There is definitely something about being on a hilltop in autumn, surrounded by mist and the lonely call of the crows. If magic is a feeling, it is this feeling. But then I say the same about the woods, the ocean, the riverside and more. Magic is nature and nature is magic, I guess it really is as simple as that.

Save 10% to 30% on all our works!

Just when White America is starting to wake up to its privilege, to its complicity, and yes, to its guilt and shame, voices on the Left are calling us away from a race-centered analysis.

Elections have the habit of making even the most radical among us elevate the project of democracy. If the United States were a true democracy, that would be a vast improvement over the present condition. But what this line of thinking fundamentally does is provide a simulacrum of arguments for equity.

Faith in the democratic system is eroding not only in Belarus, but also in the United States and other places around the globe. The principles of ‘Freedom' America sought to defend for almost a century revealed to be a shortcoming in their own territory, and not exclusive to 2nd and 3rd world authoritarian governments.

Nodens, Nudd, Nuadha,

Raise the silver hand!

Wake the healer, gird the hunter

By the sea strand.

Animism is not about the projection of consciousness or agency onto non-human things, but about respect and reciprocity within a more-than-human community that transcends the subject-object dichotomy.

Samhain approaches. We enter the dark. Some hate the passing of the summer but I am ready, though summer already feels like a distant memory. A Ghost. We find ourselves in the twilight of the year, in autumn and already dusk has fallen. We stand on the brink of nightfall and as we head towards Samhain we find ourselves in that liminal time and space where the ghosts feel closer, the nights colder and darker, our moods a little more melancholic.

The sites where the heads of ancestors were buried were no doubt seen as especially sacred. As places where the living and the dead, Thisworld and Otherworld, the people and the gods met. Each would have its stories passed down from generation to generation and rituals surrounding it. It is likely that, at liminal times, such as Nos Galan Gaeaf/Samhain, the seers of the Setantii tribe would commune with their dead and their heads would speak again.

“I’ve lived this life between. Not one, but two. My feet have walked in dream and stepped in blood. I’ve flown so far I know the music of a distant star, and I have slept in mud.”

A new book from Anthony Rella

There are still apples on the trees, rosey in their ripeness or perhaps windfallen and bruised and I’ve just plucked the last of the ripe tomatoes from the vines. Some have split and others are not quite as firm as you’d like for a sandwich but these are great for cooking with.

Our popular course offered one last time this year!

This is what it feels like when Empire falls.

Sip, and plot your destiny.

Northern rains come slow and stay for ages. A particular type of torture. It doesn’t wash over you, it shoots arrows at you from all directions. You don’t feel its wetness on your skin, you feel its bite on your bones.

When we see ourselves as part of the landscape, only then, I believe we’ll put in the real work to stop the destruction of it.

But how likely is that do you reckon?

To short circuit all of this, we need to insist on our own—and especially the other’s--humanity.

It's pretty obvious now that Climate Change is just secular paganism.

A new book from Emma Kathryn