— Mary Oliver, "Why I Wake Early"

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we're not kids anymore.
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

#extradirty

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@another-animist
— Mary Oliver, "Why I Wake Early"

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The coolest thing about being an animist is that everyone is
Whoops! All Spirits
And you don't have to follow any super rigid rules other than being respectful and reciprocal fr
The most frustrating thing about being an animist is
Whoops! All Spirits
Because who knows who you're talking to, what names you give them or they give themselves, what category of whoever they might inhabit, and at the end of the day it actually doesn't matter 🥳
Sure you can do things in a Norse or Gaulish or whatever way and maybe there's coherent gods that you can worship there (pantheons are never neat and tidy and barely exist!) and MAYBE you do that enough to get to the god you actually set out to worship but MOST OF THE TIME
you're honoring certain ancestors by doing things a certain way, or a certain culture because you find it interesting and respect it (it's still ancestor veneration babey). My practice comes from weirdo shit I find interesting and want to honor, ancestral things near and far, and things that are comforting to me
Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by Richard Howard, from “The Rock Garden,”
always thinking of this poem
A selection of artwork I made for Carved in Stone, a comprehensive guide to early medieval Pictish society.
You can learn more about this incredible book here!

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Sawtooth Blackberry
I know a lot about esoterica but one of the things I know about it is that “divine feminine” is just misogyny in a nice dress
If “feminine” represents the mysterious, the unknown, the unknowable, what does that imply about the knowER, the seeker of knowledge? Who is being positioned here as the agent, and who as the object of study?
“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”
— Kahlil Gibran (via thecalminside)
Ram shaped gravestones of Tunceli province of Turkey.
Standing tall they feature reliefs of swords, daggers, shields, looms and sun discs.
To whom they belong remains debated, some claim them as Turkish, some as Kurdish and some as Armenian.
Dirt is sacred.
There is nothing wrong with leaving offerings on the naked earth.
When we die we are returned to the ground be it whole or as ash.
From the ground comes all our food, be it directly grown or eaten from to what else we eat.
There is nothing wrong with leaving offerings on leaves or stone, plates or trays but...
There is nothing wrong with laying them to the soil either.
The compost pile is as hallowed a hill as any shrine or shelf.

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Rocky Mountain mule deer Odocoileus hemionus hemionus
Observed by aydenburd, CC BY-NC
ÞÆS OFEREODE ÞISSES SWA MÆG
(that was overcome. so too may this.) from Deor, old english poem, c. 9th century.
new riso design! John Barleycorn is a folkloric figure considered the embodiment of the wheat harvest, and the subject of the English and Scottish folk song that describes the cyclical nature of his birth, death, and processing into bread and ale each year. this one was about the comfort in the constancy of things. the world could end. but the wheat field rises anew. the year turns around again.
SEAMUS HEANEY
500k years ago, an elk was struck by lightening and lived. The ache of it stayed in her bones the rest of her life. There was no human there to see it or record it in words, yet it’s just as much a part of earth’s essential history as any song lingering in a billion human minds.
This became a poem in my first poetry collection. Field Guide to the Haunted Forest by Jarod K. Anderson.

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I am gently taking your hands and begging you, BEGGING YOU, to understand that humans are not inherently harmful to the planet. We are animals who are part of the ecosystem. We belong here. This is our home. We belong here. You belong here. Yes, you belong here.
"My loyalties will not be bound by national borders, or confined in time by one nation's history, or limited in the spiritual dimension by one language and culture. I pledge my allegiance to the damned human race, and my everlasting love to the green hills of Earth, and my intimations of glory to the singing stars, to the very end of space and time." ~ Edward Abbey