Drew Jacob is the Rogue Priest, a modern-day magician and adventurer. While he’s on his walk-about to meet the Gods, Drew is wintering over in New Orleans, one of the most magical cities on Earth. He’s studying Vodou to add to his bag of tricks and wants to open up a pay-what-you-can, open-door workspace to provide magical ceremonies to anyone who needs them.
I think it’s awesome.
Drew has already raised his goal of $1100 to open the sanctuary and create the infrastructure and altar — and now, with six days left in the campaign, he’s aiming to get $2000 to create a how-to book and further serve the community at-large.
A girl from Indiana cannot compute the word hurricane, even as it’s barreling toward her. I’ve heard tornadoes happen, while they’re happening even. Been spared the flying cows, the roofs blown off houses, the red shoes under uprooted foundations, knock-on-wood. And for a moment, it seemed that something might actually happen — around four in the morning on Tuesday, the windows bracing against the wind. It wasn’t quite tornado loud, but it was close enough that I put a pot of water on the stove, my keys and a lighter in my pocket.
We didn’t even lose electricity. And so I sat rapt to twitter, watching my friends and colleagues in the City post updates and photos of the faces torn from buildings and washed out streetscapes; Manhattan in the dark like a horror movie.
Blessed be! We made it through. Praise G/g o d/dess! My friends and family are safe, dry, unbroken! That is the news now. The other side of the coin — the displaced, damaged and devastated – those visited by death — they don’t tweet.