“The magician swims in the same waters where the psychotic drowns.” – Joseph Campbell
I spent time plucking mushrooms under the moss mausoleums of the Pacific Northwest, and I slept just under the surface of the water in Virginia bald-cypress marshes, beneath the veil of death. I danced till dawn where the jazz brass-thump tunnels down cobblestone streets painted wild vibrant colors, where Cajun spices stirred by the hands of voodoo queens waft through the sticky heat, where the dead never sleep: in New Orleans. Now I am back in the damp, earthy PNW, planting fresh seeds.
I am a psychopomp priestess, guided by their torchlight into the hollow places, the tunnels that lead to that place beneath the earth to the Realm of the Dead. I have been touched many times by their skeletal hands as Father Crow watched from above. I have intimate relationships among the gods and spirits. I make sacrifices, work with magico-medicinal plants, interpret visions, prophecy, and weave magic.
I am a Capricorn Sun, Scorpio Moon, and Leo Rising, a cunning-woman practicing a blend of folk magics and offering herbal and magical remedies, largely influenced by the Celtic and Afro-Caribbean traditions of my ancestors, Sabbatic Witchcraft, European folk-magic and shamanism, grimoires and esoteric texts, ethnobotany, and works of mythology and folklore. I am a dedicant of Ár nDraíocht Féin, a Druid Fellowship, and reverently observe hospitality (*ghos-ti-, a gift for a gift), study, and piety. I worship many gods, talk to the trees, receive visions from the Dead, and work with roots and spirits like the wise-folk of old. I’m part witch and part Druid, part hemlock and part hawthorn.