Photography by Amina Rodriguez
I feel deeply troubled and a bit unsettled.
I feel strongly a pull in two directions.
Loving passionately and despising at once.
I fear to look at what is hiding inside me…
The truth of the roots of all my pain
A reflection of what is out there around me
I ask the universe for the courage to dive within
I know the answers to all that ails me lies there
Something keeps pulling me away distracting me from myself my truth my own love. Continue reading
You have come to understand that if women are like flowers
you are most like lavender: wild, earthly, resilient, abundant Continue reading
spoke to me: Continue reading
Art by Deanne Quarrie.
I am a student of Northern European/Old Icelandic Seidr. What I find particularly fascinating in my studies are not the deities but rather the creatures living on the World Tree along with the Primordial Giants who predated the gods.
One such creature is Níðhöggr, the “Derision Striker.” Níðhöggr is a great dragon who lives at the base of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. She gnaws on the roots of the tree, stimulating new growth. Her home stretches from icy Niflheim, near what is called the “Roaring Kettle”, the sacred well of all the rivers of Niflheim, all the way to Dead Man’s Shore in Helheim where she devours the piled corpses.
Photo by Nane Jordan
This morning I hiked up the mountain of St. Baume, through the beautiful, ancient Druid forest, to Mary Magdalene’s cave where she spent the last 30 years of her life as a contemplative. The hike was wonderful, good for my soul to be in such an old forest. The view from the cave was sublime. As was the sheer rock face that rises from where forest meets ancient stone stairs, winding up to the cave entrance.
Work by Amina Rodriguez
My journey toward the divine source within me was inspired by a tree and only began in my 40s. I usually write poems and other inspired writings as notes on my phone or in a journal. My work is amateur at best because I only began to connect within and express myself creatively a little over two years ago. This was after I had an experience with a tree in the astral or maybe it was a lucid dream. It was a very real experience to me, resembling an out of body experience and it changed my life. It started me on a more intentional journey toward my own truth. I had Continue reading
Art by Jen Delyth.
Some placed offerings
on the room’s center altar
One woman added a green blown glass bird
She said her daughter made it when she was 17
Now in her 30’s she lives in Alaska
but last week took flight from her husband and job
We expressed hope for her safe journey
and transplantation Continue reading
Photo by Nane Jordan
Amazing, I am holed up (as in: a refuge, a cave) for three days in St. Maximin, an ancient little village holding the gothic basilica of Mary Magdalene. Her relics, especially her skull, are on display in the crypt, sheathed in gold, and held by golden angels. The small stone entrance to this crypt is inviting, a quiet place to dwell underground with her mysteries. Horseshoe carvings, all over the walls that go down into the crypt, are inscribed into the stone by pilgrims past.
This cathedral housing her mortal remains is run down, in need of repair. It is like a relic itself, with its crumbling stone facade. But there is the beauty of what is falling down, the ancient feeling of such a place.
Photo Credit: Sara Wright
(4/10/13 – 1/22/16)
What do I mean by the words Spirit Animal? Indigenous peoples take it for granted that each animal has an Elder Spirit who watches over that particular species. Most of the time this Elder Spirit stays in the other world as a discarnate being. But there are exceptions and sometimes these Spirit Animals cross over to our world. Some come as teachers, some come to warn of impending danger, some give their lives so other can live, some come to bless a child or to act as a protector, healer or personal guide, all embody Grace and love with a capital “L.”
Wreath, © 2015, Sara Wright
Each December I feel as if I am participating in an ancient rite when I tip the aromatic branches of our native balsam tree to bag and bring home to make a wreath.
Each year as I cut the twigs I ask to be forgiven if this act hurts the tree.
Each year standing in front of the balsam I give thanks for all trees, but especially for this one because of her fragrance…