Archive of ‘The Goddess’ category

Looking for God

David Joaquin

Artist – David Joaquin

I think I’ve always been looking for God, ever since I heard about Him. Growing up I had many interests, but several I developed because I felt I should have them, when in reality I wanted to explore magic, mysteries, God.

Religion was at times my favorite topic in school because we could discuss things then, philosophize and wonder a bit. But my craving for something deeper wasn’t fulfilled, and I had no one to turn to. My family wasn’t religious, and the church didn’t call to me. I couldn’t get interested in what the Minister said, but I remember very vividly looking at the light streaming through the windows and wanting it to reach me. Somehow I felt I could get closer to God through that light, through the sky and trees outside.

I prayed at night because I wanted to be good, and I had many fears that worried me. Sometimes when I asked for help, little problems that I had would go away.

I wanted to talk to him, but maybe I didn’t know how to listen. I didn’t know how to trust what I felt. I thought he didn’t answer me back. Maybe I wanted something grand and spectacular, like an angel appearing in the corner of my room, but of course, that didn’t happen.

In the evenings I would sometimes climb onto a pile of wood below our house, covered by a tarp and flat rocks, and sit there, gazing at the sunset. I felt I was reaching for something then, something beautiful and sacred, and hidden. My heart longed for this something, called out to it though I didn’t know what it was.

It’s interesting to look back and see how my heart has led me, and where I went astray. When I stopped asking for help, my life felt murky, dark, but perhaps that was part of the guidance also. I had developed a belief, a deep fear that I wasn’t loved, so I turned away from him. My life had cracked around me, and I lost hope, lost the little bit of faith I had.

I continued searching. The stars seemed to lead me, and I went for many walks alone, looking up up, feeling that perhaps an answer lay in the sky above me. I couldn’t follow any religion, any paved out path when I tried I felt restless, like my spirit wanted to break free and roam the woods. Perhaps I was looking for something that I remember, deep in my bones. When I first read about the Goddess, I felt tears swell inside of me. I wanted to dance for her, the way I read about in the book in my lap. It was my first glimpse of her, but it would take a few years still before I started listening and following her. At first, she seemed cold, distant, and I wasn’t sure how to approach her, bring her into my life.

I learned how the Goddess is in nature, in me. Mother Earth, the Earthly Mother. And Father Sky, our Heavenly Father, that he is always watching over us. I’m exploring this, as I walk through the forest, by the lake. I try to understand what I hear inside of me, what my heart is telling me, what nature is telling me.

I used to feel so sad, depressed even because I thought there was no magic in the world. That it could only be found in stories and on TV. I remember a bleak grayness descending over me as I thought this when I was only a teenager.

I think the magic I was looking for was the voice of my soul. Because it had been speaking to me all this time, trying to guide me, and yet I did not know it, and didn’t know how to listen, that I was allowed to listen. I was so focused on being smart and good and thought that was the only way I could have some value in the world. If I didn’t do well in school, I had no value.

But there was a greater magic too, that I yearned for. A knowing that miracles could happen, that wonderful, unthought things could happen. I think my first stepping stone into this was through astral projection, the awe I felt when I found myself in another world, light as a father, like a ghost, walking through my bedroom door.

I feel we’re being guided all the time, in whispers around us, in the wind, in our soul. Perhaps we’re never alone; maybe someone is always lovingly walking with us. I like to think this. I remember wanting it to be true, especially when I saw pictures of angels, and those drawings of children crossing a bridge, or picking flowers by a cliff’s edge, a white angel behind them, protecting them.

What has your spiritual journey been like?

A glimpse from my past 

My short story on kindle is now free! 

Milky Moon

The world was milky white under an almost full moon, the sky lady shining through the mist, her light bathing the ice and snow below. I watched her from my bed, listening to the rain, welcoming it back, feeling how much I’d missed it.

Sleep stayed far away from me that night, and I got up, stepping across the cold floor, and stood by the window, seeing her small now, and very pale in the white sky, casting shadows across the lake, the stars dimmed and silver between the clouds.

Has the moon spoken to you lately? 

Moments Before Christmas

Artodyssey- Christian Schloe

I need to be quiet now because all words have left me. I reach for them, but they do not come, or they do come, but then leave me all too soon, and I can’t finish what I’ve started. I have many posts now in my draft folder; half created. Maybe I’ll share them later, when I can look at them again, listen to what they’re saying, what I felt then. Below is a post from a moment at a cafe. Being away from home make it easier for me to write. 

At a Cafe

I want to be on the outside of things, during this Christmas time. Watch from the edges, from the window of my favorite cafe. I look at people walking on the street below, so many now, just before the holidays, doing the last bit of shopping, talking, some holding hands. I’m too tired to shop. I avoid the stores, their pull on me, what they want from me. I need to do things quietly, slowly, turn things over in my hands. I don’t want to buy things in a rush, so I allow myself not to. 

I picked up my dress today, the one that I had found second hand, too big, that I took to the tailor. It felt like a waterfall, soft, flowing to my ankles. I wanted something that reminded me of the night sky, of magic. I wanted this dress, even though I had to travel all the way to the city to have it fitted, and back again to pick it up. But at least, then I had an excuse to go to a cafe, to eat chocolate and sip my tea slowly, watching people, taking in that special feeling of Christmas approaching.  

I watch the world darkening now, gray turning into blue, enjoying the lights and stars drawn between white buildings. 

I still feel a bit of anxiety around Christmas, to make it nice, to not be disappointed in it, because it’s not the same, will never be the same, as it is for all of us, never quite as it was when we were kids. 

But it’s ok. It really is. I remind myself of this. And again I want to step back and gather something in my heart, that light I’m always looking for, that inspires me more than anything else. I want music and candles in the dark. I want the cold nights and early evenings. I want the scent of spice and special food only made on Christmas Eve. 

And I want a quiet secret to hold in my heart, between the Goddess and me, and my Heavenly Father. I want to sit between them both and lean into their love, find a way to relax, because I feel so anxious and in need to control things, to make them a certain way. But I’m tired of all that. I want to curl up someplace inside of myself and rest. 

I used to feel so sad when Christmas was over when all those little lights were taken down. But now I have something to look forward to, – for when I can go deeper into my writing, find some quiet and peace to reflect. It gives me joy and focus, and I’m grateful. It is my gift to myself.

Wishing everyone a beautiful Christmas and Solstice. 

Winter Rose



I found her among the trees in the winter forest, remembering to look because I was hurting inside, if only a little bit, but enough to reach for her once more.

I stood in the first snowfall, hearing that deep silence that only comes when the world is painted white. I followed a single snowflake with my eyes, the way I used to do as a child, watching it flutter down down, until it was lost among all the others. 

I’m looking out the window now, into a darkening world, turning slowly blue.

I wish for the winter rose, to carry her with me through Advent, into Christmas, to remember her most of all. I get lost in the world, and then I get tired and retreat into myself, remembering her. I want to be soft and quiet then, looking out at the falling snow, the world silver and white, the lake like frosted glass.

I want to go deep within myself, close my eyes and rest. I feel thin, stretched, with little energy to write, wanting to curl up with a good book, poetry. Letting the words fill me, drip into an empty well, like snowflakes in the night.

A Lost World

marianne stokes

Artist – Marianne Stokes

The world is afloat on a cloud, a cold breath over everything, icing the trees, the ground, the grass. I lay in my bed and saw a white, glowing blanket outside my window, the moon coming through it.

I saw the sun for a moment, touching the mountains, but then it was gone, everything lost again to the mist, everything silent, everything frozen. Even the birds have no strength to sing now. They just stay among their branches, huddling in the winter chill.

There is magic in the mist. I saw it drifting across the forest yesterday, and thought of all the stories about it, about creatures appearing and disappearing in it. That it’s an entrance to a different time, a different world. 

I’m in a calm place, I read calming things, but I’m rarely calm myself. Perhaps that’s why I’ve come here, to see if some of the earth, the air can seep into me, give me some of that quiet frost. I’m learning to trust. That’s what I call it. I imagine what it would be like to walk through my day in trust, knowing I’m safe. Or at least feeling I’m safe, that there is nothing to worry about, to be agitated about, as though something might strike me at any moment. Maybe I felt that life betrayed me, fell out from under my feet, that the gods betrayed me, somehow. That I can’t trust them now, even though I want to.


I walked in the forest, in the early evening, when everything was a breath of blue and the sky had lines of gold in it. As I walked, I observed a joy inside of me that I feared, that I had hidden away. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel it because it might go away, might anger the gods, anger destiny if I allowed it to bubble up inside of me. Maybe I would set myself up to being hurt.

I thought also of my mom, then my sisters, how I felt I shouldn’t laugh and be happy when they were sick. No one told me I couldn’t be, but somehow it felt wrong. I suppose children learn things that are hidden beneath the surface, things left unsaid.

I thought of the Goddess and wondered if perhaps she was light and joy, and beautiful things and that maybe it would make her happy if I dared to step into it. For some reason, it wasn’t something I had considered she’d want for me. But sometimes I feel her laughing, shaking her head, as though I’m taking things too seriously.

I would like to walk with lightness in my steps, and not be afraid of trying, of failing. I would like a deep calm to enter me, deep in my bones, like that blue air that was all around in the forest, silvering the branches. I wanted to kneel and stay there, on the frozen ground, by the waterfall, like white lace down the mountain. I wanted to listen, for the earth to teach me something, but I wasn’t alone in the forest, and we had to get home in time for something. But that’s what I felt then. It’s what I still feel when I remember walking in that new winter world. I’m happy it’s here. 

Casting the Circle

The Moon asked the Crow - Christian Schloe

The Moon asked the Crow – Christian SchloeS

I want to sing in the darkness, like the nightingale, of beauty, of a path through the night, of a world beyond this one.

Of a sheer shimmering veil, so thin, moving in the breeze, letting through light and beauty, like snow falling through your window. One moment, a closing of the eyes and you could be there, appear as though by magic, standing by a streaming river, under autumn trees, and a sky like sapphire, whispering of more, so much more, of magic and wonder. A whole new world, a path through the forest. 

Casting the Circle 

She cast her circle under the full moon, by crystals glinting in the silver light, and knelt hugging herself, praying to the Goddess, calling upon the light, upon the angels, and the sacred power of the night. She brought her hands to her heart, and then to the heavens, seeing the moon through her window, floating in the sky, in the lake.

She got up and went to her cupboard, pulling out jars and wax, and sweet smelling oils. Her room was bathed in light as she worked, and she hummed softly to herself, chanting a melody of magic, a hum to the Goddess as she made her moon candle, strewn with gems and silver threads. She put her hands to her heart, then to the candle, blessing it, praying over it. She felt white magic going into it, and it seemed to glow, as though lit from within, or perhaps it was the moon playing tricks. She strewed rose petals and chamomile, and a little sage over it, letting the herbs blend with the wax, then kissed it, smiling to herself. Gently she picked it up and brought it to her altar, lighting it. She sang softly, knowing this was a magic of love. A flame  burning for love of the true self, of the spirit, and beauty growing out of darkness.

Her chant continue into the night, and then she fell silent as the moon set behind the mountains, and the first grey of morning lit the trees.

Something filled her up, like the touch of rose, and she sat shivering, crying, salty tears running down her face. She felt the air was full of the fragrance of roses, of softly colored things, among autumn leaves and the first frost. She sat for a long time, afraid to move, afraid to leave the thread of peace that had been gifted her. She whispered thanks to the moon, to the Great Mother. She felt the Goddess smiling, – a warm glow at her core, in her heart, in her bones, and she remembered that she was a priestess, a daughter of the Goddess, and even though it was difficult, she wanted to live that way, it was the path she had chosen. But she begged for strength, for her wounds to heal, and finally closed the circle. 

She went outside and breathed in the crisp morning air, and went barefoot across the field, in her white dress, kneeling by the stream, drinking deeply. Sunlight played in the water, clouds drifting overhead and she rolled over on her side, gazing into the sky, into a morning breaking forth, the last stars fading, the moon hidden by the day. She felt her wishes, her dreams, the magic of the night floating upwards out of sight, hidden, yet visible in the flowers soon to spring forth at the touch of the Goddess. She smiled, as though from relief. Her prayers had been received; she had drank from the potion of healing. The Goddess was with her. 

Full Moon Magic

Christian Schloe - Set your heart free

Christian Schloe – Set your heart free

I felt pretty down this morning, but I got up, and as the day drew closer it turned golden and green, and even the sky lost its greyness, painting itself a gentle blue. And I drew a deep breath, as though life was returning to me. 

My dreams have been strange and murky, and I wonder if it’s because I haven’t been honoring them, haven’t been writing them down. The full moon is approaching and I’d like to prepare a small ritual for myself, put flowers by the statue of the Goddess, filling my altar with pink, red, orange. It is fall after all, and I’d like my home to reflect that, before winter, before a time of silver and white. 

I’ve never truly honored the moon. I’ve looked at her from my bedroom window, but I’d like to bath in her glow, and call upon the Goddess, upon the angels, and to ask for strength, guidance, protection. I’d like to touch something sacred from my own small spot in the universe, to reach deeper, to see beyond the veil, to listen for whispers in the silence all around me. Blessings. 

This is an article I’ve been reading about the meaning of the moon. 

First Frost

Francois Fressinier

Francois Fressinier


I walked along a black river, and saw autumn trees mirrored in it, saw the waterfall rush down rocks, the last blueberries cold in my hands. I saw the sun break through clouds for a moment before setting behind the mountains, and the whole world brightened and was alive, for a few minutes before it fade into shadows, grey and darkness.


I woke up in the morning with the sun on the mountains and the first frost silvering the grass. I remembered my night, how black it was, and the stars clear like crystal when I looked out my window. It was a sign of winter coming, of everything turning to ice, even the sky.

A Sacred Space

I want to walk in a quiet space, full of light and autumn colors. With silent snow falling, like a hush unto the world, leaving everything in a blanket of white. Where worries fall away like rain on an early spring morning, – the sun rising above the hill. I want to walk with the Goddess and forget all else. I want to kneel and touch the earth; I want to reach into the sky, and gaze at the stars at night, wondering what’s out there.

I want to be a daughter of the forest, of the waters, the lake, the little streams. I want to walk in the steps of the Goddess, following the path she has laid out for me, guiding me back to my Father.

This segment came to me as I knelt by the lake, feeling the warmth of the sun, knowing even autumn would soon come to a close.

Now I sit by my window and watch the sun set on this golden day, slipping behind the mountain. I see the pine forest turn to shadow, a dark green among the fires of birch and oak.

Light of Morning

Joan of Arc - Frank Schoonover

Joan of Arc – Frank Schoonover

To walk with you Mother, that’s what I want to do, to walk with you in the morning light. To greet you in the cold air, among golden leaves and a dark pine forest. To hear you singing through the night, at the break of dawn, to see the mist at your feet as it lays covering the lake, the fields, the world.

I want to worship you and forget everything else. I want the world to fall away, crumbling into dust, leaving only a golden flame, my devotion to you.

In nature

I walked a dirt path and felt that to give up my will would be to shatter, like glass against rock. That I would become nothing and yet be free, a fire in the wind. But I shivered and felt afraid, and yet more than anything I wanted to let go, so I walked, struggling with myself.

I’m still afraid of what might be asked of me, so I keep my distance a little longer. I still hold on to the icy edge of a life I’m not sure I want, when I know I’m not who I want to be,

I felt some relief yesterday when I walked with you. It felt like darkness was creeping in around the edges, as night fell outside, and all turned to grey. I felt a sense of despair that I never fully understand, like a cold knot inside, and I’m not sure what it means, what it wants. But I held onto you, like a golden thread of light, keeping me from falling, from sinking into myself, from being lost. I felt that if I walked with you with every breath, in every moment, I could be strong and start to understand what is bothering me. Why it comes early in the morning and at night, why it gnaws at me from a distance during the day and don’t let go. Nothing is wrong, and yet it is there.

I don’t want to be alone. I walked and looked into the sky, grey rain falling on me, on my face and uplifted hands. I wanted to worship as I walked and was glad no one could see me, except my husband who is used to my strangeness by now. When I’m in nature long enough, everyday life and my troubles fall away, and I see what’s around me. I hear voices in the trees, in the wind. Everything is alive, and I don’t want to leave, even when it rains, even when the wind is cold on my face.

We came by a small lake among autumn colors still like crystal, its grass turned brown and red. I wanted to kneel by its water, but the ground was too wet. I wanted to contemplate what I saw, what I felt in that hidden away place, and melt into nature, to blend with everything that was, to feel it embracing and healing me.

I thought how everything is fading, dying, turning into darkness, and that I don’t mind. We walked and saw a cloud of black birds fill the air, and it felt like the magic of a dark season. I imagined a warrior riding through a naked forest, to see a raven looking down at her from trees encrusted in ice. I saw mist rising from the mountains, and there was a beauty to it, even in the rain, even when everything was stormy and grey, without the touch of sunlight.

In the Night

Christian Schloe

Christian Schloe

I woke up in the night and stood for a long time watching the stars. Everything was bathed in pale light, reminding me of winter, when the sky is lit by the white of snow. I stood and heard the trickle of water, saw stars reflected in the lake, saw lights gleaming from the houses resting by the mountain.

The night seem made of mystical things, of voices from the other side. I step softly to not break the magic, so it doesn’t shatter around me like glass.

I want to gather strands of something, like silver light to bring with me into the morning, into my day, to carry me through.

Yesterday i walked in a forgotten forest, the world around me turned to gold. I walked and saw the sun between the trees and wanted to stay there, to kneel down and watch the sky and feel the moss beneath me, to honor something sacred.

I bought a book about the sacred journey of someone else, and it inspired me to walk in magic, to do rituals, to be a priestess. It made me remember the Goddess and I spoke with her in the dark, and I wondered if I could reach for her and forget everything else, to let the chaos around me fall away. I got so overwhelmed because I lost that pinprick of light inside of me, the white star that guides me. I forgot, and then I remembered, and I wondered where I had been all this time.

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