Equilibrium

05/11/2025

🌕🌕🌕A Supermoon
Today, November 5th

27/10/2025

Energetic vomiting 💫 when the soul spits out the darkness to become light again
There are processes you don't understand until you experience them yourself.
Moments when something rises up inside you,
because you've swallowed so much: words, emotions, expectations, lies, pain.
Everything you've never spoken out of love, fear, or duty,
lies like layers over your inner fire.

And then comes that point when your soul wants to vomit.
Not physically, but energetically.
It wants to release the old from within you, loudly, rawly, uncontrollably.
Because your system can no longer bear it.

This energetic vomiting isn't chaos, it's cleansing.
Your body is merely the instrument,
your energy the field that lets go.
Sweat, trembling, tears, vibrations ~ all signs that energy is moving.

You are releasing old programs, foreign energies, collective patterns.
You spit out guilt, shame, fear, self-betrayal.
Everything you once swallowed because you had to function.
Because you thought spirituality had to be quiet, delicate, and harmonious.

But true awakening is raw.
It stinks, it burns, it tears.
Because you peel off layers that have kept you small.
In this catharsis, your light is born, new, real, unadulterated.

When you purify yourself, you become permeable.
Your body begins to glow again, your field pulsates, your breath becomes clear.
You remember:
I am not my fear. I am not my past. I am pure energy breaking free.

These moments are not weakness.
They are initiation.
A transitional phase between death and rebirth,
between the you you were and the you you truly are.

Breathe.
Let go.
Let yourself be flowed through.

For sometimes the soul spits out darkness,
only to immerse you in light. ✨💫⚡️

• Sherin Shanaya •

23/10/2025

Skíðblaðnir; The Ship That Sails All Seas

Forged by the dwarven smiths known as the sons of Ivaldi who also created Odin’s spear Gungnir and Sif’s golden hair. It was gifted to Freyr, god of fertility and peace. Despite its delicate name, the ship could carry all the gods of Asgard, their weapons, and their steeds. When its sail was raised, it always caught a fair wind and could travel across sea, sky, and between realms. Most miraculously, it could be folded like cloth and stored in a pouch. Its name means “Assembled of Thin Boards” and yet its design defied all reason: it could hold every god of Asgard, their armor and steeds, and yet be folded small enough to fit in a pouch.

When its sails were raised, Skíðblaðnir always caught the best wind, fair and sure, no matter the weather or world. It could sail across sky or sea, between realms and over storms, bearing divine purpose wherever it went. A marvel of craft, yes but also a symbol: that true mastery is not bigness, but balance.

Lore and Attestations:

Skáldskaparmál (ch. 43) in The Prose Edda

Snorri attributes its creation to the sons of Ivaldi, the same dwarves who forged Odin’s spear Gungnir and Sif’s golden hair. Though gifted to Freyr of the Vanir, the ship could carry all the gods of Asgard. Æsir and Vanir alike signifying unity, prosperity, and divine travel.

Later in Gylfaginning (ch. 43) also names it as the finest ship ever made the ultimate creation of dwarven art. Its ability to fold and unfold suggests not just physical mastery, but cosmic harmony. a vessel that exists in tune with the structure of the worlds.

Meaning in the Northern Ways:
Skíðblaðnir is the embodiment of perfect creation. Not through brute force or grandeur, but through harmony, proportion, and purpose. The dwarves wove balance into its timbers; it is a microcosm of Yggdrasill itself. Vast when opened, contained when folded. To the Northern spirit, craftsmanship was sacred: the shaping of chaos into order. Skíðblaðnir reminds us that true skill lies not in size or might, but in mastery of form and intention. When your craft be it written word, blade, or art serves wyrd with precision, you are sailing Skíðblaðnir across your own sea of fate.

Pronunciation:
Skíðblaðnir → SKEETH-blath-neer (Old Norse: /ˈskiːðˌblɑðnir/)

Reflection:
Greatness is not in the weight of what you build,
but in the purpose that carries it.
A true craftsman folds the infinite into the palm of his hand.

Skíðblaðnir sails not by size, but by song.
Its timbers hum with purpose, its sail with fate.
To craft well is to shape the wind and to fold the world into your hand.
-The Roots Of Yggdrasil-

Art Note: Images used are AI-generated and created to express the emotion and visual tone of the accompanying article or story. They are interpretive in nature and not historical or literal representations. No real-world artists were used in their creation unless otherwise noted. When using artwork by others, full credit will always be given.

18/10/2025

The blood moon calls us to remember that endings and beginnings walk hand in hand. Just as lunar eclipses reveal what was hidden in shadow, we too are invited to illuminate the parts of ourselves kept in the dark. Transformation is not gentle, yet it is sacred. Ancient cultures honored the blood moon as a time of rebirth, and we carry that wisdom still. Letting go makes room for something new, brighter, and truer. What part of yourself are you ready to release so something new can rise?

13/10/2025

As we approach Samhain season, this comprehensive guide to Dark Deities offers a valuable resource for deepening our spiritual practices. In modern Pagan traditions, Samhain honors the transformative power of the Goddess and the horned God, marking the transition from harvest to winter.
This ancient Celtic festival, celebrated as modern Halloween, presents a unique opportunity for connection, as the veil between worlds is at its most translucent.
The magical properties of this time, associated with deities like divination, ancestral communication, protection, and transformation, hold great promise for personal growth and renewal. May this information illuminate your spiritual path, guiding you toward your highest potential. Blessed Be )0( Lady Harmony 🌈

10/10/2025

THE CRONE

The Crone is a woman who no longer menstruates physically, she is now a fully embodied wise woman.

With many moons behind her and the experience she has acquired, she can now turn her attention to being a guide for the young. Being free in her body - no longer worried about pregnancy, pretense or deep fluctuations in hormones, she has come to a serene place of acceptance...an embodied dance with the rhythms and energetics of life.

I have been guided by grandmothers with silver hair as magnificent as the moonlight for a very long time in my dreams, it has helped me develop a keen appreciation for the Crone, it has allowed me to see aging as an exquisite and delicate gift. It has helped me make healthy choices in the now and embrace with subtle anticipation the day when I too will be a grandmother to the children of our world.

In ancient times and cultures, the Crone was revered. The Crone was consulted for matters of importance and well being of tribes. Children and grown alike would come for advice and storytelling to the skirts of the Crone.

The gray hair was looked at as stripes of honor and the wrinkles as badges of courage and experience. When a woman’s blood flow would stop coming it was said she no longer needed it, as she had accumulated the wisdom of the moon enough to embody it and invite it to stay.

These wise women understood the importance of death and renewal at such a cellular level they no longer needed to be reminded every month.

In todays culture, the Crone is in great danger of being crushed. In a society where faster, better, younger is the theme and tattooed into our consciousness every day… The elders are very often overlooked and seen as nuisance, annoying, slow, their beauty is smudged over and often shoved into care homes or confined to a bedroom in the house, Google has now usurped the throne of the wise one.

We see Maiden archetype everywhere- the endless pursuit of youth.. From a multibillion dollar market of beauty products to the movie screens.. Everyone wants to be young, plump and fresh. We see the Mother archetype- the caring loving mother and as Lara Owen mentions in her book, although limited- it is even revered in religion.

But the Crone...where is she?

She is hidden, she is stashed away… all that power hidden in her belly and nowhere to go. She has been pushed to abhor her post menopausal state, as though it is a condemnation rather than a blessing, as if not being able to birth children is now a curse that spills inward into a barren womb.. All that wisdom rejected, unacknowledged, dishonored in exchange for the pursuit of staying young and ‘fertile’ only to be ridiculed and mocked by a society that in paradoxical cruelty repudiates the Crone as well.

No, the Crone cannot expect to be accepted without first accepting herself, knowing that her bones are indeed each day becoming more and more one with the earth...

The silenced Crone cannot demand a place in a society where she too has helped exile this archetype.

This is why we need to speak of Her, the Crone- the holy guide that lives and will one day emerge from you and when it does… you will have a choice: will you let her in and feast on the banquet of your holy life experience or will you shut the door in her face and leave her out to starve in hopes that the maiden and mother, whom have left, will someday come back.

Many times I have wanted to write about the Crone even create for it but I am held back by the misleading belief that I have to be one to speak of it.

‘No more...' my sleeping crone has whispered, ‘you must begin to pave the way for my visit.. planting seeds along the path that may bloom for my homecoming.’

Resting and gestating in me, she is harnessing strength to come and live fully, to guide, to teach, to dance, to remind, to slow me down, to make me softer, to be reflected on my skin and in my gaze when the time comes.

So in the meantime, I will speak of the Crone to our children and to anyone that will hear - I will honor the magnificently wise women I am surrounded by, sisters hiding their beauty behind veils. I will remind them, I will whisper, I will nudge, I will invite….

‘Take off your veil! You are holy sacred wise woman, you are here, you are a message… now is your time to guide!’
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Red K Elders Art

06/10/2025

This is an Aries Moon. It urges us to strike a balance between meeting our personal needs and attending to the needs of a significant other. Often called the Hunter Moon, this full moon illuminates the conflict that may exist between you and those close in your life. Exercise care when dealing with those close to you, especially your significant other. Aries values authenticity. Be your authentic self and be gentle in your words. This is a Super Full Moon - stand under her light

06/10/2025

GODDESS of the MONTH: CERRIDWEN

The Welsh Goddess, Cerridwen, as Mother, Matriarch, and Crone bestows upon us vital gifts of transformation, adaptability, tenacity, renewal, knowledge, clarity, and inspiration of all kinds.

Cerridwen is a moon goddess and shapeshifter. Sacred to her are the white sow and the hen. Her trees are the hazel and apple, and her magical herb brewing includes acorns, sow's thistle, vervain, and hellebore. Poetry and writing are sacred to Cerridwen, and Welsh bards were called "the sons of Cerridwen," receiving their initiation directly from her. The three potent drops from her Cauldron are the "Awen," or "The Grace of Inspiration."

Cerridwen teaches us that we can adapt and change to make the most of whatever situation we find ourselves in; to transform challenges into strengths.

From her we learn the "change of plans" so essential to the survivor. In the Womb of her Cauldron, we die and are reborn, shining with knowledge, poetry, strength, magic, and the power to bring our desires to fullness.

🔹How might you write your own story?
🔹How might you create a "Plan B?"
🔹How might you seek and share inspiration?

Note: If you have ever read and loved The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown, you will see within this story, the prototype of the shape-shifting Cerridwen giving chase to the boy Gwion. It's a fascinating connection to make.

~ Rebekah Myers
Copyright @ October, 2017 by Rebekah Myers
Sacred Sisters Full Moon Circle

Art: Nadia Turner, “Cerridwen” from the Mists of Avalon Oracle Deck by Rose Inserra, illustrated by Nadia Turner
Nadia Turner Art

Also found in The Wisdom of Cerridwen published by Girl God Books https://thegirlgod.com/wisdom_of_cerridwen.php

21/09/2025

18/09/2025

Earth Woman
Bone Woman
Spiral on the Stone Woman

Sky Woman
Air Woman
Wind in her hair Woman

Fire Woman
Shimmer Woman
Candle glow and glimmer Woman

Water Woman
Rain Woman
Wash away the pain Woman

Wolf Woman
Lone Woman
Maiden, Mother, Crone Woman

Bird Woman
Sing Woman
Feather on the Wing Woman

Cauldron Woman
Moon Woman
Sacred Blood of Womb Woman

Tree Woman
Root Woman
Flower into Fruit Woman

Drum Woman
Come Woman
Dance in Time with All Women

~ Rebekah Myers
copyright © by Rebekah Myers, 9/13/2021
Sacred Sisters Full Moon Circle

Art: Ana Tourian
on Instagram

17/09/2025

A hole worn by water becomes a window for the eye.

Along storm coasts and pebble beaches you find them—hag stones, adder stones, holed flints the sea has carved into amulets. Folklore says they outstare the dark: hang one by the door and nightmares lose their footing; thread it on a red cord and fevers forget your name. Sailors made stricter pacts. On the quay, before a black-mouthed voyage, they laced a holed stone with three tide knots—one for a fair wind, one to keep the sea from taking too much, one only a captain could unfasten when the ocean sulked. On deck, a thumb to the stone’s aperture turned the horizon into a telescope for second sight. Sometimes what you saw was only waves braiding light; sometimes it was the shape of a homecoming you had not dared to imagine.

The beauty is how small the magic is: a pocket-sized permission to notice. Every ripple becomes a script. Every gust becomes a bargain. Stand at the wrack line at blue hour, hold the stone so the moon fits in its circle, and listen: the surf bargains with the wind, the wind bargains with your breath, and for a moment you remember that thresholds aren’t doors so much as decisions. Keep the ward. Keep the watch. Carry the hole that looks back.

Salt on your lips, a round of sky between your fingers, and the sea agreeing—almost—to be kind.