These bones of mine were restless, and I was half-dreaming of an eyeless crow gnawing away at my storyteller’s lips. I woke with a quickening..
Come, pilgrim. Rest here in my garish summer garden. I’ve just poured fresh moon-blood on rosemary in the name of the Cailleach, and I’ve nothing..
Ah, yes. I remember now. This righteous May moon is swelling between my ribs as it always does, lifting these aging breasts a bit higher..
Magick is real. Discovering that the universe is full of magick and living in that magical universe is what makes witches unique from others. Wisdom teacher Phyllis..
It’s been too long, heathen. How I’ve missed those black-mirror eyes of yours! How I’ve missed those twisted-mouth expressions that relentlessly pull the secrets from..
“The lightning calls As once it did The drums of war unfold I am Her And She is me The Warrior in Woad.” – Joey..
Walk with me, sinner. My cauldron is too heavy to lift, and my athame is dirty and dull from overuse. These ritual robes of mine..
The House of Twigs: School of Ritual is a community built by a collective of practitioners, teachers, artisans, and members of many paths. Each..
We are born into a story both written and unwritten. Sometimes the storyline is obvious, other times it takes a little digging. The divine feminine..
Author’s Note: First and foremost, I must give a TRIGGER WARNING; this post talks about abuse, trauma, and violence. Out of respect for the healing..
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