Moon Woman

It’s the full moon and I’m thinking about blood.

I’m a red moon woman and have been for years, my gestating in service to women, my shedding in service to the tribe. The word “ritual” comes from the Sanskrit word “rtu” meaning menstrual blood. The original ritual, everything else either imitating or honouring.

Everywhere I look I see co-opting and synthesising, Abrahamic religions and paganisms alike. The animals sacrificed in the temple because women were no longer allowed to sit and give back to the earth free of fear and pain. The jealous wives and warrior daughter goddesses replacing the Mother of All. The sacred heart of Jesus, pulsing like a womb full of blood. The communion chalice that lets you taste the blood of god… women know where the blood of god really comes from.

Speaking of tasting the blood of god…

I’m a Welsh woman who has studied with druids and I see the tale of Ceridwen for what it truly is. The cauldron of the dark mother, a womb of magic and enlightenment. She’s brewing the awen, inspiration, Holy Spirit, Shekinah for her son, to take him from a grotesque form of consciousness to one of Love.

The other boy, Gwydion, tastes but a drop of her menstruation, and his initiation begins. She gives life, and she consumes life. He cannot outrun Her, can only surrender and allow himself to be birthed again from her Cosmic Womb.

Now he is the greatest bard who ever lived.

Return return return return.

Lady Of Avalon

The day I saw the Lady of Avalon…

Glastonbury is one of my favourite places on earth. So many times in my life I have driven there as if carried by invisible wings - in despair, joy, anticipation, escape. The familiar trickling sound of the Chalice Well spring as you immerse your feet and drink the sacred waters. The echoing Magdalene Chapel where time seems to stand still, where singing voices ring sweet and true, fingers tracing labyrinths. The Tor, every climb like a rebirth, there and back again, always changed.

There was one thing that kept me going in the first coronavirus lockdown as a single parent with post-traumatic stress disorder home-educating two children who suddenly couldn’t offer her soul work to the world in the way she usually did–

“When this is over, I’m going to Glastonbury”

I had joined a druid group and I decided I would do my first rite on the Tor. There was a sweet spot between lockdowns where we were able to travel and off I flew, my first time without the children in so long, only to find the Tor crowded and busy. A friendly man who wanted to talk monopolised a lot of my time and it was getting cold. I also got scratched on brambles doing a “wildie”. There is a peaceful field at the bottom of the Tor where you can admire it from afar and I can often be found there napping on days when I am lucky enough to go to Avalon.

I went into meditation to begin the rite, my body full of endorphins, invigorated by the climb and by the sheer joy of freedom.

And She appeared - with dark hair, violet clothing, luminous skin with a violet hue. She called me by my name as she stood in the space between Tor and fields. I cannot remember much about the meditation except that the air felt like it was humming, and I was filled with clarity and peace. I did not think She was the Lady of Avalon at the time, as I was not yet at that point on my path.

Imagine my surprise when months later I open “Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess” by Kathy Jones to find the Lady looking right back at me, as I had seen Her!

Artwork by Thalia Brown

Cleavers

Cleavers

The Wise Woman's Folk Herbal Series

Cleavers is coming up all around us, and the children love to grab the stems and trick each other. There is something so foolish about having something stuck to your back, and they play games to see how long it takes each other to notice.

How long has it taken you to notice what isn't serving you? Do you laugh when you realise just how obvious it was, no matter how oblivious you were at the time? Do you feel like your weakness was like a target on your back?

I think of cleavers and its sticky hands and peppery taste - fiery like the Holy Spirit and present and abundant just like love if we only take the time to look. I think of those sticky hands with elongated fingers moving like smoke through the body, dragging, coaxing, caressing all the places we are stuck and stagnant. Filtering our spirit of sludgy buildup and low vibrations. Just like the Holy Spirit, cleavers says - "I am the great purifier."

Cleavers is the plant for those prone to excesses and overindulgences. That craving to be filled up, to want more love, to fill our houses with stuff, to eat that extra bite even though we know we are full. It is a craving that women often feel, especially if there has been some aching lack, some deep emotional craving that has never been satisfied. Just like some "sticky willy" stuck to your back, our addictions broadcast our pain to the world.

Herbal medicine is not about fixing, it's about restoring balance. So we let cleavers move through our body like a filter, removing physical and emotional buildup with its cunning fingers, allowing the waterways to run healthy and clear. Reminding us that we are love. Reminding us that the craving will never be satisfied by anything external. This isn't about changing, being "better", being healed. It's remembering we are all those things already, it's our knowledge of that that gets obscured from time to time.

Letting ourselves come home to the truth of that.