Welcome to my first blog post! A few years ago, someone told me I was just too nice to be a Wicked Witch.
They seemed shocked that someone who identifies with the dark side of life would work in a healing profession, teach empowerment workshops and provide a safe place for addicts and alcoholics in recovery. I didn’t fit into their stereotypical picture of what a Witch should look like or how they should behave.
With JezebelPride.com I will do my best to dispel the myths and misconceptions of what it means to work in the shadows. You will be able to mull over my musings, read my rantings, see my artwork and join me while I maneuver through the shadowland that is life
In the language of flowers, the rose is well known for being symbolic of love and beauty, but it is also recognized the world over as a symbol of secrets and confidentiality. The rose became a visual cue of discernment and clandestine meetings.
The Latin phrase “Sub Rosa”, under the roses, became code to keep things quiet and confidential.
My wild rose bush that lives in my backyard
At political banquets, roses were often placed in bouquets strung over tables to remind those present that anything spoken would remain a secret.
Confessionals at churches often contain carvings of roses to remind the penitents that their confessions would remain a secret.
Lovers gifted roses by the dozens to show devotion, even when their affairs had to remain under cover.
There are many stories linking roses to secrecy but the one I found most intriguing is the story of Aphroditie, Eros and Harpocrates, the god of secrets and silence.
Aphroditie was born in the sea foam, and where she walked upon the land, roses would spring up at her feet. These flowers became her signature.
An erotic rose sculpture I sold awhile back. One of my favorites.
Aphroditie, along with the other gods and goddesses had a fair share of indiscretions that they wanted to keep secret from the mortals below. Aphroditie gave her son Eros a rose and sent him to Harpocrates to ensure the dalliances of the deities would always remain quiet.
I think we can all see how well that worked out for them.
This necklace is a reliquary of roses.
A reliquary is a container designed to hold sacred objects. They serve to display the artifacts for veneration and keep them safe from harm.
Enshrined in this little box are a dozen tiny rose buds, carefully preserved and protected.
The number 12 represents completeness and authority. There were 12 gods in Olympus, 12 apostles in the Christian stories, and 12 zodiac signs in the heavens. A dozen roses are a symbol of love and commitment.
There are 12 pearls on each side of this reliquary. Pearls are a symbol of love and devotion, but also trust.
The pearls are strung along side sunstone beads in shades of pinks. Once used to guide sailors at sea, sunstones are a tool of navigation and trusting one’s gut instincts in all matter of things.
I created the reliquary box by layering melted tin and silver solder until a strong vessel formed. The roses were placed inside and a piece of plexi-glass was set on top to protect the vessel from shattering if dropped. It has been patinaed and polished with Renaissance wax infused with frankincense and mhyrrh
It should be removed during bathing or swimming.
The beads are strung on red cording, symbolic of the Red String of Fate, said to bind predestined lovers together. The Red String of Fate may stretch or tangle, but it never breaks. It always draws true lovers together. It hangs 12 inches from clasp to top of the reliquary pendant.
This is a special piece, created with attention to symbology, mythology and meaning. It would make a lovely gift for a lover you feel destined to be with.
“And though she be but little, she is fierce” Shakespear’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream
A reliquary is a container designed to hold sacred objects. Wearable reliquaries serve to protect these artifacts while making them accessible for veneration and safe for transportation during pilgrimage.
Wasp Nest Relilquary
I’ve always been afraid of wasps.
I was stung by one as a young woman, and I remember the shock of the initial sting and then the intense burning sensation that spread across my chest.
It happened at a funeral for a friend who died too young. We were gravesite when the wasp flew up my dress and stung me multiple times on my chest. My boyfriend carried me out of the cemetery as I gasped for breath, and brought me to the hospital.
I found this very profound, as most people are carried into a cemetery.
Wasp energy is very feminine. Only the female wasp will sting, and she only stings when she is protecting what is rightfully hers.
The wasp reminds us of truths that need to be heard and she comes to those struggling with change.
This wasp nest is safely enshrined in a reliquary I created using a tiffany soft soldering technique. I patiently layer molten solder over a base form until I’ve created the reliquary form. It is enclosed with plexi-glass to avoid shattering if accidently dropped. It is patinaed and polished with Renaissance Wax.
This reliquary is strung with labradorite, obsidian and chrysocolla. I’ve hand knotted the gray cording to separate and protect each bead from wear.
Obsidian is a volcanic glass. It is a deeply grounding stone and allows the wearer to see through the veil of illusions in search of truths.
Labradorite is a stone of self-confidence and transformation. It encourages strength and supports us when we are dealing with addictive behaviors.
Chrysocolla enhances communication and assists the wearer in expressing truth and wisdom. It connects us to Divine Feminine energy and connection to the Earth.
This necklace holds fierce feminine warrior energy.
This piece is one of a kind. Please remove when bathing or swimming.
“Beware prejudices. They are like rats, and men’s minds are like traps; prejudices get in easily, but it is doubtful if they ever get out”. Francis Jeffrey
An ossuary is a container designed to safely store remains. The ossuary necklace allows the wearer to keep these special elements close for meditation, veneration or devotion. They combine faith, artistry and spiritual significance while connecting the wearer to the divine energy in all things.
The Rat Jaw Ossuary Necklace
The rat is often misunderstood and unacknowledged. Many see it as a pest, spreading disease, but the rat is a creature of contradictions.
A resourceful and resilient creature, the rat can teach us so much about our inner strength and our ability to adapt to changes in our lives in ways that lead to prosperity and opportunities beyond our wildest dreams.
Strung with obsidian, dragons blood jasper and Picasso jasper on hand-knotted, rust colored cording, this necklace hangs approximately 18 inches from clasp to the end of the tassel made from recycled sari silk. Above the ossuary is a large ceramic bead.
I constructed the ossuary using a tiffany soft soldering technique by layering a tin/silver alloy solder over a round base. I enclosed the ossuary with plexi-glass, making it shatter proof. It is patinaed and has been polished with Renaissance Wax.
Inside you will find the jaw bones of multiple rats, carefully cleaned and preserved. You may hear their little whispers, if you listen carefully.
Obsidian is a volcanic glass. It is a stone of protection, grounding and truth. It opens our eyes to the truth that is hidden beneath the surface, calming the mind and clearing confusion.
Dragons blood jasper allows the wearer to push through self-doubt and persist through hardship. It resonates with the statement “Be Here Now”, reminding us to be fully present in the moment.
Picasso jasper is a stone for transformations and creativity. It fosters inner strength, healing our karmic wounds while insuring we understand the lessons we needed to learn.
If you are someone who self-sabotages your success or hesitates to take the next step towards your dreams, this little ossuary can be a wearable shrine to elevate your ability to thrive, and will serve as a reminder to persist through all odds and obstacles life can throw at you.
This is a highly unusual piece. As with all of my work, it is one of a kind. Please remove the necklace when bathing or swimming.
“Relics are treasured as something close to the divine.”
Sarah Vowell
A reliquary is a container designed to hold sacred objects. Wearable reliquaries serve to protect these artifacts while making them accessible for veneration and safe for transportation during pilgrimage.
I build these reliquary pendants by hand; layering metal with the intent to create a sacred vessel to hold a cherished object.
I use plexiglass to cover the container so the piece won’t shatter if accidentally dropped.
These reliquaries are a “lover’s eye”. They are a nod to forbidden love and remembrance of the window to the soul of our dearly departed.
I commission genuine prosthetic glass eyes directly from the artist in India who paints each one by hand. I then enshrine them in a shadowbox pendant made with a tiffany soldering technique. Each necklace is hand-knotted to protect the stones and crystals from damage from rubbing against each other.
Please let me know if you are interested in having a reliquary custom made to hold your personal treasures.
“Death consists, indeed, in a repeated process of unrobing, or unsheathing. The immortal part of man shakes off from itself, one after the other, its outer casings, and – as the snake from its skin, the butterfly from its chrysalis – emerges from one after another, passing into a higher state of consciousness.”
Annie Besant
As we grow spiritually, we leave behind the things that no longer serve us. We shed the old to make way for the new.
Transformation is never a simple process. It is wrought with challenges and choices. One must be willing to find the courage to keep moving forward, through darkness and uncertainty.
We must also trust our inner voice, especially in times of darkness. When the snake sheds her skin, she becomes almost completely blind for a period of time. She sees only light and shadow. She must trust her intuition to know where safety resides.
But once the scales lift, and she crawls forward and away from her past, she leaves it all behind her.
Never to crawl back inside.
This necklace contains the shed skin of my bow constrictor, Lilith. She was an amazing creature. It is forever enshrined between glass and surrounded by tiffany solder.
It hangs 11 inches and rests just under the clavicle.
The necklace is made up of black obsidian and black rudilated quartz. It is hand-knotted with intention.
Obsidian is made of volcanic glass. It is renowned for its qualities of reflection, protection and grounding. It allows the wearer to see the innermost truths as it cuts through illusion like a scalpel.
Rudalated quartz is a master healer. It enhances intuition by removing the scales from our eyes.
This is a powerful talisman for those stepping into a new light.
“So we know that purity emerges from impurity, and light is born from darkness” Zicheng Hong
There is a very old story that teaches us that cicadas were once human beings who fell under the spell of The Muses.
They sang and danced without sleeping or eating until they died, without even realizing they were dead.
The Muses transformed them into cicadas, and gifted them with the ability of life without needing food or rest.
In return, these human cicadas keep an eye on human beings, and report to The Muses about who is honoring the gods.
Cicadas are symbolic of transformation and rebirth. They give us access to the spiritual realms. They remind us of the power of our voices.
Strung with dragons blood Jasper and Palestinian olive wood, this hand-knotted necklace hangs 12 inches, with the enshrined cicada adding an additional 3 inches in length.
Dragons blood connects the root and heart chakras, combining strength with compassion. Like the cicada, dragons blood facilitates admittance to the spiritual realms of our ancestors. It reminds us to “be here now” in a world that is ever turning.
Palestinian olive trees grow with deep roots. Their wood symbolizes resilience and deep connection to the land.
This necklace will help to facilitate change in a person’s life, while remaining grounded in the strength of our ancestors.
In the 38 years I have been a bodyworker, I’ve become very good at noticing patterns in people.
I see and feel the way the body changes to hold fear, grief, stress and anxiety and how emotions find certain places in the body to reside.
Knees, for instance hold the energy of forgiveness and forward movement. The pelvis holds the energy of survival and basic needs. Shoulders can become heavy with worry. The belly and throat can tighten with swallowed feelings or words.
Right now in my practice, I’m noticing the patterns of fear, worry and anxiety in my clients.
I believe we are experiencing a collective trauma like never before.
There have been 4 mass shootings in Minneapolis in the last 30 days.
There have been 362 mass shootings so far in the US this year.
On top of that, we are watching the ongoing chaos in America and around the world.
We have images bombarding our eyes and our brains, and there are just some things a person can’t unsee.
But the more we see them, the more the algorithm sends us more of the same image.
The archons are feasting.
I think it’s more important, now than ever, to make time to find peacefulness. To stand barefoot on the earth. To fully inhale and exhale breath. To seek healing for the body, mind and spirit. It’s important to take a break from the screens and the scrolling.
I admit that I’ve been doom scrolling too much. It’s my trauma response. I scroll so know where the danger is, and how close I am to it. I think living so close to the occupation these past 5 years has made me hyper aware of surroundings and sounds. I’m almost always on high alert.
But when I realize I’m dooming, I find my feet and my breath and I remind myself that in this moment I’m safe. In this moment I’m ok.
Sometimes I go from one moment to the next reminding myself that I’m in the present moment and not the future that I can’t control or the past that I can’t change.
I think I learned this from my years of recovery. To take life one moment at a time. To find some kind of peace and acceptance in the things I have no control over. To find the fortitude to take action in the things I can influence. And to have the knowledge to know the difference between them, which is often the hardest part.
So if you’ve made it this far, inhale slowly and deeply. Hold that breath for a moment. Long enough to feel chest expand fully. And then exhale completely.
And then do it again.
Take a moment to look at this image. If it’s moving quickly, you are anxious. Take some deep breaths and relax your mind, and you will see the image slow down. If you can center yourself, the image will stop moving all together.
One of the first things people notice when they walk into my house is the bones. There is a goat’s skull above my couch. Small skulls of birds and reptiles sit in my window nooks. Hanging above my dining room table is a large water buffalo skull, an antelope skull and multiple dog skulls.
I have an ancestorial altar in my home that enshrines the ashes of my Father, my Mother, a dearly departed friend, and two dogs and four cats, as well as photos of friends and family that have died. It is encased in a permanent hutch that divides my living room and my dining room. There is a tall selenite lamp that sits on top of the hutch that softly glows as a beacon to guide the departed, a candle for warmth and an offering bowl with gifts of food and water. When I had a friend who is a feng shui practitioner come to map my house, she told me I had instinctively set this altar in between the baugua positions of family and knowledge.
My altar to Hecate’s Hounds
As you move deeper into my home, you will find more bones, many in different stages of cleaning. Some still hold on to bits of dirt or patches of skin and fur. Others bathe in the degreasing sink. I have several hearts that are mummifying at the moment, buried deep in salts and herbs.
Each bone has a story to tell, and I am a willing listener. When I receive a new bone, I sit with it for a long time. I hold it in my hands and I listen with all my senses. Bones have their own stories to tell, and if you pay attention, you learn so much about the spirit still present within the bone.
When I create a piece of artwork that incorporates bone, I always make sure that the bone is willing. Some bones want to be seen, heard and felt. They want to be acknowledged and not forgotten. Some bones have no one to remember them, and they want to participate in the artwork so they are not forgotten.
Deer and Hound
On the other hand, some bones want to sleep. They want to rest, undisturbed. Many are still sorting out the confusion of their death. This happens a lot with animals killed by cars along the highway or ones that have been hunted. Many of them still carry the trauma of an unexpected passing. These bones often need soothing. Sometimes I rebury them or I tuck them away in wooden boxes lined with soft fabric. I check in on them from time to time. The dead like to be remembered.
Cat’s paws
I rarely purchase bones. Most of the bones I have are found in forests or along roadsides, or are given to me as gifts. Of the few bones I’ve purchased, they seem to come into my awareness in special ways, as if they aligned themselves to me. One dog skull I purchased happened to show up while I was looking for jewelry supplies on Ebay. When she appeared in my feed, I felt drawn to her and made the purchase. When she arrived in the mail, her energy literally leapt out of the box as I lifted the skull from the packaging. I instantly saw the image of a small purple flower in my mind’s eye and realized she was telling me her name was Violet. She has a special place in my home and in my heart.
Violet
As bone art becomes more popular, many people are cashing in on selling bones as craft supplies. Animals are purposely killed in order to monetize their bones, teeth, claws and pelts. These are often imported from places like China and Ukraine and are usually easy to spot. These bones come with complicated emotional energy, and are often wanting to hide. Many are sold under the heading “ethically sourced” and are produced under conditions that are undeniably unethical. They come “clean and sanitized” from the supplier, and confused and frightened from the process.
The final rinse of a dog’s spine
To work with bones, you have to be willing to embrace the process of death. The stigma, the smells, the rot and the adipocere (corpse wax) that comes with the process. Death is not “clean and sanitized”. It is slimy and stinky and dusty and dirty. The process of taking a rotting limb and producing a beautiful bone specimen is art in itself.
My boyfriend found this cat’s skeleton curled up between boards at a job site. We named him Ikea, because he came in pieces.
Bones are sacred objects, and should be treated as such. They are a direct link to the archetypical energies they represent and can assist you in accessing the power of the animal and the magic it possesses. Like crystals, they can be employed to heal, to protect and to manifest, but they need to be cared for and cherished. They were once a part of a living, breathing being, and that energy still exists. They have so much to offer us, if we are only willing to listen to them and treat them with respect and reverence.
Ikea’s voice came through loud and clear. He wanted a name and he wanted to feel wanted.
It’s been a really long time since I put anything new on this page. I have sat down at my desk and fired up my laptop multiple times, but no words have come forth.
It’s been maddening, but I’ve been feeling a need to reemerge from my self-imposed exile and I want to pick up the pieces that I had to let go.
It’s been a long 5 years. I’ll quickly try to catch you up on the major events that lead to me pulling back from writing, hosting the monthly gatherings and book club.
One of the main reasons I stopped writing, was a feeling of complete and utter overwhelm. So much happened all at once. The world suffered an epic pandemic that was mismanaged from the very beginning. While trying to learn to maneuver my way through covid, I found myself living in the literal epicenter of a global revolution.
I feel like I’ve faded
I live 1 1/2 blocks from the intersection where George Floyd was murdered, and needless to say, the face of my neighborhood changed dramatically. I can literally stand in my front yard and see the large metal statue of a giant fist that marks the entrance to the ongoing occupation that is George Floyd Square.
During the uprising in Minneapolis, I had a front row seat to the protests, many which marched in the street in front of my house. While a barricade of pallets, couches and garbage cans was going up a block away from my house, the smoke from two burning police stations and other buildings on the four mile stretch of Lake Street floated into my neighborhood. Three helicopters circled my neighborhood around the clock for months. At one point, I allowed 16 of my friends and a few kind hearted strangers to board up my house and I took refuge in a hotel in an outer ring suburb of Minneapolis in order to clear my head, sleep without noise canceling headphones, and come up with a plan to postpone my yoga teacher training I was supposed to start the day after the riots broke out and to figure out how to reopen my studio after lockdown was lifted.
National Guard vehicle parked in front of Hope
When I finally made it back to my house five days later, I had to learn to live with an armed militia patrolling the “Free State of George Floyd which still encompasses four square blocks of my neighborhood. I had to get used to the 540% increase in violent crime that came with living on the boarder of a no-police zone. I don’t want to get into the gory details of what I experienced, for my sake as well as for my readers. I’ll just say that it was a very intense time in my life that left some deep scars on my soul.
One of the many marches that passed in front of my homeGeorge Floyd Square in winter
The Square became a bittersweet part of my life. I understood the protest, and I did what I could to support it by donating water and firewood to the People’s Way which formed under the awning of the abandoned Speedway gas station. I hugged complete strangers as I stood in a huge crowd there and heard Chauvin’s guilty verdict announced. I listened to speakers central to the Civil Rights Movement when they appeared at The Square, and I attended covid cautious neighborhood gatherings that taught us about the historical significance of my Southside Minneapolis neighborhood and it’s place in the fight for civil rights. However, the occupation came with a lot of very frightening experiences that I am still learning to come to terms with as I explore them with the guidance of my therapist under the diagnosis of complex post-traumatic stress disorder.
The uprising in Minneapolis was my third riot. I escaped Los Angeles with my infant son as the worst of the rioting hit the city after the police beating of Rodney King. Sixteen years later I was caught up in the RNC riots in Saint Paul. I never imagined that fourteen years later I’d be boarding up my house to escape Minneapolis as it burned.
Then I caught covid.
In July of 2021 I went to an outdoor music festival with my boyfriend to celebrate our birthday weekend. Knowing that I work so closely with clients, we were careful to maintain our covid protocol. The motorcycle trip to South Dakota was beautiful, but we rode home through thick smoke from Canadian wildfires that had drifted southward. I made an appointment to get a covid test before returning to work, just to make sure my stuffy head and watery eyes were from the smoke and not the virus, and received a positive covid test result on my birthday.
Caught sleeping with my puppy
While I didn’t require hospitalization, I rode through the delta wave infection with some pretty rough symptoms. I remember walking through my house all night long during the worst of it, because I feared I would drown in my congested lungs if I allowed myself to sleep. My quarantine lasted 21 days as I was still showing symptoms and testing positive at the 15-day mark.
I never felt like I fully recovered from covid.
The photo I sent my boyfriend when I found out I was sick
I found myself needing extreme amounts of sleep. I struggled to make it through a day of work and had to drastically cut my schedule of clients in order to nap in between sessions. On multiple occasions I would pull into a parking lot on my 40- minute commute home from the studio just to sleep for half an hour because I was so exhausted. I found myself searching for words that used to flow so easily. I couldn’t walk a flight of stairs without having to rest half way up because I would become so dizzy and breathless. My hands and feet would swell and my entire spine burned.
I asked my doctor to test me for mono and Lyme’s disease, but received negative results. Finally, after suffering for months, I was admitted into the long haul covid clinic at my county hospital. I spent 8 months working with a respiratory therapist and a year and a half with a neuro-cardiac therapist learning how to manage my many symptoms.
My journey with long haul covid is still on going. Since October of 2021, I have been poked, prodded, tested, evaluated and reviewed multiple times. Covid caused dysautonomia, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, syncope and mast cell activation syndrome. I can’t stand for long periods of time, because I get very dizzy. My heart rate will soar or plumet for no reason. I can’t regulate my body temperature anymore, especially in very hot or very cold temperatures. Sometimes I pass out if I stand too long or if I get too hot or too cold. My skin erupts with tiny blisters seemingly for no reason. Sometimes my throat forgets how to swallow. My spine often feels like it’s on fire. Sometimes my joints swell up. Sometimes I have tremors. My optic nerve is inflamed and my left eye shakes and often refuses to come into focus. I’m easily overwhelmed and my foggy brain often can’t handle simple tasks. I use a roller walker now, when I used to walk my dogs 5 miles each day. This is just a short list on-going symptoms that make every day a new adventure.
When it gets really tough, I remind myself that I survived a virus that has killed over six million people world-wide, but there are still days I mourn the person I was before I got sick. It’s not been easy to learn to live with a damaged autonomic nervous system.
The day I probably contracted covid
At this point, I’m doing my best to learn to live with my symptoms. The medical community is still shaking their heads at those of us who never fully recovered from covid. If I had a dollar for every time a doctor told me that they just don’t know enough about covid, I’d probably be able to pay off some of my ever-looming medical bills that I’ve incurred since I got sick. I’ve taken part in four studies on long covid and the dysautonomia it caused, and I keep searching for more.
I found my way back to art during the pandemic. I needed a way to ground myself during the chaos of the uprising amidst the lockdown and began sculpting, beading again and doing metal work again. My artwork has been supplementing my income since I’ve had to cut back on my hours of doing bodywork. I’m often seen at local art shows and maker markets, and I opened an Etsy store. I’m looking forward to writing about the work I’m creating here in the future.
The yoga studio I built before I got sick
I completed my Kriya yoga teacher training that I began the week the uprising started, but because of my dysautonomia, I had to adjust my yoga practice so I don’t get too dizzy or pass out. I’m not taking my long walks with the dogs anymore because I’ve passed out while walking them. Luckily, I wear a cross-body harness that I clipped their leashes onto, and they were still attached to me when I woke up. Even simple tasks can cause syncope, and my neighbors are caring enough to peek over the fence when they know I’m gardening or shoveling snow, because they have either witnessed my syncope or heard about the experience through the neighborhood grapevine. I’m so lucky to have such good friends around me.
Many of those good friends have been asking when I’ll be bringing back my blog.
Honestly, writing has been hard. Brain fog and brain fatigue have been some of the most challenging symptoms of long covid. My words used to come to me so easily. Now, finding the right ones is challenging and sometimes, very frustrating. I miss getting my ideas out on paper though. I always felt better when I sat back and read what I wrote, and from the emails I’ve received since starting this blog, quite a few of you have felt better after reading my work too.
So, I’m making a promise to myself, with you as my witness, that I will sit down and write more often. I’ll allow myself some grace when it gets overwhelming, but I won’t let being uncomfortable keep me from expression. I’ve already tucked a new notebook into my backpack so I have a place to scribble ideas and inspiration.
So, in the words of John Wick, “People keep asking if I’m back, and I haven’t really had an answer. But now yeah, I’m thinking I’m back”
Twisting and turning throughout the cosmos, the Ouroboros reminds us of the connections between beginnings and endings in the cycles of life.
Transformation is never a simple task. It is wrought with challenges and choices. One must be willing to find the courage to keep moving forward through the darkness of uncertainty.
This mala is the perfect tool to assist you through transformative growth.
Made from the vertebrae of a rattlesnake, this mala serves as a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms.
As we grow, we leave behind the things that no longer serve us in life. We shed the old and make way for the new.
The snake can be inspirational in this growth, as a snake shedding its skin always leaves it behind. It never tries to crawl back inside.
This mala contains 108 rattlesnake vertebrae held between two black glass beads. Each glass bead is separated by a small knot, representing the challenges in our lives. As we meditate with this mala, each vertebra is a step forward in our transformational journey.
We begin and end the circle journey with a devil’s seed pod, known to protect the bearer from malicious energy or entities.
The tassel is made with linen and silk threads embodying the energy of all things coming together as one.
Jezebel Pride 