✨ “Safety lives within me” ✨👆 this is a line from a poem that poured out of one of the women who circled up with us for the inaugural Spill the Tea gathering in honor of Mary Magdalene on her Feast Day. she shared how her poem surprised her with unveiling a deeper understanding of the ways she’s rejected the feminine in her life—all in the name of safety. yes, sister, yes. everyone on the call could feel this SO deeply. it was such a potent reminder & part of the wisdom that we explored in the herstory of Miryam of Magdala. how even when the world outside feels hostile or unsafe. even when we’ve rejected “feminine softness” in the name of protecting ourselves. we always seem to wind up learning that our safety lies within us first. honestly, i could have spilled the tea on beloved Miryam of Magdala for hours. but we kept it to 90 minutes as promise! if you'd like to catch the replay of our herstory circle {where i nerded out hard on my love for the Magdalene!}, you can pop over to Substack & upgrade to a paid membership for "Spill the Tea"
our next Spill the Tea gathering will be in honor of the upcoming Wheel of the Year holy day, the cross-quarter marker of Lughnasadh ~ this is the midpoint between Summer Solstice & the Autumn Equinox. i would love to have you there! ✨ what came up for you when you read that poem line "safety lives within me"...? can you feel any ways that you have rejected the feminine aspects of yourself in the name of sourcing safety outside of you? i'd love to hear your thoughts ~ just hit reply & let me know what's coming up for you. this is a topic we will continue to spiral with inside of Spill the Tea as we unpack the herstories of women who came before us, and all the stories we've been told of what it means to be a woman. Big Love, all ways always
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I'm Em, the herbalist, women’s health advocate, co-author of the Hay House published "Sacred Cycles Oracle," and Moon-loving-mystic behind Garden of the Moon. 🌙 Garden of the Moon's mission is to empower women to rewrite their limiting beliefs surrounding their bodies while rooting them in deep connection to the Earth.
it was one of those travel moments where you look around and wonder if maybe you’re on camera? or was that cacao brownie actually laced? or maybe God’s in the next room sitting in a director’s chair, orchestrating the whole thing… because there’s no way that you’re here at a rickety table with a plastic tablecloth in a little ramshackle restaurant, on the edge of a tiny town on the Caribbean coast, across the table is the new friend you’d just met earlier that day in the hostel, next to you a...
i cannot follow a recipe to save my life. that’s not true. i can follow a recipe—i just don’t want to. i’d rather see what happens when the found fixings in my fridge mingle in the pot alongside the reckless scoops of powdered spices i can taste melded together—even before they hit my tongue. what can i say. i cook like a witch. which, coincidentally, is also how i’ve learned to tend my bank account. yes, i’ve moved through seasons of debt & doubt & wanting what could feel more like...
hey Reader, can you feel it...? there’s a quiet remembering happening in the hearts of women everywhere. it’s a hunger for truth. a desire to reclaim what was lost. a fire to tell our own stories. “until the lioness learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter.” — African proverb before I was the tea witch behind Garden of the Moon… before I was an herbalist, health coach, or learned to walk with the Moon & my womb… i was a Women’s Studies major in undergrad. i still remember the...