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Tag Archives: Destiny books

The Poison Path Grimoire, by Coby Michael

The Poison Path Grimoire: Dark Herbalism, Poison Magic, and Baneful Allies, by Coby Michael
Destiny Books, 978-1644119952, 240 pages, November 2024

One of the most time-worn conversations in magic is the debate between light and dark magic. Which is stronger? Which extracts the higher price for knowledge or skill, and how might one get started on either path? While this book doesn’t answer any of those questions, it does provide unique insight into the idea of intentional knowledge gathering, which might prove to be helpful in determining which is the right path to follow.

As an occult herbalist and magical practitioner who teaches about the ritual use of poisonous and psychoactive plants, Coby Michael is well positioned to opine about the topic in his book The Poison Path Grimoire: Dark Herbalism, Poison Magic, and Baneful Allies. While one could certainly dive into this book and gain knowledge of the darker side of herbalism, my recommendation would be to pick up and read his first book, The Poison Path Herbal, prior to doing any work with this one. Trust me on this. Having said that, it isn’t a requirement to have read anything prior to delving into this tome; I personally feel that the reader would benefit from having both books.

The book is sectioned into various topics that deal with areas such as the context of poison, the variety of paths in this practice, and much more. It’s hard to choose one area to explore as it’s all fascinating; however, the section I was drawn to dealt with botanical allies. Here we are introduced to numerous herbs that “offers a compilation of some of my favorite baneful plant allies to work with”1, Michael explains. He goes on to provide some context for the plants, stating that “not all of them are harmful or adversarial or thorny”2 and that each exhibit some quality of ‘otherness’ which is not limited to plants that are poisonous, but also apply to most of the natural world.

Great care is taken to showcase details regarding each herb and plant listed in this section. Michael is careful to provide thorough information regarding uses and associations. For example, in the section for aconite, Michael goes into detail about how it was associated with the Goddess Hecate, and how to safely work with it today. He also describes other uses for the herb, both medicinal and spiritual in the context of spell craft or warding. It’s fascinating to read about how this specific plant was cultivated by monks and used for their everyday remedies as well as recognizing the connection through Hecate. 

Like all plant and herbology books, this one also comes with a stern warning. If you’ve ever partaken of plant medicine or related ceremonies outside of the common usages, you most likely have been given a variation of this warning. I personally have not ever participated in plant ceremonial magic, and the caution Michael gives is a sobering one meant to dissuade those who would use the information in this book for anything other than what it was intended for: personal enlightenment.

Michael cautions the reader, saying:

“Poisonous and psychoactive plants can open us up to very primal and sometimes ambivalent forces. This is why it’s important to work with these plants in a ritual setting with a clear intention and clear boundaries. Disrespecting this boundary and working with these plants recreationally once you have entered into spiritual relationships with them can spell trouble.”3

This makes sense on many levels, as one thing people are told prior to taking plant medicine is that they need to have clear intentions as to why they are partaking. Having a clear ‘why’ provides a much more balanced experience. Michael says, “our experiences with these plant allies are often very powerful, sometime traumatic, and in the end cathartic if properly processed. If left in an unprocessed state, however, these experiences can lead to mental and spiritual disturbances.”4

Interestingly, there is also another caution in this section, this one against using the book too frequently. It is recommended that practitioners of the poison path should observe cleansing rituals and work with healing herbs to balance their work with the other. Michael includes a selection of herbs he uses to counteract the aftereffects of the herbs used in his own practice. He recommends brewing a nourishing tea after working with baneful allies, as it’s a wonderful way to reconnect after doing the work.

The information in The Poison Path Grimoire is beyond useful and a must for anyone interested in baneful herbs and how to incorporate their uses into personal practice. It’s a magical book filled with dark herbalism, left-hand-path philosophy, shadow work, and spellcraft. While tempting to describe the work as dark, it’s also healing, empowering, and uplifting as the information presented enriches one’s personal practice.

Ancient Goddess Magic, by Vanessa Lavallée

Ancient Goddess Magic: Invoking the Queens of the Heavens, by Vanessa Lavallée
Destiny Books, 1644116456, 176 pages, November 2024

Those who feel connected to the stars most likely have learned about the mythology of the Greek and Roman pantheons, or perhaps even the ancient Mayan, Native American, or Vedic stories of the skies. But even deeper, layered in history, are celestial roots of influential goddesses that once held very important roles in ancient religions.

Ancient Goddess Magic: Invoking the Queens of the Heavens by Vanessa Lavallée is a fascinating exploration into the world of goddess worship and  astral magic, offering modern readers a chance to create spiritual practices based upon thousand-year old religious practices and recall the connection of the divine feminine to the constellations above. In this book, Lavallée, who holds a master’s degree in ancient religion, weaves back together the relationship between goddesses and the astral realm, sharing with readers a much-needed remembrance of the many faces of the goddess, shining among the stars, that can still be drawn upon today.

“The constellations and stars that were revered by our ancestors continue to exist, but they don’t learn about them as much as we did before, and we certainly do not know where they are in the firmament. This simple fact is the reason why we tend to analyze the ancient world through a sense that has forgotten that deities were once very present and real for our ancestors.”2

Lavallée begins the book by sharing her path towards exploring ancient goddess history and astral magic. Within the Preface, she explains her background (she’s currently writing a thesis “about the demonic feminine”4 (so cool!) and along the way noticed the connection ancient goddesses had with patterns and symbols associated with specific stars and constellations. Recognizing entire books could be dedicated to this each goddess, Lavallée chose “goddesses and their respective celestial bodies according to the types of magic and power they hold”5 to categorize the ancient goddesses into four types: Creatrix, Warrior, Healer, and Lady of the Sea.

In the Introduction, Lavallée liberates the goddess from the narratives of archeologists in the 19th and 20th century, which “assumed that all goddesses found in the Mediterranean and Europe were fertility deities”6. She explores how values and perspective have shifted overtime, from the symbolic and mythological significance of the stars that began in the Upper Paleolithic era to the prevalence of an anthropomorphic male deity that has come to dominate religion. This section was absolutely fascinating, especially as someone who feels a deep connection to the Goddess. The history of how ancient goddess worship shifted, whether it be from a patriarchal perspective pushing aside the feminine or a modern reductionist lens of their power, was revitalizing to discover.

“Most Goddesses, meanwhile, were, for quite some time, more often associated with the heavenly skies, especially the night sky—before the male sky gods overturned their sovereignty.”7

The following chapters are each dedicated to one of the goddess categories. At the start of the chapter, there is a list of the goddesses covered, a quote, and a table that tells the celestial bodies, symbols, season, and symbolic message associated with the type of goddess. Depending on the goddess type, Lavallée covers six to ten goddesses within each chapter, covering their mythology, history, and influence in their culture. She also describes religious syncretism and how some goddesses shifted into others with the rise and falls of different cultures. The goddesses described come from a variety of cultures too—Mesopotamia, Phoenician, Egyptian, Canaanite—as well as general locations, such as Allat from the “pre-Islamic Arabian Peninsula.”8. This is interesting to read about because it shows how goddesses can transcend cultures, which shift and evolve through time, and remain tied to the land and sky of the region.

Throughout the chapter, there is added text that shares information beyond the scope of the specific goddesses. Some examples of these are “Relationship of Hecate to the Hittite Sun Goddess of Arinna”9, “Eagle Lore in the Ancient Worldview”10, “Sirius, Guardian of the Milky Way”11, and “The Legend of Corona Borealis”12. Then at the end of the chapter, Lavallée shares the symbolic message for the goddess-type along with ideas on how to work with that face of the goddess.

The final chapter, “Celestial Healing”, is rituals that Lavallée has adapted for modern readers based on ancient sources. The first one is modeled from mîs-pî, “the washing of the mouth”13, which was described on cuneiform dating back to ancient Mesopotamia, done to breathe life into a new effigy of a deity. The second one is another Mesopotamian ritual to invite protective spirits, called lamassu, into figurines. Lavallée also shares invocations for the Creatrix, Warrior, Healer, Lady of the Sea, and Queen of Heavens. Other rituals include dream incubation under the stars, taking a celestial bath, purifying and protecting the home, and making peace with death. The step-by-step instructions given by Lavallée ensure all readers can successfully perform these rituals or ceremonies with ease.

One of the greatest strengths of this book is Lavallée’s ability to blend historical scholarship with practical spirituality. Her writing is both scholarly and accessible, providing a well-rounded perspective on the subject matter. All of the content is well researched and up to date in regard to modern religious studies. Lavallée quotes or refers to the writing of other scholars and authors, pointing readers in the direction of other material they can explore to learn more. There’s a long bibliography at the end of the book, along with a detailed index to find just what you’re looking for, if needed.

Additionally, the book’s inclusive approach, embracing goddesses from various cultures, adds a rich diversity that broadens the reader’s understanding of goddess spirituality through time. As someone who aspires to be a scholar of goddess worship, and thus has read countless books on the subject, this has been one of the most awakening and well-written ones I’ve ever come across. For the past few months, I have let myself linger while reading, taking the time to immerse myself in the celestial magic of the goddesses Lavallée shares and doing my own research. This book has been a springboard for revelation, inspiring dozens of pages written in my journal.

Overall, Ancient Goddess Magic is a valuable resource for anyone interested in exploring the world of goddess worship and celestial magic. Vanessa Lavallée’s insightful approach combines historical knowledge with practical application, sharing with readers how they can draw upon the strength of the goddess in their own lives. This book is extremely relevant for anyone who wants to learn more about goddesses throughout time, especially since the ancient goddesses tend to be overlooked for the more popular Western goddesses. I can say with confidence, this has been one of the best books of 2024 that I’ve read!

Song of the Dark Man, by Darragh Mason

Song of the Dark Man: Father of Witches, Lord of the Crossroads, by Darragh Mason
Destiny Books, 1644119099, 208 pages, August 2024

Darragh Mason’s Song of the Dark Man beckons readers down a crooked, thorn-riddled forest path to meet the Devil at the crossroads. Following the haunting melody of his Pan pipes through a captivating blend of folktales, historical records, and contemporary testimonies, Mason seeks the elusive figure of the Dark Man of the Witches’ Sabbath, whose children are “the witches and storytellers.”1

Divided into two parts, this book delves into the historical context of the Dark Man, including the chilling accounts of the Scottish witch trials, and then explores the lived experiences of present-day witches who have encountered the Dark Man. Mason invites readers to sit beside an ancestral campfire, for “this is a work created in the spirit of the sagas and poems sung by our forebears.”2

Darragh Mason is an award-winning photographer, researcher, and author, best known for his work on the Djinn and the Aghori Hindu sect. He also hosts the award-nominated paranormal podcast Spirit Box. Mason doesn’t claim to be a scholar or an authority on witchcraft. “This book is for the curious and the haunted,”5 he says.

Mason asserts that the Dark Man is a spectral figure lurking in the shadows of our collective unconscious.

“Our folktales are remnants of the dreamtime memories of our ancestors, a memory of an age before the veil between the imagined and the material hardened over,” Mason says. “If our folktales are our dream history, then the Dark Man has haunted our dreams since the beginning.”6

He is the shadowy muse behind obsessive artistic expression, inspiring great works of art at a potentially destructive cost to the artist. “The Witchfather is dangerous, ruthless, and may devour you,”7 Mason warns readers. “Those who worked with him in the past were known as cunning folk for a reason, in that they could work with him and not get eaten.”14 Mason claims this book was written at the behest of Lucifer.

In many folktales, the Dark Man “is a composite figure of the Fairy King, Devil, and Lord of the Dead.”15 Mason delves into the paranormal phenomena associated with this dreadful specter, such as the infamous “Devil’s Footprints”16 and the eerie tales of black riders spiriting people away to fairy realms. One account that particularly resonated with me was the phenomenon of the “Hairy Hands.”17 During the 1920s, witnesses in Devon, England claimed that phantom hairy hands had hijacked control of their vehicles, leading to numerous accidents along the B3212 road. 

This account gave me chills because of my own experience of seeing a disembodied hairy hand when I was about three years old. I lived in Florida, not England, and I have never heard of anyone else experiencing this phenomenon before I read this book. One morning, while my dad was getting ready for work and my mom was still asleep, I was sitting at our glass dining room table eating cereal, when I noticed a strange shadow on the chair beside me. I was startled by how much it resembled a werewolf’s hand, with hairy, splayed fingers and long claws. Feeling more curious than afraid, my eyes searched the room, trying to figure out what was casting the shadow, but found nothing. My father seemed oblivious to the phantom hand as he continued his morning ritual, pacing back and forth, gathering his things and adjusting his tie, so I didn’t mention it to him, and wondered if I was imagining it. Later that morning, I told my mother about the strange shadow, and she confessed that she had also seen this hairy hand, only it had appeared to her in the flesh, crawling up the wall.

Another account that struck a chord with me was that of Shullie H. Porter, a hereditary witch, who “was born dead with her umbilical cord around her neck.”18 While I wasn’t born dead, the circumstances surrounding my birth were strikingly similar. My mother described my face as purple, like a grape, due to the umbilical noose strangling my neck. Discovering that I share this rare birth complication with another modern witch, I can’t help but wonder if it might mirror the traumatic death of being hanged, perhaps for witchcraft, in a past life.

Porter was also given the same name for the Dark Man as he once gave me during a telepathic conversation. “I know who he is now,” she says. “I don’t mind saying his name—it’s Samael.”19 This revelation, coupled with our shared birth trauma, has validated and reaffirmed my personal connection to the Dark Man and the chthonic current into which he initiated me.

In Jewish folklore, Samael, the venom of God, was the name of the satanic serpent in the Garden of Eden, who impregnated Eve with Cain. In traditional witchcraft, witches are believed to be descended from the Cainite lineage of serpent seed. This is the source of the so-called witch blood, which Mason prefers to call a “fire in the blood,”20 and I love this poetic description, because I like to think of it as a bright etheric venom burning in the veins. In the foreword to this book, Peter Mark Adams, author of The Game of Saturn,  further defines witch blood as “the inherited imprints of initiations and devotions undertaken within an ancestral line”21

After revealing his name to me, the Dark Man visited me in a vivid dream, clad in black and wearing a deer skull mask, bestowing upon me a pair of antlers that I felt physically fusing to my skull. Upon waking, my crown was still tingling with the sensation of the astral antlers, and I immediately recorded this experience in my dream journal. Through subsequent research, I discovered that horns are sometimes associated with the biblical Mark of Cain. This oneiric vision served as a profound confirmation of my initiation into the mysteries of the Dark Man and the witch’s Cainite inheritance of the mark of the crooked path of exile.

The magical significance and sacred power of horns and antlers is explored in an interview with Orion Foxwood, a traditional witch and Appalachian Conjure man. Foxwood says that horns “pierce the veil between seen and unseen,” and “the deer in the faery tradition is the psychopomp between the worlds.”22 With this in mind, it makes perfect sense that one of the Dark Man’s epiphanies is the deer. Mason also notes that, in the confessions of the seventeenth-century Scottish witch Isobel Gowdie, sometimes the Dark Man “would copulate with the witches in the form of a deer or other forms, and they would never refuse him.”23 

The sexual initiation of the Dark Man in the guise of a lusty horned beast is significant when one considers the historical demonization of sexuality by monotheism.

“Christianity’s virgin birth to a celibate God severed copulation from female sexuality in particular, removing it from its rightful place of veneration to a place of revulsion and fear,” Mason says. “This tragedy led to the desacralization of the earth which, combined with monotheism and the demonization of the Dark Man, is catastrophic.”24

“Thus,” Mason further observes, “the vulva cave became the hellmouth, changing from a source of wonder and the threshold of creation to a place of corruption and spiritual danger.”25 The Dark Man is a wild god who reclaims the kingdom of the earth and restores the sacredness of the flesh. His sexual initiation is a primal act, a defiance of the puritanical chains that bind us. His carnal embrace offers liberation to the untamed beast within.

I was intrigued to learn that this ancient ritual union of humanity with the wilderness is still preserved in the symbolic marriage of a girl to a feral goat during the annual Irish Puck Fair, which takes place from the 10th to 12th of August, in close proximity to the pagan festival of Lughnasadh, suggesting pre-Christian roots. “The Puck Fair’s main event is the capture of a wild billy goat that is then crowned King Puck,” Mason says. “King Puck has a bride, traditionally a schoolgirl from one of the local primary schools.”26 Queen Puck, the Goat Bride, brings to mind mythical brides of the Devil, such as Lilith and Persephone.

By transcending boundaries and limitations, often in shocking or taboo ways that invert monotheistic beliefs, the Dark Man and his witches challenge a dualistic worldview, which tends to separate humanity from nature and the divine. This rejection of separation can lead to a deeper connection with the natural world and a sense of unity with all beings. “The composite nature of the Dark Man and the shape-shifting of the witches all point to nondualism and a rejection of our separation,”27 Mason says.

The primal experience of encountering the Dark Man can make it difficult to interface with modern technology. Many devotees of the Dark Man, including the author himself, have felt guided to disengage from the trappings of social media. As Mason puts it, “the Dark Man experience pushes us to protect our imaginal spaces, to maintain their integrity from the encroachment of invasive technologies and their wake.”28 This resonated deeply with me because I also feel he has urged me to limit my use of technology and abandon social media platforms. The incoherent, distracting white noise of social media fragments consciousness and interferes with our ability to hear the Dark Man’s song. His palpable presence demands that we turn within instead, realign with our intuition and creativity, and follow our soul’s purpose. As a deity of Fate, that purpose also serves his own mysterious agenda.  

Whether the Dark Man appears as an eldritch black figure with a phantom hand upon the wheel of fate, or as a spectral stag, his cloven footprints leaving the devil’s mark upon virgin snow, he is an eternal symbol of the primal forces that shape our destinies. He is the embodiment of the void that lies beyond the veil of consciousness, the dark matter of the soul. Through the eyes of modern witches, we witness his presence, feel his power, and experience the profound initiation he offers. 

Song of the Dark Man is more than just a collection of tales; it is a ritual, a summoning of the Dark Man into our collective consciousness. It challenges us to confront our deepest fears and embrace the unknown.

Raise Your Frequency, Transform Your Life, by Selina Maitreya

Raise Your Frequency, Transform Your Life: How to Respond with Love to Life’s Difficulties, by Selina Maitreya
Destiny Books, 979-8888500460, 208 pages, June 2024

Raise Your Frequency, Transform Your Life: How to Respond with Love to Life’s Difficulties by Selina Maitreya is a compelling guide to elevating one’s personal energy levels to achieve greater well-being and fulfillment. Maitreya, a well-respected spiritual teacher and intuitive, combines her profound knowledge and experience to offer practical advice and transformative exercises.

The book is divided into several sections, each focusing on different aspects of raising one’s vibration. Maitreya begins by explaining the concept of frequency and how it relates to our everyday lives. Her encouraging words remind readers they have the power to control how they respond to life’s circumstances, especially once they understand their own spiritual nature as “a multidimensional being filled with frequencies that can be simply defined as both high (Oneness, higher consciousness wisdom, love) and love (fear, judgment, anger, jealousy, lack) energies working within a dense, solid form: your physical body.”7

While many might focus on thinking good thoughts or evoking positive emotions, Maitreya teaches that it’s our energetic frequency that is the most important tool for guidance. Just like our behaviors, we develop frequency response patterns throughout our lives, which often stems from our unconscious fears and conditioning.  But with the tools offered in this book, new habits of high-vibrational frequency responses can be achieved, transforming the reader’s life in the process.

Topics covered in this book include how to develop the awareness necessary to fine-tune your frequency, using fear as a tool for transformation, tackling resistant patterns that keep you stuck, cultivating self-care and love, understanding and overcoming triggers, and practical techniques to shift one’s vibration and remain in a higher frequency day-to-day no matter what life throws your way.

One of the strengths of the book is its actionable steps. Maitreya doesn’t just present theories; she provides readers with tangible practices to implement in their daily routines. From meditation techniques to mindful breathing exercises and prayer, the book is filled with tools that can be easily integrated into busy lives. Maitreya emphasizes the importance of self-awareness and self-care. She encourages readers to conduct an honest assessment of their current energy levels and to identify areas where they may be leaking energy. This introspective approach allows for a personalized journey towards higher frequency living.

“When you choose to respond to low-vibrational experiences from Oneness you completely transmute the frequency of what has arrived in your life. You literally change dark to light, and you begin the journey of reclaiming your gift of peace, neutrality, and abundance.”29

The writing style of this book is both inspiring and comforting, making readers feel supported and understood. Maitreya’s compassionate voice shines through, creating a sense of connection and trust. Her anecdotes and real-life examples add a personal touch that make the content relatable and motivating.  Plus, besides individual practices, the book also explores how raising one’s frequency can positively impact relationships and community interactions. Maitreya illustrates how higher energy levels can lead to more harmonious and fulfilling connections with others, enhancing the overall quality of life.

This book was a very helpful read as I was moving through a transition in life. It helped shift my perspective, moving from confusion and frustration into acceptance and excitement, which made the situation overall a lot better. I’ve enjoyed reflecting on Maitreya’s wisdom, especially when the news comes on and anger or fear starts to take over. Utilizing the techniques in this book, I am able to find my own vibration again and open to the frequency of peace, grace, and unity.

Overall, Raise Your Frequency, Transform Your Life is a valuable resource for anyone looking to elevate their personal energy and transform their life. Selina Maitreya’s insightful guidance and practical advice make this book a must-read for those on a path of personal growth and spiritual development. We have so much power within us that grows as our awareness expands to focus on the unity and Oneness in life.

The Stained Glass Tarot, by James Edward

The Stained Glass Tarot: An Illuminated Journey through the Cards, by James Edward
Destiny Books, 9798888500828, 336 pages, 78 cards, 2024

In this beautiful deck, The Stained Glass Tarot: An Illuminated Journey through the Cards, creator James Edward presents 78 stunning cards filled with rich imagery and breathtaking stained glass images. Calling on the artwork from stained glass found around the world in churches, cathedrals, and other places dedicated to the sacred, Edward accents the cards in black and gold.

Each card features at least one stained glass window, which is usually the backdrop. The 9 of Cups has 13 stained glass windows! It is truly amazing how he creates each card as a masterpiece, with rich jewel tones and rays of light that shine through his creations. 

The Stained Glass Tarot presents a guidebook that shares Edward’s inspiration for the deck, how to use the deck, and numerous ideas for spreads. Next, he includes a brief history of tarot and how tarot blends with astrology, numerology, and alchemy. He also touches on Carl Jung and how the Swiss psychologist used tarot for “self-discovery and personal growth.”1

In the back of the book, Edward provides a list of books on tarot for further information. My favorite on this list is The Devil’s Playbook: The Complete Guide to Tarot Cards by Paul Huson!

Edward explains that when he was taken to church as a child, he would sit and watch “the bright morning light that shone through the glass, dyeing my skin and endlessly enchanting my vision.”2 He further notes:

“I have tested my response to stained glass numerous times and have confirmed that anytime I am in the presence of stained glass, I experience the same feelings — wonder, awe and peace.”3

In addition to the daunting task of creating the stained glass inspired artwork for each card, Edward also gave himself the challenge to write a poem about the major arcana, the minor arcana, and every other card in the 78-card deck! He also includes key words for each card.  For the major arcana, Edward presents the following for each card within the guidebook:

• Poem to capture the elements of the card’s energy
• Card Upright meaning
• Card Reversed meaning
• Astrological meaning
• Obscure meaning
• Jungian interpretation
• Card meanings for each of these situations:

  • Love and relationships
  • Health and well-being
  • Money and careers
  • Spirituality and spiritual development
  • Seeking clarity
  • Answer to:  How is my past affecting my present?
  • Ancestral influence
  • Unknown or hidden influence

For the 56 cards of the minor arcana, Edward devotes eight pages to a study of the suits and extensive information about each one. Next, he shares two to three pages on each card, starting with a poem about the main themes. Then he presents basic meanings for both upright and reversed positions and key words.

To test drive the deck, I pulled a card for my daily card draw. I asked for guidance regarding some goals I recently set. I drew the Star card. What a magical card! In Edward’s deck, this card shows a woman holding a star and accented by stars. She appears to wear a halo and has on medieval dress, complete with what appears to be armor on her shoulders. She is pensive, but hopeful. In the guidebook, Edward shares:

“It indicates that, after a period of darkness or uncertainty, one can have faith in the future and look forward to brighter possibilities. . . In an upright position, the querent will see a clearer picture of the path they must take to resolve their situation or overcome their problem.  . .  moving forward with a renewed sense of hope and inspiration.30

I also did a reading for one of my friends and pulled the Knight of Pentacles card. I shared that this card revealed a message about stepping back and reviewing her progress. There might be a need to be more flexible, also. My friend almost started crying. She told me about a difficult situation at work and that this short message was the guidance she needed to keep going.

The cards are a nice size, at 3” X 5” and feature rounded corners and a white border. The cards are printed on a light card stock, so time will tell how it holds up with shuffling. The back of the cards highlights a beautiful stained glass window, with a round central design and an eight-pointed star. The front of the box honors the artwork from the Magician card. The box includes a magnetic flap, two indented areas for the cards and ample room for the guidebook. 

This deck would be great for any level of tarot reader, including a beginner.  Due to the tarot history and “how to” section, as well as the guidance for each card, a novice would really benefit from practicing with this deck. The poems are a very nice addition to the guidebook, as each poem gives hints to the energy of the card and the rhyming stanzas give the brain something interesting to read, enjoy and retain.

I plan to keep The Stained Glass Tarot on hand for client readings. The extensive guidance will make a nice addition to my readings and the beautiful cards are an extra bonus. I really love this deck!

About the Author

James Edward has more than 20 years of experience in witchcraft, animism and other areas of the occult. He follows the symbology of the Rider-Waite tradition in creating this deck. As a chemist by day who works with a chemical company, Edward also enjoys house remodeling, cooking, and adding to his Tamagotchi collection. He currently enjoys his many cats and his home in southeastern Texas.

Encounters with Mermaids, by William R. Mistele

Encounters with Mermaids: Lessons from the Realm of the Water Elementals, by William R. Mistele
Destiny Books, 1644117428, 320 pages, August 2024

Encounters with Mermaids: Lessons from the Realm of the Water Elementals by William R. Mistele is a captivating dive into the mystical world of mermaids, enchanting readers from start to finish. Mistele, a well-known author in the field of esoteric studies, invites us into a realm where the boundaries between realms blur, offering profound reflections on the nature of existence and the mysteries of the ocean. Going beyond the the common perceptions of mermaids, Mistele leads the way to long-forgotten realm of powerful elemental beings, noting:

“The undines described in this book are not half fish and half human. They are not attached to any well, lake, river, or ocean. No religion, race, or ethnic group has an affiliation with them. They do not belong to mythology or to the past. They do not need to be protected or sentimentalized. They are neither inferior nor fragile. They are not an endangered species.

They are in the form of beautiful women and are masters of the magic of water and magnetism. They embody and guard the treasures of empathy, sensuality, and love that the human race has yet to discover. In this regard, they are our teachers.”31

The book is structured in three parts. “Part 1: Nature Spirits in Our World” provides an overview of the five elements (Akasha, Fire, Water, Earth, and Air) and then a deep-dive into Undines, elemental water beings. While connection with these realms is possible, Mistele does a wonderful job emphasizing the challenges that come from opening oneself to them, writing “When going beyond the normal modes of perception, there is always a danger of disorientation.”32

Mistele offers a lot of personal advice about working with elemental beings in the astral plane along with detailing  the Franz Bardon approach for readers to develop their own form of elemental communication. He covers topics such as electric fluid and magnetic fluid, mediumship, types of alternative perceptions, and the hermetic roots of the Franz Bardon system, which feels a little heady, but sets a good foundation for moving forward in the book.

“Part II: Meetings with Undines” unfolds as a series of encounters between Mistele and various mermaids, though most of the focus is on one undine in particular: Istiphul. Istiphul is a very ancient water elemental being who has mastered “the magnetic fluid”33. Mistele has been dialoging with her since 1995, detailing his encounters in vivid and poetic language. There’s a strong emphasis on Istiphul’s beauty, but Mistele also describes her physical, etheric, astral, and mental body to paint a real picture for readers.

There’s also a chapter on  other undines–Osipeh, Istiphil, and mermen Ermot–in which Mistele shares his dialogues with them as well. Mistele’s encounters are deeply spiritual experiences that challenge our conventional understanding of the natural world. The undines in Mistele’s narrative are not mere figments of folklore; they are complex, sentient, and ancient beings with their own wisdom and perspectives on life. Each mermaid or merman he meets imparts a lesson or insight, often related to themes of love, harmony, and the interconnectedness of all life. These interactions are not just whimsical tales but are imbued with philosophical and metaphysical significance, encouraging readers to reflect on their own beliefs and the unseen forces that shape our reality.

“Part III: Connecting to the Undine Realms” is packed with guidance to assist readers with opening their perceptions to the many forms water takes in our natural world. There’s meditations for a lake, stream, waterfall, river, ocean trench, mountain pool, and more. Then Mistele delves into the properties of water from an esoteric perspective, illuminating for readers the nature of this element. He offers ways to meet undines, ranging from psychic connection to creating art.

The additional appendices are also packed with interesting information. “Appendix A: Incarnated Mermaids” covers Misteles’ experience meeting incarnated undines, human women who embody the spirit of the mermaid. There’s many quotes from them about their personal experience living as an incarnated mermaid, providing insight into the nature of the undines. “Appendix B: Messages from Sylphs, Gnomes, and Salamanders” shares channeled messages from the other elemental realms. And finally, “Appendix C: Poems” is a compilation of beautiful poetry about mermaids and by the merman Ermot.

Overall, Encounters with Mermaids is more than just a book; it is a gateway to a world of wonder and introspection. Mistele’s approach is uniquely experiential; he does not merely write about undines but seeks to engage with them directly, offering readers a firsthand account of his spiritual journeys and insight on how to forge their own connections with these water elementals.

Mistele’s eloquent prose and profound insights make this a must-read for anyone fascinated by mermaids, spirituality, or the mysteries of water. Whether you come to the book as a skeptic or a believer, you will find yourself swept away by the beauty and depth of Mistele’s adventures in the realm of mermaids.

About the Author

William R. Mistele is an accomplished author and spiritual teacher known for his extensive work in the realms of magic, mysticism, and the study of elemental beings. With a background in both Western and Eastern esoteric traditions, Mistele has dedicated his life to exploring the hidden dimensions of reality and sharing his insights with a wider audience. His previous works include The Four Elements, The Hermetic Tree of Life, and Undines.

The Occult Sylvia Plath, by Julia Gordon-Bramer

The Occult Sylvia Plath: The Hidden Spiritual Life of the Visionary Poet, by Julia Gordon-Bramer
Destiny Books, 1644118629, 416 pages, May 2024

Poetry is a form of spellcasting, and Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) continues to captivate readers as her following grows through BookTok. Plath was best known for her confessional poetry and her semi-autobiographical novel, The Bell Jar, which she published just before her suicide under the pen name Victoria Lucas. Beyond her iconic status as a tragic heroine, Plath was fascinated with the occult. Biographers have often overlooked this aspect, but Plath scholar Julia Gordon-Bramer delves into this profound influence in her book The Occult Sylvia Plath: The Hidden Spiritual Life of the Visionary Poet. A poet and tarot reader herself, Gordon-Bramer unveils Plath’s fascination with Qabalah, Jungian alchemy, astrology, tarot, and even the Ouija board, revealing the sorcery woven into her writing. 

I first encountered Sylvia Plath in an undergrad poetry class. The lecture focused on lurid biographical details, reducing her to a tortured poet with daddy issues, who was driven to suicide by her husband’s infidelity. Dissecting poems like “Daddy” and “Lady Lazarus,” which were laced with disturbing holocaust symbolism, made my skin crawl. Reading her poetry was like eating wild honey straight from a swarming hive. The honeycomb was blackened with dust and mold spores, and dead bees were trapped in dark, viscous amber. There was a vague sense of danger, as if internalizing her words might infect me with the same madness that drove her to end her own life.

She instantly became one of my favorite poets. Plath gave me permission to harvest radioactive material from the dregs of my soul, to be raw and unfiltered in my writing. Nothing was off limits. While this provocative introduction to her poetry inspired me and granted me greater creative freedom, I now realize that I was so spellbound by her mythical image that I lost sight of the transcendent nature of her work. 

In The Occult Sylvia Plath, Plath scholar Julia Gordon-Bramer dismantles the oversimplification of Plath’s poetry as confessional, arguing that previous biographers have overlooked the influence of world events, Plath’s social circle, and most importantly, her fascination with the occult. Informed by over fifteen years of research, Gordon-Bramer deep dives into letters, journals, and even marginalia in Plath’s personal library, weaving together a web of occult connections that resonated throughout Plath’s oeuvre. Gordon-Bramer’s compelling insights have enriched my own appreciation of Plath’s poetry, as viewed through the kaleidoscopic lens of her spiritual journey. 

“For over fifty years, Sylvia Plath’s story was controlled and severely restricted by the estates of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes,” says Gordon-Bramer. “Until recently, editors of Plath’s and Hughes’s published letters downplayed their interests in the occult.”34 It turns out that the tortured poet facade I had idolized as an undergrad creative writing student was carefully curated for mass appeal. “Even many of Plath’s better photos were not published, possibly in an effort to cast her as a dowdier, more depressive poet,”35 Gordon-Bramer says. In this book, she hopes “to break the world from the habit of reading Plath’s work solely through the lens of autobiography.”36

Each chapter is named after the title of a Plath poem. In “April Aubade,” Gordon-Bramer humanizes Sylvia’s father, Otto Plath, a German immigrant who, during World War I, was flagged by the FBI as “an ‘alien enemy’ for having pro-German sympathies and expressing a desire to return to his homeland one day.”37 Otto was in fact a pacifist and a victim of the persecution that many German Americans faced during those troubled times. “Becoming a young man, alone with no family and few friends in a foreign country, Otto Plath endured it all, probably not without significant emotional damage,”38 Gordon-Bramer says.

Knowing these details about Otto Plath casts “Daddy” in a new light. The poem feels both intensely personal and transcendent. As Plath exorcizes the ghost of her German father and identifies with the Jews, she also seems to be grappling with a shared sense of horror for the atrocities of the Holocaust. The pain in this poem is visceral, and with the added context of her father’s struggles as an immigrant, the final stanza stings with deeper resonance:

“There’s a stake in your fat black heart/And the villagers never liked you./They are dancing and stamping on you./They always knew it was you./Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”39

Plath’s rage transcends the personal, becoming a powerful voice for collective trauma.

Bees are prevalent in Sylvia Plath’s poetry, and she inherited her fascination with them from her father, who earned the childhood nickname “Bee King” because he had a talent for “charming bees to steal their honey.”40 This passion continued into adulthood, as he studied and cared for bee colonies at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston, Massachusetts from 1922 to 1928. Gordon-Bramer highlights the occult significance of bees, revealing that Otto was initiated into Freemasonry in 1928 and bees are a potent Freemason symbol, representing the alchemical transformation of pollen into honey through the hive’s collective efforts. Gordon-Bramer also notes that Sylvia’s mother, whose name, Aurelia, means “golden”41 in Latin, wrote her master’s thesis on the famed alchemist Paracelsus, which Otto read and admired.

Sylvia Plath was a Scorpio, born on October 27, 1932, under the looming shadow of the Great Depression. Gordon-Bramer explores how Sylvia’s early life was shaped by both environmental influences and her parents’ personalities. Her father Otto, an authoritarian Aries, exhibited a demanding and emotionally distant parenting style, while her mother Aurelia, a possessive Taurus, could be both smothering and invasive. The cross-pollination of Sylvia’s parents produced a precocious child who sought love and approval through academic achievement and perfectionism.  

“Because of his ill health, Otto never hugged or kissed his family for fear that he might spread disease,” Gordon-Bramer says. “Perhaps, for reasons he thought were kind and sensible in those times before antibiotics, he kept his distance, rarely talked to or played with his children, and quietly stayed in his room, already existing like a ghost.”42

Otto’s death could have been averted if he had sought medical treatment sooner. In a vain desire to preserve an image of masculine strength and independence, he stubbornly soldiered through the pain, refusing to see a doctor until it was too late. He was suffering from pneumonia and advanced diabetes, and his left leg had to be amputated due to a gruesome gangrene infection that horrified his daughter, plaguing her with nightmares even towards the end of her own life. Otto died of a lung embolism on November 5th, 1940, during World War II. Sylvia was only eight years old.

The name Otto means “wealthy,” but he failed to leave behind an inheritance that would sustain his family after his premature death.43] However, he bequeathed a Plutonian wealth of emotions to Sylvia, which she excavated at great length to fuel her artistic creativity. She mined a wide variety of emotional ores, from gilded veins of pride in his accomplishments as a “self-made man,” to the ancestral iron of blood and war she so eloquently smelted into poetry.44

In the summer following Otto’s death, the precocious eight-year-old Sylvia published her first poem in the Boston Traveler. Her father’s passing was a catalyst for her pursuit of literary fame, and the lingering influence of his high standards had conditioned her to seek external validation through artistic achievement and academic excellence. 

Otto’s death also initiated a profound spiritual crisis for Sylvia. Feeling abandoned by her father and resentful towards God, she declared, “I’ll never speak to God again.”45 Despite flirting with atheism, Sylvia was fascinated with religion and spirituality, and her personal beliefs were influenced by a blend of Unitarianism and paganism, leading her to identify as a “pagan sunworshiper”46 in her college years.

In 1953, after a month in New York City working as a guest editor at the magazine Mademoiselle, Plath had a “nervous breakdown” and attempted suicide with sleeping pills. Plath was institutionalized afterwards, and her doctor used tarot as part of her therapy. After her release, Plath continued reading tarot “for creative and personal growth”47 rather than fortune-telling. The arrangement of poems in her manuscript Ariel was based on tarot, and her nervous breakdown inspired her novel The Bell Jar.

After delving into Plath’s life story, The Occult Sylvia Plath offers an intriguing exploration of her complicated relationship with her husband, the British poet laureate Ted Hughes, through the lens of the occult. Gordon-Bramer weaves in vignettes of the couple using a homemade Ouija board to commune with a spirit named Pan, giving an intimate glimpse of how their shared creative process was influenced by the supernatural. Plath modeled her first poetry collection, The Colossus, after Hughes’s Qabalistic structure, which he used in his own poetry. “The title, The Colossus, and the inspiration for the title poem, probably should have been credited to Pan, the Ouija board spirit,”48 Gordon-Bramer says.

While it’s tempting to demonize Hughes as a monster who drove Plath to suicide with his philandering and alleged abuse, Gordon-Bramer paints a more nuanced picture, depicting him as a flawed but remorseful man. The pain and guilt he must have felt are palpable in Gordon-Bramer’s portrayal, and I was surprised to find myself moved to tears by the end of the book. Gordon-Bramer describes the lengths to which he went to preserve Plath’s legacy, leading one to believe he “had fallen more in love and under Plath’s spell than he ever had in her lifetime.”49 Thanks to his diligent work, so have we.  

The Occult Sylvia Plath is a spellbinding biography documenting the volatile alchemical marriage of two literary titans. By the end of the book, I felt a sense of catharsis, as if I had vicariously experienced Plath’s struggles and emerged with a deeper understanding. This is a must-read for fans of both Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.

From Elder to Ancestor, by S. Kelley Harrell

From Elder to Ancestor: Nature Kinship for All Seasons of Life, by S. Kelley Harrell
Destiny Books, 978-644116623, 192 pages, June 2024

“Animism is the experience that everything has consciousness, that the world is made up of persons, some human, and some not. In that awareness that everything is in relationship, communicating, impacting, and interacting on various levels of agency. There is no individual; thus the emphasis is on right relationship, community. Within that interaction lies the responsibility for how we affect where we literally stand and the greater relationship to All Things.”40

The extract above is fittingly the first paragraph of the Introduction from From Elder to Ancestor: Nature Kinship for All Seasons of Life, by S. Kelley Harrell sets the tone for the energy of this title and the call for a way of engaging with our surroundings in a holistic and inclusive way that affirms life as a collective journey. As the readers continues through the writings of the introduction, very specific ideologies about animism, our interconnectedness, the semantics of elderhood, and our history as a culture of colonization and disregard  for those already inhabiting the land are laid out for consideration to enhance the concepts to be explored in following chapters. 

From Elder to Ancestor is organized into eight sections, each building upon the other and bringing into the space of awareness the work required in remaining part of the whole. This is the work of those who want to proactively grow into becoming the elders for whom wisdom, experience, and knowledge of our deeper connections to all things is how they go about their life’s journey.

“When we speak of elders and elderhood, it isn’t a matter of age. Rather, we are referring to those people in our communities who are trusted and respected for the knowledge and wisdom they have gained through their lived experience and their ability to apply that understanding to educate, support and sustain the community. Once upon a time that understanding included animistic wisdom. Sadly, it is in short supply today.45

The reader is guided in a weaving of personal work to community, back to work of the higher self and out again to a broader and now more understandably inclusive community. It is a lovely reminder of the ebb and flow of how relationships, if allowed to grow and connect more deeply, will offer the reciprocity of give and receipt. 

Additionally, each section has its concluding pages devoted to an opportunity for introspection. These provide the reader with a summary of what was discussed and deep questions to journal and contemplate around that specific topic as it relates to you. These are followed by practical action and recommendations of ways to take the information, emotions, and newly formed intellect gained out into the world and explore. 

The introduction covers all that is needed to move through the subsequent chapters familiar with the semantics used and the author’s reason for using some words in a specific way. The use of the word “Broken Path” is one such semantic and Harrell uses this as what historically and culturally we have done to divorce ourselves from our natural kinship to all life and, most specifically, Nature. This style immediately draws the reader in to feeling comfortable with the complexity and deep dive of topic and practice that lay ahead. The Introspection content of the introduction prepares the reader for the challenges of the journey ahead and emphasizes the need for community that becomes your “Dream Team”:

“The topics covered in this book will bring up big feelings. To give them the healthy expression they require, it will be helpful to identify and engage your support community-those human persons you can call on for help in all areas of your life.”50

Harrell then asks the reader to “consider which spirit or earthly beings you would go to for support” in a broad selection of categories that will be covered in future chapters such as emotional, medical, identity, accountability, reparation and several more. Now, the reader is ready to apply more scrutiny to their relationship with societal and communal distortions of connection and their impact in creating an environment that fosters separatism from Nature as well as others.

This book asks the hard questions of its reader and encourages a practice of responsible action and consideration of all the actions taken and their broader impacts beyond self. “Section 1: Our Cultural Relationship to Animistic Elderhood-Owning Our Personal Role in the Broken Path” calls out the semantics of “adulting” and the privilege that carries:

“A word I see coming up often in social contexts is adulting, as in “I washed laundry and voted today. I adulted.” As if the step from child to adult and all it entails is extra.  As if only certain people are expected to mature. . .Instead of furthering those projections, I go with a verb I feel encompasses the experience better – humaning – as it reflects the range of responsibility, growth, and maturity demanded by life through all stages of development.”51

I love this concept that Harrell offers and its deeper meaning is reflected throughout the book. After all, we are only as useful as support to creating a new system of interaction and understanding of our place in the bigger picture, as we are willing to take responsibility for in a way that is meaningful and truly reflects change.

The next step in the process is discussed in “Section 2: Repairing the Human-Nature Relationship-Engaging the Resources to Reconcile Our Separation From Nature”. The concepts of the individual as a lone survivor, achiever, and actor in the cycles of the world and nature are sorted through and then removed, teaching that we are inherently not alone in any of our actions. Harrell reminds us that the denigration of community and the need to draw on those resources as being a flaw of character is one that has been unnaturally ingrained in our mental/emotional states. 

Harrell takes the reader through the various ways in which we are able to frame our connections to community using the concept of the old Norse concept of frith:

“Frith, meaning community balance, safety, peace and protection. Frith entailed working together as a community, at the level each member was able. . .Frithgard was a designated Nature space devoted to tranquility and peaceful resolution of conflict.”52

She expands this out to encompass our inner cosmology and planetary frithgard as every action and relationship established on this planet is interconnected to the greater cosmos. 

“Sections 3: Allowing the Emergence of Sacred Self-Processing the Shadow and Allowing the Rite of Heartbreak”  and “Section 4: Prioritizing Embodiment and Grounding-Learning to Embody and Ground Our Sacredness” require the reader to be fully open to the experience of recognizing self, its shadow, and cultivating the Sacred Self as an ally in the process of claiming an authentic purpose of being that readily connects to all it encounters. 

“Section 5: Engaging Rituals for Caring and Accountability-Tracing and Reconciling Our Life Patterns” provides the reader with a process of returning to a path of reconnecting with Nature through ritual:

“In the early chapters of this book we talked about how the loss of access to ancient sacred lands also meant the loss of traditional rituals. That threading of Naturekin into the human person’s day-to-day not only kept humanity in close awareness of the health of their region and gave them instruction on how to tend to it, it also kept them in reciprocity with those Naturekin. Their own health and well-being was reflected in those relationships.”53

Harrell provides the reader with ways to hold space so that our intentions and awareness return to a place of honoring and ritualizing to maintain a state of being with and in Nature. And, having come this far in the process this book has reawakened within you, the introspection portion of this section returns with a “Reassessing Your Place-Space Kin and Dream Team”. The further work is exploring how you prepare for ritual using a series of prompting questions to encourage deeper thought.

“Sections 6: Honoring Our Calling to Tend Community-Discovering Our Personal Relationship to All Things” and “Section 7: Passing On Our Lore with Compassion-Valuing Our Unique Gift Enough to Give It”  bring the reader to the space of being an “active” participant in their individual, yet collective journey. If the work of the previous sections has been given adequate time and thought to integrate and effectively create a different dynamic of being in the world, the wealth of information in these sections is the point of resonance and tipping point for a new paradigm. The quote below aptly summarizes the intention of From Elder to Ancestor:

“ A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in .” – Greek Proverb

The final part, “Section 8: Standing in Harm’s Danger-Engaging the Relationship Between Agency and Impact” returns full circle to the space of questioning the meaning of living in relationship to all things. Readers have now gained the wisdom of experiences knowing when the action taken is encroaching upon and supporting a path of disconnect or when the impact is appropriately directed. The reader is reminded that this is the space in which how we have chosen our path as elders will directly affect the ancestor we will become and the legacy left behind.

Would I Recommend?

From Elder to Ancestor is a complex and thought provoking read. And, the choice of title is one that is subtly deceptive in what information  and wisdom lay between its pages, as it truly appeals to a wide audience of varying beliefs and histories–and I LOVE that about this book.  

I always appreciate an Index to quickly return to things of interest or to cross reference, and there are also Suggested Resources which include online spaces and Podcasts as well as books. The Notes section provides additional book choices that were used as Harrell’s resource materials.  

From Elder to Ancestor is an important read if we wish to enter into the years ahead knowing who we are and how each of us is an important piece of a much larger puzzle. This is a book that can easily be used by those  seeking self-improvement, those who are environmentalists, those who are scientists, those of all faith and spiritual practice, and any who wish to  be more informed in their choices  in the entirety of this lifetime’s experience. In short, this book should be a required manual for every human who has made an agreement to come into this realm of existence. 

About the Author: S. Kelley Harrell

S. Kelley Harrell is an animist, deathwalker, and death doula. Through her Nature-based soul-tending practice and Soul Intent Arts, she helps others ethically build thriving spiritual paths. Her special areas of knowledge are runes, animism, ancestral tending, and deathwork. Prior publications include Runic Book of Days, iPagan, Real Wyrd, and Teen Spirit Guide to Modern Shamanism. Harrell currently lives in North Carolina.

Astrology of the Shadow Self, by Maria D’Aoust

Astrology of the Shadow Self: Working with Oppositions in Your Natal Chart, by Maria D’Aoust
Destiny Books, 164411917X, 352 pages, April 2024

Polarities are what ultimately bring everything into harmony. However, often we wind up focusing on just one side, especially in astrology where everyone wants to read about the specifics of their natal placements, forgetting they are part of a bigger picture and creating an imbalance through neglect of the other half. In Astrology of the Shadow Self: Working with Oppositions in Your Natal Chart, Maria D’Aoust teaches readers how to discover the shadows of their natal places and through this polarity discover wisdom that yields more insight about their strengths and weaknesses.

D’Aoust is a scholar of alchemy, practicing witch, and professional astrologer with over 20 years of experience. She holds a master’s degree in transformation psychology, using her educational background to inform her astrology readings. Her previously published works include The Occult I Ching, Familiars in Witchcraft, A Witch’s Bestiary, and The White Witch Tarot.

In this book, D’Aoust teaches readers about the power of embracing their shadow. In her introduction, she describes how through embracing the “not I” aspects of ourselves, the parts we disown and do not identify consciously with, we can perpetuate oppression, superiority, and victim mindsets–all of which strip ourselves and others of power the more we refuse to acknowledge it.1 It is through embracing these shadow aspects that the full potential of astrology as a tool for healing, self-acceptance, and personal growth can be utilized.

“Here we shall try a new way of dealing with the shadow, the unwanted self, the naughty one. We shall raise it up into power so that it grows and matures. The shadow within us may then ascend and become not a more powerful shadow but rather a more powerful part of our whole self. This prevents the shadow from taking over the self and hiding, lurking in our blind spots, and gives it a chance to actually heal.”2

D’Aoust instructs readers how to create an “antichart”54 where all their natal placements are in the opposite sign and house. This is one’s shadow chart. She also explains how the concept of shadow can be used for transits as well. For instance, when the Sun is transiting Aries, the shadow exploration would be the Sun in Libra. Whether one is curious about their own personal shadow chart or looking to examine the current cosmic influences, D’Aoust’s descriptions of the shadows are a wonderful starting point to further understanding the energy in play.

For each planet–Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto–D’Aoust profiles the shadow placements of every zodiac sign. Readers are looking up their shadow placement, rather than their natal placement as they explore the book. For instance, in the Mercury chapter, as an Aquarius Mercury natally, the entry pertaining to me would be Leo Mercury Shadow.

Her entries are very thoughtful and provide great insight into the shadow placement. Each entry has the title, a few word description of the shadow, the corresponding birth planet, parasite of the shadow, a two to three page description of the shadow, and an example from nature (almost always a quote) that grounds the shadow in the natural world.

The first thing I did was read all the entries for the planetary placements in my chart, and right after I also created my husband’s shadow chart and read his entries too. Honestly, reading about our shadow placements opened up a whole new level of dialogue for us and it put a lot of things in perspective. Things that we couldn’t articulate, yet were impacting our relationship (habits, communication styles, emotional relating, etc.) were laid out bare for us to reflect on.

It’s extremely evident that D’Aoust has spent so much time exploring these shadow placements and bridges the gap between psychology and astrology in her writing. Plus, the examples from nature are also something both my husband and I found added a beneficial new layer of understanding to the shadow description. When you can see how the energies manifest in the natural world, it puts things into a context that is tangible.

Another really neat way that I’ve engaged with the book’s text is when writing my new moon manifestations. Every month, I’ll write out a manifestation list in my journal, using present tense as always recommended! Usually, I will draw from the traits of the sign the sun/moon are joining in, for instance Aries was the most recent new moon. But this time I decided to instead explore the shadow of the new moon and read about the Libra Sun Shadow and Libra Moon Shadow. Wouldn’t you know it? I was engaging more with the shadow attribute of the new moon (toxic codependency, not clearly verbalizing my true feelings) more than the Aries attributes!

This made me pause and reflect on how I wanted to attune myself to the new moon energy and write my manifestation list. Rather than just putting all Aries qualities, I choose to focus on transforming the shadow qualities coming through the opposing Libra energy. And my manifestation list felt extra powerful! I’m going to continue exploring the shadow for on-going transits to better understand the full-spectrum of the zodiac shadows beyond just what is apparent in my shadow chart.

“Why must we deal with counterforce? We live in a universe that contains opposition as a physical law of reality; nature is always seeking to reach homeostasis and equilibrium. We find peace not by destroying opposition, for this imbalances the scale, causing the weights to swing wildly; we must only equalize and neutralize.”55

My favorite chapter is “Ophiuchus Shadows: The Venom Master” where D’Aoust examines the shadow of this hidden 13th sign, which many astrologers typically do not acknowledge. I have always been fascinated by Ophiuchus though and was thrilled to see it included. As the sign is between Sagitarrius and Scorpio, D’Aoust explains how the shadows fall in the sign of Gemini. So those with prominent Gemini placements, specifically near the Orion constellation, will have the Ophiuchus shadow. Her interpretation for the shadows is briefer than the other planetary shadows, but it gives a good start point to explore. She notes “Placements here are the venom masters and poison artists, usually studying plants, healing, and medicine.”56

The remaining chapters focus on the shadow of the moon’s nodes, thought to correspond to one’s destiny or life purpose, and D’Aoust’s insight on shadow integration. There’s also the bonus of an epilogue all about eclipses and their relation to shadow. This was another favorite chapter of mine since I was immersed in the book leading up to and during the solar eclipse on April 8th. Perfect timing!

Another thing I really enjoy about this book is how D’Aoust draws from different religious traditions when discussing the shadow and the journey one must undergo to integrate it. There’s examples from Taoism, Christianity, Judaism, alchemy, and more. These examples go to show the archetypal nature of shadow work, as well as offering different perspectives about the experience. There’s also a good deal of depth psychology woven in as well.

All in all, Astrology of the Shadow Self is a must-read book for those with an interest in astrology. It was absolutely the best astrology book I’ve read in a while; none of the material was recycled, depicting the same old as countless books out there. This fresh take and unique perspective of the shadow chart was entirely new to me and already the concepts in this book have enhanced my astrology practice and lead to wealth of personal insight. D’Aoust has done a great service to the astrological community in writing such an insightful book. There is so much we can learn from the shadow, and it’s something we must face if we truly want to transform. This book is a wonderful starting point for those ready to explore their own shadow and immensely expand their astrological knowledge.

Seiðr Magic, by Dean Kirkland, Ph.D.

Seiðr Magic: The Norse Tradition of Divination and Trance, by Dean Kirkland, Ph.D.
Destiny Books, 1644119447, 256 pages, April 2024

Seiðr (pronounced “SAY-ther”) is a form of tribal shamanism unique to medieval Norse culture. Since there is very little historical documentation of this ancient practice, it’s not clear exactly what was involved, and in the modern revival of Germanic heathenry, seiðr is often inaccurately glossed over as a type of Norse witchcraft and used as an umbrella term for contemporary witchery, such as spellcasting and reading runes and tarot cards.

In his debut work, Seiðr Magic: The Norse Tradition of Divination and Trance, heathen reconstructionist and woodland conservationist Dean Kirkland, who holds a Ph.D. in ecology, argues that there is indeed enough archeological evidence to revitalize the practice of seiðr, using literature, artifacts, and the unverified personal gnosis of modern practitioners. The primary literary source Kirkland refers to is Eirik the Red’s Saga, which vividly depicts the ritual garb and practice of a völva and prophetess named Thorbjorg (völva means “staff-bearer” and is a female seiðr-worker57). He supplies a pronunciation guide for Old Norse words at the beginning of the book, and a glossary of terms in the back, which makes the foreign terminology easier to comprehend and digest.

By comparing the ancient tools of seiðr-workers to those used by Indigenous shamans, Kirkland believes we can make educated guesses about Norse shamanism based on similarities. He has devoted several years to researching and engaging in shamanic practices, and has studied Andean shamanism with an indigenous paco. He currently resides in Lincolnshire, UK, where he is dedicated to woodland conservation and restoration.

Since seiðr was considered a form of magic, it was not a common practice among Norse heathens. Seiðr-workers were viewed with suspicion by the general populace and lived on the fringes of society. Contrary to modern neo-pagan faiths like Wicca, which integrates witchcraft with religious rites, there was a social stigma surrounding practicing magic among ancient heathens. Perhaps with good reason, because Kirkland warns that seiðr can be perilous for both the practitioner and their community, since it involves contact with mighty and potentially very dangerous wights, or spirits. However, he assures readers that the introductory exercises presented in this book are designed to make the practice as safe as possible for beginners. That being said, seiðr is not for everyone; it is a shamanic path of service to both the spirits and humanity as a whole, destined for a chosen few.

“Seiðr-workers are chosen by Wyrd, which is to say fate or destiny, and made by the gods,”58 Kirkland says.

Seiðr-workers are mediums for wights, the spiritual beings they serve, and the greater community at large. The wights that are friendly towards humans are interested in collective spiritual growth and advancement, not individual progress. According to Kirkland, “the effect of shamanic work must be shared with others—if you focus solely on yourself and your own spiritual development, you are coming at this from an ego-based approach, and ego is the implacable enemy of all shamans.”59

Attempting to practice seiðr for selfish gain and to satisfy an egoic craving for increased personal power is disrespectful to the wights and may incur their wrath. Furthermore, one should not assume the role of seiðr-worker unless they are recognized as such by the community. “Titles should never be taken for oneself, but only bestowed by others,”60 Kirkland says. He sees community validation as a sign of authenticity. I found this to be an interesting perspective, because this line of thinking could be used to insinuate that an accused witch, whether they personally identify as one or not, is serving that role for the community because it has been projected upon them. 

Kirkland dispels the common misconception that only women and homosexual men can practice seiðr, and provides historical context as to why it has been perceived as a feminine art. In the warrior dominated society of the Vikings, covertly practicing magic on the battlefield instead of confronting an opponent directly would have been viewed as cowardly. The shamanic practice of channeling spirits was also seen as an intimate form of receptivity comparable to sexual penetration. Kirkland argues that, despite these stereotypes, straight men are just as capable of practicing seiðr as a woman or a gay man. It is the spiritual calling to do so that matters, not one’s sexual orientation or gender identity.

Kirkland clarifies the role of fate in relation to seiðr and I was intrigued by his discussion of hamingja in particular. Hamingja is often simplified as the Norse version of luck, and Kirkland explains that everyone has a limited amount of hamingja allotted to them by the Norns at birth. For those who believe in reincarnation, he suggests that this allotment may be higher for new souls who have less experience in the physical realm, so they can have an easier time adjusting to the material plane, whereas old souls are presented with more challenges in life in order to facilitate spiritual growth. Seiðr-workers would therefore have very little hamingja, forcing them to rely on their supernatural relationships with the wights to get them through life instead of materialism. This makes sense to me, because shamans tend to be initiated by traumatic experiences, which detach their spirits from their physical bodies so they can traverse the unseen realms during trance and communicate with the entities that reside there.

Hamingja is closely intertwined with megin, which means “might” or “honor,”61 and is accrued through doing good deeds for living beings and wights and keeping one’s promises to them, which builds trust with the spirit realm. Helping the Norns apply clay to the roots of the World Tree Yggdrasil during shamanic trance is given as an example of a way to build megin.

Kirkland details the ritual clothing (referred to endearingly as “shaman’s armor”) and the shamanic tools unique to seiðr-workers, the most important one being a seiðstafr, or “seiðr-staff,” which, instead of a drum, is rhythmically tapped to induce a trance.62 Archaeologists have found staves of this nature in the graves of seiðr-workers. Most of them were wooden, but iron ones have also been discovered, buried with an elite few. Kirkland provides instructions on how to obtain, craft, and awaken one’s own sacred seiðstafr. He also includes photos of his personal staff for reference. 

The seiðstafr reminds me of the stang, or forked staff, of traditional witchcraft, which serves as an axis mundi, or World Tree, for traversing the shamanic realms. During trance work, Kirkland emphasizes the importance of having some sort of focal point that exists in the physical plane and functions as an axis mundi, to serve as a gateway through which one can enter and leave the spirit realm. He warns that not having this anchor to the physical world can cause parts of the soul to get lost during shamanic journeys.

Understanding the various components of the soul is a crucial part of practicing seiðr, since it includes spiritual healing techniques that involve the extraction of energetic blockages and the retrieval and reintegration of lost soul parts. Kirkland explains that the Germanic soul complex is composed of four major parts: the lík, or lich, which encompasses the physical body, and is animated by the önd, the “sacred breath”63 of life, bestowed by the Allfather Óðinn; the hamr, meaning “shape” or “skin,”64 which is the etheric body that takes flight during shamanic journeys, and has the ability to shift shape; the fylgja, or “follower,”65 which can take the form of an animal and acts as a psychopomp upon death; and the hugr, or “mind,”66 which continues on in the afterlife.

For protection during rituals and shamanic travels, Kirkland considers casting a magic circle to be ineffective, since the circle is physically present in a fixed location while the shaman’s spirit wanders. The primary means of protection is merging with a spirit ally, in a type of “low-level” possession, in which the practitioner remains in complete control. Seiðr-workers use magical chants called varðlokur, meaning “ward songs” or “guardian songs,”67 to summon spirits and raise protective energies. Coupled with the rhythmic beating of the seiðr staff, these cantillations induce shamanic trance. Kirkland does not provide any of these chants because there are no surviving authentic examples. Besides, the most powerful ones are given to the seiðr-worker by the wights themselves, and he offers shamanic techniques for acquiring them, including a ritual invocation using lyrics from a modern song by the Norwegian folk band Wardruna, which is brilliant, since anyone can listen to the song for the correct pronunciation of the words. In addition, he suggests using galdr, or runic chanting, to raise vibrations, and recommends intoning the runes laguz and algiz to spiritually clear the air. He also supports the use of mugwort as a purification incense, as opposed to the more popular white sage, which is not native to Germanic lands.

This book has been so illuminating for me because it explains the reasoning behind some shamanic practices that I have intuitively discovered through trial and error on my own. I abandoned circle casting several years ago, and I appreciated Kirkland’s explanation of why circles are ineffective for self-protection, because I couldn’t articulate why I stopped; I just felt that I didn’t need to cast them anymore. Now I purify my sacred space with incense and use deity epithets like ward songs. 

I once had a dream in which a hag spirit merged with me. She told me telepathically that she enters my body and sees through my eyes to help me. It wasn’t creepy, or anything at all like a horror movie possession. It felt more like being in the driver’s seat of a car and having a guardian spirit riding shotgun. She was observing through the windshield of my eyes and whispering in my mind, but not interfering or controlling my actions. I’m not sure who she is, but I know she is some sort of guardian spirit and she has appeared to me in multiple dreams as a witchy old woman with long silver hair. She felt so familiar she could be an ancestor or an elderly version of myself, and I’ve felt blessed by every interaction with her.

I’ve always sensed that I have mediumship abilities, but fear of possession has been a barrier to developing them further, and that dream made me realize that merging isn’t invasive and makes spirit communication easier. Learning from Seiðr Magic that wights merge with seiðr-workers really clarified the significance of this dream for me. I identify as a witch, and I don’t feel a calling to be a seiðr-worker, but traditional witchcraft is heavily influenced by Norse practices, and shamanism is universal, so I’m seeing a lot of overlap between both traditions.  

An important class of wights Kirkland writes about is the dísir, or lesser Norns. The dísir are female ancestral spirits that watch over and guide their descendants. According to Kirkland, it’s possible to have a nonhuman dís/lesser Norn. He claims to have met people who have lesser Norns that are elves, dwarves, and even giants! I now suspect that my hag spirit might be my lesser Norn.

Kirkland also discusses the often overlooked wights of place, such as landvættir, or land spirits, and the cofgodas (pronounced “COAF-goadas”), or “household gods,”68 which are the spirits of hearth and home. Although working with these entities falls under the domain of “folk conjuring”69 or trolldómr (“witchcraft”), he believes land spirits and house wights should be part of general heathen practice. He gives instructions on how to communicate with local wights, as well as how to detect whether or not you have cofgodas living in your home, and if not, how to attract them and create a hearth altar and a spirit house for them. 

The multiverse has always been my favorite feature of Norse cosmology, and I was captivated by Kirkland’s detailed exploration of the nine realms on the cosmic World Tree of Yggdrasil. For shamanic journeying, the fiery hellscape of Muspelheim and the icy wastelands of Niflheim are no doubt the least hospitable, but I was surprised to learn that one of the most dangerous realms to traverse in spirit is Midgard, our physical realm. Kirkland claims that this is because Midgard is the crossroads of the nine realms, and entities that do not belong here in Middle Earth sometimes get trapped and lash out at humans. The World Serpent Jörmungandr is the guardian of Midgard, and keeps many entities out, but earthbound spirits may stay trapped within. Kirkland therefore recommends that beginners avoid traversing the middle realms in spirit, which also include Ljósálfheim, the domain of the light elves, and Svartálfheim, the realm of dwarves and dark elves, until they have gained more shamanic experience. 

While it may be dangerous for beginners, guiding earthbound spirits out of Midgard is part of the job description of a seiðr-worker, and Kirkland gives detailed guidance on how to handle the dead. “Unfinished business” is the stereotypical reason why ghosts are believed to linger, and I was surprised that Kirkland says this is “relatively rare,” since it requires a lot of willpower on the part of the deceased.70 More common reasons for a spirit remaining in Midgard are confusion about being dead or addiction to substances only found here in Middle Earth, requiring the hungry ghost to attempt temporary possession of the living in order to get their fix. In haunted pubs, for example, restless spirits may lurk in bathrooms, waiting to hitch rides with drunks relieving themselves in the stalls, which is a creepy thought, especially if one is prone to blackouts. It definitely makes one think twice about engaging in mind-altering substance abuse, for the sake of spiritual hygiene. While entheogens have their place in shamanism, Kirkland does not suggest using them to achieve shamanic states. 

Western society’s denial of death and Christianity’s suppression of spirit workers has exacerbated the problem of earthbound spirits. Since there are few spirit workers, Kirkland warns readers that Midgard is overpopulated with wandering ghosts, and practitioners will be in high demand for the role of psychopomp, guiding trapped spirits to their proper afterlife destination. He gives instructions on how to do so with the assistance of a valkyrie, a female psychopomp who works for Óðinn. In the rare case that a seiðr-worker comes across a draugr (a restless spirit attached to a corpse, which is the Nordic equivalent of a zombie), there are instructions for dealing with that problem as well. 

Seiðr Magic is a wonderful blend of rigorous scholarship and creative heathen reconstruction. Kirkland’s lucid, honest prose always clarifies which practices are based on historical evidence and which insights have come from the unverified personal gnosis of modern practitioners. This book is a boon for those looking to recreate a traditional Norse magical practice that is as authentic as possible given the archaeological evidence currently available to us. Whether one feels a calling to practice seiðr or not, this is a fascinating read for anyone interested in Norse shamanism, spirit work, and heathen spirituality.