The Uncrossing Spell: Clearing What Was Put on You

Uncrossing is not my tradition. It is hoodoo, it is older than me, and I am not going to dress it in Japanese clothes.

My name is Ren Kagetsuki. What I can tell you is where it sits, what it reaches, and exactly where it stops, because I spent fifteen years building the things it is run against.

It works. That is not in question. The question is what people expect it to finish.

What crossed means

Crossed is the condition of having something laid across your path.

Not inside you and not aimed at your body. Across the way you were going, so that things that should open do not.

That is a precise idea and English is lucky to have it. The nearest word in Japanese is kegare, which is closer to a soiling than to an obstruction.

Both describe the same complaint. Effort that used to produce results stops producing them.

Where an uncrossing sits

Anything sent has four parts, and each method reaches one of them and stops.

• The residue. What has settled on the person.
• The threshold. The door and the rooms.
• The line. The connection running from whoever sent it.
• The source. The person, still holding it.

An uncrossing reaches the first, more thoroughly than anything else I know of, and that is its real distinction.

A single cleansing is a night. An uncrossing is a course, run over consecutive days, and depth here comes from repetition rather than from force.

It does not reach the line, and it is not built to. That is not a criticism any more than saying a bath does not mend a roof.

Uncrossing, cleansing and banishing

Three words used loosely, and they are three different jobs.

• Cleansing is routine. It is done whether or not anything is wrong, the way you wash whether or not you are dirty. A night, repeated as often as you like.
• Uncrossing is treatment. It is run because something specific is in the way, it runs as a course over consecutive days, and it has a beginning and an end.
• Banishing is aimed. It sends something away from you, and because it is aimed it has the ownership problem that cleansing does not.

Most people who tell me cleansing did not work were doing the routine thing and expecting the treatment.

If nothing is wrong, cleanse. If something specific is in the way, run a course. If something is arriving from a person, neither of those closes the road.

How an uncrossing is done

The common English form, described plainly and without my editing it.

A bath, taken over consecutive days, usually an odd number of them. Hyssop is traditional. Bay leaf and incense appear in most modern versions.

Washing downward, never upward. The water poured off, and in many versions thrown towards a crossroads or a running stream.

Psalms are usual, Psalm 51 most often, and prayer is part of the form rather than decoration on it.

If incense is difficult where you live, a candle does the same job. That substitution is normal and nothing in the form depends on smoke.

The fuller version of the sequence is here: the uncrossing ritual, step by step.

The Japanese equivalent, if you want one

We call it harai and the shape is close enough to be useful, with one difference worth having.

Ours uses no herbs and no words at all. Salt, water and repetition.

The seven day course

1. Morning, cold water. The back of the neck, both wrists, both ankles. Fifteen seconds is enough. Before food and before your phone.

2. Evening, salt. A handful of coarse sea salt in a hot bath, fifteen to twenty minutes, rinsed off from the head down.

No bath is not a problem, and most of the world does not have one. Salt in a bowl of hot water poured over the shoulders in the shower, or salt worked in wet palms over the neck and wrists, rinsed downward.

3. Salt at the door, changed every morning. Small cones on two white dishes, the old salt thrown out rather than reused.

4. Seven consecutive days. A missed day restarts the count, which sounds harsh and is the entire mechanism.

5. Nothing else during the seven days. No second method, no candle, no different version because you are impatient.

Two workings running at once interfere, and afterwards you will not know which one did anything.

That is the whole of it. It looks thin next to a hoodoo bath and it is doing the same job.

The mistake that wastes the whole course

Not a technical error. People run the bath correctly and then undo it in the ordinary hours of the day.

• Contacting the person during the course. Including reading old messages, and including looking at their pages. That is contact and the channel does not care about your intent.
• Telling somebody it is running. A working spoken about loosens, and there is also the plain version: news travels.
• Keeping their things. A clearing while their gift is still on your shelf is mopping around a leak.
• Stopping at the relief. Day four feels like completion. Day four is the middle.

The first of those accounts for most of the failed courses described to me, and almost nobody counts it as contact when they do it.

What to do with the water and the salt

Nobody covers the disposal and it is half the discipline.

Bath water goes down the drain and the room is aired afterwards. It has already left you, and it is water.

Door salt does not. Outside, onto ground or into the street, every morning. Not the sink, not the bin indoors, and never back into the packet.

The hoodoo form throws the last of the bath towards a crossroads or a running stream. If you have either near you, that is a good instruction and I would follow it.

If you live somewhere with neither, the version here is simply outside and away from the door you use. A street drain is not a stream and does not count.

Do not keep anything from the course. No bottle of the water, no jar of the salt, nothing photographed to look at later.

Keeping a piece of it is the same impulse as checking, and checking is how a clearing quietly turns into a thing you carry.

How to tell whether it took

Write the date down before you start, with one line about how things stand. Then one line a day, about what happened rather than how you felt.

Sleep moves first, usually within three nights. The weight across the shoulders next. The house after that.

Some people feel worse for the first few days. Here that is read as leaving rather than as a setback, and it settles.

Then mark the day the quiet begins, and the day it ends if it ends.

That gap is the most useful number you can own, and it takes a pen.

Where an uncrossing stops

This is the part I can speak to from the other side, and it is the reason this page exists.

Work that somebody was paid to build is made to survive exactly this.

It is tied to the person rather than to any one part of their life, it runs on a schedule without needing anybody’s attention, and it does not care how thoroughly the residue is cleared.

Against that, an uncrossing is maintenance. Real, necessary, and monthly.

Under three weeks of quiet, then a return, is the signature. Not a failure of the course and not a failure of the person running it.

A route was never closed, so the route refilled.

A woman wrote to me having run three full courses in five months, each one properly, each one followed by about a fortnight of quiet.

She had concluded she was doing something wrong and was looking for a stronger recipe.

Three identical fortnights is not a person doing something wrong. It is a measurement, and she had produced it without realising.

If it has come back twice

Twice is the number at which I stop treating it as residue.

Once can be anything. Twice, with a competent clearing in between, means something is being fed.

What that needs is a route cut and closed rather than a body cleaned, and that is a different operation done in a different order: curse removal, from the beginning.

Tell me what you ran, how many days, and the two dates. The gap tells me more than any description of symptoms does.

You did the work properly. That is what the number proves.