January 29, 2018

Welcome to Part II of our article series on Magical Protection. You can read Part I // Pieces of Your Self: Or, What NOT to Give Spirits << here. 

You've probably seen the meme floating around the internet with a quote saying something along the lines of "A witch shouldn't be afraid in a dark forest, as she should be the scariest thing in the woods." But this is a bit of a misnomer, because as a human witch, maybe even an Otherkin witch or witch with Fae lineages, we actually aren't all that strong, or scary-- on our own. There are a lot of things in the Spiritworld that are a lot bigger and badder than us. To think and act otherwise is a recipe for getting our shit f*cked. 

Witches can be a pretty terrifying thing in the woods that things found therein would be wise to give a wide berth because we basically have Spirit Gangs. Traditionally, witches had Familiars-- beings tied to them who could come and go between this world and the Otherworld, assist with spellcraft, or otherwise do...

November 28, 2017

"When energy comes up from the Earth – up from Bubbling Spring in the feet – it reaches the heart.From there it often branches left and right and becomes your wings...your ‘heart wings’. What happens here is that the energy rises to the heart and instead of going up to the next three chakras it is sent to circulate heart energy back down to the body and around again. Your heart may be very concerned with bringing light, help and assistance to the world. But as the energy builds in the heart, there comes a time when we need to take off these ‘wings’ and evolve the heart to the next level – to the throat, third eye and the crown. Then, some say, we truly become a human being. We embrace our totality.

When we let go of these ‘heart wings’ we have the potential to be truly creative. It’s not easy because often a bleakness and an emptiness takes over at first. Despair can even be part of this process. This is the shattering of bonds and patterns and the releasing of the heart and this is a v...

September 28, 2017

I'm fighting, still. At least that's something. Struggling for a hand-hold on this sheer rock wall, hoping to keep from plummeting to my death on the stones fathoms below. I rest for a few days, unable, unmotivated to do much let alone get dressed and eat and get out of the house. But then I have a rare spurt of energy and I manage to take a few more heavy-footed steps. But when I rest, I dream. When I walk, I dream. I reach for something that I know I must grasp otherwise all will be lost. I fear being consumed completely, I fear reaching the point of no return, I fear the end of existence looming its great dark self before me at last. 

I'm coming to the realization that for my survival, I need to step fully into putting myself and my needs first. For my Self, for my family, for my relationship. For my health, for my sanity, for my dreams. It isn't selfishness at this point, though that thought-demon rears its head often. It is now about straight up survival. Being able to function day...

August 14, 2017

I sit in the shaded dark of a room curtained against the late-afternoon sun, my youngest now asleep, reading the words written by another mother. A mother across the country, a mother who had a dream, a dream so similar to one of my own. A mother who now sits on the divide between the realms of earth-based medicine and hospitals, dreams and reality, the living and the dead. A mother who, in the face of the inevitable death-to-come of her beautiful blue-eyed baby boy, is still pushing on to live the New Old Good Way and share that world with her son, however long he may be on this earth before his body is laid in its embrace to sleep ever-more with the roots and the bones resting there... To live each moment reverent of every new thing he does, he learns, he says and striving to still live the dream they had dreamed for their family. 

I sit and I cry. I weep sweet tears of grief and longing, of honoring and remembering, of pain and healing. 

Tears spill forth, wetting freckled cheek,...

May 5, 2017

Motherhood isn't all kittens and rainbows, sunshine and bliss. It's bloody, dirty, tear-stained, and fucking hard. 

I find myself looking through other moms' photos on platforms such as Instagram, in particular, and see these beautiful, down-to-earth, goddesses breastfeeding their babies while sunbathing in the grass or walking together topless by the river and picking foods from their bountiful gardens. And my heart breaks, and I weep for that. Then I am angry at myself for coveting. I see these moms living the life I wanted, living the life I want for myself and for my children, the life I was so close to having and then had it ripped from me. That I am struggling to get to. I'm left with this emptiness in my heart as I sit fighting depression in a cluttered house with my kids watching TV and eating cereal because I don't have the energy (or the ingredients) to make something more nourishing and healthier for them -- not that my son would want it anyway, though my daughter is a lot le...

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© 2017 by Femme de la Foret // Aileen Peterson

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