Image - Natalina Drepina source I have spoken before of Shadow Masks and the damage they can do to spiritual seekers; "Slipping into a shadow mask is one of the simplest forms of self-deception. To know ourselves is to resonate from a place of personal power; to ignore and justify our seemingly less desirable qualities or reactions, blaming others for our own shadows, is to make ourselves lesser. This is highlighted where so ever there is personal disagreement; when one perso

image - Cristopher McKenney. Samhain is almost on us, (leaving arguments concerning moon phases versus calendar dates aside, and mentioning that I have been performing rituals for about a week already,) and for the first time in a long time, there is more heavy reverence, somberness, and sadness in the air. Lessons are salty and sweet, with salt from bitter tears wept at the altar, balanced by the perfumed dew from the rose petals as those tears fall. Freedom is such a gift,

image - Helen Warner There were two important and deeply personal spiritual mysteries that remained on the tip of my minds' eye this year. One was heard, a whisper on the wind, "to crown yourself in roses," the other was felt, an internal chaos that wrecked havoc within and was only later understood; the phantom death. Both were elusive, like the strands of red thread woven together by the Norns, sisters to the Goddesses of the Underworld. It felt as though the Nordic God

original image - christian-felices-citrus-tree-photography-the-crow That’s the thing about the Crow eyed women With their lips bedecked in otherness You might think for a moment they are infused with whimsy But Morrigan made them with steel bones We endure beyond the point of breaking And underestimate us at your own risk We speak for the heart of the wild ones Teeth bared to raise up a snarl Magick without heart is autopsy The mask of the cruel slips and falls Ho

image original - alessioalbi There were howls of warning of what was coming; a song on the wind of the spiritual climate, teeth gnashing and growling; the lesson of the Wolf was cracking through the world, ready to tear at throat and draw blood. It was not until afterwards that I realised we were seeing through the Other Eyes of the Wolf, for I was not prepared, not engaged, not expecting the spiritual medicine to arrive, perhaps preoccupied with my own emotional responses to

I feel as though flotsam Run ragged on the ocean I have travelled far in search Of something deep and buried They speak of sirens ache Upon the shore so lulling I tip into the waves and sigh A torn white sail around my heart Was once airborn and waving Now a shroud of longing What does it mean to be sworn to sea A promise of names sake written In ink in the lines of my skin Wrinkles wink at the past as I float A maiden of sand that is slipping Can I breathe

edit - Dedicated to Kelly-Ann Maddox whose powerful voice helps women like myself walk through the shadows of self healing. I confess, I do not know how to love myself, but I am learning. Sometimes it seems an inevitable consequence of the world that we live in, that teaches women that they are not enough and worse; that “enough” is a moving goal post that is designed to suck the power from their bones and leave them isolated, having spent years of their time dedicated to a f