Hypnochi

25/04/2026

WRINKLE POTION? MY ARSE.

Every time I see an advert for some anti wrinkle “miracle” cream, it’s always fronted by a girl who looks about twelve.

Not a line on her face…
and she’s standing there telling me it’ll take ten years off mine.

If it takes ten years off her,
she’ll be back in a pram.

I’ve tried a few of those fancy jars over the years…
the only thing that got any lighter was my purse.
My face?
Still the same.
So I thought… sod this.. I’d rather spend the money on candles and good coffee.

So that’s it.
I’m keeping every line.
Every crinkle.
Every little crease that tells the story of the laughs, the tears,
the nights I stayed up making spells and stirring dreams.

These aren’t “signs of ageing”.. they’re proof that I’ve bloody lived.
That I’ve laughed so hard I cried, that I’ve cried until I laughed again, that I’ve danced barefoot under the moon, argued with the wind, and loved enough to get my heart broken.

I’ll keep my witchy wrinkles.
They suit me.
They’re mine.
I reckon I’ve earned every single one.

Here’s to me embracing the map of my years, etched right there on my face. They can shove their miracle cream where the moon doesn’t shine.
Jen x💕

22/04/2026

Things to do to take part in Beltane.

Lighting a fire, even the smallest flame, is a way of marking the turn. Not just seeing the longer days, but answering them. Fire has always been part of this time of year. It draws a line between what was and what’s coming in.

Gathering May flowers and placing them at your doorway is an old act of welcome. You’re not just decorating. You’re letting the season cross into your space, same as people have done for generations without needing to write it down.

The morning dew one… it’s cold, it wakes you up properly. There’s old talk of beauty in it, but it feels more like a reset. Hands in the grass or hedgerow, water on your face, first light breaking. You remember you’re part of it, not separate.

Walking barefoot sounds simple, and it is. But most people never do it. The ground’s still got that spring chill in it, a bit of damp, a bit of bite. That’s the point. You feel where you are.

And the ribbon on a branch… no big ritual needed. Just a quiet thought, tied and left. The wind and weather will deal with the rest. Not everything needs holding onto. Use a natural natural fiber material rather than synthetic.

None of this is about getting it right. It’s about noticing the shift, and answering it in your own way.
-Woodlarking

22/04/2026

🌏 This Earth Day, we reflect on our interdependence—the truth that we are not separate from the earth, but a sacred part of its living, breathing whole.

22/04/2026

She is not just Earth…
She is Mother.

The one who holds us,
grounds us,
and still loves us…
even when we forget to love her back.

Today, we don’t just celebrate—
we honor. protect. give back.

Because every breath we take,
every step we walk,
every blessing we receive…
comes from her.

🌿 Respect the land.
🌿 Protect her energy.
🌿 Live in harmony.

Happy Earth Day.
Heal the Earth… and we heal ourselves. 🌙

— Mandrake’s Secret Cauldron

22/04/2026

I’ll be at Silverstone this Sunday 26th, so Jilly will be covering my class. 🙏🏻

22/04/2026

20/04/2026

Merry Monday🖤🧹

18/04/2026

Sometimes the body only needs a small reminder of safety.

Place your hand gently on your heart and take five slow, deep breaths.
This simple act signals the nervous system to relax and releases calming hormones.

Your heartbeat slows.
Your mind becomes quieter.

It is a gentle message to yourself:
“I am safe in this moment.”

Small acts of self-kindness can bring deep calm.

Sometimes peace begins with one hand, one breath, and a moment of awareness. 🪷🧘‍♀️🕊

18/04/2026

The Crone is the most misunderstood aspect of the feminine cycle. In the Maiden–Mother–Crone triad, she is the final phase often associated with age, endings, and death. But in myth and tradition, the Crone is not decline. She is completion.

Figures like The Cailleach in Celtic lore embody winter, storms, and the shaping of the land itself. She is ancient, powerful, and not bound by youth or beauty. Her role is to strip the world down to its core. What cannot survive her, was never meant to.

The Crone does not nurture like the Mother.
She does not seek like the Maiden. She sees. In many traditions, she is the keeper of thresholds the one who stands between life and death, illusion and truth, past and what comes after. This is why she is often linked to witches, seers, and those who live on the edges of society. She has nothing to prove.

Nothing to gain. Nothing to lose. And that is what makes her powerful. The fear of the Crone is not really about age. It is about what she represents.

A version of the self that no longer performs. No longer seeks approval. No longer hides behind softness or expectation.
She is the phase where identity is no longer shaped by the outside world. Only truth remains.

In myth, winter always comes. Not as punishment. But as a necessary end to what has run its course. And the Crone is the one who brings it. Not to destroy.

But to reveal what is strong enough to endure.