sagebrush buttercups & spring is come

I am not lithe, I am not nimble as I load myself and my dog into my silver 4x4 truck. The date is March 16th, 2021. A year of viral pandemic, a year of deep loneliness, a year that has left me feeling beyond frayed at the edges, stretched thin, and contracting and expanding. A breathing, heaving thing — my body. My eyes squint, the sun is absurdly bright and it heats up the inside of my truck, and my truck, purrs gently — my silver ally and steed to take me into the steppe, hills, canyons, and mountains. My dog, well, she’s not so content. She hates truck rides and I try to convince her that the destination is worth it, but I do so in vain. She drools, shivers and pants. Its the way she goes. She’ll be happy once we arrive at our spot and she’s free to roam among the sagebrush.

I drive through my tiny town, filled with flatbed trucks and cowboys, working folks, and the odd tourist waiting in line at the popular bakery. It’s still winter, and town is still sleepy. Town has been asleep all year, with dead and dusty streets. Sometimes while I run errands and the wind is really kicking up, it wakes up dust demons in the ally’s and streets, it feels apocalyptic — and I have to remind myself that it is. It’s real. We’re in it. Not a Mad Max fantasy future, not here at least. The way it arrives, the way it plays out, the way we live in it will never meet our expectations, our daydreams or desires that are so influenced by pop culture. The gore in all it’s shapes and form — of this apocalyptic spectacle is a taboo shadow we wish to lie with. We should admit this.

Getting to the outskirts of town takes only but a moment and I am met with deep blue skies and a glorious mountain scene that takes up most of the skyline. After three years to the month of living here, the mountains never bore me, they only always titillate me into ecstatic joy. Sometimes I wish the land would rise up in some human form and make love to me. I imagine that they would come to me with horns of an elk, the face of a wolf, cloven-hooved, with heaving breasts and a cock — and that they would take me somewhere on a hillside. I imagine that like the way Isobel Gowdie took the Devil, that their nature would be as cold as spring water. Or like mountain snowmelt in a swollen creek in the springtime. The ringing singing of the rapids, with shaking alder branches and red osier dogwoods trembling in the wake of endless waves, the song of sparrows in the undergrowth somewhere a doulas squirrel yelling about something, and snap! A dead branch falls and all falls silent.

I am back in my truck and turning onto a dirt road and endless sea of sagebrush before me, snow-capped hills roll along all sides of me. With the ever-present mountains to the northeast of me. I park my truck in a dirt roundabout and near a massive water holding tank that a rancher must of dumped here recently — made of plastic, it has a huge crack in the top.

My dog’s attitude transforms when I let her out. Joy and glee fill her visage and I sigh the kind of relief that any parent would for a child who is no longer under duress. 

I am here to walk, in the sagebrush and in the wind. I am also here to look for something. I am here for a sign. A sign that spring is well and truly here.

I am looking for, Ranunculus glaberrimus also known as the sagebrush buttercup.

This small flower is the rebirth and beginning of everything in the sagebrush steppe, particularly in my locale. When they appear, it means that spring has arrived. It means that maybe, just maybe we’ll get one more light snow, maybe two. 

While the equinox and the moon hold the powers of celestial spring marking, this seemingly innocuous flower is the star that shimmers all hope and optimism that winter is fading and spring, blessed spring has arrived.

The wind is a bit bitter on my cheeks, but the sun warms my back and face — my dog leaps through the sagebrush, sniffing for ground birds and jackrabbits. She’s a pointer, and knows how to flush out any critter that’s hiding. With the exception of coyote.

Coyote we watch and leave alone. 

However, sometimes we dance with them when the time and moon are set just right on the horizon.

My eyes scan the ground for anything that is small, green, and yellow. The sagebrush hum a low wind song and because the wind varies in its spatial occupations — you can hear higher whistles and low rumbles throughout the landscape. Sagebrush have a song and you must show up to be in witness. You must listen deeply. 

Everything has a song.

There! My heart leaps. A singular small yellow flower lies gently in the contour of the dirt, right under a sagebrush. I must get eye to eye with this little creature. So I bend down, knees and thighs in the dirt, and take a closer look. Waxy yellow petals, the leaves, mimic the tips of the sagebrush leaves, they are tri tipped. Tridentata — I lean in for a smell, again, waxy and soft light florals but you must draw very close to get a whiff.

I stand up, dusting the dirt off my carharts. 

It is done. Spring is officially here — and as I meander down the dirt road, I find patches, here and there of these delightful little buttercups. I sit with the sagebrush, I sit with the buttercups. This is my vernal equinox rite. No glitter, no candles, no indoor rites rooted in a fantasy past.

As a witch and in my practice I have tossed out the traditional following of the Wheel of the Year. A term coined in the 1960’s in the wake of Gardnerian Wicca — it’s not as old as you might think.

I follow the sun, the moon, stars, and listen to the land. I find it trite and disconnective to celebrate a witch’s holiday that has it’s roots, basis and influence in a land I have never step foot on. While I have some connections by ancestry, following the Wheel of the Year has never sat right within me. One might find it far more connective, if you’re paying heed to the signs of your own landscape — so many jewels in the dirt waiting to be acknowledged for the power they hold in heralding the seasons.

Sometimes the cross-quarter observation is quiet, especially if you’re a lone witch. Sometimes it’s just you and the sagebrush and a handful of buttercups welcoming in spring.

Witch Hovel in the Woods, the Light of Usnea: Home Now

After sleeping in a warehouse for three weeks after my 5 month hike on the PCT, I find myself driving to Eugene one sunny fall afternoon to look at a home. I found it on a whim on Craigslist while dreading reintroduction back into "regular world." The people who lived on the property liked me immediately and in our email changes we communicated with a familiar language. 

I am greeted by M, who shakes my hand and the shirt he is wearing tells me I am with my people. Local environmental activism. We walk around the property and he picks up acorns which he will dry, leach and grind into flour later. We talk about lichen and fungi dyes.

My heart breaks when I enter the main central building on the property. Filled with skylights, wood panels and that smell. Why is it that us more feral folk have that smell? A large wood stove anchors the room together and the walls on the southeast facing part of the building are just windows. A nuthatch crawls on the oak outside the window, chickens peck in the yard and a bobtailed cat suns itself on the couch.

I leave with my heart pounding and my fingers crossed as I drive back to my warehouse couch. 

I move in a month later.

And, I sit. I sit and I stare out the window of my small yurt dwelling, perched up on a hill, surrounded by oak, pine and swaying usnea. I make a small altar at my own southeast facing window, where I watch the glow of the sun come up over the far hill. Sometimes, it lights the lichen up in the canopy first. Setting the whole place aglow, with brilliant shimmering mossy light reflected out of billions of dew droplets.

I pull out my old friends one by one, my crow bones, my squirrel bones and fox from a box labeled "WITCH SHIT". They feel cold, as we haven't seen each other for almost 9 months. My bone throwing set feels coldest of all, I breathe on them and they stir a little. They need fire, warmth, touch.

And so I make fires, as it's my only source of heat. I set the newspaper up, the kindling and wait and watch. "A watched fire will never lite correctly," I tell myself. 

I track mud into my room, lichen finds its way in and into my hair, alder sticks in my bed.

At night the rain hits the oculus skylight in the center of my roof. I panic, my trail mind going into survival mode. The drops sound like a leaking tent wall, and it takes me a little while to find the rain soothing during cold times. But isn't that for the domesticated? I ask myself. 

How to I keep my feral creature awake? 

The deer family, a small herd of doe and their young, greet me on my dimly lit morning walks down to the main house for coffee. Fine mist swirls in the air and fills my lungs. I hear them bounding off in their elegant leeps thunk! thunk! thunk! Hearing the ground bear the weight of their lithe prancing bodies, they look back at me with caution. My favorite is a young buck, the cutest of all.

I brew coffee and watch him out the window eating the usnea and the fallen lichen. His fur is thick and ruffled in some spots. He turns away and follows his mother up the hill and into the forest. My landmates wake and they make bird calls to each other in the morning, while coffee brews and eggs turn white in bacon fat and well conditioned cast iron.

The anxiety of the rain never leaves me, I still wake sometimes at night and panic a little. 

Going To Town becomes an ordeal of maintaining my anxiety levels. I can breathe right when I finally get home again. But the town holds me better than Portland did. I see the usnea hanging from rearview mirrors. At the small grocery store, I buy dried pineapple and the old man behind the counter wishes me a happy solstice, instead of happy holidays. 

Eugene was an old bastion of green anarchism and radical environmentalism, since gone silent. Much that is wild and feral seems to be going silent as time passes. You can see see it though persisting like dormant seeds in the soil: in the bathroom graffiti, on the street corner, in quiet passing conversations, back patches and zines left to be seen.

Waiting.

On the solstice night, coming up from the house after a shower a wren flies into my room - in the pitch black dark. I try and try to shoo it away, but instead it roosts in my oculus and blinks at me. I shrug and eventually put myself to sleep. All night the little wren sleeps quietly. We wake at the same time, right as the sky begins to shift into light. I open my door and it flies away like nothing has happened. I feel it was an omen, but of what I have no clue.

I keep sitting, for a month. I cry a little, I develop a romance with someone to distract me, I try to write but I cannot, I sit in hot springs and see the decaying leaves of Aralia californica, drooping weeping, my body aching for warmth and I stroke the lines the sun made on my body, remembering. Nothing can come out. Nothing wants to come out. 

Every night I dream about being on the PCT. Sometimes, it's snowing and I am still out there. Waiting in some warm building wondering to myself why am I waiting? It's done. I did it. Go home. Then I am filled with sadness and the deepest longing.

Sometimes I accept and refuse my post trail depression. Mostly, the sitting was deep metabolization of... everything that happened. And I loved it, I swam in it, drank deeply from it.

In those last cold Washington days, as I approached the Canadian border I knew, I was going to find my witch hovel in the woods. Where I would incubate myself with plants and spirit and fire.

And they must have agreed, because here I am.

My mornings now filled with incense and water in offering to the spirits of this land, to my own spirits that watch over me and walk with me, and to my ancestors. I write my dreams down and pray for more rain, as our winter so far has been so dry. It makes my nerve endings feel sapped and brittle. Like usnea left to dry. 

I snap dried alder twigs for tincture and pour pine pitch salves, I set the florida water out under that Cancer full moon. I find my flow. I let myself sink into the difference of now vs. then. I manage to find ways to make myself suffer for my pleasures. For the goodness I have.

Funny, how for some of us, we feel we must suffer to have good things and so we create this ourselves. "The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven," I mock to myself. "So the John Milton says." Sometimes I tip my head back and cackle at myself.

I find my plant allies that will help me with my mind and they soothe me. 

A wind rattles through the trees one night, leaving piles of usnea glowing on the ground. They mesmerize me. If I am so attracted to them, they must be attracted to me. So I collect them, they fill all corners of my room. Leaving the scent of air, the trees, the wild.

Which I try so hard to keep within me.

A WITCHES RESISTANCE & ACTION LIST

yarrow demonstrating its resilancy, strength and potency when growing in a harsh place

Just last Tuesday, like so many others I saw the headline that Trump silenced the EPA, USDA and it's scientists and a whole host of other horrifying events. I found myself hunched over my laptop or over my phone, white knuckled, jaws clenched, shoulders caved in, knots in my stomach. I went to bed that night my mind a swirling chasm of dread. Crushed under the weight of what to do, how to act, we're doomed I thought. It's happening. 

It's happening. And so very fast.

Times are fucking scary and very intense right now. For all of us, and even more so for so many other people. As I laid in my bed, unable to move from anxiety and the depression I have felt the past several weeks I realized, this is the exact reaction they want. Several people and friends I follow on Instagram talked about this very crushing weight we're all feeling right now and that we need to take care of ourselves and each other. We need to connect with each other and reach out. Build community or further strengthen those bonds, however that manifests for you.

Yesterday morning I woke up and dove into the news first thing, not the best idea for mental health. Somehow I surfaced from the deep current of it all and grabbed a breath of air and began a list for myself. I'm sharing this list with those who will pass by this. It's a reminder that small acts, the tiniest acts do in fact have an impact. Even if it means taking a hot bath with crushed red cedar leaves you found in your local forest. Resistance can be as subtle as a weed growing out of a crack in the concrete, or as bold as hanging signs in front of the White House and defying orders to stay silent.

So, this is my list of actions, prompts for more learning and understanding and self care for the witch in these times.

• Buy plant and tree guides for your bioregion, study them, touch them and listen
• Learn how to save seeds
• Make and drink bone broth, share it with loved ones, teach them how to make it
• Support your local CSA
• Buy goods from herbalists and better yet, herbalists within your local range 
• Protest works
• Get involved with your local community garden if possible, or volunteer
• #slowherbalism
• Learn how to make your own safe plant medicines. Some great safe starting books here
• Understand what it means to be a good ally
• Make some fire cider and share it (scroll down for recipe)
• Get a tarot reading, or learn how to read tarot for yourself
• Getting into activism? Learn what to do and not to do in intersectional feminist spaces
• Make gentle everyday herbal infusions and drink them (consider nettle, skullcap, passionflower)
• Join or make a donation to United Plant Savers
• Remember to get outside and move around in nature as often as you can, even if it's just in your neighborhood
• Don't beat yourself up you can't do everything, pick your battles
• Remember that self care is an act of resistance
• Read Rewild or Die: Revolution and Renaissance at the End of Civilization
• Find or carry your herbal ally with you, sleep with them under your pillow
• Learn and practice breathing techniques that calm and sooth you 
• Reach out to friends and loved ones, in real life or on the internet for connection and support when you feel bad
• Know that you are not alone
• Practice mindfulness right now
• Show up, or don't, know when you're over extending yourself
• Learn resistance/resilience and potency through weeds and wild plants (see: yarrow & research pioneer species)
• Nice Girls vs. Kind Women
• Read the news from various sources, but be mindful of becoming consumed & crushed by it (that's what they want)
• Don't start you day by reading the news! Meditate, drink your infusions, breathe
• Exercise and take care of your body in ways that feel right to you: yoga, lift weights, walking, running, etc.
• Watch Pema Chodron videos 
• Call and contact your local elected officials when shit goes down, here's an easy way to find them 
• Get your hands on some great plant/witchy zines: Herbal Roots, The Cauldron, herbal zine list from Microcosom
• Reclaiming Our Ancient Wisdom: Herbal Abortion Procedure and Practice for Midwives and Herbalists
• ResistanceManual.org
• Connect with your ancestral heritage if that is available to you, honor them
• Respectfully learn about the land you live on and its indigenous peoples that were here before colonization 
• Sign up to Plant Healer Magazine 
• Honor your land spirits, spirits of place and leave them offerings, speak to them
• If you have spare dollars, donate to Planned Parenthood, The Sierra Club, Black Lives Matter, National Parks Service, Standing Rock 
• Read the books, Apocalyptic Witchcraft & Blood of the Earth
• Read the essay Rewilding Witchcraft, by Peter Grey, all this is happening now
• Also see, Forging the Body of the Witch, Raw Power: Witchcraft, Babalon and Female Sexuality

• Read works by Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold: Civilized Witchcraft, The Pointed Finger of Freedom, On the Itch within Witch

If you're reading this and have something to add, please leave a comment. This is by no means a list of perfection. Its things that feed and placed to start.

Be well, be strong.

Leaving For the Oregon Coast Trail + What Do I Need?

It's 100 degrees here in Portland this weekend. I sucked in all the cool air last night, shut up all the windows before it crept over 70 degrees this morning and I am sitting in fine comfort, for now. I am cool blooded though, so I enjoy the heat for the most part. Sipping holy basil and mint tea, with a little watermelon on the side. Good refreshing things.

My mind keeps drifting back to this this picture I took almost a year ago, when I was on a camping trip with my herbalism school. It was such a hot and dry summer last year...

It's always cool on the coast, or at the very least there will be that persistent breeze rolling in off the ocean. Filling you up with the sweetness of negative ions, salty skin and tousled hair.

My stomach flips a little in that good way; when I look at my calendar and see July creeping up faster than I thought possible. In less than a month now, I'll be living on the Oregon coast for a month.

My home and all that I'll need to live outdoors will be on my back. I'll be avoiding lingering in towns and spending as much time as I can out on the route that will take me to the California border. From there, I'll have to find my way home. Likely by a mixture of bus and train.

It's going to be super amazing. But I am also kind of preparing myself more for the uncomfortable aspects of what I'm doing. The word for it is called thru-hiking - when you hike one long continuous trail from beginning to end. It's my preliminary step towards finding my style for when I take on the Pacific Crest Trail next year. To know what I am comfortable with, what I need and don't need, what I want and don't want. 

I don't know what to expect. I have never done anything like this in my life. I've never even been on a trip this long before, as I have spent the majority of my adult life... well, adulting. Running a business, tending to the day to day.

It's been both easy and hard for me to set aside time like this, for a big endeavour. It feels kind of like a chink in my mental calendar year - I'm excited and a little irritated by it. Aries don't like to slow their roll and I can't get rolling on some projects I've wanted to pick up. My ingrained scheduling will be disrupted and I feel like I can't begin anything right now. 

It's a preparatory limbo.

What I do know is, my constant companions are going to be the ocean, trees, plants and the moon as she moves the tide back and forth. Controlling my movements of when I can and cannot hike. When I can and cannot pass around a point, or make it to the next headland, to my next camp spot. 

I keep thinking about how I should prepare for the spiritual aspect of this hike and I think about how I am going to do that when I am on the PCT too. I think about physical tools I would need to engage in spirit work, pay homage to the moon in her phases, or to honor a spirit of place. I think I need these physical accoutrements to make contact, to do the work, to engage. Then I realized I don't. I realized...

All the tools we need are in us. 

So I decided to stop stressing about that part. Because either they'll find me, or I'll find them... we'll find each other somehow. I'll figure it out when I get there. I keep telling myself that.

---

If you're wanting the more detailed and nitty gritty aspects of my hikes and the preparation that I do for them, you can follow me on my other blog, Witch Wandering (which, there are no posts yet, but soon). In that space I will be keeping a daily trail log (updating on trail when able to do so) and posts on what I carry gear wise, eat, prepare, etc. I do hope to squeeze in a from the trail post here too, if possible. We'll see how it goes.

The Foraging Season Begins + Mental Shifts

The ending of January and the beginning of February is when I start to get antsy. In this window of time and during these few weeks, poplar buds will begin to drop and nettles will be shooting up below these great trees. They both arrive at the same time roughly here in the Northwest, and they grow together often. These two are what start off my season of plant gathering. They're the first stirrings of spring on it's way. They make me immensely happy.

I'm always worried... will I be too soon, too late? And when you're too soon with poplar buds sometimes you feel like you might have been too late. Living in the city, I have no barometer poplars or nettles to keep an eye to know when it's happening out in the forests. So it's always a guess.

I chose a different gathering spot this year, by the opening of a river delta on the Columbia – a place I had discovered last summer. People take their dogs to roam in this super large park. I felt a little strange being one of the very few people without a dog, carrying a large pack to stuff my plant friends in. I got weird looks, “where is her dog?” but I didn't bother.

You have to walk for about two miles before you can reach the river bank, where no one ever really ventures. As I walked out I checked myself. I was feeling impatient, nervously tense, already annoyed by the fact I might find nothing. The young poplars I past by in the parking lot looked like their sticky buds had already opened a bit.

Why am I even tense? This should be enjoyable.

When I wild harvest I am shifting from one mental state to the next and sometimes I am not even cognizant of this happening. We move from rushing rushing busy world to... quiet trees, moving water, bird song. A place where time doesn't really matter. Sometimes I think we can find this shift frustrating. Or that maybe we are out of practice from being cooped up all winter and disconnected from it all.

Mental state while gathering is important. The plants, land, trees, rocks knows this. They can feel your feels.

So I walked and I walked and I was just like, UGH. There will be nothing. Then, I remembered my breath. I started to breathe deeply in and out with each step. I smiled to myself. I began to relax. I stopped and watched an eagle fly overhead, listened to a couple sound disappointed about the conditions of the muddy trail, and I inhaled deeply the scent of wet soggy earth and the scent of poplar forest and I relaxed. This is why I am here and what I will be able to take home with me, will just be an added blessing and heart medicine.

I round a corner and there it is, all laid out: shooting nettles, fallen branches laden with sticky buds and the beginning shoots of galium aparine, cleavers. It was the perfect little cove for me to do my business.

I've heard this from other wild crafters, that sometimes the forest will make you wait until you have come into the right head space to find your plants. This is true. You go to the forest, meadow, mountain... to work it out. To heal. They teach you this.

I pluck and picked and pulled away. Fingers being stung and pricked by the nettles, knowing I'd spend probably a day or two with numbness and pin pricked sensations in my hands. I didn't care.

I walked back to my car contented, feeling the green glowing sap stirring a bit more within myself.

New Moon in Aquarius + Personal Cleansing

I keep turning over cards with the moon in it. The Moon, moons, crescent moons, frowning moons, moons being eaten...

The Moon.

What is a witch even, without the moon? The truth is, the moon is cold to me and I have had a difficult time connecting with her over the years. There was the eclipse in Aries back in '15, when she was painted red and my world was, well, eclipsing. I woke at the odd hour of the night to watch her shift from pure white, to rust colored menstrual red. Some kind of ancestral memory would surface while I watched. Fear! Doom! The end is nigh! But no, it was just me, shivering on my back stoop, wrapped in a shawl hoping I wouldn't be harassed by night passing meth users.

The sun I find joy in, warmth, life, things grow, I am not cold. This I understand and in that I feel safe. But we don't always learn new things by staying in safe comfort zones.

Not so safe!

That moon though... she's all complicated and I feel so indifferent to her. Aloof.

I feel a bit like the Fool, wandering into the scene of The Moon while I type this. It's is unknown, a bit wild and fearful. Subterranean creatures surfacing from our sub-conscious. However, there is a pathway through this card...

And so it is, when something wants your attention, it makes itself known. Again and again and again... So, do the smart thing: pay attention, respond.

While I do track and follow the lunar month for magical purposes, I haven't dug deeper. I aim to change that. I don't know how specifically, but I think that through acknowledgement of this synchronistic pattern I am seeing, taking steps to be more observant, followed by research and taking some baby steps some sort of path will reveal itself. Probably by moon light ;)

We are currently approaching the new moon in Aquarius and new moons are excellent times to begin new practices and habits, start projects, sow seeds, clean out junk from the old cycle, bring in the new and such like. So here we are. She comes aknockin' and would you look at the timing...

One of my favorite ways of cleaning the slate is with a bath. A magical spiritual bath.

As I have been taught and learned this ought to be one of the cornerstones of regular practice. Sometimes this gets overlooked, or forgotten or you know, one becomes lazy. But the miasma builds up and then enough is enough already! Take the damn bath.

For Saturday, Sunday and Monday I will be rising before dawn to bathe. Three days to suit my personal needs. However ideally this is just done once a week as part of regular routine maintenance. Sunday being my favorite day to do this kind of work.

So what are we cleaning here exactly? Build up negative kinds of energy (miasma). This can come from anywhere. The bus, the train, workplace, your own mind, during a magical working, etc. As we go about our daily lives, we both put things on ourselves and negative things can become attached to us. Wash it away!

My personal method comes from within the tradition of conjure or, Hoodoo. I do not do this work in a relaxed, self care kind of fashion. This is work.

Bay, rue, hyssop, rosemary and lavender.

Rising before dawn I mix together rue, hyssop, lavender, rosemary and bay brewing this into a tea. Any purification herbs can be used to your liking. Along with that, I use a salt blend with rue and hyssop combined with Candlesmoke Chapels Personal Cleansing Oil, which I can't recommend enough. It leaves you feeling wonderfully lifted, light and clean. Over all of this I pray my intentions and needs.

• Rue, cleanses away evil and protects
• Hyssop, to cleanse you as white as snow
• Lavender to cleanse and soothe
• Rosemary to cleanse and is also a strengthener and protector of women
• Bay, for clarity and wisdom
• Salt, all purpose cleansing and protection. It kinda does what you want it to.

After I've brewed this up. I place it into a large bowl and take it into the bath tub that I have filled about ankle height full with warm water. Get naked, step in and in a downward motion I pour the cleansing water over myself and run my hands down my body while washing. The downward motion indicating I am removing it from myself. I do this over and over again with the warm bath water while stating my purpose, "may I be rid of negativity, may all stagnation be washed away, etc."

When I feel a shift in energy I am done. I collect a little of this used bath water into a cup and set it aside, then drain the tub like normal.

After this, I air dry my body. I do not wipe away the work I have done with a dry towel. Air drying can suck, especially in winter but this is how I was taught and this is how I feel it is most effective. It helps to have a space heater for sure. I also like to swing my arms and legs, which gets blood flow going and the whole process is quite refreshing. Hot coffee at the ready is also beneficial.

Once I am done with that I dress myself in oils to bless. In this case I used my own blessing oil combined with a psychic visions and clarity oil. I apply this to my body starting at my feet and working upwards. The upward motion indicating you are drawing these things to yourself. The idea here is that you just washed away something and you need to replace that cleared space with a blessing, or something you want drawn to you.

After getting dressed it's time for the final act. I take the cup of water to a nearby crossroads and toss the used bath water over my left shoulder towards the rising sun. I walk home and do not look back.

I have been doing this practice for many years and I personally find it very effective. Maybe you will too!

Here's to clean slates, blessings, new pathways and fresh lunar starts!

A Declaration: THRU-HIKING THE PCT 2017

I heard about it most officially from a wildland firefighter I had been dating, back in October of '14. He said, "...and I was working on the Pacific Crest Trail," in a kind of mystical tone. A small ding went off in my brain. I had this strange vision that it was near the coast for some reason, I suppose I was confusing the word "crest".

A few months went by and while looking over a map of Indian Heaven Wilderness, I saw this bold endless looking red scar across it: Pacific Crest Trail 2000. Ding.

My friend Lacey was planning a visit back in April, she wanted to do some nature exploring, but didn't have a clue what she wanted to go do or see out here. So, I ran a few ideas in my head... and thought of that movie everyone was talking about a while back. The one with the shoe on the cover, part of it was filmed here in Portland, had that girlwhatshername from Legally Blond play the character. I suggested to Lacey to watch it to get an idea of what we have out here, as some of it was filmed in Oregon and showed some scenic views of our state. I had to google what the name of it was... and then I realized, oh. It's about a woman who hikes the PCT. What is this trail anyway? Commence googling.

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The memory of brain dings and feelings surfaced. So this is what it is: 2660 miles from Mexico to Canada, along the chain of mountains through California, Oregon and Washington. Pilgrims from all over the US and world come to hike it in sections and even in its entirety. Most northbound, some south bound on a journey that takes on average, about 5 months to complete. I discovered the trail blogs of people accounting each day of their struggle for water, intense hunger, storms, chewed up feet, giving up, mountain lions, hypothermia, heat stroke... a whole strange subculture of these people called thru-hikers. I wanted that life.

I decided, that I was going to become a thru-hiker. I was going to do it. This made me happy in that same way, when I was just 12 years old with a plan to run away to to smoky mountains. There was that embracing of my child-self that I do my very best not to loose. We loose it so easily in these times.

That was early '15, when I had decided. Desire waxed, waned, eclipsed. Am I ready to give up my (relatively speaking) affordable Portland rent, in my pretty damn nice apartment that I magic-ed my ass into? What about my business? What about Tucker? Do I really want to displace myself like this? Become homeless for 6-8 months? What about afterwards? What about the threat of depression that will inevitably set in after I am done? Is it worth stirring up my life for this desire?

Always I came back to: Yes.

The stars, the dirt, the trees, the crossroads. The hunger that will chew at me. The relentless sun burning me. The feeling I know I'll get walking into familiar territory, seeing old plant friends and mountains. Knowing there won't be some great epiphany at the end. Knowing I'll hate it at times. Knowing I will love it. Knowing I will be scared shitless and knowing I will be humbled by vastness and beauty, the kind that there are no words for.

So, now it's 2016. Instead of saying, “PCT in 2017...” I get to say, “PCT, next year.”

Next year.

It is now even more of a reality. Now I can buy data books that will be slightly more relevant to nerd over. Now I can start gear testing and collecting. I have to start saving money and reorienting my business and job to work well without me for part of spring and summer.

Have I ever backpacked before? Nope.

Is this crazy? Maybe. Lots of people do it with no prior experience. Thankfully an ADD mind provides you with a what seems like a contradictory ability: hyper focus (usually only on things we are fascinated by). So I have been adsorbing like a sponge, everything. Stove vs. no stove, tarp vs. tent, resupply strategy, food choices, shoes, foot care, hiking gait, sleeping bag, socks, treking poles, ultralight everything. All the things. Reading all the stories. All the books. All the info.

I know that no matter how much I meticulously prepare, I will not be fully prepared for it.

So, that's that. My deceleration of doing.

PCT 2017.

How I Choose Which Tarot Deck I Read With + Decks I Use

I was asked a question on how I choose which tarot deck I use for readings, which I thought was a great question because it isn't something I've really thought about doing, but just do. Short answer is: I go with my gut.

Currently I have about 13 different decks to choose from. Of those, I actively use three. Two traditional tarot decks and one oracle deck. I am a bit of a collector and prone to "shiny!" grabby-hands impulse tarot purchases, especially if it is an independently published deck. There are so many people out there creating really cool decks right now.

I have a very deep bond with my Smith-Waite deck. It was the very first deck I have ever owned and we have done some serious shit together. As a result, this is my default deck, the old trusty friend I can always go to and know I'll get a solid unwavering answer from and I know that when I read for others, the same applies.

The second deck I work with I feel is a more nature, pagan and witchy version of Smith-Waite, so the suits translate fairly well between decks. They're similar but not the same. I often go to this deck when I am dealing with more wild, green and witchcraft oriented situations. It's also a great deck for me to understand my dreams, as I dream often of plants, animal and wild places.

Third being the Earthbound Oracle. I really like this as a supplemental deck to draw on for tarot readings. To kind of back up another card or use as an action card, or energies surrounding the situation. A good example is how I used it for my Samhain spread.

Example of Earthbound Oracle supplementing the main reading. Basically it stepped in to tell me to stop being deceived by my own doubting mind, to really see what I have and trust my intuition.

When it comes down the choosing a deck for a reading it usually goes something like this:

*sits at table and stares at decks for a while, while contemplating an issue, question*

*knocks on table three times, has conversation with familiar spirits, gets feels*

*looks at decks again*

*picks deck giving good feels*

Hah. It really is hard to describe. But I feel that each deck contains its own spirit and depending on what I am needing to read about, or on, it will reach out to me. And they do, every single time.

So if you're all starry eyed and deck lusting as one does when one loves tarot, I would pick one deck that sits close to your heart. Study and work with it daily, then pick another deck that you're very attracted to to act as an alternative and go from there.

Another useful trick is the good ol' pendulum! I employ this when I am reading for clients. Actually, especially when I am reading for clients. I set both my RWS and Wildwood decks side by side and while holding the pendulum, I state, "who wants to read for Brunhilda Birchswitch?" (I made that name up, I don't know where it came from). And 100% of the time the pendulum swings one way or another and the deck is chosen. If you wanted to apply this to a personal reading just ask, "who wants to read for me?"

Another angle to approach this is knowing your deck. Decks have personalities of their own and I can tell you that I have experienced some decks getting snarky because I haven't used them in a while. Yes, I am looking at you RWS. Conduct yourself an interview! Ask your deck what areas of life it specializes in, what situations it works best in, how you can best read with it. That can help you in knowing when to choose the right deck for the right situation. Or just giving you a better feel for the appropriate time to use it.

Above all though, don't think too critically about it. Go with your gut feeling. If it feels right, it more than likely is! Trust the process.

A Samhain Tarot Spread + The Year Ahead

Yesterday I finished up that Instagram tarot challenge and for the last day I did a Samhain tarot spread for the year ahead. I wanted to discuss and share it with those who might be interested in my method if they'd like to give it a try sometime. This spread isn't limited to any time of year I think, but it is geared towards seasons and the traditional wheel of the year. So, one could do this spread at the start or end of any season.

Samhain is also known as the Celtic New Year. Running with this in mind and the idea that we sort of descend into the underworld/underground for winter during this time, I wanted to map out the year ahead as this is the perfect time to do so.

For some reason, I already knew what the spread was going to look like in my head. It just sort of happened so I ran with it.

Three cards for each season: winter, spring, summer and fall. I chose Wildwood because of its connections to the wheel of the year, the cards and suits are all based upon elements and seasons. Being a very plant and nature oriented person, I gravitated towards this deck for that reason too. Earthbound Oracle (which I want to review soon!) came in to give the overall theme for each season, the main vibe.

Now, I read rather intuitively. I don't very often give each card placement a specific meaning. I find that with my brain and reading style, I just let the cards do their thing and then the story seems to weave together all on its own.

When I shuffle cards, I speak aloud my questions...

What is in store for me in the year ahead?

For each season, what should I focus on?

What should I be aware of?

What will I learn?

And of course, a card flew out as I shuffled. Or flipped, rather. When this happens, many readers take it as a sign to pay attention and run with it - I do this too, so I set the card down in the middle to represent myself and my "aims" for this coming year. Too funny it would be The Archer... a card that has been showing up for me frequently. The season associated with this card is the Spring Equinox, my season as I am Aries.

Card 7 The Archer, is akin to the Chariot in Rider-Waite systems. Here we see the practice of form and focus, before the arrow is set loose. This is the breath before the great strike. This is the culmination of practice, gathering of information and thoughts put into action. The Archer is backed by spirit companions, they are supporter of their cause, guides. The Archer has their eyes on a goal and they aim for it unfailingly. This is the energy I will carry with me into the following year. I do love how there is a cowrie shell dangling right above the sex of this individual.

Winter

I'm none too surprised here. There will be some struggling this winter, perhaps more of a mental struggle. It's odd, because as I am typing this I am feeling it. Highly introverted and a strange self-inflicted loneliness that in all truth, isn't really actually loneliness, but it feels that way. It's all in my head. The isolation, the cold, the depressing aspects of winter - it gets to me. It's pouring rain outside right now and while cozy, it has my moods dark and swirling. There's something reminiscent of the Hermit in this card too, the lamp a guiding internal flame and source of direction even in cold bleak times. Move forward...

The Kingfisher, it almost seems like he's smiling. He, like the Archer, knows his aim is focused. He does not cling to what doesn't serve him. He overcomes obstacles by sheer force of will and intelligence.

Oh the Mirror! This is a very wintry watery card of spiritual journeying, of surrender, of digging deep into oneself. This is not forced inner reflection, but one of acceptance, of knowing its coming. This is about messages and insights gained in dream and meditation.

The overarching theme for this season, is finding my spiritual voice, weaving song with it.

Spring

With the ruminating of winter behind me, it will be time to clear away the old and make way for the new. Clearance is about making that room, so that I can expand upon new ways and methods of doing things and allow growth to happen in those areas. A spring cleaning will definitely be scheduled.

Ohhh, some heart stings perhaps? Stinging the heart of another? Dealing with some relationships issues? This card, akin to the classic Three of Swords is called Jealousy. Feelings of resentment, emotions out of control ought to be checked and it will be good to be mindful of them during this period.

Mm, Ecstasy. I know what this means and it means the return of my feet back into the lush greenery of the forests here. If there is any time I feel most alive and stirred it is in my time, late April early May when everything is bursting with life and growing. This isn't about pleasures though, it is about ecstatic trance, a time of spiritual revelation and experience, which I know to be found readily during my "power" time of the year.

The theme of this season, is trusting my inner visions and being guided by them.

Summer

The path continues through the green mantle... a Reunion. A returning to place, while not maybe physical - it is spiritual. What also comes up is recognition that I spend a lot of time working on myself and in things in a solitary way... this could be a coming together with my people, my tribe, my kinfolk. The land is what brings us together. I should keep this in mind.

The Ancestor, the great call from within that is tied to my blood and my bones. This serves as a reminder to stay on the path, to stay the course of my spiritual journey and the call of spirit. Sometimes we really do need a reminder, because we get a little lost, we make pit stops, we take side trails... but always there is the path I know I must walk. It might change its shape and texture over the years, the landscape may shift, but it is always there and to stay upon it means everything to me. This also may be the start of a new spiritual cycle and beginning for me.

And speaking of path walking, there's the crossroads. This will likely be a transformative and fulfilling summer. This is about follow through and commitment to my goals, walking my talk and my path - in doing this I will find Fulfillment.

With the Ancestor in mind and the idea of new cycles and beginnings, it's almost no surprise to see this being the overall theme for summer time. Death is transformative and skin shedding is vital. This will be a very interesting time I think.

Fall

There will be some misses I think coming into this season. But that Archer, again! There will be a need for focus and determination. My job becomes increasingly stressful during this time of year and very often (as I found myself doing this year) I pile up too much on my plate and dilute my focus. I'm scattered and uncollected. I must be mindful of this.

Here is the first stones and earth based card to show up. This is something to note, there's a lot of air, water and fire happening, but not a lot of grounding earth. 10 of Stones, Home. This card is flanked by frustration and challenge, so the emphasis here I think is sanctuary creating. One thing I have always been curious about myself (astrologically speaking) is how very significant my home is to me and creating sanctuary space. A place to retreat from external pressures, stress, the elements. It is where love resides, I think. Building something. Growth is happening in this card, an apple tree reaches up and out of the roof. Sustenance, sanctuary and support are themes here and will be important during this time.

One cannot grow without challenge. The thing about challenges is to not become petty, or to act out of insecurity when enduring them and instead, to act of integrity and sincerity for best results.

Labor will bring in the sweetness and rewards. While working through frustrations and challenges can suck, one can definitely work them to ones advantage. This also touches on home and home base being a place to recharge and gain sustenance.

This is a big ol' spread! The biggest I have ever done actually. What I think I will be doing with this, is returning to it at each season and checking in. So, I think there will be subsequent posts about how all of this plays out into the coming year.

If you ever decide to use this spread, do share it! I would love to see others take on this, or how it might play out for them as well.

Many blessings to those making their wintry decent!

Tilly Jane + Old Man Wy'east

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The first week I had my car I left one of the doors open while it was parked off street by my apartment, like a dingus. Not a good thing as I live at a sort of sketchy intersection. My neighbor said, "hey! You left your car door open!" and I said, "oh shit, thank you! I'm still getting used to this car owner thing." You know, getting used to basic things like shutting the door and locking it when you're done with it. Anyway... I haven't done that again!

I am also very indecisive when it comes to any sort of adventure plans, now that I am basically able to get to any and everything. There's just too much to see out here! So I made a firm decision for Cooper Spur last weekend.

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I have mixed feelings about adventuring around Mt. Hood. Firstly (and I am not alone in this), Hood puts off the feels. Like he's angry and shit. I would be too if people were trampling around on my slopes leaving all sorts of trash, lighting fires and being generally disrespectful. It's a high traffic area and I prefer less traffic. Being the animist that I am, I do my best to tread lightly and respectfully. I also bring treats, which usually wins some kind of favor. Just make sure it's the right treat!

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When I reached the road to get to the trail head I saw another trail, the Tilly Jane ski trail. Not wanting to drive the 10 miles of switchbacks to reach the Cloud Cap campground, I took this instead as it eventually links up with the Timberline and then Cooper Spur. Overly ambitious, but whatevs. It totaled at I believe, 12 miles there and back with an elevation gain of something like 3000 feet. I stopped at the iconic stone hut, where there's the junction between Cooper and Timberline. There was a shit ton of people there and it was sometime after 4pm so, not wanting to hike in the dark I was quick like a bunny and went back. So in actuality I never did Cooper Spur, but this was nice.

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This trail takes you through an old burn, back from 2008 I believe. The contrast of the silvery dead trees and plants moving into their fall colors were stunning to say the least. It always makes me want to paint.

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Mountain yarrow! Some of the best yarrow grows along coasts, at higher elevation or rough wild terrain. Cultivated yarrow is considered inferior by some herbalists. When these little plants are exposed to harsh environments, like growing out of a rock on the side of a mountain, they're stronger for it and have much more potent medicine. You can actually smell the difference. Compare yarrow growing in a garden to yarrow on a windy, rocky slope and you'll smell it.

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Little plant lessons: exposure to extremes can lead to strength, tenacity and potency.

Heart Loving Hawthorn

I'd been eagerly awaiting the arrival of Crataegus oxacantha, hawthorn flowers. It's an indispensable favorite amongst herbalists I think. I had been eyeballing the few trees on my early morning walks to the train for weeks. Watching the small green buds form and then whiten... and then bloom! And bloom they did. There's a few straggler trees still blooming out there, depending on where you live they may have yet to bloom.

Hawthorn is one of those fae trees, associated with faeries (not your winged cherub type) and the fire festival of Beltane (aka May Day). And it is said that if you come upon a stand of oak, ash and thorn growing together you may see faeries, or find a gateway to the otherworld. I personally find hawthorn both fierce and comforting, warm in its personality. With its thorns and bright red berries it is associated with the element of fire and the planet Mars. Being ruled by both fire and Mars myself, might explain my unspeakable attraction to this tree. With the Mars connection, hawthorn is also protective and was once used to protect farm animals from malefica.

Medicinally hawthorn is heart tonic, lowering blood pressure without any negative side effects. It is a true tonic of the heart in every sense, opening the heart, calming and soothing. It can take a fluttering, frantic heart and state of mind to a place of calm and collection. I've noticed this with plants in the rose family, as rose herself has this similar effect on me.

Before harvesting any plant for medicine or magical use, I touch it and speak to it of my intention. I wait for a moment to feel any interaction from the plant and if I have been given permission to collect from it. Usually, when a plant is approached respectfully you will get a positive response. To get an extra gold star, considering offing up honey, a peice of bread or red woolen yarn.

I harvested the flowering tips, twig, leaf and all very carefully with a pair of sharp scissors. I wanted to do a flower only tincture and I dried the rest for tea. My teacher at herbalism school suggested collecting the flowers just before they open. And it makes sense, because they kind of contain themselves once dried out for tea.

The tincture is stinky! If you've ever smelled flowering hawthorn, you'll notice a slight top note of foulness. It's a pleasant foulness to my nose though, some may not appreciate it. To be perfectly honest, it smells like sex and what some perfume enthusiasts refer to as, "skank." Which is not at all surprising as this tree is associated with fertility and that randy of all witch holidays, Beltane. It dissipates in its dried form, but is is preserved in the tincture. I have admittedly dabbed a bit of the floral menstruum on my wrist to revel in its scent. Should I ever acquire a still, I would definitely bottle this. Macerating these blossoms in a perfume grade alcohol solvent may need to happen next year.

How's your gathering going? Are the hawthorn blossoms done in your neck of the woods, or have they just begun?

Spring Gathering: Poplar Buds & Nettle

It feels a bit late to be talking about these two, but my fingers are still deep in their goodness and it feels like I was washing the sticky poplar resin form my hands just yesterday...

The season started slow with poplar buds and nettles. Both have a powerful olfactory effect on me. Poplar bud oil was once worn by an old flame of mine. So upon first whiff I am instantly reminded of him. It's changing though and I am more drawn to the thoughts of the rivers and wet places the cottonwoods grow... and where they grow, nettle never seems far away. You can smell them when the air is balmy and they'll fill your bag with a ripe skunk when you've harvested them up. I've always been rather fond of a good stink, and I sometimes find myself sticking my nose very carefully into the bag I've put them in. Green, fatty, skunky and with a hint of citrus. Yes! To my nose there exists a citrusy note in older nettle leaves.

The nettle has gone into tea for the most part. It creates a vegetal broth of sorts. When you sip it, it immediately touches some place internally that sends off all sorts of signals telling you this is nourishment. Nettle is highly nutritive, full of minerals and a lovely spring tonic. I've also been adding it to my weekly batch of chicken soup. I tried it fresh, but I prefer to add it in once it has been dried. I find it more palatable.

Magically, nettle is a jinx breaker. One that would be powerful I think. Jinx breaking with a bit of a sting to it!

I made oil from the poplar buds and left a good portion of them to dry out for incense and magical needs. Often times I think of plants for their folk magic uses first, rather than for medicine. I find they go hand in hand. Poplar is used to mend broken hearts, or foster reconciliation between two lovers or friends, to soothe strife. You'll find that magical property with a lot of sweet smelling and tasting things. Having had my heart broken by one who wore this as a perfume has been interesting in the development of my relationship with cottonwood to say the least. It truly is a great soothing balm, figuratively and literally!

golden poplar bud oil

The buds also make a most fantastic incense. Once dried and crushed I mixed it with red cedar heartwood to make a lovely sweetening, soothing, clearing and blessing smudge. Try it, you won't be disappointed.