Psora
_Notices had been posted around the town
“Direct, command, require and admonish that within the space of twelve days...that they should reveal it unto us if anyone know, see or have heard that any person is reported to be a heretic or a witch, or if any is suspected especially of such practices as cause injury to men, cattle, or the fruits of the earth, to the loss of the state.” (1)
The signature of the County Judge was barely legible; remnants of dried rotting tomatoes obscured his scrawl. A cold chill ran through Psora’s body as she read the notice and likened the redness of the tomatoes to the blood of her tortured sisters. An undercurrent of hysteria was building among the female peasant population throughout the whole of England. Word had spread like wild fire. There were stories of “400 women being put to death in one day in Toulouse, France, and in the Bishopric of Trier; two villages were left with only one female inhabitant each. There were 600 executions a year for certain German cities or 2 a day leaving out Sundays. In the Wertzberg area, 900 women were destroyed in a single year and in and around Como, 1,000 were put to death. Thousands upon thousands of women were executed, usually live burnings at the stake. Before the campaign of terror against women came to an end the total number of women killed would be in the millions.” (2)
The witch hunts were initiated, financed and executed by the church and state. The madness began in the 14th Century in Germany and Italy. By the mid 16th Century the terror had spread to France and finally, to England.
The Malleus Maleficarum or The Hammer of Witches written in the 1484 by the Reverends Kramner and Sprenger, the beloved sons of Pope Innocent VIII was the authority on how to conduct a witch hunt. The sadistic book accompanied every judge to their court room for three centuries
Emotional disturbances were one of the worst things for Psora, they effected her whole being. She always questioned and doubted her ability to deal with the stress which in turn caused further anxiety. Her spiritsufficiently depressed, Psora turned away from the fateful notice, prayed to her goddess for protection, then scurried along the narrow cobbled back streets of the old town. Anxious thoughts about the future crowded her mind. Anticipatory anxieties simmered in her subconscious causing an internal restlessness and insecurity . Warm tears rolled down her hot and shiny face but the weeping would palliate her stressful mind for a short time only. The stench of the rotting sewage in the gully diverted her thoughts. She pulled the hood of her royal blue cloke tighter around her face. Sensitive to odours, she almost gagged from the putrid smell. Psora could only see directly ahead as she hurried on her way. Suddenly, she screamed as a cold wrinkled hand grabbed her arm. The hood fell from her lustreless, frizzy, wild hair, as she was unexpectedly jolted to a sudden stop. And so was born in one single moment, through the transfer of touch, the Psoric Stigma. Ignoring the old woman’s pleas; Psora roughly pushed the hand from her bare arm. As she did so, she noticed the red, raised welts and watery blisters that literally covered the woman’s hand and exposed arm. Sudden anxiety gripped Psora, and palpitations disrupted her hearts rhythm. Pleading old eyes searched hers. Anxious forebodings were exchanged between the two women. Dismissing a tinge of guilt and overriding her usual weakand timid nature, Psora averted her eyes from the hypnotic stare of the strange woman and ran off in her usual state of hurry. Psora was a fearful woman, she frightenedeasily and the incident with the old lady troubled her as she hurried towards the sanctuary of nature and her beloved woods.
Psora Materia Medica
“Direct, command, require and admonish that within the space of twelve days...that they should reveal it unto us if anyone know, see or have heard that any person is reported to be a heretic or a witch, or if any is suspected especially of such practices as cause injury to men, cattle, or the fruits of the earth, to the loss of the state.” (1)
The signature of the County Judge was barely legible; remnants of dried rotting tomatoes obscured his scrawl. A cold chill ran through Psora’s body as she read the notice and likened the redness of the tomatoes to the blood of her tortured sisters. An undercurrent of hysteria was building among the female peasant population throughout the whole of England. Word had spread like wild fire. There were stories of “400 women being put to death in one day in Toulouse, France, and in the Bishopric of Trier; two villages were left with only one female inhabitant each. There were 600 executions a year for certain German cities or 2 a day leaving out Sundays. In the Wertzberg area, 900 women were destroyed in a single year and in and around Como, 1,000 were put to death. Thousands upon thousands of women were executed, usually live burnings at the stake. Before the campaign of terror against women came to an end the total number of women killed would be in the millions.” (2)
The witch hunts were initiated, financed and executed by the church and state. The madness began in the 14th Century in Germany and Italy. By the mid 16th Century the terror had spread to France and finally, to England.
The Malleus Maleficarum or The Hammer of Witches written in the 1484 by the Reverends Kramner and Sprenger, the beloved sons of Pope Innocent VIII was the authority on how to conduct a witch hunt. The sadistic book accompanied every judge to their court room for three centuries
Emotional disturbances were one of the worst things for Psora, they effected her whole being. She always questioned and doubted her ability to deal with the stress which in turn caused further anxiety. Her spiritsufficiently depressed, Psora turned away from the fateful notice, prayed to her goddess for protection, then scurried along the narrow cobbled back streets of the old town. Anxious thoughts about the future crowded her mind. Anticipatory anxieties simmered in her subconscious causing an internal restlessness and insecurity . Warm tears rolled down her hot and shiny face but the weeping would palliate her stressful mind for a short time only. The stench of the rotting sewage in the gully diverted her thoughts. She pulled the hood of her royal blue cloke tighter around her face. Sensitive to odours, she almost gagged from the putrid smell. Psora could only see directly ahead as she hurried on her way. Suddenly, she screamed as a cold wrinkled hand grabbed her arm. The hood fell from her lustreless, frizzy, wild hair, as she was unexpectedly jolted to a sudden stop. And so was born in one single moment, through the transfer of touch, the Psoric Stigma. Ignoring the old woman’s pleas; Psora roughly pushed the hand from her bare arm. As she did so, she noticed the red, raised welts and watery blisters that literally covered the woman’s hand and exposed arm. Sudden anxiety gripped Psora, and palpitations disrupted her hearts rhythm. Pleading old eyes searched hers. Anxious forebodings were exchanged between the two women. Dismissing a tinge of guilt and overriding her usual weakand timid nature, Psora averted her eyes from the hypnotic stare of the strange woman and ran off in her usual state of hurry. Psora was a fearful woman, she frightenedeasily and the incident with the old lady troubled her as she hurried towards the sanctuary of nature and her beloved woods.
Psora Materia Medica