trail of footprints

Pada means foot or part of a poem and implies a step or passage in the course of one's spiritual or holistic life. Padajna is to know these sacred footprints, and pada-viya is the trail left by the pada journey.

I would not think to touch the sky with two arms -Sappho, fragment 52

Me: witchy, feminist, perfumer, curator, writer, former circus girl. reading poetry, studying dreams, exploring forests, reading tea leaves, watching birds, talking to the moon. curled up with tea & blankets.

A note: I prefer feed readers, so I'm probably following you there & not here.


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posts tagged "autumn"

appalachiancharm:

"Autumn’s Dwelling". An old cabin located off the Blue Ridge Parkway. 
Jason Penland Photography

appalachiancharm:

"Autumn’s Dwelling". An old cabin located off the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Jason Penland Photography

(Source: facebook.com, via thelittlehermitage)

darkface:

Image by Serdar-T
tastefullyoffensive:

[jimbenton]
90377:

Autumn morning by Bushman.K on Flickr.
colin-vian:

  Isaak Brodsky (1884-1939) - Foglie cadute, 1915

colin-vian:

  Isaak Brodsky (1884-1939) - Foglie cadute, 1915

(via graveyarddirt)

forestmist:

foggy autumn by Suvelis
allthingseurope:

Slovakia (by Zoltan Duray )
usvakorpi:

Autumn and Vantaajoki, Finland.
©Usvakorpi

usvakorpi:

Autumn and Vantaajoki, Finland.

©Usvakorpi

sapphire1707:

Autumn mood | by autumn_soul | http://ift.tt/1uwOWdo

sapphire1707:

Autumn mood | by autumn_soul | http://ift.tt/1uwOWdo

(via thelittlehermitage)

90377:

_MG_2047Brouill by jeanchristophe.jacques on Flickr.

Loss ↘

"But to be a Witch is to reject the false duality of Patriarchy, to embrace the dark along with the light, to refuse to make an enemy of our own death. We can use the tools of the Craft to deal with our losses in a responsible, Witch-like way, rather than in the irresponsible, puer-tainted way that Patriarchy encourages."

with-grace-and-guts:

This is my space by Kahoumono on Flickr.
charmcore:

The last embers of the ninth month flicker and expire.  September packs its bags.  We hunker down and hope the harvest has been good.  We touch a match to the wicks.  Our root cellars neatly packed, our cider mills a-turning, we wait and watch the darkening horizon for the next month to bring what it may.
Now the lights must come from within our cottages, our chateaux, our caves both sea and non-.  September brushes summer with its fingertips; soon we stand only in its penumbra.  Instead, now, bonfires, hearths, candles (taper and tea), even mildly dazzling company, any luster against the dark.
Am I being dramatic?  Mayhap.  But does thou recall last winter?  I cannot shake it.  Cailleach the Winter-Bringer was raging out of conTROL.  I am all for hag shit, but there are only so many vortexes we can be asked to entertain before our hospitality runs perilously dry.
September is all but spent.  Light the peat fire and get me a hot drink.

charmcore:

The last embers of the ninth month flicker and expire.  September packs its bags.  We hunker down and hope the harvest has been good.  We touch a match to the wicks.  Our root cellars neatly packed, our cider mills a-turning, we wait and watch the darkening horizon for the next month to bring what it may.

Now the lights must come from within our cottages, our chateaux, our caves both sea and non-.  September brushes summer with its fingertips; soon we stand only in its penumbra.  Instead, now, bonfires, hearths, candles (taper and tea), even mildly dazzling company, any luster against the dark.

Am I being dramatic?  Mayhap.  But does thou recall last winter?  I cannot shake it.  Cailleach the Winter-Bringer was raging out of conTROL.  I am all for hag shit, but there are only so many vortexes we can be asked to entertain before our hospitality runs perilously dry.

September is all but spent.  Light the peat fire and get me a hot drink.

brutalgeneration:

201211221074 (by peterbaker)

brutalgeneration:

201211221074 (by peterbaker)

(via queen-of-mists)