Earth Curative

12/24/2025

12/24/2025

Happy Holidays!!
We adore and appreciate all y'all!!
See you in the New Year!

12/22/2025

12/21/2025

12/21/2025

Winter Solstice

Tonight, the darkness reaches its deepest point.
Not to frighten us — but to remind us where the light is born.

The Winter Solstice marks the end of an old cycle and the quiet beginning of a new one.
A sacred pause.
A breath between what has been and what is yet to come.

This is the night to release what no longer belongs to you.
Old fears. Heavy thoughts. Worn-out patterns.
Not with force — but with awareness.

And as the Sun prepares its slow return,
set gentle intentions for the days ahead.
Seeds of clarity, strength, peace and truth.

Honor the darkness.
Welcome the light.
Both are teachers.

May this solstice bring you grounding, protection, and a renewed connection to your inner fire.

✨
Occult Nature

12/21/2025

🧡🤎💚

12/21/2025

12/21/2025

Today, the Winter Solstice begins — the sacred celebration of Yule.
The longest night of the year unfolds, inviting stillness, reflection, and deep connection with the unseen.

All preparations have been made.
Candles are ready, herbs are gathered, intentions are set.
We stand at the threshold between darkness and light, honoring the cycle of death and rebirth.

From this moment on, the light slowly returns.
The Sun is reborn, carrying hope, renewal, and quiet strength.
Yule reminds us that even in the deepest darkness, light is never lost — it is simply waiting to rise again.

May this sacred turning of the wheel bring warmth to the heart, clarity to the mind, and gentle light to every home.

Blessed Yule. 🕯️🌿photo by Pinterest credit to the artist it’s so beautiful picture✨✨

12/21/2025

Happy Solstice!
Happy Yule!
Merry Christmas from our hearth to yours!

White-Eyes by Mary Oliver
In winter

all the singing is in

the tops of the trees

where the wind-bird

with its white eyes

shoves and pushes

among the branches.

Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,

but he’s restless—

he has an idea,

and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings

as long as he stays awake.

But his big, round music, after all,

is too breathy to last.



So, it’s over.

In the pine-crown

he makes his nest,

he’s done all he can.

I don’t know the name of this bird,

I only imagine his glittering beak

tucked in a white wing

while the clouds—

which he has summoned

from the north—

which he has taught

to be mild, and silent—

thicken, and begin to fall

into the world below

like stars, or the feathers

of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,

that is asleep now, and silent—

that has turned itself

into snow.

12/17/2025

❤️

12/17/2025

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