Dryad on the Wind

Catch me on the stardust highway, I'll be wearing a crown of pine needles and coffee beans.


I desire my own undoing
What possesses me now is a deep need to fall or crawl or fly back into the place of my conception and see myself unmade
To see myself with eyes and heart untouched by experience or conviction
I must unlearn everything!
There are no boundaries here; I am still the untamed child I was, girl-beast in pleasant skin yearning to feel the dirt beneath claws instead of fingernails
Inside of the walls I saw for a prison, endless circumstance always my jailor
I began to shrink, to shrivel like a dying star inside of myself, touching magick only gently and hesitantly.
Who was I to dive into full waters of the goddess?
In tune enough to know what I felt
Afraid, self loathing, distrustful…I allowed myself slight healing beneath the gold-green speckled light filtering through oak leaves and pine needles
But as I am reborn I yearn to rest as one with the earth, to speak effortlessly to the wind, to carry spirits with me
All that I desire is the knowledge She has to offer, the passion that He powers all with
I want to know intimately the intricacies of creation, life, death, rebirth
I should like to pass my days smelling of roses and sage, ink stains on my fingertips and a bag of bones within reach


I wanted to be someone I was not
To trade my passion for passiveness
To flow instead of destroy
I wanted to glow like the softest of angels,
Ethereal and opalescent beneath impossible constant moonlight
Benevolent beyond ability, kind instead of cunning
I wanted to be the doe, but instead I was a wolf in her skin devouring her wholly
With each season I inhabited a new costume, creating for myself the most glamorous of façades
I took my wisdom and fire, strength and desire and bundled them up in rose petals and sadness
I made darkness my sweetest ally and self destruction my secret lover, falling into its whispers of the poetry of broken souls
But I am not broken
I will not wither in the sunlight and I need no lover
The eager yearnings of a lonely and unanchored girl have dissipated,
My self imposed shackles evaporated in the heat of self acceptance
I no longer wish to be anyone’s greatest love, nor should I enjoy the station of caretaker for all
If I glow it is because my body cannot contain my soullight
I am not made of softness; I am the goddess of destructive growth and harsh healing, exposing your sadness to the bright rays of the sun
I am the fire that burns through falsehoods
I am the passion behind all of creation
I am the feral Crone, a woman in wolf’s skin with a staff of oak and bone
I am the warrior, the blood witch of old
Mistress of the forest temple, priestess of the Akashic web
I am the gatekeeper
I am unending

Owl’s View

I remember being a child at the library, pouring over books about Greek gods with a passion I didn’t understand. At the time, Athena was the only goddess on my mind. I looked up to her!
For many years later I bounced around from love/beauty goddess to witchcraft goddess to whatever goddess (it was right at the time, they pulled me and knew me…this isn’t meant to sound callous or disrespectful). The few times Athena kind of popped up, including a WILD amount of owls & owl related things, I ignored her. I wasn’t ready to dive back into my child-self or prepare to become my adult self. It’s kind of weird…if I have ever been a child of any goddess it is Her. A few months ago she popped up in a reading I got, like literally…and I half heartedly prayed to her, but I still wasn’t ready.

Today I am ready. I’m ready to be entirely honest with myself…I’m ready to evaluate my strengths and and better my weak points, to put in the work for success. I will not presume to know the gods or how they work, what they expect of my (other than my best). I’m ready to begin from point one and start trusting myself.

She is persistent. She is stern and kind, and demands I see myself as I am instead of as I think of myself. She will not permit me to wallow or make excuses, but she will back me fiercely as I push through this shell of myself.

I don’t know what it was about today…maybe seeing Wonder Woman kick ass on screen (my all time favorite super hero) reminded me of who I could be…on one of my lowest days the Goddess used a character that can easily be associated with her to remind me of myself. My little Tiger’s Eye owl has been watching me for some time…must be her.

Tomorrow I will light a red candle rolled in sandalwood and ground clove…I’m going to work on some of the assignments she’s given me. I will be kind to myself.

Cauldron Creations

Calypso’s Into Earth Witch Soup

Once upon a time I read the first of Christine Feehan’s Carpathian novels (I have yet to read the rest…library soon??) ~ anywho ~ this soup reminded me of that book.
 The carpathian vamps return to the Earth (beneath the soil) every so often to heal, recharge, and gather power. I was rather sick all week, so I concocted a soup plan haha. It turned out well!

Can easily be made vegan using veggie broth.

  • 5 or 6 organic carrots
One Vidalia onion (could def add shallots!)
  • Half head of purple cabbage
  • 6 or 7 red potatoes, halved
  • 13 medium cloves of garlic, chopped (those on the smaller side can go in whole)
  • 2 fingers of ginger, peeled and finely chopped
  • Handful fresh oregano
  • Handful fresh sage
13ish large white (portabella) mushrooms, halved
  • 2.5 TBSP beef bouillon
Red pepper flakes, salt, Rosemary to taste

To Make:

Fill soup pot halfway with water, turn burner to high. 
Add garlic and ginger as soon as water starts simmering…after 5-10 minutes add fresh herbs. 
Wait a few minutes before adding onions and bouillon – wait for broth to come to boil, then add your peeled and chopped carrots. 
Stir, taste, adjust
…Add mushrooms. Wait a couple minutes before  adding cabbage. 
Cover, turn burner to medium and let simmer for 10 minutes.

**I suggest adding shallots, morels, merlot, and potatoes for a more bodied soup. In addition, onions & garlic could be browned in butter prior to making soup. Bone broth would be IDEAL.**


My greatest fear used to be dying alone. In its own way that one fear began to seep into a neighboring fear of not being enough; not pretty enough, not knowledgeable enough, not successful or happy enough. I followed that trail into what I discovered to be the obsessive driving force behind my servitude.

Don’t get me wrong! I love giving. Healing is a deep part of both my soul and my heritage. I don’t just heal, though. I dive – no, I engrain myself into families and situations until I am a necessity. I enjoy responsibility, but I make it so I bear the most. I make myself irreplaceable.

If I wasn’t enough how would I find the right person – read, win – to fall into self denying, servitudenal (is that a word?), successful non-bliss? How else would I safely and predictably construct a plain place for myself? Who would need me?

As you can imagine, I began to see several yards of thread disentangling themselves before me; there was a psychic sigh of relief, muscles relaxing and jaw unclenched.

I need me. Deep breath. I need me. 

I need me. I own me. I house me. I create me. I am me. I love me. I will live for myself.

I am quite enough! For many I’m a bit too much, and that’s fine. Take me or leave me. I love myself.

I love the way I dress, the way I craft each look with personality if not always effort. I’m a glamorous witch in sweatpants and scrubs alike; I am fearsome in thigh highs or sky clad.

I love the way I give off wild energy! I love the scars and tattoos on my skin, I love the soul within the temple.

I want to travel…I want to start over up north or down south, start school and walk the area near my apartment.

I am a Goddess of wind and wonder, and I am not afraid to die alone.

Untitled and Unfinished Truth

If I’m being honest, love

I’m a little wanting of

The thrill of forbidden flesh against my own, the taste of running far from home

This wild part of me won’t ever die and I won’t ask her to

Pretty sinner, dizzy spinning in a dirty apartment ; I taste like vodka and cheap riesling, frozen cherries and pieces of a person

Begging for blood and bruises, laughing at your pain and my own

(Most nights like this I just stay home, alone)

Saturday Night Playlist – No Links

Roxanne – The Police

Don’t Stand So Close To Me – The Police

Big Love – Fleetwood Mac

Arsonist’s Lullabye – Hozier

Angel Of Small Death and the Codeine Queen – Hozier

Take Me To Church – Hozier

Leave My Body – Florence + The Machine

Guys My Age – Hey Violet

WANT (Deluxe) (album) – 3OH!3

Before Last Breath

I wrote this maybe an hour before my absolute favorite, beloved resident passed. I’ve not yet been able to write about the passing or aftermath, but I sort of like this. 

Goodbye, old friend. Rest In Peace and wholeness, with cigarettes instead of straws and a sweetheart beside you on the front porch. 

I played psychopomp to the pale man
Of shallow breath and gaunt structure
Once a sweetheart of strange kind
Made to haunt this sad enclosure
I called out all the names I knew!
Azrael and Thanatos, Jesus Christ and Holy Ghost
Hecate, brightly guide his way
And may the River Styx be smooth
Kind Persephone offer the ripest of fruit, pomegranates bittersweet
Guide swiftly the spirit, cut cleanly the thread
I shall see you yet, old friend

Sunday Love Review

I don’t have a real outline for this post. My glasses are off, bubble mask working away on my face, Spotify doing its marvelous music thing. To be completely honest, I’m thinking as I’m typing. Upon titling this post the plan was to discuss (with myself and you all) my love…but as I type I find the content broadening itself.

Please forgive any typos…though this will be triple checked, I am currently with vodka and without my corrective lenses.

Back on track; my love. One of the many names I’ve given my beloved partner. As I write I can’t help but to expand the term into something entirely different…no longer a title, but  a a proper noun complete with its own adjectives and such. How do I love? Who do I love? When does my love show and what spurs it? Are love and loyalty synonymous or merely intertwined?

Addressed simplistically the normal come to mind. I love my family, my close friends, my cat, my boyfriend. A second tier appears; I love my Craft, I love the angels I work with and deities I worship. I love, wholeheartedly and with  a compassion I never anticipated, my residents.

None of those are exhibited the same way except for one characteristic – service.

I’ve come to believe, at least for myself, that service is the greatest and most voluntary act of love there is. It surpasses category or function…I am equally likely to serve my mother, my boyfriend, and my residents. They won’t need the same thing! I will provide affection, attention, validation, and sustenance in turn. The most effective (and most tailored) act of love you can perform is one specific to the person requiring your heart and energy…how do you give it?

I provide joy. I provide a temporary escape. I am Erynn the Enabler, when I am not not Erynn the Witch/Sister/Friend/Combo.

I offer you solace, comfort, validation, encouragement, and judgement-free safety. My space doesn’t mind your vice(s) because I’ve got several of my own.

The greatest gift I have to give is love. It is the service of love in an unpolished packaged; I am judgement-free and therefore you have not sinned and are worthy of love and salvation. Sometimes one must be clean and worthy to a friend before they are worthy to themselves before the Creator.

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