For many years now I have sought to define my own brand, my own style of witchcraft.
On Samhain Eve many of my fellow Witches and Pagans will sit down to participate in the tradition of the Dumb Supper. To honor their ancestors they set a place at the dinner table then invite to their ancestors to join them. They then sit in silence and eat, waiting for the tingle that signifies the
Warning: This blog post may contain rambling thoughts, incoherent sentences, and random bursts of sadness punctuated by tears
The Race By Terry Lynn Pellegrini ©2017 From the crossroads I run Bare feet striking hard packed dirt, Jarred bones, ragged breath, arteries pumping. I crash through the waist high weeds at the roadside heedless of the stinging of the nettles, the thorns stabbing my legs. They follow. Fetid breath upon my heels, bone
It’s Friday evening and you stumble home from another grueling work week. Your brain has assumed the consistency of tapioca pudding and the tightness in your neck and shoulders is showing no sign of letting up. Oh, no. You suddenly recall that tonight is the full moon. Your magickal mind immediately turns towards ritual and
Harvests come in many forms. For many this season of Mabon has become one of spiritual harvests.
“So, you are a Witch. That’s cool. I used to be one too. Now I’m (insert the path of your choice.)” Cue the blank stare, jaw drop, and the inevitable, “Why? Why did you leave Witchcraft? How?” I have had several conversations along these lines. Every single time it has left me flabbergasted. How do you stop being
Darkest Night A Poem for Hekate By: Terry Lynn Pellegrini ©2016 In the darkest of nights, She lights my way. Phosphorous, illuminating, brilliant one. Torches held high, I follow. Through my despair, through my apprehension She leads me to knowledge, she leads me to joy. And through my joy, She shows me life and what