The Seasons Of A Woman

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The Maiden is calling…

Come, come she calls, come play with me. With the winds at our backs and the dust at our heels we were off, galloping into the dawn. Like sisters we were entangled in each other’s sense of adventure. She who is the untamed one, chasing after the blue jays and dancing like a wild stallion.. As we trotted past uncharted territory she pulled my hand and encouraged me to dance , to spin, to laugh, to scream, to dream the dreams only the wild ones dare. Leaping up the old pine tree she swings and sings sweet songs…as her bare feet dangled in the wild dandelions below. “Can you smell the scents of spring my sister?” She called… The blossoming, the time of play and fertility, the time when I get to move the way I long to move and play amongst the dandelions. She shot back down and touched the earth, her dress rarer yet she didn’t care…she was off dancing into the dawn, with such innocence, pleasure and joy. She yelled to me in the distance to remember to play wild one play and never forget the maiden in me!

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The Inner Mother Speaks…

As my maiden self grew deep roots into the great mother, her dreams were much farther than what appeared. Young maiden in me, longed to give birth, to nurture something in need. She dreamed of the other and transforming into the mother, but something deep down inside was conceived. 

A long journey ahead, patience and soft acceptance was what the maiden whispered. The world at her young adolescent feet yet she couldn’t help but crave for more. As she longed to set roots and brood amongst her fellow ducklings the great mother grew something far more. The young maiden, as winter grew to spring and summer to fall she lost her way and forgot how it all was. Her fertile self once sowed her seeds, and now granted gifts that forced her to grow. Atlas the mother was born, a rebirth to herself the great mother heard her call and birthed a greater gift. For the mother in me longed to be nurtured, she pulls at my soul and calls me within. Thank you mother, for I now know it all starts from within.

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The Seasons Within Me…

I step into a life led by the depths of my soul. A journey of decent to greet the young maiden in me that had been hurt. There is something to collect, maybe a potent seed to remember, some young intuition to harvest, or a sacred wound to breathe into. To begin this inward quest to meet the innermost depths of my soul calling I call to the mother in me to hold me when I’m hurt, to weave my worries into the safe vessel to protect me. The mother who cares for my tired bones and lets me go into the unknown.


This journey of decent, A knock on the door to awaken my soul, A map only led by intuition. The farther in I go, this face far in the distance appears, she has been waiting and watching my dance across her mural. To my eyes and old wise woman appears, the Maga I am becoming… she tells me of all the seeds she’s harvested, all the potent gifts she’s grown. Young wise one she whispers I gift you such sacred seeds to bring with you on your journey for these will be your tools into the unknown. Through the depths of the darkness I continued in remembering what the mother told me, The gifts that the maga gives and as a firelight staring into the night I continued on.


How vast this quest is but there is a part of me I haven’t met… winter is upon me and I begin to let go, to fall into trust and knowing what is already known. A time of reflection. From the depths of the crone, she appears in sensation and connects the scattered part of myself that I had grown away from. You have become your power young one and follow this journey to connect with soul and be guided by spirit. There is a calling from the depths within and you have the tools to lead you into the unknown.

The Nest

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A place to call home. A place you know will always be there. A place that makes your insides sing and lets your body feel comforted by the earth.

I have found this place, set in the hinterlands of byron bay, Brooklet to be exact. 160 acres of unknown and wild paddocks. My love, Eliot, his family, and I have just begun this journey of such a beautiful diverse life on a farm. She came to us, abandoned, wildly overgrown, but glowing with life! A river rushes around almost half of her, leaving little swimming hole gifts as she meanders around native trees.

About 1 year ago was when we had first came to visit the land. Overloaded with uncertainty and excitement at the same time we knew our lives were about to flow to a new heartbeat. I was certain this was the place I wanted to grow on and be with the ones I love, create and play on!  As soon as I knew it, we were packed and headed to Australia. I never imagined, growing up so close with my family that I would be taking on a new adventure across the world with my partners family. Never did I dream to be a farmer and wake up to the rhythm of the land, and now suddenly this seed has been planted and I’m in pursuit of fruiting!

We dream to fill this land with love, make her sustainable, concrete, and build a community with all our loved ones. Our vision is to hold different workshops, gatherings, and implement all our knowledge into creating an organic farm that supports our community around us.

September. 22. 2016

Today we moved to The Nest!

After our 7 months of journeying through our inner bodies we are pure and ready for this day. She is still, but vastly alive, dark and holds the key to inner light. We have landed, thank you. Thank you mother nature, thank you elders of the land and the abundant wildlife. Tis a day of ABUNDANCE, the final eclipse and the equinox! Your here at the most divine timing! Your so daunting and WILD yet I feel so much stability and tranquility from your rhythm, your heartbeat.

How beautiful and astonishing our fist night was. Sharing our first meal together with no utensils sitting in circle on the living room floor. Watching the puppy race in circles Dreaming and scheming ideas and projects to come. A community? a Blacksmith? Wood shop? Art Studio? Only 1 day and we are deep in thoughts. I fell asleep in eliot arms to the smell of the camphor laurel fire we made down by the creek. Thank you fuego abuelita! How sweet her sounds were, welcoming the night animals, as she danced to eliot flute. And now to dream of the days to come!