Archive of ‘The Goddess’ category
My voice froze in me, as it easily does if I let it. My writing journey has been a long, spiritual thaw for me. But when I don’t share because I fear it’s not good enough, or even stupid, it’s like my voice became very small. Stuck in my throat.
But I’m also not sure what I want to share. My life has changed in strange, wonderful ways since I moved from Norway to Slovenia. And there is a different kind of magic here that I’m learning to listen to and interpret. A glittering, gentle presence. The wild stormy sky and dark forest at my doorstep is no more. But in their stead is a warmth that I’m drawing into my bones. Friends and beauty, and a brighter sun that rises early, even in winter.
I’ve been working on getting up early, in the moments before dawn. I’ve been drawn to spirituality and the divine since I was a little girl. I would speak to God as a child because it made me feel safe. The stars were gods gazing back at me. The sky spread out before me was a great, friendly voice that spoke of love. And in the darkness before dawn, I want to listen to the quiet voice in my heart, and light a candle at the feet of the Goddess. I want to be a guided by a clear, steady knowing. I want to be free of the clouds of doubt and worry. There’s a voice ringing through my soul and I want to follow its song.
I want to be a priestess of the Goddess.
That’s why I’m writing a novel about a priestess, and writing my way through old grief. I’m dissecting the path I’m so drawn to step onto, and that also leaves me confused. I need a way to express the thoughts and feelings that move through me. Images of beauty that I wish were real. It would be wonderful to spend time in a white temple by a dark lake. White mountains at my back. To sing worship to the Goddess in everything that I do. To have magic at my fingertips.
It’s taking too long. Writing this book. It’s a spiral journey in ever tightening circles and there’s a lot to overcome within me to be able to put words to the page. It’s a wonderful, magical path when I stop putting pressure on myself. It’s so easy to want to be more than I am, right now, move quickly forward to be worthy to spend time doing the things I love. It makes me very anxious when something is taking so long. Doubt fills me. But I have to write. There’s a clear, almost stern voice telling me there’s no other way. A strong core of stone at my heart. My thoughts are fretful, anxious wings beating against stone, and I know, deep down, that I’m safe.
The world is all white outside my window. White upon white. The snow continues to fall, and I find myself dreaming of a white Christmas. Wishing you a beautiful Advent time. May the light shine in the darkness. A candle forever lit in your heart.
Artist – Sulamith Wulfing
I step into the sunlight. The cold air. Watching the steep mountains, the mist touching the dark forest. It’s been raining for days. Thunder darkened the sky yesterday and it never fails to give me a secret thrill, that sense of power in the air, the thunder gods, stories from my childhood, so very close,
I swear there is a presence in the thunder, in the lightning. Something is drawing very close, almost touching the earth. I would stand in the storm if I could, stand on a hill and watch it approaching, feel the wind in my hair, electricity in the air. If I knew it would be perfectly safe to do so.
I’m not sure what to say today. Sometimes I feel broken open, old things spilling out, things to let go of, but I’m not sure how. I feel my life has become a series of lessons that I need to learn, to understand. Maybe it’s like that for everyone? I’m trying to interpret the messages in my dreams, in my daily life. I’m squinting at words taking shape on a page, trying to understand, to bring them into my heart.
I got up so early this morning. Even before the first light. I stared at nothing for a while, wondering what to do. Wondering what has woken me. And then I got up, pulled on a warm robe and lit a candle in the other room. I prayed and listened and tried to be calm. There is a silence reaching to the edge of the world at that hour, before dawn, before breaking, a silence I can draw into my heart, like soft, dark tendrils. Like velvet smoke.
I sang a mantra, and as I did I opened my eyes and watched the flickering candle, the statue of the Goddess Freya behind it. Her shadow shone onto the white wall behind her, a greater Goddess rising up, showing herself through darkness and fire.
This is the time of darkness, of the warrior Goddess, of shadow and flame. The Equinox is approaching. Will you celebrate it?
Sharing this video because it reminds me of magic, of home. Of the cold north and mists on lakes, and strange things moving beyond our sight. Jonna Jinton also shared how she stood among thick mists one midsummer night, hearing many voices that soon faded into nothing…
I’ve written several posts that I left in drafts. I don’t think I will publish them because they were too full of hurt and anger, grief. But it is better now. It always gets better. Just have to stand in the fire for a while.
I feel very blessed living in the place I live. So full of beauty. To go for morning walks and see the light in the trees, in the beautiful gardens, overflowing with flowers. I like to walk by the river especially. There is something about the water that calms me, soothes me. Without it, I feel parched. The other day I watched a small bird dancing on a rock. It was all black with a white chest. It flew into the water, diving, swimming around. I didn’t know it could do that. It seemed so full of joy.
The days have been less hot, and I welcome the cool air, the mist on the mountains, the wild thunderstorms. I hide away when it gets too hot. I’ve been circling by the butcher shop to get raw goat milk, raw butter. It’s amazing to find such things. Treasures really.
I have my desk where I can sit and write, my own little place finally. And I can see the mountains from my window. All blessings.
In the afternoon I curl up on my bed with a good book and my notepad. Sometimes I need a day when I can fill myself to the brim with writing. To step into the world of dreaming and stay for a while because it’s so easy to be shaken out of it.
She is perfume. She is rose sweet. She is love. The most sacred flower in the depth of your heart. Fragile petals opening in darkness. Strength confused as weakness. She is life, beauty. Love.
Sometimes I fall asleep to the scent of roses (or the feeling of that scent.)
I draw closer to her like this. My Divine Mother. I listen more. And I feel her showing me something that I can’t fully grasp because it goes so much against my stern ideas about life and love. But I want to believe what I start to glimpse inside of me. A truth I didn’t dare to believe in.
I feel letting in love takes courage. To be open and vulnerable. And being so loved, so near my Divine Mother makes me feel unworthy, very small, and yet deeply loved. It’s a strange combination, and it’s easy to run away.
I was reading a book about a girl who lost her parents and sister. And I felt myself in her. It made me feel how great my loss really is. How deep it goes. Deeper than I knew. I still think of my family with a pang of longing, that sense of being a tree in a winter forest, just starting to gather leaves. We can not turn away and forget. We have to walk through things, so I write. My main character goes through a great loss, but it’s easier to write about someone else. To look at things from a distance. And make her learn courage, faith, love, all the things I wish for.
The novel I’m working on is me piecing my soul back together, putting words and understand to my grief loss, without feeling too scared or overwhelmed.
Note: Sarah is soon releasing the updated version of her novel as an ebook. Please check it out. Truly it’s wonderful!
Artist – carl emil doepler
There is something about Fridays, isn’t there? The day of the Goddess. It’s a bit more gentle, golden, like Freya herself. And maybe there’s a lightness spreading across the land, a looking forward to the weekend. A deep exhale.
Yesterday I watched this interview, and felt such a longing for the old gods, and remembered stories my mom told me. About Thor riding across the sky making thunder, and I could see it in my mind’s eye, making me shiver with the wild poetry of it. There is something about the old religion that sings to my bones, that makes me see mystery in the mountains, in the cold dark lakes of my homeland. Perhaps one day I will read the Poetic Edda myself. I want to.
And I’ve been reflecting on beauty, how feeling it deep inside of me can make me dream beautiful things at night. Flying above lush landscapes. What hurts me the most is when beauty, nature is being destroyed. It feels like we’re destroying our own soul along with the landscape around us. When instead we should be growing trees, flowers, gardens inside and out.
I’ve gone for long walks among pale yellow fields, among wildflowers gathered beneath trees, along fences. It was beautiful, except for the heavy metal music being played somewhere below, reaching me no matter how far I went. I wanted to be in silence. I reached for the mountains, the sky, wanted to hear bird song only. Oh well. This is what happens when you move back to civilization 🙂
I sat down on the ground, pulling off my shoes, breathing, breathing. I always feel slightly frayed at the end of the day, tired perhaps of fighting a battle with myself. I’m trying to understand it, a guilt about something, always something. And I want to be strong and clear on my path, knowing for sure that the gods are with me.
Now I will dream of flowers to plant together with a beautiful friend.
Wishing you a magical Friday and weekend.
May she look kindly upon you.
“Your will Father, not mine.” She trembled beneath the weight of those words, bowed her head, because she meant them, feared them. They felt like thunder, felt like she had given her life over to the north wind. But there was light also, there in the sky. A white, kind light that smiled at her, falling feather light around her, a soft summer breeze. Peace.
Following the will of the divine is something I yearn for, but it also frightens me. I feel it takes some courage, understanding, and one step at the time to get there. And also Elohim. What is it about this word that sends shivers through me? It feels so powerful somehow.
I greeted the sunrise on the Spring Equinox, gathered in a forest with friends, in a white stone circle. I sat for a moment before our ceremony, watching a white half moon between the trees. There were threads of the softest pink on the horizon. Then we all pulled on our robes, taking on our different roles. I was the Divine Mother, walking beside the initiate, the one who has to go through trials by fire, who carries the cross, carries the sun within. Everything was quietly somber at first, and then bright, beautiful. I gathered some things to reflect on, beauty and darkness showed to me, and I want to listen deeper, deeper. (It’s always a bit scary to me to share these things, but I want to. They touch me so deeply.)
Later I went for a forest walk with friends, feeling the warmth of spring. The world renewed. There were so many flowers of different shades, colored gems spread across the earth, violet, blue, white and gentle yellow. I felt the spirits of the forest whisper to me in some strange, old language. Felt laughter just beyond my hearing, just beyond my sight. And there were still large patches of snow that I sunk through, that glittered white in the sunlight. The air held a faint fragrance of sun-warmed moss and grass, and I brushed my hand against moss covered trees, against rough bark. Saw the blue sky through bare boned branches.
Wishing you a beautiful spring, or autumn. Wishing you love.
Sometimes, or often I wake up full of fear. And I resist the daylight outside my window. I want to curl up and hide. But then it gets easier, as I take the first few steps into the morning, drink my tea, say hello to the white sky above the treetops.
I write for a bit, slowly, painfully, and then with joy. Usually. My writing helps me tremendously, to think, to feel, to connect with something outside myself, and deep within. To unseen things around me. And I’m not sure where this pain comes from, when there is nothing wrong, really. I just always seem to be wading through it in some way or another.
And I’m very happy too. I guess I’m a mix of things.
The other night I couldn’t sleep, and there was a bright, star with a red heart, outside my window, above the housetops. I watched it for a while. I think stars can speak to us, that they have a voice, a memory we share with them.
Once I felt inside of me, almost like a voice asking “Why do you run? Why won’t you stop and let me love you.” And I felt I was always running. So afraid to stop and let myself feel. So sure there wouldn’t be anything there anyway, least of all love.
I went for a walk yesterday and tried to feel the Goddess walking with me. I came to a snow lit field with white mists coming down from the mountains as the sun was setting. I felt it whisper sleep, rest, and I turned around, walked back. There is a lovely river next to where I live, looking almost black against the snow. I stood on a bridge for a moment, gazing down into it, the last of the sunlight glittering against its surface.
February is almost here. More light. Spring drawing closer. Are you enjoying winter? Summer?
I realize as I sit here now, what a darling little place I’ve moved to. It’s a small town, surrounded by mountains, with a river running through it just at my doorstep. I didn’t want to move somewhere big. I didn’t want to go back to the big city, but at the same time, I longed to go to a cozy cafe more often. To have that quiet time of drinking tea and studying people coming and going. And so here I am, in this small place with a cozy cafe that I can go to only minutes away. I feel very blessed right now.
And outside the snow has fallen. Everything is white, fairy dusted and covered with angel wings. We drove up the mountain on Sunday and I almost held my breath with the quiet beauty of it. The clear blue sky behind snowy trees. I’m so glad winter finally came, fully, deeply.
I made a small altar out of a shelf and put a statue of Mary there, holding the baby Jesus. There are fairy lights around her, and a violet scarf like clouds at her feet. I like that she’s the first thing I see when I look up from my computer.
On that note, I wanted to share an article that I wrote, about how I first connected with the Goddess. Lately, I’ve felt a longing to share more about my experiences and spiritual journey. I’ve been holding it all close to my chest for a long time, afraid of what people might think. I think my spirituality is the path of the heart. I want to follow love and my inner guidance. The Goddess is love to me.
The Magician’s wife is sharing her beautiful poetry again. So so lovely.
My friend has started a business of selling healthy, delicious chocolates. Try some 🙂
Artist – Zula Kenyon
It is the dream language. As you watch nature, as you watch your dreams, and as you listen, you will learn to interpret it. Your heart always knows, but it takes time, trust and courage, to learn to follow it. – (from my novel)
I’m writing now, as the day begins, the sun filling the world outside, filling the birch trees with green light. There is that touch of autumn in the air, just a chill of something, a few golden leaves. It is still warm, but it’s as though I can feel it coming, autumn, coming over the mountains in the distance, inching across the ground, whispering in the wind. Somehow, this time of year feels like a new beginning, more than the end of something. Normal life is starting up again, after a beautiful summer.
I saw the moon yesterday, it was bright and glowing against a deep blue sky. The stars were back too. All signs of a darker season.
I’ve been picking mushrooms and blueberries in the forest. Crouching down among moss and heather, the ground swimming with light and shadows.
Yesterday was the commemoration of the ascension of the Virgin Mary. A friend shared it with me. It’s not something I have celebrated in the past. Mary was pretty much absent from the church that I went to growing up, but I always feel drawn to her when I see pictures of her, statues, painted windows.
Some of us met, prayed and sang together. I felt there was a rose inside of me, and I asked silent questions, looking for guidance, and I felt them being answered.
I always carry this small, fragile question inside of me, that I ask the sky, my heart, that I whisper to the night. Am I loved?
I’m not sure why I still struggle with this, but I do. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to Mary, to her love, forgiveness. To me, she is the Divine Mother, the Goddess.
Sharing a beautiful interview with a woman who can see and speak with angels
And this, about the queen of angels
And my book is available in paperback.
Alexa Wilding (1879)
I feel as though I’ve stepped out of time, into a white and silent space. Perhaps it’s because of summer, all the long days that has pushed away the night, leaving only a shadow of darkness. Perhaps it’s because so many people are on vacation, and everything is a little more quiet than usual.
I wander the forest, looking around me at all the things I will be leaving very soon. That will soon be a mere memory. I was surprised to find mushrooms and blueberries and felt it was a gift from the earth, from the Goddess.
I feel I’m wrapping up my life here, in more ways than just packing things into boxes (we’re moving to Slovenia). I’m reflecting on all the things that have happened in this small, hidden away place. How its silence has healed something in me. After years in the city, it was amazing to hear birds and the wind, and the gentle lapping of waves, the rustle of leaves. Nature sounds and nothing else. Of course, there are cars driving by, but more often than not there are just long gaps of silence. I wanted this. I needed a place to be quiet and to listen, to hear what was whispering deep down inside of me.
This is where I first started writing. Really writing. Really looking at the grief that had been a part of me for so long.
It feels like a gift, everything that has happened. A beautiful, magical gift. I want to whisper “thank you” as I make tea, as I greet or say goodbye to the day, as I stare up at the green, pine forest outside my window.
I’m sitting at the computer now, next a vase of fading pink roses, and watching the evening light play over my hands as I type. The sun is just about to set over the mountains behind me, and the birch trees sway gently in the wind.
What gifts have you been given lately?
I’m wishing you a beautiful weekend. Blessings.
Also sharing the song of an owl, that I’ve been listening to so often as I fall asleep. Isn’t lovely? Somehow I feel it’s a song that opens doors, night doors to other dimensions.
Sometimes I just long for beautiful places. For beauty in and of itself. At times I glimpse it, – when I open and my eyes and look around me. When I sit in silence and listen to the trees.
Yesterday I stood outside my apartment, with my cup of rose tea and gazed into the lake, seeing two white water lilies floating on its surface. I drank them in, along with my tea, and the dazzling light spreading across the lake and forest as the sun inched closer to the mountains.
Sometimes life feels a little painful. It’s hard to be myself and nothing more. It’s hard to not run away from what I am and to walk with the Goddess, as I’ve asked her to help me do.
I guess I want to be in life and not hide from it any longer. The more I’m in it the more things I also notice, and appreciate. I hope that makes sense.
And I think that when I gather beauty during the day, I also bring it into my dreams. Today, in the early morning I found myself next to snow-touched mountains and a grey ocean. It felt wild, ice cold, though there was no real sense of temperature. It was a dream, and I felt free.
I’ve been reading this lately, longing even more for my Mother. The Goddess. Today I listened to this talk and felt drawn to what he says about beauty growing inside of you.