ثنائيات

Witchy Idea

If you feel lost or confused in your identity make a sigil out of your name and charge it with memories of your experiences. This can also be used to symbolize yourself in other sigils as well as in spells and rituals.

hello all i am back on my child ballad bullshit

and a playlist with all the available results here:

Mira - by Ismail Inceoglu

“Let the four winds fill your wings,

That you may see the world with raven’s eyes,

And breathe deep of its wide majesty.”

—Vagabird

Ancient Forest Walk Playlist

@angiethewitch here you go babes!

Description: theres a few wild cards in here

these are in no particular order!! Just simply songs that invoke an ancient feeling to me in general, are of an ancient origin, or meditative with forest themes. Some are similiar in style, others are vastly different. My interpretation of ancient forest may differ from others!

Softer songs:

Homing- Loma

Wildflowers- The Wailin Jennys

Folkesange album by Myrkur (norse folk songs)

Passing Of The Elves- Lord of The Rings Sindarin song

The Mermaid- Kate Rusby

Fill-iù Oro Hù Ò and O Cò Bheir Mileam- traditional irish folk songs

Munknör- Cernunnos

Fíonnulas Tale- Marc Jungermann

Darker songs/meditative songs:

Norupo-Heilung

Runatal-Danheim

Folkvangr- Danheim

In Maidjan- Heilung

Yggdrasil- Danheim

Cernunnos- Foraoise

Andi- Munknörr and Sugurbođi

Falling in love is beautiful, but it’s even better when it’s reciprocated. Jim Musil Painter jimmusilpainter

I am learning to imagine the future:

My sycamore tree began life in the gravel at the edge of a parking lot. If trees can feel pain, that is a painful, unlucky death. I carefully dug it up and put it in a pot I made out of a disposable cup.

Hello small one. This world may be cruel, but I will not be.

I decided to take care of it, not expecting it to survive, and when my sycamore tree unfurled one tiny leaf and then another, it chiseled a tiny foothold in my terrified brain, the kind of brain that doesn't remember a world before the atomic bomb and before 9/11.

I googled the lifespans of trees. My neurons had to stretch and expand to accommodate what I learned: My sycamore tree may live five hundred years. It's hard to think something so big. In twenty years, my baby sycamore tree will be three stories tall, and the home of many creatures. In five years, my sycamore tree will be taller than I am. In one year, it will be summer.

There's this concept called sense of foreshortened future where people who have lived through trauma can't conceptualize a future for themselves because deep down they don't expect to survive, When I look forward, all I see is fire and death, melting ice and burning sky. We were raised Evangelical. All we see is Judgment Day, except there is no heaven.

But now there is a tiny gap in the wall, a crack in the door of my cell

and on the other side, I see a tree

There is, in the future, a great old sycamore tree, full of clean winds and the stir of a thousand wings. A hundred years from now. Fifty years from now. There will be forests in that world. There will be a world.

It takes courage, but we have to imagine it.

Most tree species can live in excess of three or four hundred years. I think I'm learning something. I think there are ancient voices saying hello small one, touch the dirt and the leaves, for now you are part of something that cannot die

in 2030 I will be thirty years old and the world will not have ended and there will still be hummingbirds, and we will have photos of the stars more beautiful than we can now imagine.

I planted an Eastern Redcedar; they may live nine hundred years. There will be nine hundred years. The people in that time will remember us. Maybe we will meet the aliens (hi aliens!).

I will blow out the candles on many birthday cakes in a world where there are wolves in dark forests far from home. I am learning to imagine the future. I learned recently that elk were reintroduced to the Appalachian Mountains after over a hundred years of extirpation, and that they are expanding their range.

That tiny crack I can see through now opens a tiny bit more:

Maybe elk will pass through my hometown, maybe there will be a forest where the pasture is on the high hill that I can see from my home

say it, say it, say it: ten years, thirty years, a hundred years from now

I am learning to imagine the future. There is a crack in the wall of this prison, of this machine, of this darkness, and through it, I see a tree.

Mossy trees in Sweden, Västra Götalands län [4679 x 3999] [OC] - Author: Schlafhose on reddit