Of Garbage and Rebirth

All my life I’ve known some form of magick. Even though I had no idea what that meant. Things I overheard while at the kitchen table helping the adults make Puerto Rican dishes every weekend. From family involved in Santeria; a Shaman maternal great grandfather, a powerful paternal grandmother (who tried to kill me at the age of 5), my Mami who read people from toe-to-head, never the other way around. My childhood was filled with magick. And yet I struggled from early on for the recognition of Elders in Santeria. I wanted that moment of acknowledgement to confirm for myself and others that I was indeed, gifted in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. There are memories that live inside me that are such a mystery, I’ve given up trying to figure them out and simply accepted them.

I was never initiated into anything my family was a part of. Mami wouldn’t allow it, telling me I had plenty of time to decide my path. So it was to her that I would tell my prophetic dreams to, but not the endless nightmares. It was her that I would tell who would be dying soon when the acrid smell and taste of death permeated the air and my food. It was her that I would tell the secrets the Orisha statues would tell me. But I would also listen to the advice she would tell those who came to her and kept a mental Book of Shadows written in my Mami’s voice, which I still hear even now, five years after her passing.

I would write things down in pencil on small pieces of brown paper torn from the bodega paper bags and stuff them in my shoes. Forgetting about them for as long as I had the shoes. I played with candles, I created spells, I played with fire – a lot of fire; called to the wind and the birds. I watched my Mami do workings for others, always listening intently to her warnings and instructions. I read all of my Papi’s books on symbolism and numbers in dreams, my Mami’s books on numerology, palmistry, even her book on Nostradamus. She taught me to read the Spanish tarot cards. And yet, I still longed for what would make me different but mostly, accepted. Truthfully and perhaps selfishly, I wanted to be honored, heard, and loved.

I often look back on my life, especially after learning about past lives and how they can affect our current life, and I’ve seen some patterns repeat over and over but none so much as suffering and loneliness. I’ve searched for the remedy to both to no avail. It was only after meeting the man I decided would become my Godfather in Santeria, that I learned of my path; I’m a daughter of Oshun, which surprised me, and one of the avatars of her path is called, Oshun Ibu Kole. He told me it was the path of the vulture goddess and to research it. He explained how this particular avatar was one of a beautiful Oshun who had the ear of Olodumare and other Orishas and yet fell so far down that she was often seen rolling around in the mud; dirty and in misery. She sacrificed herself for humanity and was left to pick up what she could to survive. He compared it to what I’d been through in life; I gave and gave and was always the one left behind to suffer and pick from what was leftover. This Oshun was powerful and honored because of her sacrifice. The vultures were her messengers. There’s also a story I’ve heard since finding out about this path, that says if one is ever out and gets lost in the wilderness or the desert and sees vultures looming and gathering overhead ready to pick at the carcass, they are to shake their arms or dance so that the vultures know they aren’t dead yet.

No one wants suffering and loneliness.

No one wants to struggle and feel as though they are alone in this world and on this path.

And yet I see the path of where I’ve been so clearly now.

The cycle of garbage and rebirth.

And maybe that’s why I’ve always danced.

Walking with the Morrigan in Twilight Groves

Freepik

I have awoken to the cawing of Crows again, against the barely lit white-washed walls that slump inward unto themselves.
The world shudders with an ice in its heart, and the crows are all stirred up, for the spiritual ecosystem is charged as a broken system lets out its death throes.
Archaic old dictators vie for control, but it slips under their fingernails as the ashes kiss the wind, and I hear Her, ushering in change, tempestuous and unyielding, stalking the grounds like a phantom seeking blood.
Every mirror reflects these cracks, the old and wearied that clings and breaks, the brittle notion of conformity.
The Dark Goddess rises.
The Morrigan rises from deep in the Earth, splitting it twain with a revelation of quaking, emerging beautiful and terrible, her blade slipping from its sheath to deliver the final blow.
I see Her, glorious, those dark raven eyes peering into the bones of my soul, knowing who I am, who I have been, and who I am becoming.
I follow the long shadow of her cape that scatters ink soot feathers across the dirt-trod path, weaving in and out of the liminal spaces between trees and Earth.
Shifting, ever shifting, I follow the path of my Goddess, my Mother, She who saved my life and gave it back to me, over and over.
The Morrigan who has split me in twain and sewn me up, over, and over again, who knows my breaking, my bleeding.
But above all my rising.
My consciousness flits in and out with every breath, visible in the cold that pierces my skin, as we journey ever on.
The chorus of the Corvids peaks, a chatter that drowns out all others, as we reach the threshold once more.

The Morrigan in sacred places.
In time worn groves long forgotten, set to the torch or knife by man, a forest now only of ghosts and memory. Their ancient wisdom held in this place, a testament to when the world was wilder, before this vicious cycle had taken full root and plagued the Earth.

She sits, perched in the centre against a stump covered in moss, and the light bends around Her, defusing through the thick branches that gnarl around one another in greeting.
The very trees speak; a rustle of leaves, a groaning of bark. What secrets they held and hold still, here in the most sacred of places.
Long talons tap against Her blade, screeching in the most uncomfortable of ways, beckoning approach or else retreat.
Knowing this dance, how could I ever call myself Hers if I fled? Never once have I ran from Her, nor denied Her.
I have screamed in rage, in pain, in desperation as Her lessons have broken my spine and stretched my ragged breath thin – but I have never deserted.
Which is why I am here.
Again.
It is time for the last breath of this cycle, a rebirthing, a cleansing from the stagnancy of the outdated, and so, surrounded by feathers and roots, I walk forth, to the waiting eyes of The Morrigan.

Would the talons rake my skin again, I wondered, how deeply would the lesson splinter?
“The world is changing,” She croaks, in that voice outside of time, it mists in and outside of my head, “There is death all around, and the drums are howling, men will try to devastate this Earth once more.”

I cannot deny it has been in my waking thoughts, wondering about the shape of things to come. Knowing that we have all been staring out into the unknown abyss for some time, scuttling for safety like rats on a sinking ship. Chaos has been reigning, and it is not done yet.
The Morrigan simply shifts Her shape within the red mist, collecting the broken, ciphering souls to the Otherworld and on.
Holding the memories within Her, always. Honouring the Dead.

Her hand is on my head, and She weaves Her fingers across my body, forming a sort of armour, all gold and shifting, parts blacker than volcanic soil, glinting with a temporal shift. “There is much to come. Much to do. Much to defend,” She croaks, and I wonder at that.

As the world falls apart and reknits itself, as ever it has done, I wonder about the guiding hand of The Morrigan, and She smiles in that way I know, all red lipped and fanged, where Her Will is undeniable.
None can withstand it. She will come in ferocious as a tide of change, and all will be scattered to the wind.

When it is not safe, who will love me still?” She asks.
My heart aches at that, a single tear falls, for I will.
And to that I shall always hold – and She knows.

In the deepest recesses of those eyes that shimmer with deathlessness, She Knows.

Fashion woman posing near the sea. Dark Queen.

There are so many arguments swirling around as to who deserves to discuss the Morrigan, so many would-be dictators that attack as soon as they feel power slipping from their grasp.
Mirroring the world at large by seeking to dominate, and crush others under their heel, in the name of a Goddess who was never about cruelty.
Only the Christianizing hand sought to paint her thus.
For Morrigan is ancient, primal, powerful – the ever-shifting shape of Sovereignty and Evolution.
You cannot control change, for it seeps in at the corners when you’re dreaming and before you know it takes root in the ground.
The Crow wings bring gusts together and the old system falls, the new Sovereign is crowned, and only the Land remembers.
Humans forget quickly, and with purpose, but the Spiritual Ecosystem holds every truth that ever was, reflecting the course of human memory.
A thousand people believing that they were the one to whom power belonged, and the shadows grew under each of their eyes as they poisoned themselves inside out.
You cannot hold onto power, for that is merely borrowed, and the day comes when it will be returned.
All things fall.
Power instead lies in the resolute conquering only of oneself, to embody the Sacred grove within your soul, and know that to all things there is a cycle. We are nature reflected unto itself, and that makes the disconnect from it all the more painful.
The need to control the narrative is born from a complete lack of understanding that we are all the narrative, memory, and the stories we weave, are all sacred in the Spirit realm.
The Morrigan holds them in her throat, and utters forth prophecy and regales battle worn spirits with tales remembered.
She is in the Land, and the Sea, and the Sky. She walks between all the realms of existence, and ushers in change at every meeting.

You can no more control Her than the shifting wind, or the depths of the Ocean.
It is folly to try.

Move well through the Otherworlds, Starlets
Joey Morris

Divine Duo: Femininity and the Left Hand Path

christopher-mckenney

Image: Christopher McKenney

“Femininity is depicted as weakness, the sapping of strength, yet masculinity is so fragile that apparently even the slightest brush with the feminine destroys it.”

Gwen Sharp

This is one of those posts where I know no matter how I word this, or how many disclaimers I put in here along the way, it’s going to cause waves; people are going to be offended, take it wrong, and some will be left feeling uncomfortable. As I said just last week, I would not be who I am or true to myself if I did not make you, my readership, uncomfortable.

This topic has been floating around in my head since I started NR but I never knew how to word it, I never knew how to say this without coming off as one of those new age, man hating, Feminists.

I am a Feminist but I do not hate Men. I do not have to put down an entire gender to make my own look better; I do not have to hate on ALL Men to attempt and heal the wounds inflicted on me by one, or a few. That is totally not how healing happens; you cannot heal through hate.

Anyways, let me just get to the point of this post and I am going to be as blunt as I can:

It’s fucking hard being a Woman on the Left Hand Path.

Before reacting to my above statement, let me explain it first.

I post things to the page that resonate with me and what I am going through at the time. Since I am a Woman, and am starting to embrace my Feminine side after turning my back on her a few years ago because of my cancer, I post about the Divine Feminine, Sacred Sex, and Female Empowerment.

When my physical womb was removed, it felt like I lost my womb power and everything that made me a Woman; it has been a long, painful journey to realize that my womb power, that womb wisdom, is rooted in my Soul—no matter what happens to this physical shell.

I also post about these topics because this world is seriously lacking some Sisterhood.

What these posts have done, is they have brought out misogynists in droves.

I have had post after post trolled and I have been personally attacked because an article represented the Feminine without mention of the Masculine. It got to the point where I finally just started deleting and banning people without even bothering to engage; you just can’t reason with hate.

Why does my Femininity bother them so much? Why does my voice, my opinion and my fearlessness to speak my truth make them react so violently, so aggressively?

What is it about a Woman standing in her power that makes Men scared? (OBVIOUSLY, I am not talking about all Men; I am referring to the ones who troll the posts, etc. It’s sad that this must be said for clarification purposes; everyone is triggered by something these days. Shout out to the Awakened Masculine, btw.)

What kills me is some of the Men who troll have been following me for quite some time, and are not asleep in the consciousness department; they are not stupid by any means, either. Yet, they feel the need to constantly talk about “You need balance. You need balance. You need balance.” Blah. Blah. Blah.

You’re right, I do need balance!

What I don’t need to find that balance is a Man.

*GASP*

Did she just say that…?!?!

I did.

And, it’s true.

The Masculine lives inside of me, as the Feminine lives inside of them. Having a Man is about having a life partner, and (if it’s your thing) having someone to start a family with.

Please believe that balance can be found by the individual without “needing” anybody else.

I continue to get hit with, “Where are the Men posts?” and usually my reply is, “When I see posts about the Divine Masculine, I share them.”

But, when it happened two days ago, and I was hit with “you’re not understanding what I am trying to teach you” my response was quite different.

Why the fuck do I HAVE to represent the Masculine?

I don’t deny the Masculine: I love him, I respect him, I honor him, I cherish him.

We live in a world that is male dominated; yes, I am “one of those” who believes in the Patriarchy.

On top of living in a male dominated world, the Left Hand Path is a male dominated community.

Why can’t there be some Feminine energy up in here without it being a huge fucking problem?

I post sex positive articles, how to re-wild ourselves, and embracing the Dark Feminine and get shit for it…

From men…

All. The. Time.

I embrace my sexuality, and my inner whore. I embrace my inner virgin, too. I embrace all aspects of my being and I will not apologize for that. Is that not what being a Luciferian is about?

I will not apologize that my individuality bothers some people so much; I will not apologize for breaking barriers in a world that wishes to confine me to a cage full of labels and expectations.

I will not apologize for being true to who I am.

I am a beautiful, delicate, divinely feminine being, and I walk the Left Hand Path; that IS okay.

So, you stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine, being all Goddess like and shit.

MIGHTY HEKATE: Keyholder of the World!

bill

Image: Bill Crisafi

“By Hecate, the goddess I worship more than all the others, the one I choose to help me in this work, who lives with me deep inside my home, these people won’t bring pain into my heart and laugh about it.”

Euripides

There are few deities who seem to have a strong appeal to Witches and Mystics across all paths, one of these deities is Hekate. She is the Greek Goddess of Witchcraft (among other things) and has rule over Heaven, Earth and Sea; a gift she can thank her parents Perses and Asteria for bestowing her with.

The story of Hekate among each path seems to differ slightly; some only consider her to be a Moon Goddess, or part of the Triple Goddess—Persephone and Demeter being the other two but, this is most likely a mistranslation of the myth (in my opinion). Hekate guided Demeter with her torch down into the Underworld to find Persephone; Hekate is, or could be known as a Priestess of Hades, not that she followed his rule or bowed to him, no, no; more like she had domain on his turf.

Talk about girl power.

There are so many layers to this Goddess of the Shadows and folklore surrounding her that it is no surprise she calls out to a wide variety of practitioners.

First let us try to get a basic understanding of who Hekate is.

As mentioned above she is considered by some to be part of the Triple Goddess; Persephone the Maiden, Demeter the Mother and Hekate (Hecate) the Crone.

The most common depiction of Hekate was (obviously) from the Greeks who believed her to be a Goddess of the Three Paths (Triple Roads): Guardian of Hearth and Home, Protector of the newly born, and the Goddess of Witchcraft and Magick.

Other myths go deeper and consider her to be the Goddess of Night, Ghosts, Necromancy, Key Bearer of the World, and Light bringer.

I know a lot of you who are familiar with her energy are probably confused or shocked that she is considered a light bearer when she herself dwells so deep in the shadows but, she carries her torch for a reason.

When we are amid life’s most perilous journey’s this Goddess appears, and helps to guide us through; her tests are not easy, and they are like no other deity I have ever worked with but, her blessings are infinite. She teaches us that with death comes life, and the world we live in is not black and white; it is gray as we are gray, it is neutral as nature is neutral and we are nature.

She teaches us wisdom by forcing us to find the light in the dark; by forcing us to become the light in the dark.

Hekate is known as a Triple Goddess on her own, as well; having the ability to see in all directions always. A trident being one of her symbols, it is clear to see that the number three follows her. So, it is no surprise that she is depicted in art and myth as having ownership of Cerebrus, a three headed Hell Hound.

She has connections to other Goddesses but her Triple figure appears as a three-headed Woman: Dog, Snake (sometimes a Cobra as seen below) and Horse with her famous torch, dagger and skeleton key in hand (again three).

hecate-redux-by-artemisia-synchroma

Image: Artemisia Synchroma

While other depictions have Hekate wearing a Snake, Horse and Boar head. Much like Artemis, animals are Sacred to Hekate.

Hekate is a Goddess for everyone and of everything; she is, in fact, an all-encompassing Goddess who knows when to appear to us as the harsh Old Hag lurking in the Shadows forcing us to make a choice, and change, or the guiding light when we are lost in the dark.

Hekate opens new doorways to us, and as a Goddess of death and the underworld she can walk us through the journey as we cast our skin, go deep into the Earth and come out reborn.

She is both Mother, and Crone, both shadow and light.

She was the first Goddess to ever come to me and the lessons I have learned from her along the way cannot be quantified. She has taught me to accept death and with this acceptance I could release my fear. She has taught me that only through darkness can light be found. And, she has taught me that there is always more than one path; no matter how stuck, lost or confused I am, there is always a choice, there is always a crossroad.

Hekate is a Goddess for both the living and dead, she is a Goddess who is unapologetic and forces us to evaluate ourselves; the Crone wisdom of going within.

She is the Goddess of Witches and without her I would not know my own power.

Hail to Hekate, Keyholder of the World!

Resources for further, deeper reading into this Goddess along with a link to the story of Hekate Enodia:

http://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Hekate.html

http://www.goddessgift.com/goddess-myths/greek_goddess_Hecate.htm

http://hekatecovenant.com/resources/about-hekate/hekate-goddess-of-magic-sorita-deste/

http://www.hecateslantern.com/2015/04/26/hecate-enodia-before-the-gates/

http://awitchalone.com/crossroads/index.php?post/2016/09/27/Ancient-Necromantic-Practices-in-Averno

Aspects of the Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone and What It Means to Not Belong

Boris Ovin

Image: Boris Ovini

“Where there is a woman there is magic. If there is a moon falling from her mouth, she is a woman who knows her magic, who can share or not share her powers. A woman with a moon falling from her mouth, roses between her legs and tiaras of Spanish moss, this woman is a consort of the spirits.”

Ntozake Shange

This blog was a request that I am finally getting the time to sit down and write, I am not sure if I am fully prepared for a piece such as this for a couple reasons. First, this topic is entirely about the Divine Feminine, an aspect I have only recently started to work with, and embrace. I always had Masculine energy around me, I was also always more comfortable with the Masculine side of myself and my Magick; not that I didn’t like being a Woman—I didn’t understand how to be a Woman, huge difference.

Then, I had my hysterectomy, and I really lost touch with my Feminine side; it was not until the Dark Goddesses, and my Beloved Crones came forth that I began to realize I am as much of a Woman and Witch as my Sistren who still have their Wombs, and Sacred Blood. I do, however, still hold onto some regret, or guilt almost for not cherishing my Blood when I had it, for not understanding that part of my life and for expressing myself sexually in all the wrong ways. It’s one of those “If I knew then what I know now” type situations while at the same time being an “everything happens for a reason” situation.

A bittersweet, catch 22. Aren’t they all, though?

The second reason that I am freaking out about this post is because it’s about a Pagan concept. For a long time, I have denounced the title Pagan even though I understand it is an umbrella term that I technically fall under, blah, blah, blah. For some reason I hate the term, that’s really all there is to it. I feel like it does not accurately describe me, and I also feel like it hinders me, it binds my power for some reason.

If I were to describe myself it would be, and has always been, a Luciferian Witch, though even that morphs and changes because I walk a line between Satanism and Luciferianism; as similar as they are, there are several differences. For me, Satanism is much darker, and when tapping into the collective adversarial energy that is Satan it entirely changes my Magick, and my mentality; when I tap into the Luciferian energy of illumination and knowledge, it changes my Magick and mentality in totally different ways. Same goes for Draconian Fire.

I like to tap into all forms of energy as I see fit. Why does one have to limit themselves with titles, words and colors on a spectrum that doesn’t even really exist?

Hell, if I am going to be honest I feel that even the title “Luciferian Witch” hinders my growth, so I have recently chosen to just say, I am.

At the end of the day, myself just like all you are everything and nothing existing together at the same time. What wonderful contradictions we are.

With all of that said, the request was to write about what it is like to be a Woman whose age is supposed to be in one phase, but she feels, and is in an entirely different phase. I am obviously referring to the Maiden, Mother, Crone idea. I have always found it interesting that Women of the Craft are divided, but our Brothers do not have anything similar. Part of me feels that it is because Women are inherently more spiritual than Men; I wholeheartedly believe this to be true. The Feminine and Masculine are different because they need to be in order to balance each other out, if we were both emotionally and entirely intuitively based, we would be a heaping pile of chaos, and tears. We need the Masculine’s logic, and stoic, solid foundation to anchor us when the tides of emotion become too much to bear alone. I am not referring to gender, either, I am referring to energy; Women can be Masculine, as Men can be Feminine.

There is this other part of me that feels this is yet another way the Patriarchy has had some effect, or conditioned us. And, before any of you start to freak out thinking I am some extreme, neo-Feminist for using the word Patriarchy, I am not, I just know this is a male dominated world.

Before I get into my opinion and experience being 31 and using Crone energy, I am going to define the terms. The Source I am using is a book from my personal collection called: ‘The Three Faces of the Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone’ by D.J Conway.

“The first aspect of the Goddess is the Maiden, sometimes called the Virgin or Huntress. She is spring, the fresh beginning of all things. The Maiden is the continuation of all life, the repeating of endless cycles of birth and rebirth, both of the body and of the spirit. She is the dawn, eternal youth and vigor, enchantment and seduction, the waxing Moon. Traditionally, Her color is white, denoting innocence and newness.”

“The Mother aspect of the Goddess is summer, the ripening of all things. She is the re-creation of life, both plant and animal; She is also the creation of universal bodies. She is the high point in all cycles, whether of living or creating, for the Mother blessed and gives with open hands. She is the Great Teacher of the Mysteries. Symbolically, the Mother aspect is the boiling or churning cauldron, the re-creative pot, and the ripeness of womanhood (or adulthood in general). The day, lustiness, reproduction, creation in any form and of anything—these are all within Her realm. Traditionally, Her color is red, the color of blood and the life force.”

“The Crone aspect of the Great Goddess is the least understood and the most feared of the three aspects. She has been called the Terrible Mother, the Hag, the Dark Mother, the Wise One. Because She deals with death and the end of cycles, most people tend to avoid this face of the Goddess. Black is Her color, and sometimes dark blue and the deepest of purples. Black is the absorber of all light, the color of darkness where all life rests before rebirth. The Crone is winter, night, outer space, the abyss, menopause, advancement in age, wisdom, counsel, the gateway to death and reincarnation, and the Initiator into the deepest of Mysteries and prophecies. The waning Moon is Her monthly time of power.”

“The Crone’s number is nine and multiples of nine. This number symbolizes wisdom and Sacred Magick. Nine is also a Moon number, which means spiritual completion and wholeness. The Moon goes through its phases from New to waxing to Full and back again to New. In life, we go out from the Crone’s recycling cauldron into existence, then eventually return again to Her waiting vessel. Physical death is part of life’s cycle of wholeness.”

Personally, I believe that we have the ability to be all aspects of the Goddess at once, or when we choose; I do not think numeric age has anything to do with the power we tap into. I believe that we, as Women, are able to tap into all aspects of the Goddess because all those aspects already exist within us.

So why wouldn’t I conclude that we can tap into them?

When I went into menopause at 27 (equals 9) it was intense, to say the least. I noticed a dramatic change in my power, my way of thinking, how I viewed the world, and even my moral compass; I seemed to suddenly give zero fucks.

The first of the Crones to come to me was my Beloved Baba Yaga, followed by other Dark Goddesses such as Kali, Hekate, Lilith, and Demeter. There is a level of humility gained when working with such powerful aspects of the Great Goddess. The biggest lesson I have learned so far is I now understand life and death more than I ever have, all because I am held in the embrace of primordial Darkness. I sit on the edge of life and death, teetering back and forth.

It’s interesting, and intriguing to be drawn to an aspect that most people feel is earned only through years walked on this Earth. I find that fellow Witches are more interested in my energy now because I am so young but my energy is that of the Crone. Conversely, fellow Witches are equally confused as they are interested when they realize how Motherly I am. Chalk it up to my Cancerian Soul, or the fact that I am both Mother and Crone, I know my truth.

I walk among all aspects of the Goddess because I am She, and She is Me; I limit myself to nothing and no one, no spectrum or creed because I am everything and nothing and so are thee.

If you are interested in purchasing the book I sourced:

Hear Her Roar

Joshua Calebbe

Image: Joshua Calebbe

“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”

John Muir


I have been hearing Her call more than ever lately, the Great Mother I mean; She is speaking to me in a million, not so, silent ways. The signs started quietly at first, slowly appearing, but as I started to acknowledge them, they became more and more intense. She was tempting me, and when She felt my hunger, She gave me more blood (in this metaphor, knowledge). There was a huge piece of my path missing, and that was Her. I have never fully explored the Goddess path, and now that I have given myself to Her, I am being rewarded.

I am not a balanced person, and I suppose it is no surprise that my personal Philosophy seemed to be one sided, too. I believe in the Old God’s, and that has never been disputed in my mind, but I have never embraced fully, the masculine or feminine, God/Goddess, yin/yang, active/receptive, positive/negative—duality that is essential to succeed on any spiritual path, and I believe, life in general.

There has to be balance, or nothing is possible.

Imagine how hard this sense of duality is for me to understand, I have always existed in one extreme or another, which is so ironic, hypocritical almost, because I hate extremists. Yet, I exist in the extreme areas of my mind, and Soul.

I also find it ironic that the first Goddess to ever make contact with me was Hekate. This visit of the Goddess was followed by Artemis/Diana, for some reason she likes to show up as both archetypes with me, then there was Kali Ma, and Lilith. In recent weeks there have been my encounters with Baba Yaga, but she did not make herself known until I fully accepted the Divine Feminine into my everyday life, and lifestyle.

I am surrounded by masculine energy, my guides and guards, my messengers, and counsel are all male, so the fact that I have a temper like a male, or react in an aggressive nature like a male should be no shock. I like to blame the Beast within, and to some degree this is true, but I cannot blame the animalistic side of myself that resides within for how I choose to react; it is a choice to react or not.

I had completely forgotten the feminine side of the world, of Magick, of myself. Somewhere along the way I lost my sensuality, my sexuality, my feminine essence that makes me who I am. This partially has to do with my hysterectomy, it was like once my period was gone, and my ability to have children (even though I never wanted any) I felt so much less feminine.

What the Doctor’s never told me about was how much menopause changes your body, surgically induced or not. All of the Women in my family also had hysterectomies, at young ages, but I wasn’t warned about “The Change”, I think everyone was more concerned with saving my quality of life at that point.

At 27 I was faced with this change in my body, and man was it rough. Literally everything changed, from my appetite, to my emotions, my skin, my sex drive, I mean it was a huge adjustment. I wanted to start out going a more herbal route for menopause symptoms instead of HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy), and that was a waste of time and money. There are some times, SOME times, when the medical world, and science, just get it right, and they got it right with synthetic estrogen. I have been back on it for months now, and it is like nothing ever happened.

With this second chance at femininity I have been hearing the call of the Goddess, in all Her form’s, it feels like She is calling, inviting me home.

It started at first with calls to nature itself, it felt like a huge magnet pulling me to the Earth, and all of Her gifts. I started this venture into nature slowly, because if you know me personally, then you know I hate bugs, and I hate my bare feet on the grass, but this was ALL that I could think about. I started a garden because for some reason I suddenly had this urge to help, in any way, to save the bees. While I was gardening I found a bone, and a large clam shell in the soil; a sign from Her, gifts I am sure. I stopped drinking milk, and am slowly cutting dairy out all together because I finally found out what happens to the calves after birth, and what happens to the Cow’s during life; I want nothing to do with any of it. I had cut out red meat already, and pork is becoming less and less, along with chicken. It is hard to suddenly go from eating meat, and animal products, to nothing. Slowly, but surely I am on my way.

I started craving rich foods, and smells. I wanted earthy perfumes, and incense. I felt the urge to get tinctures, resins, specific crystals, and all natural products. I have begun to embrace my sexuality again, and have started to get in touch (literally) with that side of me. I have started wearing jewelry again, and being more adventurous with my fashion.

I feel as though my skin is shedding, my cocoon is opening, my flower is blossoming.

From this initial change to a healthy lifestyle I started watching documentaries about the current state of our Natural world, and it was mind blowing. I felt the need to see for myself what is going on, what is the physical Earth telling us? The situation is dire, and it goes far beyond the bees. There are Apex predators such as the lion, and shark that are being nearly wiped out due to hunting. The increase in big game hunting is called “Conservation” by those pulling the trigger, but they fail to realize the consequence that killing has on the eco system itself.

So, yeah, you are paying up to $250,000 to a country in Africa that desperately needs the money, and most times the meat of the kill is donated to the local people, but when killing a male lion, do these people not think of the effect it has on their pride? Do these hunters of sharks, who in most cases kill sharks primarily for their fins, not realize how the food chain works? Without Predators, the entire thing collapses? Are we ignoring all of this for our own selfish reasons?

Even down to the bees, which some people say is all hype, apparently they haven’t been paying attention either. Without the bees, human’s will be gone within a few decades, is that not a terrifying thought? Do we think we have somewhere else to go?

How about the polar bears drowning because of sea ice melting, or what about the whales that are washing up with bellies full of plastic? Or birds dying by the dozens for the same reason? How about wolf hunts, and the affect that has on their natural habitat?

We want to make everything about politics, money, Religion and debate everything, even scientific fact. Which, in case you were wondering, Global Warming is a fact. Mother Nature has been warning us for years, for decades, and we keep putting a bandaid on an open, bleeding, deep wound. How long before that bandaid no longer is enough? What happens then?

The world became male dominated centuries upon centuries ago, and with that came the death of the Goddess in main stream Religion, and Her stories became known as myths. We live in a patriarchal society but without the feminine aspect on our side, we all suffer—we all die.

I believe the Divine Feminine, the Goddess Herself, was ok with Her story being hidden, only to be seen by those worthy of hearing Her call, but I think She draws the line at the killing of Her creatures for our own gain, animal and human alike, of course. She has declared war, and at this point you are either with Her, or against Her.

The only thing I know for sure is we can’t make it without Her.

May She rise again.

For more information on any of the topics I mentioned:

http://blog.chron.com/sciguy/2015/02/sharks-apex-predator-of-the-gulf-are-dying-by-the-millions/#30679101=0

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2014/01/140129-whale-shark-endangered-cites-ocean-animals-conservation/

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/apr/15/fifty-foot-sperm-whale-washes-up-san-francisco

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/14/us/honeybees-mysterious-die-off-appears-to-worsen.html?_r=0

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/18/science/earth/18wolf.html

http://www.missionwolf.org/page/trophic-cascade/

http://www.nwf.org/wildlife/wildlife-library/mammals/polar-bear.aspx

http://www.takepart.com/article/2012/08/28/plastic-waste-killing-birds-tens-thousands

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2013/jun/03/canned-hunting-lions-bred-slaughter