A lot of people don’t believe in souls, and despite what some people may think, not all pagans believe in a soul or even spirits- paganism isn’t defined by mystical qualities, it is the umbrella term for “the rest of us”.  A soul is one of those things we all have varying opinions on.  I remember watching The Simpsons as a kid and being pretty sure that that’s the way it works heh, but of course my view has refined over the years.  I don’t know how others view the soul, but I do see the soul or spirit as being something that can be compromised morally.

To continue reading this post, please see the original at “Ivy on the Path: The Ugly Soul“.

She will be standing on a well of wine which melts from her gown- abundance.  There will be a mountain of food cradled in her arms and mounted behind her, tables with the cups of sovereignty mead and wine.  We still don’t know what her “halo” part is going to look like, but I love her rose crown!

My mind is done spinning, my hands are now clean. I absolutely love the frenzy balm we completed; we Tread the Labyrinth in a deeper way than ever before, taking only our keys with us.  My hair still smells of burning feathers and our incense blend of rose, airs, cedar, pine and amber resin and before a wash in river water, my hands smelled like the spiced rum, fur and darker, redder things- offerings for the spirits for their joining the Dance.  Now, I lay in bed with my hookah, drawing beautiful botanical anatomies.  Good things are coming.

I have a ton of work ahead of me, and I have to work out some color problems with her skin.

Me and Andrew’s devotional page to Rosmerta is starting to look beautiful!  We’re still working out the colors and what the border will look like, but it’s coming along pretty well.

this was our original concept design… I think she looks better brunette personally lol

The spirits, the old ones, they’re calling, they’re speaking….


I’m in the process of completing something I haven’t made in years and never like this before,  when I’m done, there will be plenty of pictures and info to share ^_^.

In the dying evening light, I walk around the land.  This time, I’m not traveling, night ryding or moving between the worlds.  No, I’m just watching the peace of the cherry tree as it weeps red gum from open sores in its bark.  I move my toes in the low yellowing grass and run my hands over the leaves of pear and plum trees.  I pass by the altar in Pomona’s Grove, saying little prayers here and there, whispering good things to the pears and plums, urging them to grow full and fat and drop to the ground.  I feel this wonderful peace and presence of life that is hard to do in these modern times.

That oneness we feel when we’re in our element is a magical thing all by itself.   My element is the wild forest and the garden and the river.  My sense of oneness with not just nature or the world, but with my own soul happens when I watch the garden bloom, the bees move between the roses and the stripping of fur from flesh and the laying of bones.

 We all have our own sense of peace that centers us and makes us powerful- and mine doesn’t come from sitting in circles in a dusty room or reading tarot in a stuffy back room somewhere Downtown.

My sense of self, my place of power comes from my feet on green grass, my hands in branches, vines tangling in my wild black hair and gentle sunlight on my skin.  Some of us find our place of power inside the home with their tools and cushions and candles.  Some of us find our joy in an open field surrounded by friends and fellow pagans.   I think this ties back to my post about personal styles of witchcraft and how you work your own path.  Where we feel the most powerful is as important or maybe more important as the tools and colors and objects that lend to our sense of stability, focus and empowerment.

I am a woman of the wood that meets the sea and the rivers that bridge these two worlds.  I’ve never been comfortably living away from the sea, I’m lucky to live a few minutes from the sandy shore of the Sound, and this county is pretty much a giant forest with patches of true forest stretching on as far as the eye can see in some places.  I feel most powerful in the forests that are by the edge of the water; where you can hear the waves crash and the wild winds howl through the trees.  That sacred space, that perfect place where you feel you were meant to be can be that refuge your spirit needs.

So many gifts this Midsummer!  The frenzy balm was loved by all, the altar was stunning, the laughter, cheer and joy were much needed in these ridiculously stressful times and we enjoyed the bright summer sun, the warm, vivid evening sky and the passage of night.   The most excellent occurrence of that day was stumbling across very recently (sans rigamortis) deceased moles.   

The bone and ash sigil is the nine-fold sun.  Each segment contained an offering or devotion tool.  Roses are symbolic of life, and yellow is a color of joy in some cultures, mourning in many others, which I thought was nicely poetic for Midsummer.  In each spoke of the sun-wheel, I left fruit treats for the spirits,  incense, apricot liquor, candles (for the Shining Pair) and water- the blood of life.

Moles are sacred to the earth’s oldest deities; they symbolize freedom from judgement, intuition, fearlessness, fluidity, the connection between the earth and the trees, and the qualities of being “rooted” and “grounded”.  I absolutely love moles- always loved the way they work the earth, move swiftly in the ground.

Whew, skinning was hard enough, stripping off the capillaries and subcutaneous  fat was a bitch..

fruits, flowers and booze- a must for any ritual lol

Midsummer; time of the Bee, day of the sun.  Seattle is uncharacteristically clear, hot and bright out, which I know won’t last lol.  I enjoyed the sun, enjoyed the rite, the company and all the singing and dancing to the song of the summer.  I Walked the Land, delivered my invitations and prepared strawberries and fresh cream, my frenzy balm, and other goodies for the rite later.

The crown was roses this year. The crown is a wreath of the favored flowers of the bees in the garden that year which is worn by the leader of the rite, and given as an offering to the Horned One and Bright Lady when the day is done.  This year, I chose roses because the bees have been going crazy on it, and because roses represent my wishes for this renewed year- love, harmony and excess. 

In the center of the crown, I left two white candles to the Shining Pair, Belenus and Belisama as well as rose infused London dry gin, hibiscus & rose hip infused honey, a batch of this years’ balm, Forest Grove Bee Smoke strawberries, grapes, and other fruits.  Presiding over the ritual was Fertility, the spirit of spring and summer.

Fertility, the Divine Feminine

I already gave my heartfelt thoughts on Midsummer and the coming of the Bee Queen, so I’ll just leave you all with my personal day-time altar for this Solstice, while I go off and celebrate with company!

The Bee Queen is a sacred spirit who embodies the magic of the bees during their active months of the summer. She rises with her children, unfurling her wings and crawling from her great flower, the first of spring.  She whispers and hums a song to the winds and her children rise; the bees of every type and all their kin.  She is the energy that bees run on; creating sweet honey, divine propolis, creamy wax and honeycombs.

She guides her children  who move between the Otherworld, the Summerlands and our material world, carrying secrets and messages from between the crossroads.  They hum their gossip all summer long and listen to our woes at the grave, where sweet flowers lull and the air is sleepy and quiet.  As a blessing to man, the bees are guides of love and romance, of the power of the divine feminine and the yearning heart.  Among their blessings are their business relationship with man, who loves his mead!  The Bee Queen is honored from spring until the end of summer.

I‘m preparing infused hibiscus and rose hip honey for the spirits.  Turned out a beautiful cherry amber tone!

Midsummer is on the way and I can feel it in the air.  The sun bakes the earth and sends the smells of woodsmoke, river water, the marshes and fresh grass wafting through the air.  The winds are gentle and breath against my skin.  The ground is growing harder, thicker and dryer and the herbs wilt around the edges in the oncoming heat.  Ocean air is carried far inland, and I watch children kayak down the river that carves my backyard while I weave wreaths, burn herbs in the clay bowl and toss carrots to my rabbit and raccoon friends in the garden.

Gotta prepare little cakes for the green ones: rum in bindweed and a little oat & honey with a tiny herbal bread loaf!

I’m a green path witch made for the sunlight, the warm long days and the cool ocean air from the Sound.  Midsummer this year will be dedicated to the Shining Pair, Belenus and Belisama.  I’ll wake early to Walk the Land this auspicious day- moving in-between the worlds with my stang and my keys, to deliver personal invitations to the spirits and the otherfolk to attend my rite in the evening.  Walking the Land can be dangerous; you can be lost in it for hours if you let yourself walk too long and too lightly.  It can be like the Wild Hunt, though it is YOU who walks the land, the land and spirits do not come racing for you.  But you can get lost none the less in the land, and the water and the wind.  I


Midsummer is the harbinger of the great summer festivals; the feast of Corn Mother, the feast of the Bee Queen when we infuse the honey, honor the newly corked mead and spice the honey cakes to honor the Bee Spirit.  The Bright Lady and the Wild Hunter and all their kin; Áine, light dancers who only appear in the dapples of sunlight between the canopy of trees, the seelie and green-people- are the rulers of this time in the old tales.  In the winter, the Hunt will ride with the sluagh and cold-eyed ones and Beloved Dead, so we must rejoice in the warm summer joy while we can.


Being the delightfully Gaelic-oriented pagan I am, most of my rituals for the day before, day of and day after Midsummer will follow some very old customs of Scotland and Ireland- lighting Aine’s fires, the telling of old tragic epics, collecting my roses and st.johnswort before the sun hits them and baking lots of pastries which I’ll take to the ritual I’m co-hosting at Nessa’s place later in the evening. Mead makers throw the best parties ^_^.  Sharing this day with other European-style pagans is a blast, we’re all such nerds about reconstructing.

Sacred honey for the altar of the Bee Queen later on in the summer!

• Two cups of 100% pure Canadian clover honey
• a tablespoon of water
• half cup hibiscus
• half cup rosehips
• heat on medium, stir consistently and often (use a double boiler if you’re prone to forget to stir, to avoid burning), keep on low-medium for twenty minutes (adjust the heat as needed) until the honey is a rich cherry amber color.  Taste the honey often as it steeps to avoid making the taste too strong and cloying.  Enjoy!

Properties: romantic feelings, connection, gifts, charity and beauty