Vitamin W: A Blessing Moon Remedy

You won’t find it in any sweet, coated capsule or pricey elixir. It can’t be grown in even the most manicured garden, and I daresay that the wisest among us has never learned to harvest it even in the most fertile, misty valley where our ancestors’ ghosts still roam. If I could brew it for you in my hag’s kitchen, I would. If I could beg the old Crone in the forest to humor me and grant us the recipe, I would be knocking on her door by moonrise. As it is, we’re going to have to go digging deep into our own guts to find its source.

Your skin has gone gaunt, dearest, and you have that long-stare about your eyes. There is a dimness about you I’ve not seen before. I miss the fullness of your cheeks, and I wonder if you’ve become overly deficient. There’s nothing sadder than a woman gone sour on her magick, and there’s no greater nourishment than the hearty infusion of Vitamin Witch; without it, your bones dry out and your blood runs thick. The juice-well of your sacrum gets low, and your heart-drum quickens like a lost creature’s frantic and futile footsteps.

I’m not telling you to meet me at the stone circle and toss your shame to the wind; not today. I’m not telling you to sit on the ground and bleed to bless the Mother; there’s a time for that, after all, but you haven’t sufficient strength. My hope, my love, is that you will take good care of yourself tonight and sip from your own home brew. Look inward for the thirsty places before searching outward for an easy remedy. Put your attention where it is most needed. Sit and be. Turn your back on your library for now, and sink your teeth into some sweet corn and grainy bread. You have sufficient stores inside the hollows of your ribcage, a plentiful bounty of nourishing memories, know-how, and hope. Open these too-dusty lids and turn the barrels over. Be present in grace and gratitude for all that you are, even during this high-pressure time of the Great Swell, and let the heavily infused carrier-oils spill into the dank places where routine and obligation have cracked through the bone and sucked at the marrow.

Vitamin W will feed your blood and wet your sallow but still soft skin. Vitamin W is generated and sustained by every knowing gaze into the dark, every spoken and honest thank you, and every well-cast charm. Vitamin W rides down on the moonlight and blesses the Mother Oaks, but you need not stand skyclad with blade raised to feel the rush. Take solace in a quiet morning moment spent whispering to green and growing things. Spend a lunch break barefoot, and savor a meal cooked with earnest skill and much love. Replenish all that leaves you warm and wild, and bid the color return to your once-bountiful but still beauteous flesh.

Danielle Dulsky

Danielle Dulsky is a long-time activist for wild woman spirituality and the divine feminine’s return. She is the author of Woman Most Wild (coming May 2017 from New World Library). A multi-media artist, yoga teacher and teacher trainer, and energy worker, Danielle is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless...