I currently write two monthly magazine columns based on sacred living, periodically contribute articles to various publications, and once in a while write for one of two blogs of my own ~ but this page is a portal to more fictionally infused tellings
Of Mud, Blood, String, and Bone
Currently being written, "Of Mud, Blood, String, and Bone" is a novella that centers around a used bookstore owner who finds a journal style grimoire and becomes obsessed with its contents and unravelling the mystery of its author. The reader follows along two narratives, one of the shop owner's daily events, and the other, the grimoire's entries as she reads them.
To become a test reader and sample monthly excerpts, please consider becoming a patron. Here are a few excerpts to sample and get a feel for what's ahead.... "It was sharply cold this morning when I arrived at the shop. So cold in fact, that the lock was frozen solid and I needed to dig in my purse for the bottle of de-icer. Inside however, was more welcoming. Just warm enough my breath was no longer billowing in visible clouds and one could take coat and scarf off, if toque and fingerless gloves were on. It smelled deliciously of old, well travelled books with a pleasant amount of must without feeling distinctly moldy.
Scirv’ner emerged from her cozy hiding spot at the end of the counter, stretched luxuriously as only a cat can before padding her dainty paw steps along the ledge and down to meet me with rubs up against my legs while singing a plaintive chorus. Her dish, still had kibbles of course.
I flipped the sign in the window over to read OPEN in a font reminiscent of an elegant 1920s cinema house, pressed the needed buttons for a baroque symphony to gently fill the air, and began tackling the topmost box in the stack of donated books. I was really quite behind. The tower had grown tall enough to start crushing the lower boxes and giving the distinct impression it would topple if left much longer."
"Something glinted amid the dusty tomes and caught my eye. Wedged down the side of a crumpling donation box trying to hold thick, outdated, scholarly textbooks was a beautiful monograph covered by blue brocade fabric with intricate gold threadwork, and wrapped closed with a leather thong. It appeared handbound. The paper might even be home crafted. I opened it to a random page to find the lines written in ink. Not a fountain pen, not ball point, but ink, like an artist might sketch with. Medium tip."
********************************************************************************************************* December 9 I puked into the Burlá Ghuí I set up in front of the woodstove, door open. Pulled out the black paper and gathered up all the dead bugs and things I could collect from window sills and dark corners. Even the beautiful little dead sparrow that hit the window yesterday. I placed them one by one inside a ring of bright red spicy peppers for repelling, and blew the need for these energetic attacks and ill will toward me to die into each sweet receptacle of death. ... That’s when I felt it well up from deep inside my belly, like some festering, twisted, black tarred creature. Wretched and wretched and wretched so bad I thought I would choke to death. I even had the vision of being discovered like that. Candles lit in a great circle, me dead on the floor in the middle wearing a black ceremonial cloak. Athame unsheathed, bones in a pile beside me, herbs burning, dead things neatly arranged on the paper, woodstove crackling.
I purged that fucker out alright. Not tonight, you asshole.
I added a precious Raven wing feather with plea for safe delivery of this package of deleterious energy to the Spirit world where the Great Serpent would happily eat it up on my behalf. Folded it neatly, tied with hemp twine, sprinkled with vodka libation, and tucked a few sprigs of dried cedar under the knot work. Each of the three hemp knots declaring this work done, Done, DONE! Then into the woodstove it went until there was not a trace of it left.
I’m soooo tired now. I almost feel drunk without any drink. Pain is gone though."
This writing endeavour began as a NaNoWriMo challenge, and my patrons keep me encouraged to take time from other workings in order to continue on through to completion and publication. If you are keen to read more, I'd love to share with you! Click Here to become a patron
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A Story for You
* currently on hold after 6 parts were released while the novel "Of Mud, Blood, Sting, and Bone" is being written
"A Story for You" is a gentle audio telling of a bean feasa, or wise woman, moving through days integrated with quiet ceremony, intentional working, and travels in unseen realms.These short segments are written and spoken first to patreon monthly mail subscribers, and sent along in envelopes with a few relevant goodies, before being released to the public on youtube and facebook as audio only.
Have a listen to Part One here, and feel invited to catch up on all of the released segments over on the YouTube Playlist
The Selkie Sanctuary
The Selkie Sanctuary is a seaside art studio, bakery, ceremonial space, and cottage on land that is ritually engaged with and cared for. It is a place where many have come to restore their sealskin/soulskin. A place where intentionally created offerings come to life. Where medicine is made. These pages have been created as a well of nourishment for you to dip into, and as a means of communication from our hearth to yours.