Read MoreThe practice of Utiseta is an old Norse tradition. The wise women, the seers, would sit out on the burial mounds of their ancestors or that of a wise leader, to seek knowledge and to gain answers.
Read MoreI would simply listen for the laughter of William, Thomazin, Thomas, Jane, and John carried on the wind in high summer across the green fields and Cornish hedgerows.
Read MoreMy voice now holds the voice of the storyteller; the voice of the poet; the voice of my ancestors and adopted ancestors whose voices I hear still echoing in the place of their trauma, waiting to be cleared
Young woman, you pulled up your roots,
to plant yourself in the land
of spice and lava
where shadow puppets speak
in strange tongues
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Read MoreA small dance of feathers directly above brought me out of my reverie, and I could see from the flash of pink red breast, black cap and grey wings this was a bullfinch.
The alchemy, the alchemy, the alchemy of lime. Black smoke, red fire, white slaked chalk.
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Read MoreThe serpent will come from the hole
On the brown Day of Bríde,
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground.
Read MoreI’ve learned to reconnect with the land. Through my own practice, and through land based workshops… I observe and listen how the land reveals its stories and myths. I can see how my personal experience and interpretation of the Otherworld overlaps with the idea of mundus imaginalis.
