TO THE WILDS: BUILDING THE LIVING ALTAR
A woman expresses the Priestess of the Wild Earth archetype, becoming whole unto herself, when she enacts an embodied knowing that she is a living altar, holy ground in her own right, and she needs no external validation. She comes home to the wilds. She writes her own house rules, and she claims her heathen’s birthright to live on uncultivated spiritual ground.
In This House, I Brew with Crone Magick
In this house, I am whole unto myself. Here is my altar; I like it just this way, covered in old candle wax and laden with wounded mementos from my garden. This is the scarred walnut that reminds me of my childhood, and this is the dried flower that lost all its juicy perfection, as I once did. I keep these things here in my new house, built with my own hands at the end of the long Red Road, so I know I must never look back.
In this house, I brew with Crone magick. The old ways of magick-making are emblazoned on my very cells, and I need no Book of Light and Shadow to tell me the right words or the perfect chant. Here, I am a Witch-Priestess in a congregation of one, and even my closest kin do not know all my secrets.
In this house, I melt back into the source of everything from time to time, dissolving into a wet heap of flesh and blood to be resculpted by some angelic artisan, some skilled descended master who puts my stretch marks in just the right places and squints to paint my tattoos just so. Here, no one wonders why I must become the hermit every so often, and no one keeps knocking when I refuse to answer my door.
In this house, I wake with the bone-deep understanding of feminine divinity. I am a wild Goddess unleashed within these four walls, and I will wear all the jewelry I like. Here, no one clicks their tongue when I speak of nature lust and the cosmic dance. Here, I will wax poetic on intergalactic Shakti before breakfast. Here, I pray all day long and with my whole body, for my limbs are a moving benediction to the Holy Wild.
In this house, I am a Priestess of the Wild Earth. I am Lilith, Inanna, and Persephone ascended from the dirt. I am a soulful temptress blessing these wooden floors with my bare feet as I walk from hearth to porch, and I am a keeper of this fortress.
In this house, no one gets in unless they are invited. Here is where I’ve spread the salt thick and painted the windows with cedar smoke more times than I can count. This is the House of the Wild Woman, and solitude is valued as much as company. Come in if you like, but I may not ask you to stay. This is my house, after all, and if you are here sipping my brew, my rules are law.
Handwritten Verses: House Rules of the Wild Scribe
This is a ritual of fierce boundary setting. Go to a place in your home that feels like yours, as if it were a true sanctuary, a sort of inner sanctum and the wild woman’s holiest of holies. Light a candle, and begin writing your own house rules. These are not limiting ways of being in your world but a liberating testimony to who you have become. You may use the prompts I offer here or write your own, wild scribe that you are.
This is my house, love. Here, I wake up remembering...
This is my house, and I will not permit entry to...
This is my house, where I welcome...
This is my house. I am the highest Priestess within these four walls, and I worship...
This is my house, where every guest is adorned with...
Post these rules in a secret place, where only those who are most trusted will read them.
HALLOWED BE YOUR HEATHEN HEART: TOWARD A MORE SOULFUL, EARTHEN JOY
Make no mistake, Priestess; it is a brave thing you do now, claiming a crown called shameful in fairy tale, sacred text, media, and myth. Set your boundaries, and give a nod to your worth every now and again, for it is far too easy for the feminine to claim humility and retreat. Now is not the time for charm and lace. Now is the time for ash as face paint and the weapons of your words. Know that coming home to the wilds is a courageous act. The Priestess of the Wild Earth within you is destructive only in her ability to break up patterns and beliefs that no longer serve you. She is the Goddess of personal power, and she emerges within you when you closely examine belief systems, social norms, and cultural structures that do not suit your awakening wild self. You, as Lilith, begin to not only taste the forbidden fruit but ask yourself why it was forbidden to you in the first place.
May you believe in your powers of discernment, and may you risk social isolation over and over again in the name of your soulful joy. May you be willing to exist on the fringes in the name of liberation, finding and belonging to those wild circles of openhearted seekers who make you feel as though you are a larger version of yourself and leaving those circles where entry always demands you wear a too-tight mask to disguise your true face. May you rebel against all that covers and constricts your beauteous worth, and may you write your own holy verses of wild feminine lost and wild feminine regained.
Hallowed be your heathen soul, and blessed be the Holy Wild.
Wild women speak the language of ritual. We understand the art of marking our initiations and our endings, those many rebirths and deaths we undergo as Priestesses of the Wild Earth, and marking them well. The intuitive skills and ancestral medicine that support the shaping of a good ritual are treasures acquired along the underworld journey. We know in our bones when we are being called to our Craft, and we long for that particular closure and healing salve brewed only within the cauldron of ritual. Here, in ritual, we set boundaries around our life transitions and make the mundane magickal. Here, we hold rituals as symbolic action, impactful events of ceremonial sense-making that begin with an accessible container, a set of steps or conditions that serve to frame the transformation that will, eventually, arise from our depths and alchemize an ordinary moment in time into pure embodied presence.
The seven rituals offered in this chapter are intended to be adapted by you, dear Priestess, to suit your unique purpose and story. Some of these offerings are simple, easily performed in those small and unexpected moments of solitude and grace we may find ourselves in throughout the day, and some rituals are more complex, requiring a joyous but steadfast commitment, thoughtful resource gathering, and careful planning. Move through only the rituals that seem authentic to you; leave out any steps or wording that does not fit; and, as always, remember that the best rituals are the ones that will gift you with something you need, be it closure, healing, empowerment, or a sense of belonging.
In any solitary ritual, Priestess, you are the beginning, the center point. Start with your story. Recall the aspects of Lilith’s revisioned tale that resonate with you, and assess those traits embodied in the Priestess of the Wild Earth archetype that are your soul-true attributes. When have you eaten the forbidden fruit, breaking the rules and risking certain isolation in the name of sovereignty? When did you so bravely call in what was yours, sacrificing all that was not authentically for you despite any garden comforts? These are the moments worthy of honor, my love, for they are truly holy transitions, times of becoming, and more genuine birthdays than those we are accustomed to celebrating. Craft your rituals and begin with you, a living altar embodied in the soft skin of a woman.
YOUR INNER EARTH ALTAR: A RITUAL FOR THE EVERYDAY WARRIORESS
Materials: Paper and writing utensil
You are a living altar. Do not be afraid of leaving behind your Pagan statuary, blessed totems, and sensual candles, for you carry all the divinity you need with you in your blood and your breath.