This Bitter Earth

I watched a seagull fly over the gray-green water, feathers still brown with youth. Out of the corner of my eye, an older woman in a white swimsuit appeared on the rocks below me. She dipped one foot in the icy lake. Waves crashed up against the rocks where her other foot grounded her, spraying her legs. She didn’t see me watching her, but watching her I was. I watched her face silently grimace at the cold. I watched her as she held her foot in place for a full minute, acclimating herself before gracefully pushing her body off the rocks and into the water. I watched her gray hair floating up around her face as it disappeared underneath the surface. I watched her as she resurfaced, her mouth open wide from the shock in her lungs. 

I had just done that yesterday. There’s something about the cold water of Lake Superior that is magic. That punches you in the gut, sucks all the breath from your lungs in one instant, and makes you feel entirely alive. It hurts to be that cold. It hurts to have every inch of you seen and embraced and electrified by ice. But the pleasure that rolls through your body once you’ve endured that pain is warm, soothing, beautiful. 

That’s the thing about living in such a wild place like this. The harsh climate is painful. It’s isolating, difficult, untenable. And that’s what makes Northern people so fascinating and beautiful. We appreciate the difficulty. We dive into the cold and encourage it to surround us. We see how impossible it is to survive here and yet we survive. We see how harsh it is and yet we find the beauty in the gray. The life in the icy waters. 

I need places like this. I will never be one of those happy girls. There will never be a day I walk on this bitter earth without feeling the weight of my sadness. Every day I remember when I didn’t own my body, when I didn’t own my spirit. I remember how I have been irreparably altered and how there is nothing I can do to change the past, to change the pain I endured. And yet, each day I walk on this bitter earth, I see the unchangeable beauty. Not in spite of the pain, but because of the pain. I see the subtle glints of gold reflecting on the breaking waves from the diffused sunlight through the clouds. I see the brown-feathered seagull exploring her first year of life. I see the gray-haired woman smiling as she comes out from the freezing water. 

I am alive. It hurts, and I am alive.

---

(This was the result of some intentional space I held for writing yesterday. I heard a song that really moved me and brought me to tears. So I went to a place I found beautiful while I listened to this song on repeat over and over. As I listened, I allowed my feelings to come up, I observed what was happening around me, and I wrote about it. No rules, no point. Just how the scene and the song and my emotions tumbled over one another. Lyrics in the photos are from the song. "This Bitter Earth/On the Nature Of Daylight" - Dinah Washington/Max Richter)

Good Little Heathen Girl

I would make a poor monk
for their credence would be lost on me. 
“Desire is the root of your suffering, dear girl,” they would say.
And I would shake my head fiercely, 
feverish from the dreams of lust and transcendence beaded on my forehead.
And I could not, I would not, rub the sleep from my eyes to their satisfaction. 

For my desire for my God burrows into my flesh
like sharp talons into my naked shoulder.
A pain so delightfully endured.
Don’t you see, my love? 
Without longing, there would be no union. 

And do you not crave to be one with your God?
To be one with your Queen? 
Oh, desire can be the holiest of experiences,
should you let it, my love. 

Let go of my desire? 
No…
No, you misunderstand. 

I am far less agreeable than a creature of peace, you see. 
A witch’s bones are molded with a paste of ash and spit
and threaded together with white flame.
The creation of wanton wreckage
and the meandering wildfires of a woman’s will,
anchored to the ancient volcanic rocks of the earth
with sinew, sex, and the cleansing tears of the crone.

Oh, I crave that union. 
I crave the danger of the perilous nuptials
in the valley between the sleeping gods and the waking beasts.
I want to walk into the bear den
on the far side of the crooked mountain, 
my milky thighs dripping with sticky honey,
because I am prepared to be your meal. 
Because I’m a good little heathen girl. 
Because I desire my desire for you.

I built an altar of stones for you
because I know you will love it
and reward me handsomely upon it.  
I bite my own lip to taste the blood
that opens the door to your kingdom.
Your kingdom of rapture, of stormy seas, 
of tangled hair and gleaming Nordic armor. 
I rub the dirt into your back with every gasping breath. 
I drink the tonic of longing,
the one my grandmother’s grandmother brewed in secret,
because it’s bottomless. 
A sugared shadow.
A shade of a being, safeguarded in the dark.
No, don’t worry my love, no one shall see us. 
Your desire is safe with me. 
If only we could meet in the light of day.

If only…

if only…

maybe only for today.

can we all just be real people for a sec?

Sometimes I fall down this particular rabbit hole…the rabbit hole of spiritual cults. I read a bunch of articles on past and current spiritual cult leaders, I rewatch the documentaries on Netflix, I google for connections between various cult leaders and verifications of their actual histories vs. the extraordinary accounts offered by the leaders themselves. 

And it drives me fucking crazy. 

By the time the day is through, I have vowed to myself that I will never work in the spiritual industry ever again. I’ve decided that I refuse to have one more conversation about “higher consciousness” ever. again. 

Of course, I’ve done this at least a dozen times. But spirituality is a part of how I see the world, how I express myself, and I always come back to it in my own quiet (or loud) ways. I can never truly escape it. Probably because there’s nothing tangible to actually escape from. But it makes me sick to see how often spiritual leaders have been abusers. Even figures like Ghandi and Osho aren’t innocent in this. Outrageous displays of narcissism and inappropriate expressions of sexuality towards followers have been reported about nearly every single spiritual figure out there, on all levels, from local to international, dead and alive. 

It’s almost too easy for spiritual leaders to abuse. They have enough philosophical information, enough of an understanding of spiritual principles, and enough false humility, to garner the attention and respect of normal, smart people. Who wouldn’t agree with calming the mind and conquering your fears, becoming one with your higher self and the god consciousness? But then comes Act II, where that universal spiritual knowledge gets twisted and bastardized. Cult leaders know how to find the spiritual wounds in the soul, and they know how to pretend to fill them. And brainwashed followers are born. 

It makes me so angry that anyone would take such pure spiritual wisdom and twist it to fit into their own intentions. But the more I trace it back, the more the true problem reveals itself: We shouldn’t be “following” anyone. 

We’re always looking for a savior. We’re always looking for the superhuman, the supernatural, to lead us. We’re always looking for that thing that’s *more* than human. Because human is flawed. Human is boring. Human is undesirable and dirty and evil. 

But what if human is what is truly divine? 

What if it’s really a complete snore that we’re all magical aliens from various cosmic places with  hidden superpowers and agendas that will like, totally raise the consciousness of the whole world. What if every other person is a reincarnated deity, and every other person apart from those people are half-fairy quarter-mermaid mindreaders? What if that shit is what’s really standard and boring? 

For real, fuck all of that for a minute here. 

For a moment, let’s imagine that the truest and most spiritual manifestation of a person is someone who is fully committed to being a normal human being on this planet in a normal human being body, doing normal human being things, and having normal human being feelings. 

What if I don’t care that you’re really an angelic being with healing powers that would make all the saints jealous? What if I care more that you intentionally have a kind conversation with the disabled woman behind you in line at the coffee shop? What if I don’t care that you have an online subscription site that has 200,000 members and your mission is to heal the world? What if I care more that you apologize when you’re wrong, and regularly tell your people that you love them? What if I don’t care that you saw Jesus when you were 7? What if I care more that you rescued a shivering dog from the side of the highway? What if I care more about how you found hope after your devastating breakup than how you channeled Isis the other day? 

We came to this planet to be human beings. We came to experience the messiness of love and heartbreak and community and isolation. We did not come into the world of humans to be nonhuman. And anytime we raise others or ourselves to a nonhuman spiritual status that deserves “followers”, we betray the divinity of humanness. 

Yes, let’s support brilliant minds and fearless leaders and lift up the work that will heal our broken hearts, but let’s make sure that those minds are real and human and humble. Let’s raise up those that can admit that they fuck up, but who strive to repair relationships and love fiercely anyways. 

You can train yourself to see the dogma in others. You can train yourself to see the dogma in yourself. (I know this is dumb and cheesy but you realize that dogma spelled backwards is “amgod” right?) 

Let’s adjust our gauges of what wisdom looks like and begin our adoration at the level of the mundane. There is a deeper current of magick there. Maybe a dirty and unglamorous version of it, but that version is the true essence of why we’re here. 

Let’s change the way we build relationships. It’s all too easy to make friends and build relationships on similar ideologies and our nonhuman qualities. This is the benefit, and the drawback, of social media and online communities. You can easily find your “tribe” this way. Oh, a group for crystal healers? Yep, so there. A group for single moms who are buddhist vegans? Cool, yeah. Queer femme witches? Click, join. There’s nothing wrong with finding people who understand you on these levels. And it can be super healing too. But too much of it and we find ourselves only embarking on relationships where these conditions are met first. Anyone who doesn’t meet these superhuman qualities right off the bat, and they’re not “our people”. 

And I get it, I’m really guilty of this too. Nothing has informed me of this more than living in this tiny town in Northern Minnesota, where who I am is a bit of an anomaly. But the more I cling to those superhuman standards, the less I meet or talk to anybody new, and the more I reject everyone for stupid reasons. But ya know what? When I talk to the stranger in the YMCA sauna about the weather, or when I greet someone hiking on the same trail, or when I apologize to someone I accidentally bump into in the grocery store, I can feel the current of humanity running through me. And I’m just a boring human, just like everyone else is. And it’s beautiful. And real. And where this all should start. 

If being a boring human is the baseline for divinity, and is the only requirement for being worthy of love, then any problem or disagreement can always start with love. If every relationship is built on the camaraderie of the human experience rather than whether you think energy vampires are real or aliens are secretly running the government, there’s more space for heart-centered discourse. 

I can easily see this in my own interactions. With the friends that I’ve had for decades, those relationships are based on love and shared experiences as human beings over the years, so even when our ideologies clash, we approach each other with love and humanness (or try our best at least), because that’s what we started with and we don’t want to lose eachother. And even if we will never meet up in some of our beliefs, we both become kinder, more compassionate people to differences in general as a result. We become more aware of our personal stories that influence those ideologies. But if some dude I don’t personally know is posting on my Facebook wall with clashing ideologies, I verbally slay him and/or block him. And that’s totally fine - I’m not saying you have to be nice to the assholes you don’t know. (And you have to know where your own personal lines of unacceptable ideologies are crossed…) But if I can approach every new relationship on the baseline level of being regular humans together, I’m increasing future opportunities for compassionate discourse because I am making space for each human being’s story. 

If our focus in this world is on our experiences as humans, we don’t need spiritual gurus. We don’t need to follow anyone, because we’re kind of following everyone. Storytelling becomes our guru, humanity becomes our leader. And it’s not that we can’t also be magical fairy alien angel people with cool abilities and shit, but that shouldn’t be what defines us. That shouldn’t be how we categorize our worth and the worth of others. 

No one is better than anyone else. 
We’re all just shouting into the void. 
And even if some of us have more elegant things to shout into it, 
the void doesn’t discriminate. 
So let's just be real people, k? 

xoxo, 
Ora

_______________________

(PS Did you know my book I Don't Want To Be An Empath Anymore is available?! Cool. Just checkin.)

Victim Isn't A Dirty Word

With all of the conversations happening around the #metoo movement the last few weeks, I've been seeing the dreaded victimhood debate pop up everywhere.

"I refuse to say #metoo because I'm not a victim." 
"You're really just stuck in victim mentality when you give power to it." 
"Be empowered, not a victim!" 

People are so scared about being labelled a "victim" or having "victim mentality" -- especially in the spiritual community. And using it against someone else is a big statement. It's like a dirty word that someone calls someone else to end the conversation. It's the final jab. It's kinda like the "oh no she didn't!" insult of the new agers. 

I find this bothersome.
And frankly, uncool.
Because we are and have been victims, every single one of us.

A victim is, by definition, "a person who suffers from a destructive or injurious action or agency," which is really just a statement of fact and not a spiritual concept. Being a victim is a reality, pure and simple. It should not be the super emotionally charged statement that we throw at one another like daggers.

If you're been assaulted, you're a victim of assault. 
If you've been raped, you're a victim of rape. 
If you've been robbed, you're a victim of robbery. 

It's really pretty cut and dry to begin with. Why in Goddess's name do we have to take something so literal and muck it up with our own karmic drama? 

Victim isn't a dirty word. It's a reality. 

And I know, you want to take it in the spiritual concept direction now. You want to get deep with it or whatever. The cycles of victimhood, the giving away of power, the lack of ownership. Yes, I hear you. If you want to go there, alright. Let's go there. 

Victim is an energetic archetype that is universal and embedded in the collective unconscious. It's a role that every single one of us without exception has embodied. You don't get to exclude yourself because you think you're supposed to be stronger. As strong as you are and will become, the victim archetype will always live inside of you.

The victim archetype is one that lives in a place of pain and violation. Being forced into the victim role is a traumatic and nonconsensual act. Rape is nonconsensual. Assault is nonconsensual. Betrayal is nonconsensual. Every traumatic thing that occurs is a nonconsensual act. 

When we experience these nonconsensual acts that force us into the victim role, especially at certain ages and developmental stages of our lives, yes, it does set up unhealthy energetic patterns in our brains. It does create a mindset that we are not good enough to be treated well, and that we will always be betrayed and victimized. And yes, these patterns will tend to draw in more of the same. We can also re-traumatize ourselves unconsciously.

But these energetic patterns were not created willingly. No human being, in their heart of hearts, genuinely wants to suffer. That victim mentality was created out of pure pain and isolation, based on a nonconsensual act that mercilessly continues to live on in their bones.

But then how does one escape that pattern of victimhood based on nonconsensual acts?
How does one stop being a victim, in the psychospiritual sense of the word?
I would think it would be obvious that shaming someone for feeling that way wouldn't work...
Or telling them to stop feeling sorry for themselves... 
Or telling them that they're attracting their assault based on their low vibes... 
Or telling them to be stronger than that...

If you step back and think about it, it's pretty cold. These human beings, who have been in pain for so long, need our compassion and our nonjudgmental ears. They need validation in a world that refuses to give it to them. 

And more than that, they need to know how to reclaim their power once they've been victimized. And shouting "victim mentality!" isn't going to help them. Why would we create so much energetic aggression in response to an aching unending pain in another being? Why would we judge and exclude and shame those who need support to transcend that cycle? 

It has to start with loving your own victim. This is shadow work at its finest, people. We all have our very own personal victim archetype, she requires the same kind of patience and love that our other archetypes do. She is a part of our shadow. And as most of us have realized at this point, we need our shadow to be fully integrated beings, and to integrate our shadows, we need to work with them intentionally. Trying to push down every sign of victimhood in ourselves and others will only keep us further from our wholeness. There is a root cause, a core wound, that your victimhood stems from. And if you find yourself in those victimhood patterns, it's not because you want to stay a victim. It's because you haven't yet processed and integrated the root cause. 

The only way out of victimhood is to go fully into it and through it. 

By denying yourself as a victim, you are denying an actual physical reality of your life, which creates an energetic dissonance. The longer you continue on in this type of denial, the larger the gap becomes. If you have the courage to let yourself sink into that reality as a victim, truly feeling the pain of yourself as a victim in your current situation and in the root cause of all your victimhood, you will find that you are validating one of the deepest parts of yourself, and you will be able to move through it. This is why I recommend intentional pity parties. It's a way to create space for your victimhood and your self-pity in a safe and constructive way.

Victimhood and self-pity are completely valid and legitimate feelings too. They deserve a safe space as well, just like all your other more desirable emotions do.

You'll find that once you create spaces for victimhood in yourself, you'll feel validated in a way that allows you to naturally transcend that energetic pattern. You can't yet choose a different way if you haven't seen the full extent of the pattern and the initial victim wound. But once you've allowed yourself to be completely immersed in your pain and your victim mentality, you will be able to recognize those energetic patterns and choose differently with how you react and process in the future.

You'll also notice that the people who cry "victim mentality!" the loudest tend to be the very same people who haven't processed and integrated their own victimization. Because once you have validated and understood your own inner victim, there's no longer an emotional charge around the word, and there's no longer a need to judge others for their own inner victim. When others have been stomping out their own pain for so long, refusing to see it for what it is, they feel they must also stomp out the pain of others, because they don't want to reminded of their own pain. 

This is why whenever I'm working with someone who has victim mentality patterns that keep coming up, I don't call them out and tell them to get over their victimhood. I don't tell them that their low vibes are asking for it. I ask them if they've taken the time and space to fully acknowledge the painful experiences they've had.

If you're a doctor, and someone comes to you with a broken arm, you don't say, "It's your fault your arm is broken."
You say, "What happened?"
so you can heal it. 

Victim isn't a dirty word.
Victim is just another part of ourselves
that needs to be seen.
heard.
Met with compassion.
Loved. 

xoxo, Ora

Why I'm Not Sorry For My "Failed Marriage"

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. Only, I’m in the end stages of divorce. 

(I think it’s funny how I call it “the end stages,” like it’s a cancer or something. But that’s not how I feel at all. Funny how we’re so very dramatic about relationships ending.)

Oddly enough, I write to you from Grand Marais, a scenic small town on the north shore of Minnesota, the place where my soon-to-be ex-husband and I spent our honeymoon together. Only now, I’m here with my lover to manage a small hotel while we work on our respective crafts. (him on music, me on writing.) 

My new sleepy town of Grand Marais, Minnesota.

One of my very favorite dream teachers, Robert Moss, often says, “Life rhymes.” I’m feeling that deeply, as here, on the powerful shores of Lake Superior, I see time crossing over itself, presenting old and new patterns interwoven, and watching how it all connects in surprising ways. 

There is so much grief, and also so much joy. 

I know that the end of a marriage that started so purely, and with so much love, is a tragic thing. But I also know that when a relationship ends, it’s because one or both people grew so much that the relationship was no longer a suitable container for them. And in that way, the ending of a relationship is a positive thing, a herald of exciting things to come. 

People like to apologize when they hear about my divorce. Or they want to rally on my side, demonizing my husband. Or judge me for giving up. 

But the truth of the matter is that none of these things are how it really is. 

I loved my husband. I still love him. And I’ll always love him. For better or worse, whether we’re legally married or not, he’s my family. We didn’t end our marriage because we didn’t love eachother.

October 7th, 2012.

The ironic thing is that if it wasn’t for him and his love, I wouldn’t be the person who needed to move on from the marriage. He gave me so much support and so much space for me to explore myself, and discover the things about myself I’d buried for so long or had never realized at all. 

The more he allowed me to empower myself without judgment, the more I transformed into
someone much louder, 
someone much more raw, 
someone much darker, 
someone who took up so much more space, 
and someone who was no longer a good wife for him. 

His triggers triggered my triggers, and in that way, we were soul mates. We fit together like puzzle pieces in a beautiful shadow relationship that revealed to us our truer selves. And though there were fights and unkind words on both ends at times, I know that at the core of it, we are both grateful for our time together. 

I grieve the loss of my family. I grieve the loss of my home. I grieve the loss of inside jokes, nacho & movie nights, and the shared laughs over the neurotic antics of our dog. 

That’s how grief goes though, doesn’t it? Even if we know it’s the right thing to do, and even if there were things we were ready to let go of, we still grieve the loss of them. The wife dies unto herself. The husband dies unto himself. The family dissolves, existing only as photos in an album of the beautiful wedding you’re still proud of. 

A marriage cannot be a failure if it was created in love. A marriage cannot be a failure if both people want the best for themselves and for the other person. A marriage cannot be a failure if it has taught you more about yourself than any other relationship could.

And so today, I am grateful for my failed marriage. For everything it meant to me and everything it taught me. For all the love and safety it provided me. For the man I will always want the best for. And for the woman I became because of it.

xoxo,
Ora

The Bitch of Transition

"I'm restless, and I'm longing," I sighed.

"Well, you could always blow it all up," she suggested softly.

"I could? All of it?"

"All of it. But if you do that, that's it. There will be no going back," she said seriously, without any sense of graciousness or compassion.

"Okay, let's blow it up and burn it down."

This was the conversation I had with myself before everything changed. The conversation with my Self. I'd like to think her voice is that of my higher self, my inner wise woman, but she can be a real bitch. Though I don't believe that bitchiness and divinity are mutually exclusive, so there's that. She tends to tell it like it is, without apology, and without the gentle runaround. She won't walk on eggshells for me. I respect that. 

Today is my 30th birthday. I'm not having any age-related crisis about it. In fact, I've been waiting for my 30s for what feels like forever. I think your 20s are the time for lesson after lesson, and making all sorts of mistakes to figure out who you really are and what you really want. But your 30s, ohhh the 30s, they feel like the golden age of the Self. And I've been setting myself up to prepare for this magical golden era by burning down the remainder of my 20s. 

You see, there's this thing, this feeling, that I've been chasing for as long as I can remember. It's wanderlust, and the restless wind, and the spark of a fire that's both dying out and just starting to build.

It's complete freedom.

If you've felt it or long for it, you know exactly what I'm talking about. But you don't just get to have it; you have to give up the things that keep you stuck and comfortable. And that's not easy. Trust me. I sit here, writing from the rubble of all the things I've given up, blown up, burned down, and sacrificed. I started the process of divorce earlier this year. I sold my awesome business. I moved out of the home I own. I was giving up a life that was good to make space for a life that was great. 

And then I went headfirst into a spiral of depression and grief. I was stuck in this horrible transition phase where I was grieving the things I was giving up, while also looking forward to my new life with excitement, but not being able to have either right now. All I could do was sit in the rubble, waiting for the dust to settle so I could move on. 

"This is agonizing," I told her.

"You asked for this," she said flatly.

"Yeah, but..."

"If you want big change, if you want freedom, you have to go through the process. Have a pity party for yourself if you want to, but then you have to adapt."

So I did. I had a major pity party for myself. (I mean, more than one, if I'm honest.) I let myself fully experience the grief and depression I felt about leaving my old life and now being stuck in the in-between. I cried, watched tons of Netflix, slept, bitched about my circumstances to my loved ones, cried more, and bitched more. It helped a lot. I would fully recommend the pity-party move. The way I see it, if you repress your self-pity, it will slowly ooze into everything you do because it's never truly seen or satisfied. But if you throw it a damn party, and temporarily embrace your victimhood (no matter how pitiful you may feel), you're validating that feeling which then allows it to ease naturally. 

I'm still in that transition phase. I've adapted to the in-between a lot better, but it's not easy. It shouldn't be easy. I have no epic solution, but I know a lot of you are in the same boat as me. So I guess, on my birthday, I am reaching out to all of you to let you know that you're not alone. That this shit is hard. But that it's also brave, and amazing, and so full of gifts. Especially if you can approach it with some humor. (My inner wise woman bitch is great at that part.) 

When we burn it all down consciously, we also sift through the remains consciously, discovering patterns and habits we no longer need, pieces of ourselves we'd forgotten about, and amazing little nuggets of truth that we've been hiding all along. It can be easy to get stuck in the depression and grief of it, but hopefully there's a sassy inner wise woman to remind you why you're doing what you're doing. And if she's not saying much to you right now, let me speak for her: 

Don't settle. 
Be brave in the dawn of your own destiny. 
Enjoy the juicy bits and seek them out. 
You deserve the great life. 
You can have it. 
Have hope. You can get through the transition.
Be grateful for the gifts in the rubble. 
Find the beauty in the dark. 
It's not easy, but it's worth it. 
Freedom is yours. 
 

xoxo,
Ora

How to Love the Scorpio Moon

Are you the prey or the predator?
The hunter or the hunted?
Scorpio Moon asks you to be both.
She demands your submission, but respects your power.
Her strength in depth is a living web of contradiction and paradox.
Come to her, and you will see everything you've ever wanted to see,
and everything you wish you could un-see.
Fear her and love her as the terrible Queen she is.
For her womb is a black hole, and her domain is rebirth.
Refuse your own courage, and she will close the portal with a vengeance.
She doesn't entertain cowardice.
But she rewards fatal bravery handsomely.
Her love is swift and stinging and full of pleasure.
Deny her at your own peril.
For we're all going to die.
But with her, you are reborn.

In honor of the Scorpio full moon and my own moon in Scorpio, I also wanted to share some of my favorite altar items for spells and intentions surrounding these themes of shadow work, rebirth, dark sensuality, and peering into the unknown.

Black Candles
You can't honor the mysterious Scorpio without a black candle. Literally lighting a flame over the dark, black candles represent the hidden shadows that the scorpio can peer into so naturally. If you're uncomfortable using only black candles, feel free to balance it out with white candles.  

Shark Teeth
I like to use a mortar and pestle to crush a shark tooth into powder for various spells and potions. Shark teeth can be used for protection, boundaries, cleansing, forward motion, and I enjoy a little bit of predatory energy in there. I spent hours combing beaches for these teeth, which makes them all the more potent. Personally collected items are always more powerful. 

Snake Skin
What's more representative of the shedding of skins than an actual shed skin? Serpents are often vilified in myth, but they are powerful creatures of transformation. They are also associated with Lilith and with Kundalini. The serpent started showing up in my life as a symbol of the Goddess before I even knew what it was there for, and I still dream of being bitten by snakes when I'm undergoing spiritual initiations. 

Water from Lake Superior
I collected water from Lake Superior, as it has the same icy depths as a Scorpio moon. Collecting water from your favorite places for magickal works is incredibly powerful, and different places have different energies for you to utilize. 

Black Velvet or Lace
Put it on your altar, wear it, put it on to take it off (hehe), just enjoy it. The Scorpio moon loves that dark sexy aesthetic. 

The Tao te Ching
The original grimoire of the power of paradox and poetry, Lao Tzu's Tao te Ching is full of inspiration. The Scorpio moon loves poetry and is always looking for new ways to dive in and understand the Self, and every time you open the Tao te Ching, the passages hit you in a new way.

Feathers
To represent the rising of the Phoenix from the ashes. Eagle feathers especially, as eagles are a symbol of Scorpio. 

Ashes or Bones
A special nod to the death/rebirth cycle and immortal consciousness. I have a small bottle of the ashes of my animal familiar, my handsome wolfy dog, that passed a few years ago. Ashes also represent the sands of Time. 

Mirrors
Whether a black scrying mirror or a standard mirror, this is the perfect time for you to gaze into your own reflection. But look at yourself honestly...you might be surprised. 

Now go put "I Put A Spell On You" on repeat and seduce yourself under the light of the moon.

Your Trauma Talks. Are You Listening?

I can handle this. 

I’m strong. 

I’m tough as hell. 

This is fine. 

Everything is fine. 

Everything is fine…until it’s very clearly not. 

Sometimes it takes being drunk as fuck, blood running down your leg onto the floor from a few (intentional) missteps with a razor blade, hazily looking into the horrified eyes of your lover, to realize…everything is NOT fine. You are NOT fine. This…this is not fine. This is trauma taken over. 

Empaths are trauma collectors. Not only do many of us have storied pasts filled with pain and abuse, but we also collect the trauma from others. Trauma seems to cozy itself right into the curves of our bodies and the cracks in our minds. We inherit it from our grandmothers, and their grandmothers before that. Our natural openness and compassion, plus the influence (or lack thereof) of boundaries, make us the perfect candidates to be energetic unloading zones. 

We learn how to carry the trauma. We adjust to it. We become trauma management systems rather than trauma clearing systems. Usually, this way of living is learned very early on, and by the time we’re adults, we often don’t realize how much trauma we’re actually carrying. 

...until you are so subconsciously loaded with trauma, that a simple trigger could initiate a terrifying domino effect in your psyche that carries you to an involuntary breaking point. And if you’re anything like me, your breaking point can become very dangerous very quickly. 

You might be thinking, “How could this witch woman who comes off as so fierce and so strong ever reach a point of self-harm or insanity?” 

And the truth is…none of us can be strong all the time.

None of us can have our shit together at all times. The times when I’ve been able to show up as a strong and fierce woman have been times when I’ve respected my mind and body and spirit, and respected where and when my trauma presented itself. 

But when I keep pushing past traumatic or stressful events, when I keep telling myself that it will all pass as long as I keep going and hustling past it, the trauma slowly builds up in my system. And while in that forced strength mindset, I often find myself in situations or places that I know are triggering for me, but I think, Oh, I’m strong. I can handle this. This is fine. 

But it’s not fine. It’s not fine to push ourselves past our limits of self-respect. It’s not fine to shove our trauma down, thinking that we’ll be able to pull it out in small pieces, intentionally, when we’re ready. Trauma doesn’t work that way.

If you disrespect your trauma, it will swallow you whole, I promise you that.

When I disrespect my trauma, it rises up with a vengeance. I fall into old programming that I was brainwashed with in a past abusive relationship, and it quickly leads me to make unsafe decisions. My manic depression roars and I find myself looking at the world through eyes that I no longer recognize as my own. I am filled with a frantic urge to leave this planet that I love. All because I couldn’t listen to my intuition, listen to my trauma, about what I needed. 

It took reaching a terrible breaking point for me to hear what it was saying: 

Slow down. 

Get away. 

Rest. 

Process your recent experiences in a neutral environment. 

Limit your information input and output. 

Be in nature.

Let yourself grieve. 

Let yourself breathe. Alone. 

The less we listen to what our trauma needs to heal, the more likely we are to unintentionally re-traumatize ourselves, sending us into unhealthy and dangerous cycles of behavior and thought patterns. Our stubbornness to be fierce and powerful goddesses all the time can end up hurting us if we’re not taking the steps to stop and listen and heal. 

It’s okay to avoid situations that you know are triggering for you. It’s okay to avoid places or people or activities that could potentially re-traumatize you. Forcing yourself into a stressful or traumatizing situation is not strength, it’s disrespect. 

You don’t have to prove to yourself or anyone else what you can handle.

You don’t have to prove to yourself or anyone else that you’re an indestructible force of nature.

You don’t have to prove to yourself or anyone else that you are one tough bitch for ‘overcoming’ your trauma.

(I don’t believe that we ‘overcome’ our trauma. I don’t believe that we ‘triumph’ over our trauma. It exists for a reason, and I believe that we develop a relationship with it, and a loving understanding of it, and then it plays less and less of a role in our lives as a result.) 

What you do have to prove, is that you can love and honor yourself, wherever you’re at.

What is your trauma saying?

_____________________

I will be listening to my trauma and taking a little social media break. I need to get some space in nature and work on my book about living as an empath and how to navigate the empath’s shadow. I’m real excited to bring this into the world, both for myself, and for all of my empath readers and friends. I’m not sure of the exact timeline, as I’m not sure if I’ll be self-publishing or going through the process of finding a publisher, but I will definitely keep all of you in the loop. Thank you for sharing this space with me here. 

The Lion - Just Show Up.

The Lion card from The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Deck.

When I’m a crumpled ball on the floor, 

eyes puffy with tears, with only whimpers discernible, 

I show up. 

To the grand dramatic play of raw emotion. 

To the mirage of blame and pity and self-destruction. 

To the cutting truth of my wounded self acting out like a toddler. 

I show up. 

When I’m boldly standing on a hilltop,

my mane of fire shining gloriously,

I show up. 

To the courageous circle of stories told.

To the steps taken in equal parts fear and excitement. 

To the epic journey of the mythic fool.

I show up. 

When my bank account is drained, 

along with my mental capacity and perspective,

I show up. 

To the severe drought of self-confidence. 

To the lack mindset I’ve jumped into for the billionth time. 

To the doubt that I will ever be worthy. 

I show up. 

When the opportunity for abundance presents itself,

with its challenges to rise, rise, rise, 

I show up.

To the reckless fun of imagining a dream. 

To the old beliefs butting up against the new. 

To the creation of something beautiful and interesting.

I show up. 

When love dies, 

and reality shifts to accommodate the loss of future, 

I show up. 

To the strangeness of wondering what ever was. 

To the game of lost chances and wrongdoings. 

To the aloneness of being oneself. 

I show up. 

When new love shows up, 

with the fluttering dismay and giggling shadows,

I show up.

To the meeting of minds, hearts, bodies, and souls.

To the endless spinning web of delirious potential. 

To the unbridled joy of the senses, grounded in the sensuous touch of earth. 

I show up.

When I fear for my safety, 

and I fear for the safety of my friends and communities, 

I show up. 

To the hopelessness caused by the few in charge. 

To the terror of our most basic rights being torn away. 

To the longstanding pain and suffering we can no longer be blind to.

I show up. 

When we come together, 

united in hope, with a force that’s unstoppable, 

I show up. 

To the linked arms of everyone I’ve ever known. 

To the spectacle of millions of snowflakes creating a storm that shuts the whole goddamn thing down. 

To the victory that all can share in.

I show up. 

The lion feels like showing up. It feels like the potential for anything to happen, good or bad, and it urges us to be present. Be present for all of it. All of the joy, all of the suffering, all of ourselves. Every piece of ourselves we love, every piece of ourselves we’re ashamed of. Just show up.

The Path of the Pathless Witch

Mine is a power that will not explain itself. 

No sources revealed, no maps drawn, no keys given. 

I am neither an authority nor an imposter.

I am only as true as the restless wind. 

Will you be the judge? 

To be witch is merely to be. 

to be blood

and sensual juices

and flesh and spirit. 

To be whore and hag with an eager heart on both accounts. 

I follow no rulebook, I answer to no priest. 

I don't buy into buzzwords. 

Only the slicing of the sickle through illusion. 

But please, don't buy into me either, for I will surely change with the face of the moon. 

Again and again, you catch me, and I slip from your grasp. 

Always fading into the wash of the sky.

I am not exempt from destruction.

I burn often,

as the embers remain glowing in my womb through the generations. 

The liquid fire in my veins kills me,

sometimes slow, like sweet burning molasses,

sometimes quick as silver. 

Over and over, I die for the Nameless.

I rage.

Sometimes carelessly, creating chaos for the sake of itself. 

To breathe as the dragon does. 

To take down a village with a yawn.

Sometimes consciously, to dismantle the inner landscape of injustice.

To protect the beloved from the below. 

To exact holy revenge and righteous balance.

I weaponize my words, and the way my body curves. 

My copper strands of hair carry out my wishes.

And I am alone in the dark,

with only and always the hope of the stars. 

How exhausting to be so much at once.

How exhilarating. 

To always be a prism of undying elements,

all at once compassionate and cruel. 

But this is the path of the Pathless Witch.