Botanicals: Patchouli

 Botanics. 

Patchouli : Not just for hippies!

Correspondences

Patchouli is particularly used for money and love magic.

Folk Names: Pucha Pot, Kablin

Gender: Feminine/ Hot

Planet: Sun/ Saturn/ Mars

Element: Earth

Daily Correspondences: Tuesday

Zodiac Signs: Libra, Taurus & Virgo

Powers: Love, Pasion, Sex, Physical Energy, Money, Fertility & Lust

Parts Used: Dried leaves & Essential oil

Medicinal Uses:

Anti-inflammatory, pain relief , skin repair, weight loss, antibacterial, anti-fungal, insect repellent and insecticide

Cautions:  Never apply undiluted. Do not use if taking blood thinners, have. Blood disorders or awaiting surgery. EXTERNAL USE ONLY!

In the shadowed heart of ancient forests, where the earth exhales secrets older than empires, there grows a humble plant named Pogostemon cablin—known to mortals as patchouli. Its leaves, broad and unassuming, cradle a fragrance that is neither flower nor spice, but the very breath of the soil itself: deep, musky, velvet-dark, with a whisper of sweetness that lingers like memory long after the moment has passed. Patchouli is no ordinary herb. It is a sorcerer’s quiet ally, a bridge between the mundane and the unseen, a green thread stitched into the tapestry of magic across millennia.

Long before it perfumed the silks of emperors or the shawls of wandering mystics, patchouli was already ancient. Its origins lie in the humid, emerald jungles of Southeast Asia and the Indian subcontinent, where shamans and healers first learned to ferment its leaves until they released their full, intoxicating power.

 In temples where incense curled like dragon’s breath, patchouli guarded sacred spaces, its aroma a ward against restless spirits and malevolent eyes. Traders carried it along spice routes, wrapping precious fabrics in its leaves to keep moths at bay—and unwittingly spreading its enchantment westward. By the time it reached the baths of ancient Rome (where recent whispers from archaeology suggest patchouli scented imperial perfumes), it had already become more than scent: it was luxury made tangible, prosperity distilled into oil.

Yet patchouli’s truest magic reveals itself not in courts, but in the circle of candlelight and the hush of midnight workings. Feminine in essence, ruled by Earth and Venus, it is the scent of rooted desire and fertile abundance. Witches have long called upon it to draw love—not the fleeting spark of infatuation, but the deep, animal pull of bodies and souls recognizing one another across lifetimes. A drop of its oil anointed on the pulse points becomes an invisible sigil, calling lovers near with the slow inevitability of roots seeking water.

More than any other gift, though, patchouli commands wealth. Sprinkle dried leaves in a wallet, anoint green candles with its essence, or burn it as incense while coins clink softly in ritual—its heavy, grounding perfume magnetizes coins, opportunities, and the slow golden current of prosperity. It teaches that true riches rise from the dark earth: patient, enduring, unshowy. In money spells, patchouli is never flashy; it is the banker who never forgets a debt, the soil that remembers every seed.

And when the world spins too fast—when thoughts scatter like dry leaves in autumn wind—patchouli grounds. It pulls the spirit back into the body, back into the here and now, anchoring the practitioner to the great living pulse of the planet. Communing with earth elementals becomes effortless in its presence; the boundaries between flesh and soil soften, and one can almost feel the slow heartbeat of stone and root beneath bare feet. For protection it stands vigilant: a smoky veil against curses, a quiet refusal to let negativity take hold.

In the swinging sixties and seventies, patchouli returned to the surface world like a half-remembered spell. It clung to velvet capes, paisley bedspreads, and the hair of those who dreamed of revolution—not political alone, but spiritual, sensual, primal. It became the fragrance of rebellion against sterile modernity, a reminder that magic still breathed in the wild places and in the body’s own wisdom.

To inhale patchouli is to remember: that desire is holy, that abundance flows from patience, that the body is a temple built of earth. It is the scent of midnight gardens after rain, of lovers tangled in linen, of coins warmed by sun on market stalls, of ancient forests that have never forgotten how to whisper spells.

So if ever your soul hungers for something deeper than surface glamour, seek the green heart of patchouli. Let its perfume wrap around you like a cloak woven from night soil and starlight. In its depths you will find not merely fragrance—but the slow, inexorable magic of becoming rooted, becoming rich, becoming whole.

Patchouli Passion Charm

•  Fill a small glass vial or pouch with dried patchouli leaves (or a cotton ball soaked in patchouli oil).

•  Add complementary herbs for layered magic: a pinch of cinnamon (for heat), cloves (for irresistible allure), or rose petals (for emotional depth).

•  Seal it while focusing on igniting or deepening physical passion.

•  Carry the charm in your pocket, bra, or under your pillow; wear it as a necklace for public allure.

•  To charge it further: anoint a red candle with patchouli oil, light it, and let the vial rest nearby as the flame burns down, absorbing the energy.

This portable talisman keeps patchouli’s grounding sensuality close, enhancing intimacy in existing relationships or magnetizing new encounters.