The Path

The Path…

...Of the Mystic 

The Medicine Woman

The Initiate 

The Priestess

The Witch 

The Oracle 

Of liberation

Of descending and ascending

Of the spiritual warrior 

It is so much more than crystals and tarot

Than meditation and ceremony 

Than retreats and workshops 

Than keywords

Than what ears can hear and eyes can see 

It is the ferocious willingness to know the truth of who you are and who you are not 

Surrendering everything you thought you knew into the fire, again and again 

An eternal fractalizing dance with the void 

The cold plunge into ecstatic grief and blissful pain 

The delicate balance of a foot in both worlds; loving the human; remembering the holy 

Running, walking, tip-toeing, and tripping into the rabbit hole of your fears, your shadow, and the hidden chambers of your heart 

It is gripping loosely 

Detached attachment 

Pulsing desire 

Full-bodied surrender 

Losing yourself in the shamanic dance of the waterfall

Finding yourself in the smoking arms of the mystery 

Drinking the bittersweet nectar of the Divine

Making love to the soil

Becoming and unbecoming 

Living and dying and living and dying again 

It is showing up moment by moment, committed to the practice; to the human practice

The recognition that everything we do — meditation, personal development, ceremonies, healing — are simply sacred bootcamps for everything that happens outside of the temple

That our practice is not in seeing how spiritual we can become but in learning to surrender every ounce of our being into our humanness 

Peeling back the layers of resistance to being penetrated by life itself

Difficult conversations

Gut-wrenching honesty 

Staring the truth in the mirror 

Loving boundaries

High sensation discomfort 

Seeing how you are your own worst nightmare

Becoming your perfect Beloved

Loving with all of your might

Letting go with all of your grace

Choosing yourself over and over again

Even when choosing yourself is the most terrifying choice you will make


Tracking the scent of your power

The liquid gold trails of your sensuality 

The breadcrumbs of your magic 

The splinters of your soul

The shards of your heart 

And when you find them again, embracing them as you would an old friend

It is hands and knees, giving your life up to the Creator 

It is becoming the instrument

It is the slip from ego to all

From one to “I”

It is the holy consent 

To stop at nothing in the journey of your own becoming