Land Emma Kathryn Land Emma Kathryn

The Woodland Realm & The Power Within

All of these things become ingrained, they seep into the land, the streets and so it is no real surprise that these places have their own genius loci. All of the events that are happening now will also become ingrained in those places where they occur. We can affect the spirit of place, our actions. What we do and what we don’t.

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Food, Environmentalism John Halstead Food, Environmentalism John Halstead

The Gospel of Compost

The gospel of compost is isn’t a story of the permanent triumph of life over death, but of the eternal interconnectedness of life and death, of joy and defeat, of loss and fulfillment. And ultimately, it is a story of love. Love for the world right here, right now, in all its glorious messiness.

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Liberation Emma Kathryn Liberation Emma Kathryn

The Season of Misrule

As the new year becomes something more real and tangible, I say we take the feelings of goodwill, merriment and joy that is plentiful at this time and take it into the future. I say we become Lords of Misrule, taking that which does not serve us, that which oppresses us and strangles us all and smash it to pieces. I say we become as the Lord of Misrule and seize back the power that we all have.

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Rhyd Wildermuth Rhyd Wildermuth

The Chthonic King of Christmas

Roman priests knew the same truth psychotherapists know: deep desires and ancient drives cannot simply be consigned to the underworld. Sublimated urges live on still, quake through the illusory stability of our society, and resurface again to manifest their wills.

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Poetry, Uncategorized Christopher Scott Thompson Poetry, Uncategorized Christopher Scott Thompson

Why Your Cities Burn

“Because the heavy fist of terror was always there in your pocket even when you smiled. Because you went forth to battle beneath the shameful flag of compromise and played The Battle Hymn of the Republic but never John Brown’s Body.”

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Magic Emma Kathryn Magic Emma Kathryn

Winter Musings ~ Wild Awakening

As we stand on the precipice, our magicks must become wild once more. They must transform to fit the age, as they ever have. We must transform if we are to fight back against the injustices Capitalism forces on nature and on ourselves. Our magicks must become that of dirt, blood and bone.

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