seems to attract as many warnings as the casting of love spells. These warnings go right back to folk tales spread via oral tradition. Most of us will have heard these tales of a desperate lover getting a spell cast on the object of the desire to have their love returned, only to turn them into a pathetic lifeless love slave no longer possessing the attributes the original lover wanted them for. Too late the procurer of the spell realises they don’t actually love this person at all. It is only then that they find out that the wily witch or wizard they purchased said spell from can cancel the spell, only for a much higher price…
In practise love spells need not be cast on a specific target. But even then one might consider treading with care. Mistakes in this area can cause much emotional upset for both yourself and the parties concerned. You may, for instance, have a particular interest in some hobby that a previous lover resented and tried to repress. So you may think it a good idea to cast a spell for a lover interested in the same thing. If successful you’ll probably have a lot of fun together for a while, but eventually you might notice your interest in the hobby wane, or you may find they’re simply much more fanatical about it than yourself, or that you share little else in common. For whatever reason you may simply find the relationship doesn’t quite work.
I strongly suspect that a part of this comes from holding an ideal that you hold your lover(s) up to and expect them conform to, rather than openly loving them for who they are and allowing them to grow freely. So how does one cast love spell without falling into these traps?
Generally casting spells to enhance ones own attractiveness and friendliness tend to go a long way, and many magical authors recommend this approach. Learning to love oneself and simply enjoy being single so that one isn’t tempted to enter a wrong relationship out of fear, hope or loneliness also go along way. But if you must cast a spell to find true love, let it be for that and that alone.
Last time I was single I turned to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, and Venus, her Roman equivalent and wished for nothing more than to find a lover with whom I could be true to myself and they could be true to themselves and we could live happily together. I think such an intent covers all bases really. I also promised Aphrodite that once I became convinced that I was in such a relationship, I would by a statue of her to put on a love altar.
Lolita had apparently cast a similar spell, or made a similar prayer, only to the Egyptian god Set, that I will let her describe in detail. When soon after we came together, at first we had no inkling that love lay in store. Our first contact began as aspiring film makers of mutual acquaintances, who might collaborate on a project or two together. Very quickly our friendship escalated into far more than that. Within a few months of first contact we had not only met each other despite living hundreds of miles from each other, but we were living with each other and moving to a new city together.
When Lolita and I became engaged we finally found a statue of a kind of Venus, a remarkable one at that. A sort of Japanese ‘Birth of Venus’ with octopus tentacles for hair and holding a fractal sea-shell above her head. We have so far been unable to ascertain if this is a Japanese goddess that resembles Venus, a Japanese sea spirit, or simply a Japanese interpretation of the classical goddess. Either way we often celebrate our love with a glass of Saki when working with the goddess these days…