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

Image - AM Lorek If you have followed this blog for any length of time you may recall that at Autumn Equinox I perform the Ritual of the Forgotten Dead at which time I honour the gravestones of the forgotten with apple slices. At Beltane, I have long performed a similar ritual with rose petals. It is another ritual that came to my personal gnosis through intuitive means; I had not been taught to do so by another (not at least, in this lifetime,) but it felt important in my

image - TJDrysdale River Witch I found my soul down by the river side Where the bank broke down And the old world sighed It’s tangled up within weeds and turf The song of water waking With the Surf I delved in deep before I knew Asking questions By floating sticks of Yew Fixing lanterns to reed staves Marking out all the Once forgotten graves I parted mist and I borrowed time Watching fireflies dancing At a moss clad shrine Humming songs that the wind brought

Image - Natalia Drepina source We remember. The lost ones, the broken ones, the hurting. We remember the moments where we stared vacantly out into the world, feeling disconnected from it. Our illusions shattered, the promises of a fair, safe, world dissolving at our feet. For myself, it was a moment in the back of a car, being driven away at 3am, watching the streets light blur into one another in a seemingly endless parade, each light stretching thin and eventually disap

In the quiet aftermath of the violent Blood Moon, we clutch at a moment of respite, for we have bled out into the water having opened the floodgates to our truest selves. Who amongst us can say that we have not felt the Full Moon in Leo, with its spiritual trifecta of Supermoon, Blue Moon, and Blood Moon, clawing at us from deep within, disturbing us from our rest and screeching at us to step out from the shadows in our most authentic guise. The Blood Moon set the stage of a

These Dark yet Holy things Etched into the very bark Teach us from a pool inked onto the world Forgotten towers of mislaid bricks That once revered were scattered And laid to waste The Raven crackles in the storm Inciting venomous lessons There is knowledge in boldness and in blood Reaching out far beyond the walls Graves of our forebears are not silenced By the passing of the beating heart An echo ripples backward remembering We were one once with the night - Jo

Image – Anton Yeroma This beautiful imagery summarizes how I feel the New Moon energies align this December; with the Dark Goddess Lilith at the forefront; she slips in, serpentine, and asks if we are quite done resisting this transformation by fire yet? The venom in transformation is needed, and necessary; it can course through our veins, making us ache and resist, making us painfully aware of our short comings, where we perceive our weaknesses to be. December has already be

The Cailleach “Bloody teeth and wizened fingertips, a Holy unholy sight, hobbling and hopping across the border, Alight and brazen, aching to be something Other, Older, Wiser, Starting once again, In the bowels of the Earth in the depths of Winter but never lifeless, not even in Death, Mad with knowledge, empty vessels poured out on the naked land, renewed. Everything is beyond the grasp of the fearful, embody fear instead, and howl, scream out into the night…” – The Cail

I have been musing about how one takes control of ones own sovereignty in regards to the parts of ourselves that we might ‘give away’ in interactions with other people – whether unwittingly or knowingly, and the impact that it has on our selves. With steering the best course so one does not get trampled underfoot of the wants and desires of other people, and yet not to become tyrannical in our approaches. The balance between personal boundary and the urge to support others.

Image – Ashley Joncas *Sidenote props if you understood that pop culture reference. We stand at the boundaries, the edge walkers, the hedge jumpers, peering out into the Unknown with our Other Eyes seeking to better understand the depths of the world. We raise energies in circles, embodying a temple within and without of the self, structuring our magickal practice with border lines and directing our power to protect and allow (or reject) certain levels of spirit encroachment

Image Source For the first time in a long time; this New Moon felt like a chore. Almost everyone around me seemed to be suffering with a form of shaman sickness; manifesting their shadow through their physical selves, whilst technology seemed to fail entirely, and the general atmosphere of the world seemed toxic beyond all measure. It’s not always a popular move to point out when the spiritual ecosystem feels funky, but to deny that areas need addressing is a head in the sand

Remember when I blog posted about the archetype of the Story teller? This is the extension of that message. The obligation to write our own stories. The call to #breakthemold when it comes to who we want to be. In a world where we are handed a role, it’s our prerogative – if not a downright personal necessity – to question that, smash it, rewrite it… You are not small. You cannot be defined simply and indeed, every person exists between the lines. No matter what is written, i

Image – Natalie Ving “Fate always goes as it must.” – Beowulf c.800 I.455 There have been storms of late. Moments of terrible tumultuous change vibrating through every iota of the universe, encapsulated in physical ballets of destruction across the world, as nature echoes the spiritual landscape. Then alongside these crescendos of chaotic will are moments of stillness and silence, almost pregnant pauses that seem to punctuate this riotous ballad, and the contrast is so stark

Scales in the void, the eternal ellipsis of rebirth; vilified, demonized and feared. Lidless eyes peer into the depths of our souls and we, as humans, flinch at the ‘otherness.’ In times long past the sand and earth parted as the side-winding symbol of deeply connective Goddess energy imparted wisdom to those willing to learn, and the snake symbolized fertility, healing, sexual liberation, and rebirth. But as a culture of sexual repression and shame rose up in the dregs of h

Image – Beata Banach Photography Every Autumn Equinox I perform a small ritual which I call honouring the forgotten dead, in which I travel to the local graveyards and leave apple slices on the decrepit graves, those that have fallen into disrepair, or have been neglected or vandalised. Initially, it was an intuitive practice, being solitary I had not been ‘taught’ by another to do so, but it felt like being a caretaker for the forgotten; those who had lived, loved, had adven

Image – Untitled by Lena Dunaeva It is a common misconception that all masks worn by people in modern society are meant to deceive others; a judgement made from a place of selfishness, for it is an alarming trend to only interpret the actions of others through the affect those actions have on ourselves. This unfortunate lack of understanding has plagued spiritual circles with the notion that masks are worn to hide soul, that the practice of wearing a mask is not only deceptio

Image – Highly deadly black tarantula We are the unlovable The damaged and the broken Those with complicated scars And lurking memories We don’t know how to fake a smile anymore, Let alone a whole lifestyle And so many chattering mouths and mean voices tell us that We are too difficult to love. Following in the murky footsteps of the Cult of Not Belonging is a painful shadow; fear based, suffocating in its icy grip… the shadow that if we show ourselves completely to so

Image – Nadia Maria Photography “Other eyes.” What does it mean to be starry eyed? To have cosmic dust deep in your eyes To peek beyond with void in veil What does it mean to have Other eyes? When the universe speaks energy never lies To watch something darkly beautiful What does it mean to see all is dust? To know what is broken and all turns to rust To see glimpses of eternity in inevitability What does it mean to live as a seer Are the chains just as broken, the cos

Image- Odysseyonline “Every Story that has ever been told or will be, exists timelessly within the void. This is the temple of the Storyteller.” – Joanne Morris 2017 Within the heart and soul of every human being is a story, the retelling of our lives; past, present and future – both the stories we have woven from our choices and actions, and those yet untold and unforeseen. To some, we are the weavers of our own fates, to others, our destinies exist independently of our con

“…I hear her scream Guttering The pitch black chord of night I am her and She is me…” – Joey Morris Woad Warrior Never in human history has the screaming been so silent. The sanitization of modern society impresses on the individual the need for silence to such a degree that the verbal act of screaming is relegated to films concerning horror. The Horror genre is generally considered to be a psychological pressure valve for social and cultural concerns within the human p