(Written a year ago and even more true today)

I planted these two different honeysuckles over the swing seat many years ago with the dream that one day they would unite in the middle… now they finally do, it absolutely delights me.

Lately, I’ve noticed the same question spontaneously arising for me… what moves us to generate and transform once we feel so deeply relaxed, safe and abundant that fear is no longer the animating force?

For the past few weeks, Fox spirit has been calling for me to work with it.

The constant messages from Fox, culminated in me taking the “wrong” route home on Friday and finding a dead fox on my path.

Oak,

you saw it

all.

The girl who didn’t know who she was,

grimacing behind a contorting mask of someone else.

This week has been one of the most intense I’ve experienced for a long time… we’re in the final (final, final!) stages of rebirthing as Waking The Wild, inside and out, as well as every part of our ongoing business needing attention. As Jonathan described it: it feels like we’re surrounded by hungry mouths that need feeding.

I see an Italian tree in front of me. I thought it was a cypress but Google says no.

It calls to mind a summer spent sleeping under a fig tree in Ibiza. A summer of sun, sand, nudity, and living hand to mouth via the medium of art, graft and ingenuity. I was 7.

I’m undeniably open, bubbly, bouncy, full of joy and laughter, sprinkling rainbows and rose petals wherever I go.

If someone were to think the work we do matches my energy, they’d be in for a real shock.

I rarely talk directly about the importance of feeding Spirit, especially the spirits of the land around us.

The reason for this is heartbreaking, it goes directly to the disconnection humans in this modern culture have to themselves, let alone to other humans…

I haven’t shared any photos or details from my burial initiation this weekend, and I won’t be, but thought I’d share just this one with you as the big smile on my face as I make my grave put me in mind Mellissa Seaman’s words when I was a guest on her show…

I am not driven.

I don’t have strong will power.

I’m not Little Miss Commitment.

I’m about as flowing, “Oh look: shiny object!”, changeable, “Oooh, new idea!”, and capricious as it’s possible to be.

As we close the doors to Waking The Wild Medicine ‘22, it felt timely to do a post like this (for the first time since 2019!)

One of my longest running rituals is that of working with oils. I’ve used some form of oil cleansing most of my adult life and then more consciously adopted the Oil Cleansing Method some ten years or so ago.

I’ve been pondering what International Women’s Day means to me, if anything, and therefore what to say, if anything.

My deepest devotion, my most powerful work, and my truest medicine is the one I speak about the least publicly.

This photo of me with my tree was taken on a summer afternoon last year. It was balmy and it was balm… warm, soothing, languorous.

Getting good with the Dark… with death, with shadow, with the earth, with fear, with blood, with the unknown… is the part of the path that most of us resist the longest.

People often ask me how I manage to fit it ALL in… the ceremonies, the circles, the rituals, the reading, the creating, the learning, the

I resolve, on this eve of the new year, to love me. To love my less good side, the awkward way I say things like “How are you?”…twice,

“Embody what you teach, and teach only what you have embodied” -Dan Millman

Just over a year ago, I went on a wild wander and asked for a special feather as a sign that I should devote to shamanism (despite my great resistance)… I followed my belly button down a dry stream bed that I never normally walk along, and found a whole dead buzzard.