Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Everyday Magics

If I wasn't one for ritual B.C. (before child), I certainly can't get in to it now. Between keeping Orion from break dancing on the kitchen table, swinging the cat over his head by his tail, feeding everyone, keeping the house in some semblance of cleanliness, spending time with Joe, and taking time to do the things I enjoy there really isn't much time left in the day for much pomp and circumstance.

Good thing I've always been a low maintenance sort of gal and Witch. ;)

My altar is (bravely) set up on my (new! Thanks, babe) dresser in my bedroom. So far, little hands have been disinterested in exploring it. Whether that's because of magic or simply that it's all old hat and he's seen the same old bones since he came home, I can't say. But I'm glad for it!

It's an all purpose Winter/New Year job, at the moment, but will change when Spring officially gets here. The beautiful butterfly in the center was a gift from my SIL, and perfectly timed as a kick in the shin from the Universe that, dammit, it's time to stop being afraid and go with the changes. Sort of like my card pull and subsequent phrase of the year pick, which I tried to just ignore - "Embody Feminitity". The card on the left is a wonderful little idea I got from my fabulous friend Lisa over at Woman Magick. She creates a magical little envelope for each month of the year with candles, love & magic notes, and little add ins. I decided to do the same, and open them at each New Moon.

Aside from those little magics at the altar, I'm more or less living my magic. You can find it tucked in to corners of our home; wish bones in the kitchen, charms over the doors, egg shells being saved to make fresh powder, pinecones on the mantle to celebrate the season. A broom used to sweep things out, vinegar and herbs for cleaning and cleansing, the crows that nest in my backyard that Orion and I both love to watch and listen to, the attention paid to the land we live on, and my latest endeavor - visioning for secret messages.

This is an excellent nap time activity and a good way to remain creative and in touch with my intuition when I'm lacking the desire or motivation to paint. I just sit with a stack of magazines and ask "What should I focus on?" or "What do I need?" and cut images and words with no judgement and then glue them on paper in a way that's eye pleasing but also makes sense.

What are some of your every day magics?

Friday, January 29, 2016

A Resurrection

Anyone for take-backsies?

I can't help it, try as I might, I just couldn't get comfortable in my new blog space. I think, most likely, it has to do with it my handing out business cards with the link on it to complete (local) strangers.

Odd as this is, coming from someone who writes honestly and openly about so much of their life to strangers (now friends!) on the internet, it made me feel super weird giving people whom I don't personally know, who might recognize me at the grocery store but never say anything, (or worse - start an argument or something) such an intimate look in to my life.

I'm a ball of contradiction, right? I'm definitely no Amanda Palmer.

So, anyways. I've missed blogging and this space, even though I felt stifled by it a few months back. I'm hoping to pick up with my random mishmash of brain dumping, art splattering, spirit thumping, honest life writing. And hope some of you are still around to converse with me. ;)

Things have been good here. O gets bigger and brighter and more mischievous by the day! Seriously, that boy has the most noticeable twinkle when he's about to get up to no-good. He's running, jumping, climbing, saying words and having almighty tantrums when I stop his shenanigans or don't understand what he's saying.

He keeps me on my toes. And much as I beg, Time refuses to slow down. He changes so much every day.

We parents have found ourselves with small pockets of this elusive creature called "free time" again. And mostly we spend it laying together on the couch watching TV, though we both are still working on projects here and there.

My current one (of like, 25 that I flit between, because squirrel brain) is a deck of oracle cards made with cardstock and found images. I've been jonesing for a new deck and was attempting to make a vision board the other day when the idea popped in to my head. Nothing like using your own intuition to create an intuitive tool, right? And cutting out images is a nice vacation from painting, which is sometimes so wrapped up in emotions that it's taxing.

I've started getting seed catalogs in the mail, and I've been wistfully sighing and dreaming about Spring. We're hoping to build a brand new garden this year, so *fingers crossed*

How have you all been, friends? How's the new year treating you?

P.S. I'll be bringing over the very few posts I wrote over on Wordpress at some point. So, sorry in advance if you see a bunch of things pop up from me. xox

Saturday, September 5, 2015

The Omega

So blessed to have amazing friends who invite us in to their homes, feed us, and love on us when we need it. So grateful for mom-raderie and big hearts. Love you, ladies.

Well my dears, the time has come for me to close the door on this much beloved chapter.

It wasn't an easy decision to make, as this blog has been a sacred witness to some of the most monumental and profound changes of my lifetime. However, when I try to share recently, my mind becomes blocked and I feel claustrophobic. This space, sad as it makes me to admit, no longer fits me.

I'll be keeping this blog open as an archive. One day, I hope to print out these stories of mine that are the nearest to my heart and place them on a shelf with my paper and art journals.

Thank you all so much for sharing in my journey over these past 6 years. I am so grateful for all of your kindness, supportive words, open mindedness, sisterhood and friendship. If you'd like to continue to share with me, you can find me here:


Or, if Bloglovin' is more your jam:


I'm still getting settled in. I hope to see some familiar faces on my doorstep soon.

Much love. Aho.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Oh, Hello

Blessed blue moon! Big intentions being released to the Universe tonight. Big flower, stone, bone and color medicine backing me up. This packet of beauty will fan the flames of change. #bluemoonmagic #witchywoman #spiritualrogue #womanmagic #fullmoon #rec
Blue moon witchery. Big magic for big healing and big changes over the next 2 years.

It's been a while.

But, you know. Life. 1st birthday. Toddler. Illness. Family Visits. Sleep. WALKING! (sort of) It's been a busy life, and at the end of the long days that make up the insanely fast years, I want to curl up on the couch with my husband or a book and veg out. Sometimes, I art a little, or color, or work on a crafty something or other. I'm coming back to who I was before baby, though I'll be forever changed and it's still taking a little adjustment.

Funny, going "back to normal" is like a whole new adventure all over again. Haha. And as it is with adventures, I'm learning and growing from it. My priorities are a lot clearer now and the mess (though still sometimes insanity inducing) is firmly on the back burner until I've met the needs of myself and my dudes. That sometimes means dishes get done at 7 am and other times mean they're done at 10:30 pm. Doesn't really matter because they're still there waiting no matter the time, because I'm not a storybook witch who can wish them away. *sigh*

1 year old Orion and dad in front of a photo of the moment they met on this day last year. #orionjohnis1 #mightyoriongram #babysuplicki
Father and Son in front of the picture of the first time they met, 1 year later.

The big updates from here are: Orion is now a year old. And hot stepping all over the place for short distances. And breaking his mom's heart with all this growing he's been doing, even as he delights us and makes us proud. Looking back on the last year has helped me to get through the hard and longest of days, because there's perspective now. I feel like I blinked, and my newborn baby was whisked away and replaced by this toddler with his boy face. Really, where did those baby features go?!?

Joe and I are both doing well and finding more time for ourselves and our hobbies again. My physical stuff is still ongoing, still waiting to see a specialist for my autoimmune disease so I can get a 100% accurate diagnosis and start treatment, but I've been taking my own steps to try to keep my discomfort under control. I'm working on improving my diet, cutting back on consumerism (sorry craft stores, my money now goes entirely towards food!), increasing my vitamin D (which is hard when it's like the surface of the sun outside ALL THE TIME) and getting up at the asscrack of dawn to do some stretches, yoga and my PT exercises. I'm not a morning person, so that's been a bit rough, but it's been tremendously helpful.

Feast cooked and delivered to a family I love, old artwork told me it's done (for now) so I hung it up, teething boy soothed and sleeping after fighting it like a champ. Now I'll sit here, cross legged on the coffee table to pause and breath in the stilln
Taking some time to center and breath.

I'm making lots of progress with my mental health too, which sometimes feels very frustrating, because it often feels like 2 steps forward, 2 steps back. Every bit of progress seems to dredge up something else that needs to be healed. But, I'm getting there. The work is hard and some days I question if it's worth being grumpy or upset to get this work done, but then I remind myself that for all of the short term discomfort, there will be long term healing. Once I heal my inner child, overcome the fears that trigger my anger and quit questioning my worth, things will be smoother, happier and less stressful. So, onwards and upwards.

I've also still been debating if I should keep blogging here, change the name, move to Wordpress, blah, blah, blah... and I'm still undecided. I know the name no longer suits me, that I need an overhaul to make this space feel like it belongs to this current iteration of me. But do I want to wipe the slate completely clean, or just redecorate? Still pondering.

How are things with all of you? What's new in all of your lives? I've been a real shit about emailing, writing, etc. and I no longer use Facebook at all so I'm completely out of the loop.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Self Love and Soul Wounds

"Yes, Mother. I can see that you are flawed. You have not hidden it. That is your greatest gift to me."
-Alice Walker

In just over a month, it will be Orion's first birthday. The one year mark since I became a mother, and it has been a winding, hilly road for me to navigate. But with each step I take along it, with each stumble, perceived failure, each small victory and giant toothy smile, I am grateful to be on this journey. Grateful to be the mother of this boy who is as changeable as the Seas near which he was conceived.

Surprisingly to me, motherhood has not just been a discovery of love and caring for another person, but has been a rediscovery of how to love and care for myself. It drove me deep within my heart and mind to sort boxes of cobwebbed memories, hurts and baggage and to perform a healing burn. It's taught me that though I may love this little soul unflinchingly and without judgement, that I need to love myself more. Otherwise everything else which I strive to build will ultimately crumble around me.

As he has grown, so have I. Yet, had you told me this while I was pregnant, or even during those first sun soaked, milk damp, sweet skinned weeks of his being with me I would never have believed you. My focus was on being a good mother, a better mother, perhaps a perfect one. With endless wells of patience and reserves of calm that would inspire awe. With honey sweet words, thousands of kisses and never a sour word or askance look at the little piece of my heart I held tightly against my chest. Always trusting my intuition, never doubting, never letting anyone's criticisms get under my skin. I'd pace the floors endlessly as he wailed if needed and be grateful for the opportunity to do so, so much more grateful for the fear of not being able to conceive and the marathon of strength and endurance that was his birth.

I was so prepared for all the light and perfection, that reality threw me directly in to the waiting maws of the Darkness. With each pain that shot through my back, with each tear that stung my eyes when he rooted at a raw and bloody breast, with every whispered prayer to the Universe for some motherfucking sleep my heart was torn asunder by strong waves of guilt. When my illusions shattered around me, I hated myself as much as I loved my son. I was a failure, a horrible excuse for a mother, I didn't deserve this blessing that so many other women wished and prayed for. I felt like I was betraying the sacredness of motherhood, like I was letting my son down, like I was letting my husband down. I felt so very weak, small and unworthy.

How could I expect to raise him up to be strong, confident, free spirited, happy and emotionally healthy when I couldn't even keep the promises I had made waiting for him to be born? How could I teach him the skills he'd need, model how to approach emotions in a healthy manner when I was so ruled and ripped apart by my own? Crying with joy and guilt at the drop of a pin for the better part of most days? How could I interact with him and help him to develop properly, when I was adhering to unrealistic expectations to perfection that I couldn't seem to let go of?

I didn't expect Motherhood to leave me raw and wounded, but it did. I remembered the promise I'd made to myself, to Joe, and our unborn child months before when I'd said that I was worried my depression could lead to PPD and I sought help. And now the wounds are healing and I'm discovering new parts of myself sprouting from the scar tissue cracks that pepper my heart and mind. I'm softer, kinder and more patient. Not just with my family, but with everybody. I'm less negative than I can remember being since my incredibly jaded teen years. Slowly, but surely, the Darkness is dissipating. More slowly than I'd like, to be sure, but the very best things in my life have been worth waiting for - I waited for both of my boys for difference reasons - and so, I will keep doing the exercises my therapist recommends, keep eating as well as I can, keep sneaking in sleep and me time when I'm able and let the dishes sit in the sink for the night. Even though it drives me bat shit crazy. Because the moments I spend with my family and with myself are far more valuable than a clean sink. And I know I will never regret those, though I may regret missing something in favor of a daily chore.

Postpartum Depression scars deeply though. Not only am I having to heal from the day to day effects of it, but I need to heal from the deeper wounds it's given me. Namely regret, guilt and sorrow that I wasn't the mother I am now when Orion was so very small and new to this world. That I can never get those days back, can never change the way that I felt when sadness and oh gods, even resentment, washed over me. I can never be the mother I wanted so desperately to be, because that level of perfection is unobtainable. And though I know it's an evil fucking fluctuation and imbalance of hormones, that it's not my fault that this happened, I wish to hell that I could change it. That I could go back and hold my own hand at 2 months postpartum, that I could whisper in to my ear to get help NOW because in 9 short months I'd be missing all of these little moments and sobbing with guilt.

I think I finally understand what people mean when they talk about a soul wound. Postpartum depression has wounded my soul.

But, it will heal in time. Because the love I have for my son has kindled something new in me, a flicker of love for myself. And as I tend this fire of self love, I know I can find forgiveness.

And one day, those pictures of that wounded woman holding my newborn son won't make me sob with guilt, but with love for them both.


I've been writing a lot recently about postpartum depression and the state of my mental health. There are a few reasons for this:

1) I am fucking proud of myself for reaching out for help, for not trying to tough it out and for making progress. Pride in myself is sort of a new feeling for me, so I'm shouting it down from the rooftops to anyone who will listen.
2) It helps me to rationalize it all and to heal to get it out. And months from now, when I reread this it will serve as a benchmarker of my progress.
3) It may help others know that they aren't alone and that it's OK to talk about it. I felt so ashamed of the way I felt, but I reached out to a few very close friends to talk and was shocked that most of them had suffered similarly. And that of those that had, most had not sought help and wished they had.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Rogue Spirituality

Hello, loves! I'm back from my sabbatical, but am only returning to this space. Hopefully the mindfulness I've been practicing these past weeks will overflow into my tech use now that I've "detoxed". Orion is snoozing so I'm gifting myself a meditation mo

Labels. We carry a bunch of them around with us that we pull out to help us define ourselves to others. If we try not to label ourselves, others will do so for us. We flit in and out of different categories and add and discard labels as our lives ebb and flow and we evolve and change.

Why am I bringing this up? Because over the past few months, I've found one of the labels that I, and many others, have used to define an aspect of myself no longer feels right. I've been pondering it, poking at it like a canker sore and it no longer fits, because, it's not what I practice or who I am. Unless you're sticking to the now dated, and sometimes considered derogatory, dictionary definition, then yes. I cant argue that.

But in the context under which it falls to most people, I'm not a Pagan. I've checked the little box next to it under the religion category in profiles for years, but I've haven't felt a true connection to or ownership of the title for a while , unlike some of the other ones I bear: artist, witch, wife, bookworm, etc. I've never felt entirely a part of the Pagan community, often feeling annoyed and confused when people would talk about community elders, how "we" as a community are represented, or traditional this and thats which I should adhere to. I've always felt a little out of place in a group that, for the most part, seems to shy away from the darker aspects of life, spirituality and magic. I seek balance; male and female deities, darkness and lightness, life and death as the wheel spins. All aspects represented.

Maybe I'm just too much of a solitary, a one woman heart led show. Too much of a rugged individualist, a spiritual drifter.

I'n grateful for the time I've spent with the blanket of Paganism wrapped around me. For the understanding and expression that it has afforded me over the years. To the homecoming of putting a name to my spiritual leanings for the first time ever, back in my teens. But to grow, we must shed that which no longer fits.

So, I'm claiming a new title for myself. One that doesn't feel like it's boxing me in with a community filled with views, opinions and leaders that I didn't agree to. I'm a polytheist, animist, witch, healer, wind talker, crow friend, trance seeker and bone collector. I follow the beat of my heart as it echoes the beat of the Earth's pulse. I speak for myself and with my own spirits and deities, no one else speaks through or for me.

I'm a Spiritual Rogue. Wild, free and untamed. And I wouldn't have it any other way.