Conversations by the Fire

I have been wondering about belonging. How is it that we can share blood and not quite feel at home? How is it that we can cross oceans, arrive on unfamiliar shores, and suddenly breathe more deeply? Perhaps belonging has never been about where we come from. Perhaps it has always been about where our being is welcomed. A place where nothing essential needs translating. Where our shoulders soften. Where our body forgets to brace. Where our soul can fully arrive. Maybe belongin

I stand here, in the centre of the timeline. Present. I turn towards the ones who came before me. I see you. I see the sorrow that was too much to hold. The pain that had nowhere soft to land. The places where life was cold, where blood was spilt, boundaries crossed, and support was scarce. And I feel how, out of deep loyalty, out of a young and innocent love, my body tried to carry what could not be completed before me. Today, something completes. I am ready. The burden can

so… here i am. at the very edge of the snake year. I can feel it in my chest - that quiet pressure, like weather gathering behind the ribs. a threshold day. tomorrow the hinge turns. dark moon. eclipse. and the fire horse at the gate, breath warm, hooves restless against the earth. and i can feel her. of course i can. sagittarian heart. earth horse bones. there is something in me that wants to greet her already - to toss my head, to feel the heat rise, to move. but today belo

Halfway through a Womb Surround, a circle of eight women, and my heart is quietly full. Laughter spilling out where words once couldn’t. Tears finding permission. Stillness that says more than anything spoken. Long, poignant silences and the gentle joy of unfurling. I’m in awe of the beauty this work brings... the ripples it sends outward, seen and unseen. Life moves through us like a river: marking us, shaping us, carving us open. We are born this way... initiated into life

The hammer rests by the forge today. The shoulders drop an inch, then two. It is the sound of the pottering, the tea, the quiet home that says: the nectar is already here. A seed is not a worker. It does not strain to be a flower - it simply unfolds because the soil is warm. I give the ache to the flame - the tightness in the jaw, the lie of the lone wolf, the old story of the arid ground I leave it for Brigid to turn into ash. And in the space that remains… there is La

Sisters… of the heart, of the blood, of the ancient remembering. We come as we are unyielded, unpolished, unmasked carrying our laughter like lanterns, our tears like the salt of the sea that shaped us all. There is no striving here. No need to tuck away the trembling part, the doubting part, the part that still believes she must earn her place. Here , every part is welcomed, every part belongs. We enter the circle like stepping into warm earth: barefoot, slow, letting the a

This morning I woke with an ache in my chest, a widening in my heart, and a hush in my bones. What a strange paradox we carry… to ache...

Moon goddess, tonight your face is red with shadow and fire. You ask me to sit with what I’d rather not see: the ache still moving in my chest, the worries I thought I’d already laid to rest, the tenderness of wanting to belong, and the fears that still twist me in knots. I am here. I will not run, avoid, ignore, or look away. Let the tide of my emotions flow. Let the waves crash, draw back, wash me, clean me, until the stillness within grows louder. You show me that strength

Ah, the full moon. Sitting here in my new home, birds singing outside, the sun setting, the green of the trees all around. Slowing down....

Full Moon in Scorpio – May 12, 2025 The moon didn’t let me sleep last night. She called me down and in — into the places I’ve neatly...

I’m living in one place, and dreaming another into being. The walls around me are familiar— marked by years of memory and rhythm. And yet, there’s a quiet pulse of something new gathering shape just beyond them. I’m in the in-between. The old isn’t quite over. The new isn’t quite ready. And I’m learning how to move here— to dance in the shifting space between. Some days feel like flow— a gentle unfolding, a sense of knowing my place in the steps. Other days, the rhythm breaks

Lying on the sand, the sea breathing before me, I watched the mist roll in — soft, rose-tinted tendrils curling toward me from the ocean’s edge. Above me, the sun poured its golden warmth through the folds of water and air, a gentle flame shimmering in motion. I lay there — within it all, in the heart of the dance — as rose met gold, as water met fire, as breath and light danced together in playful devotion. They didn’t blur, didn’t strive — they moved with one another, givin

I arrive— breath held, feet pausing at the threshold, young ones within me peeking out, eyes wide, hearts questioning: Will we be safe? Will we be seen? Will we belong?

In the hush between darkness and dawn, I step into the unseen. Black Tara, silent and vast, waits where the threshold hums with knowing. I kneel in the space she has made, where endings unravel like thread, where what was clings, then falls. Her breath is wind, her gaze is stillness, and in the stillness, I break open. "Black Tara, guardian of the in-between, let your night wrap around me. Unravel what binds, unmake what is false. Hold me steady as I empty." Ashes swirl in th

Standing here, at the threshold— midpoint, cusp, inhale, exhale— light and dark folded into each other, the pull of what was, the whisper of what could be. New threads—gold, silver— woven in with the tenderness of unseen hands, old ones loosening, unraveling, not torn, not discarded, but unmade, unneeded, released into the hush of what no longer is. The gentle hands of the Divine Mother, weaving, singing, holding me in becoming— but not yet silk, not yet smooth. Still raw, st

In the shadowed hush of moonlight's grace, I stand, bare and boundless, in night's embrace. Ketu's fingers, cool and keen, Trace the edges of what has been. Rahu stirs where futures bloom, Stretching wide beneath the moon. I feel the pull, the tethered thread, Between what lives and what is dead. A tightrope strung from star to star, Carrying who we were, and are. Virgo's hands, with steady care, Sift the stories I still wear. Venus leans with tender eyes, Loving all that in

There was a time when friendships were simple. When the earth beneath my feet was warm and hardbaked, when dust coated my legs as I ran—fast, free, wild. We climbed trees with scraped knees, chased each other along the walls, played football until the sun sank low. There was no difference between us then. No categories, no question of who belonged where. I arm-wrestled my friends and won. I ran just as fast, climbed just as high. We were a pack, and I was part of it. A brothe

We don't have to become better parents because we are somehow not enough. We can be enough exactly as we are, while still allowing love to change us, stretch us and call us deeper.

Am I the stories woven in whispers, echoes of a past self lingering like shadows in my bones? Am I the shape of others’ perceptions, reflections cast back at me in words, in glances, in expectations? Or am I something else entirely— something vast, shifting, unbound? The Leo Moon calls me forward, into the light, into the center. To be seen. To simply be. But what does it mean to be seen? Not the one I was, shaped by history, nor the one I imagine myself becoming. Just me. He

In the quiet moments, I turn inward, embracing stillness, where whispers of truth rise from within. Holy flame, guide me, lend me the courage to release the weight of what no longer serves. May I make space for renewal, for peace, for the soft glow of becoming. As I walk the shifting path of life, let me move with grace, trusting in the rhythm of change, the quiet pulse of growth beneath the surface. May my dreams take root in the fertile soil of my heart, nurtured by devotio