Oh, what a busy little shaman I have been.

I am working very hard to start a shamanic services business. I’ll link it here if I ever get it off the ground.
My heathen group, Nebraska Heathens United, is going strong, with open sumbles and a public class. We can be found on facebook if anyone is interested.
I am very close to initiation with the Wiccan coven I study with.
And at the behest of Hel, I have joined ADF and am about to start the dedicant path. I will eventually have (and link) a new blog as a dedicant’s journal. (http://fireandisa.wordpress.com)
All of that coupled with a 40 hr a week job and starting a nonprofit organization with my best friend, to benefit pregnant women experiencing domestic violence, means I’ve kinda let this blog die. (hehehe, die)

And as always, I’m on facebook and available via email if anyone needs me.

So yeah… not dead, just busy.

Moving towards mysticism

All religions are correct if we move towards the Divine from love.

Love is the Great Divine and the Great Divine is love. I can bow just as easily to the Heart of Divinity in a meadow and a grove as I can in a church or a mosque or a temple.

And so all realities are sacred because they are your reality. And the place of sacred holiness is being beside you with an open heart and a flow of love and empathy, giving creedence to your reality that you exist inside of. That foundation and flow of love is what creates reality. Alone is a reality because you experience it as such and in the experience it becomes Holy, a part of the Divine song.

I am not alone. I have you. We have the heart of the Divine. We create a closed circuit loop of feedback and it is love.

A song from the Fae

The hunter ran away
He ran away so fast,
He ran o’er hill and dale
He ran to catch the fox.

the hunter ran away
he ran through fog and mist
he ran through night and day
he ran to catch the kit.

O’er and o’er he runs and run
tries to catch the moon
tries to catch the sun.
o’er and o’er he chases the tracks
mud at his feet
and wind at his back.

the hunter ran away
he ran to catch the flame
he ran though shadows wove
their way up hills and down again.

the hunter ran away
he tried to catch the dawn,
he turned wrong way ’round
and ended up at his door ‘fore long.

O’er and o’er he runs and run
tries to catch the moon
tries to catch the sun.
o’er and o’er he chases the tracks
mud at his feet
and wind at his back.

tho men try night and day
to catch the silent fox
they ne’er can do and soon they find
’tis dreams upon their backs.

O’er and o’er he runs and run
tries to catch the moon
tries to catch the sun.
o’er and o’er he chases the tracks
mud at his feet
and wind at his back.

This new moon in Scorpio has been rough for me. It has been a month of removals, of drastic changes, just when I thought I had a few things figured out. Is anyone else going through these rough shakeups?

It started with Hel requesting that I move away from Heathenry and explore other forms of paganism tied to my heritage. Yes, I can do that. I’m not so tied to the title of Heathen that it breaks my heart to move away from it. I’ve been pagan for 12 years now, tied to Hel for 5 and a self-identified Heathen for under a year, so yes, there is no ego-death involved.

And then She asked me to give up my oaths to Odin. I’ve been oathed to him for a little over a year now. This request came closer to breaking my heart, but She knows me well enough to know that you cannot force a Scorpio to do anything against their will, reasoning always works better. “Pick a path” She told me. “You can have your community and grow as a leader but not as a mystic/seer/shaman. Or you can give up the public path and grow in a private path.” And I saw her logic and I gave up my oaths to Odin. She bled me and tied me to Her and the Norns and allowed me to grieve.

On Halloween night, She gave the gift of a new totem. It is one I have been seeing shadows of for six months, blackbird, a portent of psychic abilities and new foundations. My backyard was flooded with a hundred birds. I would have to be pretty dense to miss the message.

And on the night of the new moon, in a guided meditation to the Crossroads (if you know me you know that guided meditations always go wrong for me, I can never remain shallow) I made an oath of a year and a day in the service of Hecate. I did this with my shadow totems around me and my ancestors beside me. I did this to open new pathways and learn new skills.

I just don’t know where this leaves me. I like the title Volva, it covers all of my herbal obsession and wildcrafting and shamanism and magical and teaching and counseling that I do. I love seeing the result of my work play out in other’s lives. I know that I turn once more away from the communal hearth and walk back into the shadows.

It’s ok. I’m scared but She guides my steps.

I am a wild woman.
Once upon a time you could find me at the edge of civilization, looking for my herbs and spirits, muttering to myself and walking the hedge at a slow pace. My heart still craves the edge, the liminal spaces, the open heart of wilderness, but you won’t find me there anymore. That is not where my community is, and I need to hunt down those in need, as I hunt the herbs.
You will find me deep within the communities of need, the broken, the pain, the anger and hatred. Facebook asks if I am a shaman or a mystic, a healer or a seeker.
I answer yes.

How Crow gave us the stars

A tale told to me by the Grandmothers.




Once upon a time, when the world was young and people were new, all that the sky had was the sun. The sun would heat the world during the day, but when night came all the people had was a an inky blackness with nothing to see by. And under cover of the black, shadow creatures would creep out and take the children of the people and steal them off into the darkness. Each night, as the sun sank lower in the sky, the children would pray for something to break the darkness, so that they would not be taken by the shadows.

Crow, that silly bird, loved the people. She loved their shiny things and the way they would laugh and she loved to listen to the children as they played. She learned their words and learned to play with the people, mimicking their laughter and their speech. She spent more and more time watching the children as they ran and sang, and each night she heard their tears and listened to their prayers. And each prayer made her heart ache and made her dark eyes glitter with sorrow.

One day, as Crow sat listening to their prayers, she had a thought. “If I can carry their prayers to the Great Mother, maybe she can find a way to beat back the shadows and save the children.” Crow spent months flying from child to child, collecting their prayers as shining jewels in her heart and her eyes. And when she was so heavy with prayers she didn’t think she could fly anymore, Crow set off to find the Great Mother.

She searched for a year, looking under ever rock and in every cave. Crow searched and searched and called for the Great Mother until her voice was just a croak. And when she was almost exhausted, she looked up into the setting sun and realized that was the last place she had not yet looked. So Crow started flying, chasing the setting sun. She flew until she was enveloped in shadows. She flew until her feathers were ragged and her wings were weak. She flew until she could no longer see the earth and no longer see the sun.

And in her last moment of exhaustion and desperation. Crow flung the children’s prayers into the shadow, hoping that at least one would reach the Great Mother. And something amazing happened. The children’s prayers caught on the skin of the shadow and stayed there. They danced and glittered, they told stories against the dark. They illuminated the shadows. And they caught the Great Mother’s attention. She looked up and heard the prayers of the children and saw Crow falling from the darkness.

The Great Mother reached up and caught Crow in her hands. She healed Crow and blessed her for her love.

The Great Mother placed the moon up in the sky amongst the dancing, glittering stars, to illuminate the night sky and drive away the shadows. She placed it, as white and pure as Crow’s heart, as a conduit for the prayers of the humans to reach her, no matter what. She painted Crows feathers as black as the shadows, as a blessing for her devotion and placed Crow amongst the humans as an eternal guide and keeper of the shadow path, to help the humans find their way out of the darkness.

So next time you look up at the night sky and see the moon and the stars, say a quick thank you and a quick prayer for the light to help keep the shadows away.

The shuffle of my feet kicks up your holy scents,

loam and smoke and the deep breath of ancient forests.

I would kneel here and press my nose deep into the ground

if I didn’t think they would worry more for my sanity.

Here is the rich iron of blood,

metalic in my mouth.

Here is the soft cruch of bone beneath our feet

and even farther down the rancid smell of decay

that wrinkles our noses and softens our lips.

Here is my holy, my relics,

as much of the earth

as of the stars above our heads.


Wrap me in your soft decay

and allow me to live even as I die.