A collection of miscellany to deepen your enjoyment.
Original Photos
The downside to black and white printing is that the richness of most photographs are lost. Herein, therefore, I present to you the originals of the images used throughout the book.
A very early visit to the Sistine Chapel is a special memory because our small group had it to ourselves for almost half an hour. Later in the day large groups were herded through, and anyone stopping had to deal with one of the carabinieri in charge of crowd control shooing them along.
This image is one of many in a small courtyard just outside the Sistine Chapel as you enter the Vatican museum proper. Why did I not include a picture from within the Chapel itself? Absolutely no photographs are allowed for the simple reason that the entire surface of the Chapel is copyrighted. In 1980, the Nippon Television Network Corporation of Japan (NTV) offered $3 million (which eventually increased to $4.2 million) to restore the and no one was able to match them. However, in return for funding the project, Nippon TV got exclusive rights to all photography and video relating to the work. Now, this expired in 2000, but tourists continue to be told (loudly and firmly) that it is not allowed.
To see this magnificent space, look here. For more information about the copyright, this article is enlightening.
Siena, Italy, is a walled town with parking outside its walls. Our mapping program took us inside the walls, but the parking lot was on the other side, and there were other vehicles around us, so we trusted. Up a narrowing street, then through an arch (still with other cars around), followed by a left down a very narrow passage just wide enough for the car. This was typical for Italian hill towns, and we could see that it opened up just ahead. “That must be the way to the outside, and parking is just a bit after that,” I said as we drove out onto Il Campo. You know, the place where they hold the annual horse race, the main public space and historic center of Siena, one of Europe’s greatest medieval squares… and 100% not a road. We stopped dead and had a moment of panic. Looking around, I spotted an alley wide enough for us to fit through just to the left, and we quickly took that exit before anyone could yell at us.
For more information about this magnificent, UNESCO-recognized location, see here.
One of the most enchanting places I’ve ever experienced, both artistically and spiritually, is the Garden of Cosmic Speculation. Situated in Dumfriesshire, Scotland, this private residence belongs to Charles Jencks, an esteemed artist and landscape architect. Jencks has transformed vast expanses of land into captivating art spaces. Although he desired to share his home with visitors, the delicate ecosystem could not withstand constant foot traffic. As a solution, he opened his home to the public for one day each year as part of the Garden Scheme in Scotland. Despite Jencks’ passing in 2019, his home remains a cherished component of the scheme, allowing future generations to appreciate its beauty.
Note how the word “synthesis” looks the same upright and reversed. The Garden of Cosmic Speculation is a privately-owned location, spread out over 30 acres. only open to the public once a year for charity. Jencks published several “coffee table” books about creating, designing, and manifesting this astounding creation. The most specific is The Garden of Cosmic Speculation, published in 2003. A bit more about Jencks and his works is available through his website.
We had a critical delay at the exact worst moment. My husband and I were at the end of a long day of travel; we left Nantes, France, in the morning, driving our rental car several hours back to the airport near Paris. Dropping the car was no problem, and we reached our gate with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, the plane ended up leaving late, and not just a wee bit. We sat at the gate for almost two hours while a system upgrade was implemented at our arrival airport. This meant we would arrive very close to our last connection, just a little hop up the coast to Porto. It was the end of a very long day, and I just wanted to get into bed. So, I worked a little magic, visualizing climbing into bed and getting to sleep.
Can you spot the problem? I knew what I was thinking, but my intention needed to be clearer; chalk it up to road weariness. I forgot to say anything about it being my bed I climbed into that night. Sure enough, we were told at the gate that we hadn’t missed our connecting flight because it had been canceled and was rescheduled for the next morning. That said, the universe (in my worldview) has a sense of humor, and we were given a hotel room for the night. Nice, except that our new flight was leaving in less than five hours. I slept about an hour in that bed. I got what I asked for, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
If you are a fan of steampunk, you want to put the Les Machines de l’iles on your “must do” list. This so-called living museum is a mechanical bestiary. Lucky visitors can ride an elephant (book online to make sure you get a chance!), but there is also a manta ray, spider, hummingbirds, chameleon . . . so many fantastic devices.
I sat on a stone that had been placed, exactly here, thousands of years ago. We were at the Beaghmore Stone Circles in Northern Ireland, and I felt a powerful connection to the land. “I’m going to meditate for a bit,” I told my husband. He grinned and wandered toward a different part so as not to distract me, long used to my taking time for meditation when I felt called to do so. As I breathed, I felt the connection grow stronger as the land recognized me. My ancestors had been here worshiping the natural cycles, following the sun’s path through the seasons. After my brief respite I opened my eyes, only to discover that it had been more like 30 minutes. My bottom was very cold, and I had difficulty standing up. Worth it, but ouch!
My husband and I started visiting “old things” on our honeymoon, deliberately seeking out Neo- and Mesolithic sites that, back in the day, required paper maps and lots of roads that were more like goat trails through fields. Beaghmore is actually a complex of alignments, stone circles and cairns. It is huge, with almost 1300 stones uncovered. It’s also a beautiful site and location, easily reached by car.
After a particularly awful and long-delayed plane landing in a thunderstorm, I found myself in the strange position of suddenly being afraid to fly. My head knew why I felt that way, but my younger self wasn’t getting on a plane again. Instead of ignoring my fear, I sat with it for a few hours and asked what might relieve it. Finally, with some mental hiccuping from tears, Younger Self told me that if I sang to Mercury during take-off and landing, He would watch over us and see us home safely.
Doing my best, I crafted a (ridiculous) song and boarded the plane. It was hard; I was shaking and clammy with fear as I buckled in. Paying close attention to the safety instructions and taking deep, calming breaths helped. (“See,” I showed Younger Self, “they know what to do if anything goes wrong. Which it won’t!”) Then, as we pulled away and along the tarmac, I took a deep breath and sang to Mercury.
Winged Mercury, please come to me / Whether I cross land or open sea / I ask you to protect me
Keep me / Safe from harm while I roam / Until my journeys safely take me / home
What can I say about the silliness of this song other than sometimes you’ve got to just go with what works? Also, perhaps because I have been doing so much more traveling in the last few years (A Traveler’s Guide to Making Magic was written in 2022), I have moved away from doing this at take-off and landing. Now, there is a fairly subtle physical motion that accompanies a short, heartfelt, offering of gratitude to Mercury.
It was so freaking late, and we were beyond jet-lagged, having entered some alternate universe where neither of us had slept for 27 hours. The airport concessions were closed, and we had hours until our next flight boarded. “Do we try to get a room and some sleep?” my husband wondered. “Or food?” I replied. Then we just looked at each other, neither wanting to make a decision that might end with our missing the connection, the one that would get us home, finally. I pulled out my deck of cards, and we moved to a corner of the gate. Shuffling the deck three times, I asked, “Will all turn out well if we get a hotel room now?” and pulled the Six of Diamonds. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get a room.”
Right outside was a lovely modern hotel with a spare room for cheap and 24-hour room service. My phone buzzed just before we put the tray with the remains from our excellent omelet with fries in the hall to be taken away. It was the airline; our early morning plane had been canceled, and we were re-booked on a later flight. Happily, with thanks to the universe, we reset our alarm and got a good night’s sleep.
This isn’t a particularly special picture, but you can see the portable cribbage board that comes with us everywhere. Thus we always have something non-electronic to keep us entertained, and an excuse to have a deck of cards on hand. Much less obvious than a pack of tarot or oracle cards.
One of the most enduring temples within the Roman Forum is the Temple of Vesta, where a colonnade of statues, each different, leads to the house they shared as part of their duties. Walking the sacred precincts, I felt a strong connection to those long-ago Priestesses, leading me to wonder whether a past-life connection existed.
Obviously the image in the text was edited to be more focused on the temple remains. And here is where I confess that the Temple is not that of Vesta, but Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri, twin sons, of Leda. I never was able to take a good picture of Vesta’s Temple (over two visits). This site has great information and truly gorgeous (professional) photos.
With this, my last photo, I’m going to tease you by not sharing the text (you’ll find it on page 161). I will say that the mirror shown is a typical part of my travel gear, as important as my portable altar. With my usual focus on practicality, this mirror helps me look good and offers powerful protection against any ill will coming at me.
The original copyright notice
While I completely understand why Crossed Crow Books didn’t include the full text of my copyright notice, it is a little sad. So here, for your enjoyment, is my suggested language:
A Traveler’s Guide to Making Magic ©2025 by Lisa McSherry. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from Crossed Crow Books, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Crossed Crow and Lisa McSherry support copyright in all its fierce structure. Copyright allows artists freedom to relax into their creativity and produce unique works. Copyright supports diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are actively and willfully supporting writers.
Also: awesome that you’ve read so much of this fine print! Most people skip this part, thinking it’s boring. But for you, the thorough reader, I offer a collection of unusual words that you will not find elsewhere in this book. Apricate, Erinaceous, Perspicacious, and Zeugma. Excellent words for an excellent person!
Errata!
Sadly, a big ole error was in the manuscript I submitted and three readers, two editors, and I all missed it. (It’ll get corrected in later printings.) On page 188, under the Jupiter Candle Spell, the current introduction reads:
This spell calls upon the energy of the planet Jupiter, which rules travel. It’s best done on a Thursday or the day before you travel. You can roll the
But it should read:
This spell calls upon the energy of the planet Jupiter, which rules travel. It’s best done on a Thursday or the day before you travel.
That’s it, but if anyone tells me about other issues, I’ll post them here.