id="ue2a42d04-4c47-51cb-b0cd-71858a8d56e7">
A Witch Alone
Thirteen moons to master natural magic
Marian Green
This book is dedicated to Ronald Hutton,
who has done so much to unveil the mysteries of witchcraft to the 21st-century world
Table of Contents
ONE A New Moon and a New Dream
TWO Meeting the Goddess and God of the Witches
FOUR A Circle Between the Worlds
FIVE The Journey to the Otherworld
SEVEN Considering the Healing Arts
EIGHT The Old Crafts of Divination and Dowsing
TEN Moon Magic and Solar Cycles
ELEVEN Recovering the Ancient Wisdom
TWELVE Dedication to the Old Ways
THIRTEEN Completing the Circle
To contact an international pagan organization
I am the Mother Earth, and you’re a Child to me,
Discover who you are and seek divinity.
Rocks and stones and clay and peat – all strata are a part of me,
Jewels and crystals, gems and gold are hidden in the heart of me.
Herbs and flowers, trees and shrubs, these are growing green on me,
Mosses, fungi, lichens, vines, all of these are seen on me.
Horses, cattle, pigs and deer, bears and lions roam on me,
Snakes and spiders, rats and slugs, all creatures have their home on me.
Bubbling brooks and silent springs, living rivers flow on me,
Pools and puddles, lakes and seas, salty oceans grow on me.
Tiny tiddlers, mighty whales, sacred salmon leap for me,
Sharks and squid and crabs and krill fill the waters deep for me.
Wrens and larks and crows and terns fill my skies with darting flight,
Hawks and eagles, bats and owls catch their prey by day and night.
Creeping worm and flying fox, teeming ants fulfil their lives,
In tune with me, in Nature’s way, as honey bees enrich my hives.
Only humans rob their kin, despoil the land, pollute the seas,
Kill for fun, destroy the woods, float poisoned vapours on the breeze.
I shall live, for I can heal, even if you humans die,
But you can learn, as Children should, to grow in peace beneath the sky.
A silence lies on the Wildwood,
The light of the stars grows dim,
The wind has died in the branches,
But a shadow moves. It is Him!
He is the stag in the moonlight,
The stallion alone on the hill,
The bull that paws at the tussocks,
The salmon that leaps in the rill.
Each is a part of the Hunter,
The Godhead that lives in the Dark,
Lord of the Wild and the Hidden,
At midnight, the small breathing spark.
His is the glory of sunrise,
The greenness that rises in spring,
His is the force of the tempest,
The strength in the wild eagle’s wing.
His is the voice of the pan-pipes,
The power that governs the land,
But She is his wife and his Mother,
And he dwells in the palm of her hand.