Being Licked Alive: Wolf Moon Revelations.
Let us bathe in sage smoke while I tell you of my revelation, for it is doubtless we collected many long-nailed demons on our wayward travels.
Browsing Tag:
coven
2017: The Year of the Witch.
This is the Year of the Witch, and we will soar through this lonely Winter not on broomsticks but on the wings of the Holy Wild.
The Ten Commandments of the Dark Primal Feminine: Your Wild Coronation.
Thou shalt honor the wolf within, for the dark Primal Feminine is hungriest on these days. Let us leave this place now and run through the forest wailing like mischievous banshees. The ghosts will not judge us if we get on all fours and unleash enraged howls at those who have wronged us, so let ...
Vow Renewal of the Fire-Masters: Urgent Howls from the Mother-World.
We will not sit back and be idle. We are restless change-agents come to claim the future our souls designed when we lived beyond the veil. This is the reckoning. The Motherland is real, and She is wrathful. We are incensed by the ignorance, and our vows are being emblazoned with ire on the ...
The Last Samhain Supper of the Holy Ghosts: Resurrecting Our Wounded Women.
I summon them, these women I was told to shun, and I take my seat at this Last Supper of Holy Whores, this so solemn Samhain celebration that is my highest ritual.
The 7 Deadly Sins of the Wild Woman: Flawed to Perfection.
The deadliest sins of the wild woman are far more loathsome than those committed against any external deity, for they are those she commits against herself.
The Dreadful Shadows of the Wild Woman: A Necessary 3-Course Nightmare.
She can accept the ugly shadows as parts of her but not this cosmic blessing kneeling before her. Still, she does as she is told, nourishing herself with the Shadow of Divinity; she tastes like sacred nectar and ceremonial chocolate. She tastes like holy water and the body of the Magdalene.
The Wild Rising: A Seven-Sealed Humanifesto for the Apocalypse.
I don’t know who started the chant, but soon there were millions of voices crying out into the night, "We are taking back our children, and we are rising! We are rising! We are rising!" The clouds started parting, and when we saw the moon, we knew we were fulfilling a sort of planetary destiny.
Secret Recipes of Wicked Women: Wild Matrilineal Wisdom for the Mabon Bride.
And this, my love, this is the hearty bread of fem-fire; it has been baked in the blazes of our funeral pyres, smoked in the houses they burned, and seasoned with the ashes of the holy healers burned at the stake. This is the taste of righteous rage. Don’t eat this before bed, or you will not ...
Reaping the Seven Selves: A Wild Woman’s Harvest Moon Parable.
A strong September wind tosses her untamed hair, and she knows it is time. This is the night of her soul-reaping, and she will be covered in the Witch’s war paint of dirt, sweat, ash, and blood before it is all over.