The Blood-Thorn Witch

Beneath the Sun and Moon,
Rooted deep in Shadow,
Always reaching up to the Stars.

Rose thorns and Blackthorn wood for the Blood-Thorn Witch.

Tis the season, the veil is thinning.

Blood-Thorn Witch

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An Altar For October

AnAltarForOctober2017

Hello sweet October: How I’m elated to be with the chill in your air, the letting go of the leaves in your trees, and the quieting after the harvest season before the blanketing of snow.

This is our Waning Time. The thinning of the Veil and the season of remembrance. Like the trees we are to let go and let rest until the next promising bud of Spring.

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The Inner Landscape

How beats your internal life?
Can you feel the pulse of your inner landscape?
Or is your inward hum drowned out
by the loud noise of the external hustle.
So much Beauty lies in stillness,
in quietness,
in gentleness.
There is a lush garden inside us all.

Collage: The Observer – From our Earthly Garden, observing the cosmos, unbeknowst being observed in return.

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Moving Into The Solstice Light

This soon-to-be Solstice Sun has been simmering underneath my skin. Reminding me, that like the Moon, cycles wax and wane. After the dip into the Darkness, there is always the elevation into the Light.

Although on different timelines, frequencies and planes, we all have our own cycles. To be able to listen deeply and tune into them, is to truly know oneself.

After what has felt like forever in the Dark, my own cycle is moving me into the Light. I’ve finally made available once again some of my past mini zines as well as my newest illustrated mini zine “Scattered Teeth Like Breadcrumbs”. You can find them in my Perilsoftheliving Etsy shop.

Many Solstice Blessings!
May the Light shine brightly in your Heart,
through all your cycles and seasons.

Perilsoftheliving Mini Zines

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Giving Back What Isn’t Ours To Carry

I’ve come to the Rich Waters.
To the Mother Womb of depths;
to return something that was not mine to carry.

I’ve climbed to the Windy Peaks.
To Father Sky’s vast expanse;
to release something that was not mine to carry.

I’ve pressed my face to the Dark Earth.
To the fecund under belly;
to bury something that was not mine to carry.

This was never mine to carry,
and so I let it go back into the World.

pink lake may 2016.jpg

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Rebuilding Altars

Dedicating them to The Great Mother:

To the Dark Goddesses,
to the Inner Flame of Re-Creation,
to standing unapologetically in Truth.

In Truth.

Let the rest burn away.

Rebuilding Altars

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All That We Can Sense But Cannot See

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It can be so simple; a sound made sacred, a lingering fragrance observed, a few words strung together in Prayer.

Ritual is when time is held still, for a moment, and our attention is turned to what is right in front of us, to what we are offering right now beyond ourselves.

Allowing a natural exchange with the breath, with stillness, and with what we can only sense but often cannot see.

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