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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.

feminism

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 ...

wisdom

You Are Safe in This Wilderness.

I cannot connect with the idea of a calling that can be translated perfectly into a paycheck, a position, or a fixed identity associated with something I do. If I have one, my vocation is to be alive, to listen quite literally to my body and its rhythms: Every. Single. Moment. And to honor and ...

feminism

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.

feminism

The Three Wild Ghosts of Autumn: A Harvest Carol for September’s Soul Retrieval.

Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits, my lost creature, my kin. Together, these wild ghosts will bring you home.

feminism

Lilith’s House Rules: Here We Brew with Lust, Rage, and Holy Water.

Here, we wake every morning knowing our role in the Holy Feminine’s return, and we pin the scarlet letters of unabashed sexuality to our bare chests. We need no absolution, for our very blood is blessed, and we will stand up for those who cannot stand on their own.

feminism

Three Sacraments for Women Returned from Hell: Re-Wilding for the Soul Bride.

Pure electric prana erupted in her guts, a volcano of soul-renewal, and her spine arched as the foundation of her sex-spirit bridge was thickly poured by the She-Gods themselves. She pulled her hood down, letting the first raindrops fall on her knotted hair and scratched cheeks. She was ready.

wisdom

Dharma Is… : Curtain Walls, Rothko Paintings, And Butterflies.

When I stand alone on a hillcrest, watching the sun burn itself to sleep, and feel connection to something larger than my own story; when I breathe in Child’s Pose listening to Jeff Buckley’s 'Hallelujah' in my bedroom the night before yet 'another' eye surgery; when I sit on the gallery floor ...

art

The End… Of The Beginning.

And when I had expelled all of my prejudices, my disdain and my failures, I then sat up and heaved forth every needle pinch to skin and each bleed of my heart. When I opened my mouth, with head held back, as that of a woman, crazed, I wailed and then let out my breath and fell back, destroyed.

world

Sisters, Let’s Heal Our Pasts & Be Wild & Free.

Spirituality and psychology have collided. There is a strange party starting in my heart. My tectonic plates are shifting. Move with me, sisters. Let’s be wild and free and full of love.

spirituality

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