Love Magick For The Hardened Priestess: A Binding Spell For The Betrayed Heart.
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Highest Priestess, the dark of this moon sheds no light on their wrongdoings.
I see you now, holding steadfast in your warrior woman stance, one clenched fist protecting your bloody heart, willing February’s new moon to mark a final healing.
On the cliff’s edge, you stand, black ocean raging beneath you, crumbled shell of a useless cocoon behind you, knowing the dim-silver moonbeams will not expose your blood-wet middle or tear-streaked face to those who have not earned the privilege of truly knowing you.
By now, you have them fooled; they have not seen how deeply they have cut you or how much blood you have lost, and you want it just that way.
Yes, I see you, a Witch so wounded. I see you, and I am you.
I know, dear Priestess, of the heart so betrayed that no amount of ritual can muffle the throbbing ache. Betrayal is the purest of hurts; it comes so swift, striking at your guts before you can move your shield. Yes, the betrayed heart grieves for the loss of relationship, trust, and the fairy tale.
More than that, it grieves for your own small death that happens so unceremoniously. Should there not have been a funeral for the innocent one you once were? Betrayal softens the ego like nothing else, and Priestess, believe me when I tell you that you are better for it.
Underneath all your heavy armor, now so well-constructed, you are a goddess reborn. Expose your soft belly and honor the betrayal like it was your birthday, for you will never be the same.
I, too, have begged the new moon’s light to stitch up the long gashes at my heart-center just in time for Valentine’s Day. I have yearned for my memories to be erased.
I have considered breaking the Rede with vengeful blood magick before coming to my senses — the betrayed Witch clings to few scruples.
I have beckoned Mother Aphrodite to grant me closure, offer me peace, float me an ancient recipe for heart-healing on a scalloped shell; and yet, there is no medicine for betrayal, no tea I can drink or essential oil to inhale.
No, Priestess, I have no quick fix for you, but I can tell you this: those tears you wept were like womb-water, filling your cocoon in order to remold your very goddess nature.
Divine Butterfly, you have tiny magenta wings sprouting out of your bloody heart. Use your new wings even though they may be ripped from your body; this is a risk you must take.
You emerge from your cocoon with fierce authenticity and a heart-born integrity you did not have when you went into that dark place screaming and writhing and begging and calling for justice. Forget the patterns of your past, for they mean nothing now.
Fear not those who may hurt you, for the illusion of drooling, sharp-toothed enemies is so much worse than the scared ones who might actually strike at you.
Priestess, the wound will not heal if it cannot breathe. Shed your armor and bind not the external threats: the younger woman, the jealous friend, the fragile man, or the bitter mother. No, bind not the ones who betrayed you. Instead, bind your own fear-ridden urge to protect your still-bleeding heart.
Do not stay near that unlocked cage-cocoon-crutch any longer, Priestess; it serves you not.
Nestle into your new body now, and sense who you have become. Own your rebirth, and consider coming into tomorrow’s daylight naked, not because that’ll-show-em but because the wings you have grown out of your betrayed heart deserve to be stretched.
Priestess, bind the betrayal by unbinding your wings. Send your blood-dripped, magenta vulnerability forward and outward and upward into the night. Reach for this new moon with all that you are, and feel how expansive you have become.
Priestess, you are everything. Mother Aphrodite sees you now, as you dance tentatively next to your heaped armor and cocoon shell, wiggling your wings like the foreign things they are. Can you see her?
She sits bare-breasted on the rocks beneath you, winter ocean lapping at her soft body. She is not the stuff of fine art, not here. She is raw, salty romance and alchemical evolution. She is the beauty of unapologetic stretch-marked belly skin and unwashed hair.
Her lips are swollen from so much kissing, and Her heartbeat thunders so loudly it wobbles the sand.
Mother Aphrodite wears no armor, but not because She has never tasted the bitter rust of betrayal. You are Her Priestess, Woman, and you are under Her protection.
Her voice would be silenced under the beat of Her heart-drum, so She does not speak, and yet, you know exactly what this ageless Mother Goddess wants from you.
Aphrodite is begging you to fly, Priestess. Under this birthing, waxing, Ice Moon, leap open-heartedly from the cliff’s edge and trust that your wings will grow fuller and stronger before the fall takes you. Bloom the brightest of blood-stained, fluttering wings from your so-betrayed heart.
Trust that whatever waits for you across this Winter’s black ocean will be yours to grab fearlessly. Do it now. She will not let you fall. Close your eyes if you must, but leap into that void with your unruined soul and so-softened ego.
Hardened Priestess, you were Divine Butterfly underneath that cold metal, and you have been born again out of betrayal’s agony. You see, it would have taken no less than that sudden blow to force your birth.
Today is your birthday, wounded Witch, and every single one of your cells knows that you have grown new body parts for this great life of yours. Take to the skies now, unknown creature. Fly strong and fearless under this new Winter moon, and know that you have been liberated.
Unbind your wings, and show your blood to all who care to look. Be by day the soft vulnerable one you are at night. Surrender to freedom’s pulse behind your ribs.
Priestess, I fiercely validate you, not that you need my permission. Your betrayed heart was fertile ground for pure power to be born. Let that Shakti-force consume you now, magenta-diamond wings radiating in all directions and carrying you to where you belong.
This new moon will know you, Priestess. Let the lunar essence be your salve. Let Aphrodite’s breath guide your flight. Now, soar.
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Danielle Dulsky is a multi-passionate entrepreneur, energy-healer, Yoga teacher, multi-media artist, and magickal mentor. She holds the highest designation from Yoga Alliance as an E-RYT500, and is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless creators of their sacred work. She is the founder and creatrix of the Living Mandala Yoga teacher training programs, a Reiki Master in the Usui-Tibetan tradition, and long-time believer in Earth-based traditions. Her work is based on sensing and transforming energetic vibrations, empowering individuals to discover their potential for authentic abundance, using artistic practice intuitively, and holding space for women to unearth their inner goddess through the magick of sisterhood. Danielle leads women circles, witchcraft workshops, a teaching coven, and psychic development intensives in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania where she lives with her partner Ryan, sons Bodhi and Sage, and pet-familiars Jeepster and Raven. She believes that all women alive today are meant to be instrumental in supporting the return of the Divine Feminine. You could contact her via email.
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