Banishing
Banishing is the deliberate act of removing unwanted energies, influences, or entities from a space, object, or person. It is one of the oldest and most necessary practices in the magical arts, the foundation upon which nearly every other working rests. To banish is to sweep clean, to draw a boundary, to say: this far, and no further. It is not destruction, but the re-establishment of order. Without it, the temple remains cluttered, the ritual space porous, and the practitioner vulnerable.
At its most basic, banishing can be simple and physical: smoke from purifying herbs fanned through a room, salt scattered at a doorway, or water sprinkled to wash away what clings. The novice begins here, learning through tangible acts what it means to clear and to claim space. As the path deepens, gesture and symbol take on more weight — tracing sigils in the air, ringing bells to break up stagnant currents, or chanting words of dismissal with sharpened intent. At its highest refinement, banishing becomes almost invisible: a glance, a word, or the focused silence of a trained will that causes disturbance to fall away at once.
Banishing is rarely an isolated act. It moves in concert with many other arts. In apotropaic magic, banishing is the first breath, the act that clears the way for lasting wards to be set. In protection magic, it is the sweeping aside of threat before the shield is raised. In consecration, nothing can be made sacred until it has first been made clean — and banishing performs this purgation. In evocation and summoning, banishing is indispensable, for no practitioner should ever call a presence they cannot later release. Even in subtler currents — dream magic, astral projection, divination — the echo of banishing can be felt, as the mind clears and sets boundaries before opening to other realms. It is, in this sense, one of the quiet guardians of the whole art: rarely celebrated, always essential.
Yet banishing, like all magic, carries its dangers. An unfocused banishing may scatter not only malice but also blessing, stripping a space bare and leaving it hollow. To clear without filling is to leave a vacuum, and nature abhors a vacuum. What is sent away may not always depart — it may resist, disperse, or return in another guise. The history of magic tells many cautionary tales of practitioners who overreached: driving away allies, unsettling ancestral protectors, or using banishment as a weapon against the living. What begins as protection can become, in careless hands, a kind of isolation or exile.
For the Coven of the Veiled Moon, banishing is understood as an act of care and sovereignty. It is not only the removal of what does not belong, but the creation of a sanctuary in which the sacred can take root. We treat it as spiritual hygiene, performed before and after workings, and as a safeguard in moments of uncertainty. But we also remember its limits: banishing is not the end, but the beginning. What has been swept away must be followed by protection, blessing, or renewal — lest the cleared ground be claimed by whatever next comes wandering.
Examples
- Walking the perimeter of a ritual space with incense, chanting words of dismissal.
- Sprinkling consecrated saltwater around an altar to drive away harmful influences.
- Ringing a bell in the corners of a room to break up stagnant energy.
- Tracing a protective sign over a threshold once the space has been cleared.
Note: Banishing is the art of making space for the sacred. Done with focus, it restores balance and clarity; done without care, it may scatter blessings along with burdens, or leave a door open to new and unfiltered influences. Always know what you are asking to depart, and always follow a banishing with grounding, protection, or blessing. The true power of the practice lies not in what is removed, but in what is made possible afterward.
