Pilgrimage Journal 4, a brief interludeRead More Dark Night (interlude)
The past was all metaphor, right? Myths just ways of encoding knowledge about nature, something easy to remember and something never more than it appears to be. Let the metaphor escape its imprisonment and it’ll wreak havoc on the mind, the soul, the world. It’s safer without magic, and gods, the fae and the dead. […]Read More Metaphor’s End
Some things cannot be unseen. But why would you want to?Read More The Sighted and The Blind
I’m a part of what weaves my story, but there are sudden bursts of searing insight which remind me that I am not the only who weaves it, nor are my choices ever only my own. Shall I explain? How can I, really, except to impart fragments just as I view them–not shattered, but patch-work […]Read More Gods and Radicals
The night before I left Seattle, my brother-in-law brought me two glasses of mead which we’d brewed together, a Methyglyn, an herbed-mead brewed with herbs sacred to my gods of which the majority-part was Chamomile, sacred to Arianrhod. “I brought you two,” he said. “One for Dionysos.” There’s much to say regarding this matter, but […]Read More When Gods Come Back Around….