To return again and again…

Forgive me beauty, it has been over 8 months since I have published here. Cycles and their explorations do that. Happen, go deep, need time, bubble back up again then need to be expressed, so that there can be more happening… to go deep…

This last cycle has been a big one and now all is changed. A new era has arrived of my life and I am to allow this next self a bit of a moment to catch her breath. I have been my families carer for many years, at the cost of my career… strange how there is but a one little “e” between the too… tis more an “i” though I seek now.

If I were to be living only for me, not the caring of other, who would I be?

This is the new quest.

So, where do I put me now? Into cooperatives! A new way for me, a very old vessel, but finding new application as the laws become less prohibitive and more supportive of a powerful tool for many to be in charge of themselves. I have been learning the warp and weft of building cooperatives from the most amazing group of humans. Earthworkers.  Having traveled for over a year now, and still learning so much, I am feeling emboldened to begin another cooperative…. a secret for now, but one that makes my journey with the blood an epic adventure to share.

There is more to know, more to unfold of this next level of me, being me, delivering me to the world in ways that can be shared effectively, opening to this next level of what it means to bleed well. What women, can do in circles, when we are living and breathing a state of deep support for self, for other women. Beyond that, what humans can do in circles is pretty awesome too!

What does our world look like when our sovereignty is no longer in question. Like the Urulu statement  power can and does co-exist, there is no need to live in the either or state. Powerful women, connected and sure of their purpose, strength and meaning in their lives comes at no cost to the menfolk but perhaps re-frames domesticity training. Allowing for all that dwell within a home to collectively own the work of said home.

There is much work to be done.

We can all feel it.

We have an entire culture to turn, face and meet these next decades in front of us all.

None of us get another planet to live on.

We need to meet this one where she is, do what we can with what we have.

Every single solution we need we already have, all we seem to lack the will to use it.

Time is now to build that will, own our core worth to self, to other, to Earth.

Our Time, Attention and Energy. These are our truest commodities. Where we put any of them needs to become our active decision, not our default setting, which in true capitalistic form, is set to the next shiny thing.

Know your blood self, whole self. Live in Circle when/where you can. Share your blood wisdom with your family blood and heart, that you may be where you are meant to be, doing what is next for you to do.

See you in the Arena.

From Subjection to Objection.

Women have been subjected to many many thousands of years of subjection… being made subject… other, not OF power in any given sentence, only contextualized by the object of the conversation… Him. He gave us meaning, value, any power we supposedly had was granted by Him. Father. Brother. Husband. God. Any of the Him’s.

Now, now we Object. We make one of the clearest Objections we can, “NO.” Just “NO”.

We are the objects of our own narrative, our own story that makes us the center, central and with the power we get to use. Actually, I need to contextualize this further. Western White Women… and probably Maga‘s at that, although that being said, there are some pretty potent young women out there owning the shit out of their lives. Women get to be the authors, the authority of our own lives. Maybe that is what the Dali Lama meant.

For years I have offered the wisdom of the Blood that I live with. I have offered the tools to build the capacity to access and live with a truth of self that no one can take from you. I can not give you this truth. I can only share with you the ways, by no means the only ways, to find a wisdom and power that comes from transmuting the power of an ancient curse, into a strength that few can undermine.

This is a deeply embedded curse, a truly life affecting curse. So, I make offerings of beauty and power and wisdom. Knowing I cannot make something sacred FOR anyone, you can only do that for yourself…. but the converse of that is true too… No one, never ever again, can take away the sacred way I know my blood to be. This. This I can live. Perhaps there is no accident in how close these words are… sacred and scared… Perhaps that is why I can not give this to women. I can only inspire them to claim it for themselves as they move through the fear that they were not born with. Fear they have learnt, often from their mothers and a culture that would have all women subjected, made subject, not object of their own world.

So, this International Women’s Day. I ask you, can you find yourself sacred? No longer scared of what stories have been told, words spoken to contain a force that is busting at the seams to change this world. Can we find our blood sacred? Can we offer our blood back to the earth in one of the most singular, simple, yet life changing rituals of life. Our blood, collected by simple re-useable means, returned to Earth, as sacrament. Our ancient, sacred, capacity to bring life into this world, overflows naturally to earth. When we give away the blood without wound.

 “…taking responsibility for your bleeding ways is the reality-based revolution founded between the soft, luscious thighs of every woman on this planet”

by Inga Music, from CUNT: a declaration of independence.

Blessings of the Blood upon us ALL, for there are many.


To thine own self be true…

To be my own primary relationship. To put me first in my life, with deference to those that rely upon me for sure, but understanding I can help no one without putting on the oxygen mask first!

Most of my life my other has either been my mother and then my daughter, now my mother again. Very occasionally I have had a lover that became a partner, really only 4 times, the longest a 4 year relationship that could have been 2, but I am grateful for the learning.

That was my last relationship, and the picture that accompanies this blog is a jewel that was gifted twice! Originally this pendant was a ring. A ring that I and some of my nearest and dearest sisters, bought for me for my 40th birthday.  There was a ceremony by the fire where I married my self, just quietly, just me there, surrounded by all that loved me.

That was an awesome party! I was living in Eltham, my first share house after my “divorce” from my daughter, she was on her way to living the life she could.  I was sharing with a couple of men for a change of energy. Feeling through some of my newly permitted sexual nature. I was dating intensively, and had met a man that had my attention. There was much to be shared, he seemed to be able to hold that, be with that. This delicious man was at this 40th birthday party. He witnessed much of me out loud.

Maybe only 2 months later, the ring broke. I sent it back to the jeweler and asked for it to be made into a pendant. When I reached for it to be returned, the jeweler said that she had lost it, not to be found anywhere.

Then I slipped, slowly into a kind of coma, a kind of trance where I began to place his needs, his perspective alongside/above? Hard to tell, but mostly there was another to consider beyond myself. This had a tremendous amount of love in the fiber of this attraction, and I was deliciously delusional, but that wore away. We found less and less actual attraction for one another, which could have been the indicator,  but we ignored it for a while longer. Eventually, there was a way out presented and we took it.

Once the beautiful man made it back into his own world, and I returned unto myself I began to remember who I am, what I am choosing to do with this blessed life. This content becomes clearer with each moon.

Then one of those moments that just remind us gently of the divine plan took place. The first woman that my now ex partner began a relationship with, turned out to be the jeweler, within weeks of their dating, my pendant returned and the work was completed and placed upon a beautiful chain. This was then gifted to me. Returned to me as it is now and shall be held as a sacred reminder that I am married. I am married to me.

I missed this Scent

When I very first began upon my blood reclaiming journey, I was often over powered by the scent. That strong, iron like, pungent rising waft from my skirts if I was having a day at home, on earth, to just bleed.

Now, 25 years later and that scent still arrests me, grabs my attention with both nostrils and asks me to breathe deeply the truth of this deeply natural cycle. Blood is Good. To Bleed is Blessed. As I have not bled, peri-menopausal, since June, I am cherishing this bleed even more.

My trusted Keeper, the rubber menstrual cup, from the beginning, has been part of the access to this raw goodness. Sometimes when I go to empty it, I get that hand covered in blood, that marking of me by an ancient power. I feel that ecstatically now. When I open and let the honest truth of our bleed, what lay within it’s wisdom, the power inherent by being a bleeding woman, I find that state, a kind of sexy that glows for hours!

You must know I didn’t start here. I brought myself, and now many others, HERE. In the lands where to bleed is sacred and precious. Where gifting to our Earth our blood is the most honest of rituals, perhaps even the first of our race.

To be with the natural world, in a harmony that only blood can express.  All I have done is paid deep attention to this place within. Listening. Moving. Making Magicks. Writing. Sharing the Love. Breathing Deeply This Powerful Scent!

Please, if you have ever wished to love your bleeding self and NOTHING in your culture has ever showed you how, consider StarFire.  Classes listed at

Blessings of the Blood Beautiful One, for there are so many!!

Breaking free from a sister’s curse.



I woke this morning from a very intense set of dreams, or one long dream, same same really. All the way through was a central theme; a woman I love, someone I knew for many years, (she kept changing) was and had been cursing me, containing me with magicks, dark and strong. In the dream I was finding way after way to meet this, to circumvent this, to find allies and ways and means to blast through the bounds, but it never fully made contact, nor did she ever get to fully bind me.

It is a good and juicy dream that I will chew on for a while, and explore the different ways in which I feel there is information in it, as one can do with dreams.

In my pondering this morning, my attention is brought to a conversation that I have been having with myself about me and my work and how it feels somewhat contained. Like someone/something has placed some kind of cone of silence or binding around me and my offerings. At first I just felt that there was a whole world binding on the menstrual goodness any woman can access, but as the red tide rises, and the menstrual awareness is becoming more commonplace… I wonder, is it just me?

I live in a small town that I know has a version of me that isn’t mine. I learnt that I am “that witch, with a coven, out there in the bush” It is true, I am a witch. Deeply proud of the work that is my calling; to relate to that direct conversation with the sacred, through thought, word, act and deed. I consider witchcraft to be a religion of poetry not theology (thanks StarHawk) I will explore this place ‘between’ for the rest of my life.

It is not just in my local sphere of influence that I feel contained though, as I often do not share what I do in my local surrounds, there is a stronger… something.

I get it, women are well trained to take other women down, especially if they are not being the allowed version of woman, the preferred kind of lady. Speaking to menstrual education, openly sharing the #loveoftheblood  makes a very dangerous woman indeed.

I will own, it may be of my own making. Some kind of protection as I was beginning, learning and needing to be cloaked in some way to allow myself to grow unseen, but like the tree guard that we use to allow the tree to grow un-browsed, soon it become a firm barrier to true potential.

So, this is me, taking down the guards, but not the wards. Allowing the full force of who I am and what I am here to share without a shadow of a doubt that I am a whole, real woman no different than any other. With different language, perspectives and skills because I taught myself, for sure, thus I can share deeply tools I have collected.

In these times we are living, learning to trust yourself, and building trusting relations with others, engaged in real relations with our earth… feels like the work we are here to do, now.

So much to share beautiful woman. Dive in. Swim Deep. Live Gently .


Cost of Treason? One’s truth!


To live one’s truth often means to deny the commonly held truths of our culture. There are a few that I challenge directly, daily, just by breathing. There is a big and terrifying truth that I consider my vocation.

Sharing the Love of the Blood.

To look in the mirror, any given day and truly love who you are, as you are, resilient to all the noise that will make you wrong as soon as you walk out that door. All the carry on that would like to take from you that glow, that grace, charging highly for the right to tell you that you are wrong and desperately need their version of right.

I reckon that is were I have failed, so far, in reaching out to women to share my work. For I don’t want to make any womb wearing human wrong for how they live with their womb, but I do want to share a Love of the Blood. A deep accepting, self honouring thus Earth honouring, Love of having a womb. Knowing that the womb governs so much of the experience of creation in our world.

Our fecundity; that rich, juicy overflowing capacity to create from a deeply aligned to the natural world place… that is what we have possible in our bodies. If we stop living from an externally defined mandate, and choose to listen; softly, gently to the wisdom of the womb, what would our world be like?

I get it. Firstly, it is treason to stop playing, turn away from and walk slowly off into the forest, mountain or ocean. Secondly, it feels like it will be a long lonely walk back towards a self that perhaps you may remember from being a child, that joy-full child that was the center of their own world. And I am not suggesting a narcissistic world view where it is ALL about you… What I am asking is, are you living aligned to your truth, that one that is in balance and harmony with the natural world.

I trust that none of us were born here to rape and pillage ourselves, each other or this blessed earth. Mortgaging today for some notion of retirement, or waiting to live only on the weekends or holidays. Spending time like it is an infinite resource when there is so very little of it left.

I know it is hard to go against the stream. I have been swimming upstream for 20 years, looking for the causal level of how women are contained in such a primal way. This is what I have returned with: StarFire, Harnessing the Fertile Force and the just birthing Earth Lodge that will be used to co-create a Womb Temple.

I know this work is best received in a women’s circle. A safe place where you get to return to long after I am gone and continue the work. This is no quick fix, read a book now you know the solution, stuff. This work goes to the fiber of your being and assists you to re-write your physical reality. When we change the belief, we change the experience.

To share the Love of the Blood, with your community of women, each cycle, deepening your strength, committing to a future lived in harmony with earth, building a more loving life for us all. The abundance that flows from women thus engaged is profound. I want to share a world with these humans. In time our community will begin to recognize the worth of this work too. Making it far less like treason and more like common sense, supporting us to leave off for a day or two, go deep within that one can return with the jewels of self and truly live in truth, with self, other and Earth.


A good death story.


Tis been a while between posts. I had a thing to be with. My life was surrendered to the loving of my father for his last few months of life, as well as assisting my daughter to head off for a 5 year adventure. Please, forgive my absence, but it was well worth it.

My father had abandoned me, my 3 siblings and Mum, when I was an 11 year old. During the last 35 years I have known little of his life, his world. Only snippets that would show me he was deeply controlled by his wife, a woman the rest of his family could not fathom either. He spent one year studying up the road from Mum’s house, so he created a fake class to put on his schedule so that for three hours each week, for two semesters, he came to our home, hung out and taught me to drive a car. I was 27.

For the next 20 odd years we saw barely anything of him, till about a year ago when his wife recognized, finally, that her children (same age/older than as him) where not interested in caring for Dad. As his Alzheimer’s progressed it became time for some intervention, directing traffic on the Eastlink was a thing, so after the 8th time he was brought home by a police car or ambulance they agreed to go into aged care. It was in Melbourne, 4 hours away from me, but they were safe.

Then came the call that Dad had struck one of the staff. He was becoming increasingly combative, he was struggling, this was 6-7 months into the care, this was a change that was not going to get better. From what I gleaned from the nurse, Dad’s wife had finally shown her colours/been seen, and was often observed being very cruel and verbally abusive towards Dad, even though he was obviously quite ill now. The nurse asked me to take him away from this, from her. In so many ways, this is what the little girl in me had always wanted to do, to rescue him, to love him openly again.

So, I did all the things. I became the legal guardian, discharged him from Melbourne and set him up in Lakes 12 minutes from my home. When he first arrived he was scared. He was contracted and many felt that he had but days left. I was with him 8+ hours a day, for each bed change, for each meal. I held his hand, gave him loads of Reiki and LOVED HIM for all that I am, for all the permission I gave us both. I enrolled every nurse and aid in that incredible facility to love him too. Gently he uncurled, he softened, he smiled and winked and touched the hearts of many there.

We had six and a half weeks together. I got him a special chair so that he could go out in a taxi. I then took him to the farm, three times, so that he could share just a little of my world, Mum’s world too. We went out on a boat to see the magnificence that is the Gippsland Lakes. Shared a Skype call with his brother who he hadn’t seen in many years. In the middle of the third week, Jasmine left for the UK for the next 5 years. That was a ripping open in the middle, but met and lovingly knowing it is for the most delicious time for her!

We did all the things till it was obvious there was no more to be done. We had lost the life we could have lived together long ago, we were but collecting together the ashes of what was left. Precious ashes that I will treasure till I return them to our home, in Powell River British Colombia, Canada.

As I sent away the chair, as I held my Mum and my Sister through our last evening together, sharing stories of how Mum and Dad met, the things Mum loved the most about him, what we each remembered. Everything slowed down to a state that trusted there was no where else to be, nothing else in my life could be this important to me, to my understanding of living, than to be with my Dad in the dying.

I had been bringing in my laptop every day to watch Sci-Fi together. We had watched all of the 7 Star Wars films, we were working through the second season of Star Trek Next Gen. That morning, I forgot my laptop. It was to be a different morning. I got there around 10am. I sat with him. I sang softly. I read him some of my book. I held his hand. I didn’t stop holding his hand. I assured him he was held, he was safe. Around 12 everything deepened, the energy changed. I cast a little circle around us, just to hold us both gently in this moment. I asked for his Mother, my Granny Good Witch, to come and meet us half way. Her delicious sassy self arrived palpably. I sat with my Father, gently holding his hand as the space between the breaths became longer and longer… till there was no breath, just space. A soft and held death, beautiful in so many ways.

I howled. I howled and howled and howled. I kept holding the hand of a Man I never really knew but never stopped loving. My greatest fear for him, that he would die alone, never realized, because I chose to hold him no matter what. I called my Mum, my Sister, and they were there before I told any staff. Time of death was 12.52pm 19th of October 2016. There was to be no funeral. This was all the space we had to say goodbye in. We stayed till we walked the empty shell down the corridor, out into the hearse. His cremated ashes now rest for a while where I can glance at them to inspire my return home, May 2017. There, then, Mum and Jasmine and I will scatter his ashes with his Mum’s ashes on the property where he and I grew up.

We have so much space for our birth stories, and as I have attended about 8 different births I understand how unique each of them are. As I have lived through this last month, I have come to feel that a death story, a good death story is as important to share. Indeed, many beautiful caring and loving friends have shared their stories and it has helped to rest in the knowing of a very human threshold I have crossed, to witness the death of a parent, a next stage of growing up.

This death was a beautiful moment in time, with ALL the love in it I could hold and much more as it cracked me open, not unlike the way I was cracked open giving birth to my daughter Jasmine. So much Love. So much to Love.

I hope this good death story holds you gently.

I am grateful to have somewhere to share it.

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