I surround myself with them
I’m obsessed with them
I’m a collector of them
I’m a collection of them

I am my mother’s story and her mother’s story before her and her mother’s story before her. I’m filled with the treasures and the traps of all these elevated and exiled Ancestors in one hand and me in the other.

I tried carrying both over a minefield because I’m acutely aware of the sacrifices that have gone into the making of me.

I tried to carry both and the attempt was breaking me so I had to choose

I worried that my Ancestors were disappointed with me or disgusted by me because I chose to let go of their narratives. The ones that made me alien in my own sovereign body.

But as I staged and staggered through my own (R)evolution I realized that they were handed their stories by a cis het white dominated patriarchy just like me.

In centering myself and my people in my narratives I am salvaging pages that have been violently erroded by oppression and manipulation.

I am a new story in the library of us.
One that gets to get told.
Black now in TECHNICOLOR!

And my Ancestors?

They are so active, so understanding, so proud and so loud. Eeeeeee and so nosey! It’s embarrassing that I have to ask them to step away from the bed when I bring my partner into it.

They love me.

They love me not in spite of but because.

Because I’m the Queer Fat Black Non Binary Femme Witch story some of them didn’t get to live.

📸 By @tristancrane photography for the Here Portraits Project

Solstice Prayer

Normally I share the story of the Goddess of Joy on this day but not this time.

This season has been so fucking hard and that’s my own fault. I made an ask to the God of Death when the veil was thin and He drank of the holy offering and delivered.

When I asked for freedom from scarcity I thought it was a clever way of gaining money and security that money can offer. I was quickly shown where the real scarcity came from and put in a process of healing and mending that meant that several things had to go.

It drove me through grief and into numbness. I’m moving in the flow of it now. I’m not fighting it anymore. I’m letting it wash over me. Screaming into the cold darkness is actually a comfort.

I’m having dramatic ugly cries.

I beat my chest and pull at my hair and I curse and I dry heave. Each layer ripped back reveals a part of me that has been lost for so long so I’m facing it.

Letting my tears become a black mirror so I can catch all these peices of me.

I’m in the middle of this journey right now on this long night. I hold my past stories written for me in on hand and my past stories rewritten by me in the other.

Tonight I commit what is not mine into the fire of transformation.

I look forward to the rest of this dark season and the rest it has mandated. I yeild to the necessity of it.

I need all I can get
So I can be ready for what rises with the Sun.

May you have all you need in these dark days

May you rest well

And awake renewed

Solstice Prayer

Written for the Living Tarot 2018 “The Sun”

Oh beauteous child
Beauteous child of the unKnown universe

Mourn not for things you lost in the nebulous night
for rended hearts,
cracked promises
knocked over dreams spilling into oblivions of gloom

Mourn not for things Dark Mother has stripped from you
It has burned to ash in the dawning of this glorious day

You were never meant to navigate upon someone else’s trajectory

You were meant to pull planets of your own design into an orbit composed and conducted by the fire of your beating heart,
the flame of your eternal spirit
the devouring incandescence of your sex

This is a requiem for the stygian fray
a summoning for the dawning day

This is a requiem for the trials and vexations
a summoning for the harbingers of creation

This is a requiem for the ill gotten stories that turned your mirrored soul to smoke screen
a summoning for the deliciously indecent decadent innocence of your true self seen

Oh beauteous child of the unknown universe
night will fall again

And I promise you
That you
Like the sun
Shall rise
And all that stands in your way
Shall burn before your gaze

Remember that you are the sun
Now rise and fucking shine

The Apple Bites Back: The Road to Initiation

If you’ve ever been to one of my classes or workshops I begin it with a warning.

This is why.

Five years ago today I came into my Teacher’s home for the first time as a student.
I had met them before in passing, in community, in a particularly hilarious foretelling photoshoot.

I’m not sure what I expected in that moment. All I knew was that for once in my life I was going to see it through.

I didn’t know what I was signing up for but they did.

I didn’t know I would fall in love.

I fell in love with them and the Students and other Initiates of this tradition.

I fell in love with myself.
And lez be clear,this is not some eat pray whatever the fuck kind of love. This is a love that has teeth and talons. This love holds up a mirror that I can not hide from. This love burned me and the whole fucking village I built to maintain the lie of that “me” to ash and coal.

A few months into study I sat wide eyed and embarrassed at my Teacher’s table. They were patient. Waiting for me to pull up what ever words were stuck in my throat.

“I’m not impeccable,” I managed to say eventually. “I don’t think I can do this without being impeccable. I want to be impeccable”

They looked at me with an unreadable expression that I’ve come to understand and cherish over the years. They responded simply.

“Then go be impeccable.”

A lot of the study was like that. Me admitting the worst and the best of myself and having to hold it all, decide what to do with it all from this place of impeccability that openly mocked perfection.

A Virgo’s worst nightmare!

When I started this path I was working 60+ hours a week between the desk job, performing, massage co-producing. I was sharing my time and body with people who would not see me nor cherish me. I was kneeling at the feet of others and offering them the sword that is my soul for their acceptance, for their kindness, for their love.

I was content to be small as possible because I equated it with being safe.

I thought the only way people would see me as human in this body and in this skin was through what I could offer them. Because what I was wasn’t good enough.

What I was wasn’t good enough.
What I was wasn’t good enough for me because what I was wasn’t real.

The path to Initiation meant I had to be real.
In being real I lost so much; Friends, family, jobs, lovers, homes, safe spaces. I was constantly screaming:
But I Need That!!!

And the Universe would rise up laughing and singing back:
Bitch, do you? Do you tho? Let’s test this theory!!!

This labyrinth spun me out casually. At times I believed I was going insane but I was only falling in(to) sanity.

I’m difficult now
I’ve got boundaries and expectations
I’m unpredictable now
I’ve got a moral code not based on social norms or expectations
I’m wild now
I’ve got desires and agendas
Like one of my beloved brothers t-shirts says
I’ve got many Gods now
and no Masters

I don’t hide my mouth when I laugh anymore instead it sounds like thunder
I don’t hide my tears anymore
I sob openly until I choke
I don’t hide my excitement anymore
my screams upset the birds in their branches
I don’t silence my rage anymore
I write, I speak, I look it in the eyes

It’s exhausting thb.
But it’s a whole lot less exhausting than the lie.

I’m still losing things.
Five years later I’m still losing things I never thought I would.

My Teacher became my Mother and if I am found to truly be kin of this kind they will soon become my Sister.

I cried and mourned the loss of this type of love even as I rejoice in anticipation of standing in this faith shoulder to shoulder with them.

I thanked them for bringing me up as a witch. I acknowledge that this has also brought me up as a human being. That no matter what happens now I am accountable and responsible for myself and what work I do in this world.

They smiled and said “Now you are impeccable.”

Initiations can happen in big ways and sometimes in very small mundane ways. They happen like storms, suddenly or soft and gently. They are constantly occurring if you know how to look for them, if you are mindful.

So with that said

Seekers of the Mysteries
Witches wanting more
Archaeologists of the Ancient Names
Lovers of Whispered Lore

be aware
be warned

You have more to lose than you could ever have imagined

Each slight change in your lens makes the world you live in untenable and that makes you responsible

In order to truly live you will have to die

The Apple is bitter and sweet
The Apple is poison and medicine
The Apple is ipecac
The Apple bites back

And it’s as delicious as it is deadly.

A Post Samhain Post

We sometimes joke that our full title is
Femme Mountain: Books, Bones, Sticks & Stones

Our home has been furnished through estate sales, things passed on to us by elders and our own Dead.
The art and photos have their own stories, spells and history.

We are surrounded by altars of our own making. They move, the house moves, there is often the sound of feet on the stairs that are not ours.

An elegant lady has recently begun to appear in the upstairs hallway and we are as surprised to see her as she is to see or be seen by us!

As the fall makes things quieter the house gets louder and something about the cold air makes the stars outside shine clearer in the night.

It is in this Holy Darkness that we light our black candle.

Amidst fruit that bleeds rich and red.
We are the flesh fed from the bright light and lives of our Mighty Dead.
We are flesh fed from the bright light and fruit of this land.

We began the Witches New Year by filling our home with that light and the light of others to sustain us as the wheel turns again to dark.

May you have all you need.
May your reflections in the dark mirror be true but gentle.
May the stillness drive you to peace instead of madness.
May you be warmed by the light of all those that have gone before you and stand with you in the Night.

Happy New Year & Blessed Samhain
Femme Mountain

📸 of our altar by @chrystyphoto

In The Face of Fear: Ancestors

During my #InTheFaceOfFear workshop one of the suggestions I offer is working with your Ancestors.

My Ancestor practice had been dismal until 5 years ago and I am still very much growing into it and with it.

This can be a hard thing to do.

Some of us are cut off from our Ancestors. Genocide, the erasure effects of white supremacy, internal family violence/rejection/ abandonment are real cock blockers when it comes to forging these powerful bonds.

That’s where healers like Luna Pantera come in. As the queer, gender non binary offspring of an outcast I figured my ancestors would haaaaaate me or at least be disappointed.
I was so wrong.

Luna helped me locate Elevated Ancestors to work with to heal my lines.
One of the questions posed to me by a white participant in the class was how to work with Ancestors they are not proud of. Ancestors that have done harm.

I realized that this is probably why white people doing liberation work keep calling on Harriet fucking Tubman #stopit

It’s your job to heal those lines
Accept the shit storm.
You benefit directly from your racist ass Ancestors.
Work with a Healer and also do tangible “on this plane” world work like making donations to the Ancestor Descendant of people who they harmed in their names.
Ask those Ancestors to provide the funds for it even.

But work with them.
If possible work with a Healer, a Therapist or Community Support because it can be intense and bring up a lot of shit.

Proceed with intention and caution!

I’ve found through this engagement that I am not the only one who was queer, who was witch, who was against the grain, who was team guardrail. I’ve learned to value my Mighty Dead, to hear them, to fight with them, to love them.

And I’ve learned that I am dearly loved by them too.


Connect to Luna Pantera on Facebook or via email at

Oregon Day 2: Digging The Hole

The waves were glowing in the dark as they broke across the sands
My bare feet followed the path through the rustling grass. It grew higher with every step. Pulling at the hem of my dress

Aren’t you afraid
A voice said


Aren’t you going to turn away
A voice said


There was cacophony between my ears. As loud as it was when I was a child. Several beings speaking at once.
Some saying Don’t! Turn Back! Stop!
Others saying Trust us! You can be afraid but you must trust us!

As the ground below me dipped I reached out. Blind with out my glasses. Impeded by the night. I trusted. I gripped the earth and it gripped me back.
Delivered me gently to the sandy shore.

I started digging
Frantically, fanatically, desperately
Crying and screaming

I’m tired
I don’t know what’s next
I don’t want to die
This hurts so much
I’m so broken
I’m so broken
I’m so broken

I wailed into the hole until words dissolved into gutteral and keening songs

For once my throat let me
Loosened so I could push it out

Take this please!
Transform this please!

When I was done covered the hole
Instantly embarrassed for showing up at Their house without an offering to give.

When I rose up with apologies on my lips I was pulled back down.
My belly filling the space my tears once had
I was prostrate
Screaming again through a mouth full of sand

My brothers were there then
Telling me to keep going
Telling me that I was loved
Telling me that I was not alone
Telling me that the fires in the sky were my home and my people

I shifted as some thing moved into mr
kicked me twice like a knocking from the inside.

I sat up with legs spread open
Knees bent
Felt like labor
I began to laugh and sigh and say ow! As I held their arms for support.

The grief and fear and rage had been transformed and given back to me. Clay I could shape into something new.

They blew blessed tobacco on my feet, my palms, my heart, my head, my thighs, my womb. I took a lung full of it and kissed it into the sand.

They wrapped me in a blanket
And our fingers intertwined as we watched the ocean glow under a sky full of stars.

Then we,
Whole and Beautiful
took the dark path back into the light



Oregon Day 1

Slowing down has made me realize how deeply exhausted and deeply fucked I am right now

I’ve been moving big energy for people
I’ve been making big asks for other people’s benefit
I haven’t factored myself into the equation (again)

I’ve got two days here and then it back to the grind. I’m lucky to have this. I want to focus on the gratitude but I can’t stop myself from wanting to cry.

My throat hurts from not screaming
The last month has seen
big rituals that cost me dearly to preform
stepping away from an 11 relationship that cost me dearly to be in
the loss of a place to work and the income that comes with it

I’m not okay
I know I’m going to be but right now I am not okay.

I’m tired
I’m underprepared
I’m overwhelmed

I need help.

All of this is bigger than me.
All the work I’m doing is bigger than me and I need help.

But first I need to cry and scream
then I can figure out what that looks like
then I can ask.