Wild Woman Archives | Page 3 of 4

The Bloody Wound of the Too-Wild Child: Healing Communion with the Maiden and Hunter.

I am not the only one who lives here, my love. You know I share this holy ground with the Mother-Healer and Crone-Priestess, but the Masculine lives here too. The old Sage spiral-dances at the edge of death with his Crone consort, and the competitive, Protector Father makes love with the ...

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9 Knots for the Spiritual Narcissist: A Binding Spell for the Soul-Deniers.

May communities of the spiritually autonomous rise against those led by predators, and may the waters of self-hood and wild spirituality groundswell to flood the unholy centers where their lying tongues preach in a language the soul does not speak.

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No Mercy for the Maidens: an Imbolc Fairy Tale of Birth by Fire.

Our captors never thought we would have the Maiden’s mettle to break free, but they underestimated the collective ire of caged women.

feminism

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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 ...

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.

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