High Priestess in ceremonial garb against waterfallWhy should a Priestess care about politics?

I mean, shouldn’t I be dancing in the fields with the fairies, preferably naked by the light of the full moon?

Hell yes.


But there are 29 other days when I’m primarily concerned with how my spiritual escapades inform my practical reality.

With the Priestess in my back pocket. And alongside me. And surging way ahead beckoning me to catch up.

Coming to think of if, she doesn’t think much of back pockets at all.


But back to the matter at hand:

Brexit – the British exit from the European union.

What exactly does a burgeoning Priestess have to say about that?



Mostly I am reminding myself that

No matter how hard we fight it, everything only ever reduces back to our personal reponse.


I certainly felt the emotions of the escalating media frenzy in full technicolour.

The morning after the referendum, I needed to disengage by taking a media break.

I wanted to sit with myself and find my own truth without getting bombarded and buried by everyone else’s.


So how do you respond to an outcome you fundamentally disagree with?

That is, of course, personal. It seems that people voting for either side were shocked by the outcome (note the irony). As I ordered my morning coffee, a gentleman derided the tabloids in the newspaper rack, and proceeded to throw them away. Cathartic though that may be, that’s not a helpful response.


So I begin by reminding myself that the outcome of any vote is a democratic decision, no matter how flawed one might judge it to be.


Next, I am asking  how I can make a difference in a way that feels authentic to me.


In the lead up to the Brexit vote, I did a lot of praying.

I remembered that to experience anything outside of myself, I need to experience it inside of myself first.


women's hands touching knitted prayers shawlsI prayed for love, peace and compassion within myself, and I imagined my country of residence enveloped in a blanket woven of the same.

Now that may not sound very Bond Girl. It may not have made any difference to Johnny in Yorkshire wanting his country back, or Hazel in the Midlands worried about immigration. But it made a difference to how I felt and how I was able to show up for those around me.


Love over fear wins every time.

Love begins with loving all of you – shadow as well as light. 

[And if you think that’s easy, think again]


I’m also accepting that the painful cycle of birth, death and rebirth – as mirrored by the seasons year after year – is part of life on every level. Although frankly I am finding the dance of light and shadow a lot harder to accept in the collective sphere.


Lastly, my emotional entanglement with Brexit is giving me the nudge to come out of the comfortable little Priestess closet I’ve been hanging out in for the last year. This particular path may only be emerging but I certainly didn’t fish a dog-eared personal development handbook out of the bargain bin just yesterday. And I have things to say to an audience greater than myself.


So here we are.

It doesn’t sound much to love more in the face of the fear that Brexit has engendered on all sides of the fence and channel.


Especially to love ourselves more, with our own individual fears that have simply become manifest on a grand scale.


woman dancing in field with outstretched arms

But that’s what I’m choosing to do.

When I’m not dancing naked in the fields.


And maybe one day [soon], Johnny and Hazel’s (grand)daughters will join in.




Images: pinterest, stmarysgoochland.org, nancyaruegg.com

Woman putting flower petals into bathtub

It’s been a fairly intense, emotionally charged day. Make that a week, actually.

But I made it through today with grace, and a little help from my women friends.

Little Priestess is sleeping peacefully.

I’m as alone as it gets.


So I decide to create a sensual bath ritual for myself.


Back in the days when I donned a tailored suit, I thought taking baths was for sissies.

Having since become more intimately acquainted with Mami Wata, it’s hard to argue with the healing, cleansing and relaxing properties of a good soak.

Mami Wata painting of African Water Goddess

So this evening I go full out. We are talking candles. Goddess cards. Sea salt scrub with geranium and sandalwood oil. Rose petals and rosemary leaves.


I break a bottle of Walnut Flower essence* in the process of lighting the candles. It hits the sink and ricochets off the radiator before shattering on the floor.

I clean up.

My bathroom smells boozy.


I return to the ritual at hand.

I scrub. I bless. I pray.


morrocan-style bathtub with flowers and candlesI sink into the scented water and exhale the accumulated tension. I pray some more. I give thanks for my healthy body. I decide to do a long overdue chakra cleanse.

I work from the top down, imagining swirls of colour cleansing each energy centre.

By the time I get to my root chakra, a thunderstorm is brewing outside.


Then the door pushes open. I am not as alone as I thought.

A white streak dashes in, click clacking over the tiled floor.


Enter my beloved Jack Russell, petrified of rain and thunder. He paces the bathroom, unsuccessfully scanning for the nearest space to crawl under. There isn’t one. The closest hiding place is in a different room but I am not there so that won’t do.


I ignore the tapping claws and carry on cleansing – until an almighty racket breaks out behind me. The anxiety-ridden canine has catapulted onto the bathtub ledge and is wedging himself through the non-existent space between my head and the wall.

Before long I have a small dog sitting on my left shoulder, like a witches’ familiar, hyperventilating. Outside the thunder rages and the rain noisily pelts the conservatory roof below.


So I lie there with my dog digging nails into naked skin. I reassuringly scratch his chest until the storm abates and the water is cold. Then we work on a clumsy exit strategy that successfully avoids full canine immersion.


Meanwhile, blessedly, LP remains uit soos ‘n kersie – out like a light.

I dry myself off and crawl into bed to catch my forty winks… or so I think.


Turns out Mother Nature has a lot more to say with both water and voice.


Eventually, LP wakes up. Between her and the adrenalized terrier, sleep isn’t exactly forthcoming. At some point, I pile them all into bed with me and hope for the best.

The best – SLEEP – is yet to come.

And it’s fair to say that 8kg of frazzled male energy did not form part of my self-care fantasy.


But then I’m the first to concede that this spiritual journey isn’t all unicorns farting flowers.

And that, sometimes, the Goddess sure has a wicked sense of humour.


sky with dark clouds and lighning


Images: yourspiritsparkle.com, pinterest, s-tia.blogspot.com

* This remedy protects “against outside influences in general, and against the effects of change in particular” which seems apt for the eve of the EU referendum in the UK.





So far I’ve written about the Priestess and the Goddess.


But how exactly are they related?


The way I see the Priestess is as a sort of Bond Girl for the Goddess.

Her gorgeously badass side kick.


Now the Priestess is not the Goddess’ plaything, to be cast aside and replaced at every turn. She is powerful and certain within herself but she is also a vessel for the wisdom and teachings of the Goddess.

As such, the Priestess does not run amok. Without the Goddess, she serves no higher purpose. Without the Goddess, she serves only her ego – which isn’t service at all.


If we consult the wonderful web of inexhaustible information, we find that “there is no set rule on what kind of person a Bond girl will be… She may be an ally or an enemy of Bond, pivotal to the mission or simply eye candy.”


The Priestess of course will always be that pivotal-to-the-mission ally though there’s nothing to suggest she can’t be gorgeously eye-catching as well. After all, presencing and celebrating beauty in all things is part of the Priestess remit.


There are several characteristics that are undeniably part of the Bond Girl archetype:


  • Age
  • Beauty
  • Sex Appeal


Sure, the quintessential Bond Girl is young but then again, so has Ian Fleming’s legend been fighting the dark side for over six decades without ageing one wrinkle more than the women he romances.


Yes, Bond Girls are universally beautiful.


So too the Priestess scores on both grounds.

triple goddess

What is more, she proves that “youth” and “beauty” are not intrinsically linked concepts. The Goddess is beautiful in all her manifestations, be it the Maiden, the Mother or the Crone, and the same applies to those in her service. One could go as far as to argue that there is a deeper beauty in those who glow with the wisdom and experience of life, those who have come to embody the knowing that beauty shines from within, a light that does not fade as the innocent beauty of the maiden is eventually destined to.


Lastly, Bond Girls are undeniably sexy and certainly not afraid to get naked.

And neither is the Priestess.

More than being defined by mere physical features, a Priestess’ beauty comes from her certainty, her service and her knowing that being rooted deep within, guided from above and able to withstand life’s vagaries, is infinitely more sexy than looking hot in a skimpy bikini. The Priestess knows that nakedness not only encompasses shedding our clothing but also our learned inhibitions and limiting beliefs. That being spiritually naked leads to personal growth. As does being physically naked, in blissful union with the Divine Masculine or simply having fun exploring our own sexuality.

After all, the Priestess honours all parts of herself – the embodied as well as the disembodied; the physical, the material, the ethereal.


You could call the Priestess a Bond Girl with a higher consciousness rather than simply a sexy accessory (though naught wrong with that!).

If this definition of the Priestess serves to elevate the stereotypical, oft degraded, image of the Bond Girl to a higher plane, then all the better.


And if you don’t like the analogy, go make up your own.

Write your own definition.

Walk your own path.


The Priestess does – in whatever guise she chooses to show up.



Images: freakingnews.com, fantasybath.com, wiccanmoonsong.com, spiritualnow.com

sign-of-springSpring is springing in my world.

I have been doing so much release work – some voluntary, most involuntary. The recent Spring Equinox and Full Moon Lunar Eclipse certainly had their merry ways with me.

And I feel so much freer for it. Less constrained, more open.



So open, in fact, that despite the still chilly temperatures, I’ve been feeling the insane urge to be out in nature naked. To go skinny dipping under the stars. To feel the mossy ground of the woods under my skin. To dance in a meadow, bare soles pounding the grass.


I feel like breaking free from the mould, yet again shedding a skin I have outgrown.

I feel like stretching and spreading my wings, worshipping Her – Gaia, Mother, Goddess – within and without.


I long to bring  more sensuality into my life – visually, kinaesthetically, olfactorily.

I long to inhale the beauty of essential oils, to experience creating my own blends.

colour_my_heart_by_julyshewolfI long to to express beauty in both my body and my home.

I long to celebrate and cherish colour and to invite its vibrancy into my clothing and adornments.

I long to presence beauty.

I long to honour and embody Divine Feminine grace.

I long to enhance the rituals in my life with candles and scent.

I long to create my own incense to support me both in releasing that which no longer serves and in calling in my heart’s desires.

I long to – yet again – banish physical and psychical clutter.


I long to move my body in sacred dance.

I long to feel the vibrations of my drum.



And, above all, I long to get naked.

If I were in Glastonbury, I’d go for a dip in the White Spring.

If I were by the ocean, I’d dive into the waves’ gentle caress.

I long to invite the cleansing power of water into every fibre of my being.



There’s so much more to release, so much more freedom to feel.

For the first time, I’m getting a glimpse of feeling constrained by our homes, trapped, cut off from the wild vastness of Mother Nature herself.


naked_woman_in_waterTime to move, expand and follow wherever my senses may lead me…




Images: wallcoo.com, deviantart.com, opinionatedduck, gettyimages


moon_goddessThis invocation led me on an outing to the British Museum with the small Priestess in tow to look for representations of these ancient Mother Goddesses.

There, amidst the crazy crowds, it struck me how very easy it is for me to accept the Goddess in a myriad of forms – the above chant naming a mere seven of them.

I don’t have any issue building an abundance altar dedicated to Lakshmi, or tuning into the energies of Sekhmet and Durga, or indeed roaming a public gallery seeking out different representations of the Goddess throughout history.


So why has the notion of “the Goddess” never been particularly prominent in Western culture? Well, that’s for another post.


But I think this has been to my advantage.

Even though I might bemoan the patriarchy or decry the exclusive representation of God as male in Christianity and other religions, the upside is that it has left my receptivity to the Goddess  W I D E   O P E N .


Despite the strong symbolism of the trinity of Father, Son & Holy Spirit, I have plenty of imagination for the Divine to encompass ever so much more than “two men and a bird”. **


It is easy for me see the Goddess in different forms and different religions. Because I don’t have a preconceived notion of who and what she is – enforced by decades of cultural and religious imprinting – she can be anything and everything and that’s perfectly fine with me.



If I had grown up with a strong female Goddess symbol, defined in the narrow way the Christian church has delineated “God”, the Goddess might be much more difficult for my adult self to embrace. I say this despite the fact that I come from a family of armchair Christians (at best). It’s that hard to get away from the male God stereotype – he’s everywhere!


Besides, isn’t it highly appropriate that the very essence of Divine Sacred Feminine presents herself in so many shapes? That She is so many things stemming from one Divine Essence? Aren’t we as women just as multifaceted – fulfilling different roles, taking on different forms throughout our lifetime(s)? Mamma’s just reflecting herself back to us.


As I said, I was brought up with Christianity as a vague default faith. When I prayed (until recently that is, and if I prayed at all), I prayed to God as an omnipresent and omnipotent being but somehow – insidiously, consciously and unconsciously – I couldn’t escape visualising a wise and greying father figure.


Now I pray to the Goddess in any which way she chooses to show up. Blissfully unburdened by lifetimes of cultural conditioning, she comes to me.

Easily.   Wisely.   Lovingly.


And thank God for that!



** quote from a Catholic nun in Sue Monk Kidd Dance of the Dissident Daughter (1996)

josephinewall.co.uk, mysticmedusa.com, museum.classics.cam.ac.uk,

As I sit in the warm sunshine of a surburban café window, losing myself in search of a new story, I once again feel as I did when the Priestess first appeared in my life a mere twelve months ago.




Why the call of the Priestess?

She who calls not for her own sake but for that of the Goddess?

She who calls

in a voice that you cannot fail to understand.
If you have heard that call, there will be nowhere in the world to hide from her voice.

The Mists of Avalon


For a while now, I have found both direction and solace from my Urban Priestess training.

morgan le fayeBut now the Priestess is stretching her limbs, poking her tunic-clad elbows towards the edges of my current, albeit expanded, comfort zone. She nudges me to lean on my staff and stride into the unknown anew. She commands me to take up my sacred tools – my pen and my voice – and make myself heard.

She dares me to embark on a new level of working with her energies, and those of the Goddess, one that has me emerging from the confines of the private, from the safety of my computer screen.

She urges me to venture out into the world, to make new commitments, to become visible in new ways.

She calls me to embody what I know in private as well as in public.

To see and be seen – even by myself – with new eyes.


The path of the Priestess leads to no hiding place.


And here I sit with my overflowing cup of emotions.


Awed.circle of hands


Tired of hiding.
Scared to show up.


And a tiny bit excited.
For I know I am not alone.


Everywhere I look, even from behind the comforting shield of my laptop, the voice of the Priestess, the Goddess, the Divine Feminine, is making itself heard.


I am not alone.

Far from it.

I am merely invited to join the chorus.


circle of women

youqueen.com, i.ytimg.com, ecstatic-awakenings.com, lizzyrose.com.au, pinimg.com

priestess magicThe truth is, she called to me.

Why? I don’t know.

When I first felt her tender tug, I was just as baffled as the next person. Except of course there aren’t many ‘next’ people that you share her arrival with over a casual cup of coffee.

What you need to understand is that I am no one special. Of course I’m special in the sense that I am a unique individual traveling a unique path.

I am special because I endeavour to constantly grow myself, to raise my consciousness and to allow myself to experience the best life I can.

But this Priestess business is genuinely new to me.

I am not an Indigo child. I did not grow up talking to God. Angels and fairies were not my best friends except on the pages of storybooks. I did not have an innate direct dial to the Divine.

So without diminishing my own uniqueness, I guess what I am trying to say is that I have no particular predisposition that qualifies me for this path.

Yet at the same time, there’s a sense of homecoming to a very ancient part of me.

I have been here before. I have done this before.

This is my journey of remembering.




Images: livingtreeco.wix.com/magickwithin, deviantart.net