Mother Earth Within

Deep below

Beneath the layers of cold, dark

There is a fire

There are seeds, waiting

There are burrows, warm

There is

A light


She waits, knowing

Her time will come to unfold

Blooming, blossoming

Soft fabric brushing

Skin against skin


As the nights grow colder

As the birdbath forms its frost

She is there, knowing

She is there, glowing

She is there waiting

For you


Whispers rise through denseness

From this deepened core

Calming soothing hushes

Pulling energy inward

Towards Her

Firehearth roaring warm


A chariot awaits

Always available for the riding

Inward spiral clopping

Circling into Her

She calls, she beckons

As the nights grow colder

To ride, to ride

On the starlight trails

Of darklight, inside

To receive the Message

To dream up Vision

To defrost

Frigid extremities


Go into Her

Mother Earth Within

Glide along the well worn

Ancient pathways

Towards Her light

Towards Her warmth

Towards her Love


Deep below

Beneath the layers of cold, dark

There is a fire

There are seeds, waiting

There are burrows, warm

There are visions, dancing

Go there

When you are shivering

Go there

When you feel empty

Go there

When all seems lost

In this long, long night

Go, down

To the Mother Earth


Let Her hold you

Let Her whisper you

To rest, and to someday



~image from The Tarot of The Spirit by Pamela Eakins


The Mother


At idealized images of your Love

I’m searching

Searching for the image, words

To describe the archetype

Of your dismembering embrace


The Mother

Quiet, inspiring teacher

Mistress of the inner realms


Were not Her

Or rather

You were Her




I seek the card for the Underworld

That of your smoke-shrouded throne

That of what hourly chants of death

Of haze filled raging

Pleas of victimhood

And bloody stomach incisions

Inspired, quietly

In these bones


This Mother

My Teacher

Upside down and hanging

Beneath the flowers

Beneath the waters

Beneath the calm, smiling Wand

Dripping in gore, ash

And decaying earth tendrils

Where is this Mother?

Not Death

But not Life

You who inspired, quietly

A passion

An obsession

A mission

To Die


The Mother

Mistress of internal Hell realms

The one who inspires

A twisted initiation


By the life She “lives”


There’s a card




Image credit: “Loki’s Brood” (1905) by Emil Doepler


Father Earth

Father Earth

How I yearn for your eyes to pierce me

For your arms, warm and generous

To hold me

Father Earth

With your hearty laugh, your contribution to the Land

Despite the Tragedy, your utter enjoyment

Of this dear life, this dear animal body

Father Earth

How I yearn to feel you close, steady

To watch your attunement to the fields

To experience your resonation with Her cycles

Knowing when to seed

Knowing when to caress

Father Earth

You have seen much, and learned through your impulsiveness

Enough to be here, by the fire of your own temple

Father Earth

How I long to be with you

To truly absorb your vibration

This counter-cultural maturation

This example, shimmering

Father Earth

May I one day

Feel your staff in my hand

Your laugh in my jiggling belly

Your bountiful riches

Flowing through me to assist

Your court, safe and deep


Father Earth

How I yearn for your eyes to pierce me

For your arms, warm and generous

To hold me


To let my Priestess

Hold you


~Image credit: https://www.pyreaus.com/tarot/pyreaus_tarot_court_Disks_Prince.htm


Brother Wind

Wind Brother

Brother Wind

Brother of the slashing sword




Amidst all of the noise

Universal Mind


You who reach beyond, above

Yet unable

To form a plan

For your own, embodied life





Holding back the darkness

Ideas, grand, so many

You cannot choose

You keep spinning

You keep slashing

You keep



Wishing for calm

Wishing for the Core

Wishing to find your Way

To the soul heart

Your own Center



That dear body

Carrying you

Carrying this electrified, pulsing antennae


Is calling you home


With pains, radiating


In the very center of your being



For you to come down

For you to pay attention

For you to decide


Wind Brother

You are the lightning, brilliance

A champion to many causes

Aside from your own



Will you commit?


She asks

When She pleads

When She begs you, radiating

Will you come home

To be held

By Her



Brother Wind

Wind Brother

Brother of the slashing sword

May your power

Spiral inward

May your brilliance

Serve the soul

May your tired

And spinning

And slashing

And heaving


Come home


If you’d like to hear this poem recited aloud, go here: https://anchor.fm/raven417/episodes/Brother-Wind-e1oo7jv .

I suggest you gaze at the image while listening!

~Image credit: “Brother Wind” from Tarot of The Spirit by Pamela Eakins


From the Rider-Waite Smith Tarot


Death comes

Balancing between spheres

The path is solid



Death Doula

Walking her through

Walking you through


She lays the linens

The gossamer shroud

And you breathe

Tended by her

By your side

She sings

Takes you deep into earth

Showing brethren

Don’t you see?



Death Doula

Whether writhing malignant mass

Or hovering, grief-laden blade

She meets you

At the crossroads

Where what you were can no longer be

She meets you

With the ritual

She meets you

Where culture failed


She sees your suffering

She holds your suffering


She honors the great transition

The great transformation

This very suffering

Begs you to take

The ritual

Where culture failed you


Physical or psyche dismembering



To be honored

Yearning to be held

Yearning for rites

All the great rites

Dragging us down

Tearing our lives apart

To see



Death Doula

In body

Or in earth

Let her hold you

Through the long journey

Across Abyss

From Beauty

Across the treacherous path

To Victory

Let her hold you

Move forward into utter Darkness


Fall apart

Into her


And imaginal soupy



Death comes


Sister Fire

From Tarot of The Spirit, by Pamela Eakins

On this dark day

With no seeming causation

The young priestess

Heads out to the cliff

Cloudforms surround her

Threatening to stop her

But still

Staff in hand

She sets out on the path


With ceremonial gown

And cape

Hair billowing in the wild wind

She continues

She feels the fine particles

Pressing against her soles

Sandy bits rough between toes

Cool air caressing lashes

She feels Her

She hears Her, too

In the distance, the shrill cry of Hawk

Pierces the air


She is moved forth

She does not yet know all that can destroy her

All that can decimate her

All that can






Fresh and dewy

Her excitement for life

Flames within

On this dark day

I remember


Queen of Wands: Raspberry Leaf and The Strength to Birthe Dreams

From The Herbal Tarot by Michael and Lesley Tierra

“Raspberry Leaf is an astringent and an anti-inflammatory. Raspberry Leaf aids pelvic circulation in the female reproductive organs and also aids in childbirth. As an anti-inflammatory, Raspberry Leaf is used for fevers and is good for nausea and motion sickness.”


I chose this card in hopes of finding some sort of inspiration for writing today…I seem to have been dropped into a wide Void this week as far as creative confidence goes.

Of course, The Queen of Wands would come, to stare at me, to give me a complete opposite to gaze upon–she of utter passion, determination, motivation and confidence. She, surrounded by Raspberry Leaf, the herb of fertility and preparing the body for birth.

It makes me think of the birthing process, and if, once again, I am in another one. It makes me wonder (having never birthed physical children) whether pregnant mothers come upon these strange pockets of blankness, of “what the hell am I doing?” during their pregnancies. Whether they hit long stretches of doubt, cloudiness and lack of surety about what they’ve decided to enter into creating.

That’s how I feel now.

You see, I’ve decided to create a workshop around the Food Memories book/process…I actually have the whole thing written out. My business mentor asked me last week, “Ok, so now we need to get really clear on who this is for.”

And that’s when the blankness set in. Or rather, the swirl of possibilities–but nothing clear. I spent time at the drawing board, trying to mentally plot out objectives and goals for each of the clientele I felt come into my mind. But then those swirled wildly around too. Now there was a lot of goals, and a lot of client types, flying around like wicked monkeys in here.

So I stopped. I stepped back. I asked the deeper parts of myself and whatever may be co-creating with me to send me clues about who the hell my offering would best serve. And waited.

And only silence met me.

Again I think back to the pregnant mother, drinking her Raspberry Leaf tea, preparing her body, all the while feeling a blankness as to how she’ll ever be able to do this. I think about the courage it takes for a woman to face that risk, not knowing what may happen, but committing to the gargantuan task anyway.

And I think of her praying in the dark of night, calling out for support, and feeling only silence. Wondering if she’s making a mistake, wondering if bad things will happen, if she is healthy enough, or if she decided to conceive too soon. Wishing, yearning for her internal guidance, and external forces to show her the way through her doubt and fear. But hearing only silence. What must she feel in those moments, those terrifyingly silent moments in the night?

Again I look to the card. I see this woman, who seems grounded and wise, facing forward. She holds the staff firmly in hand, but not to prop herself–it is an extension of her internal power. I see the Raspberry plant winding around her, framing her, supporting her. I see the white cat, her familiar, by her side.

Looking into her eyes, and upon this whole scene, I feel my sense of lostness transform into hope again. She seems to be saying to me that I have her in me, that I am on this birthing process, and that I just need to keep going, keep trusting in that process. She seems to be holding one of the Raspberries in hand…almost like she is offering it to me.

It’s all a very non-linear directive, but I’m trying. I’m going to go make myself a cup of Raspberry leaf tea right now, envisioning it nourishing my creative centers, my deep internal strength. Despite my internal agnostic, snickering, I will also make space for the possibility that I too, have a spirit familiar, helping me somehow.

I will sip and let the possibilities grow, and let the blankness be okay. I will let the Raspberry and the energies of the Queen of Wands infuse me, and see what happens.


Thanks for reading :}


The Aeon, by Lady Frieda Harris

We find ourselves at a crossroads.

We know something must change.

Old ways of being and seeing our journey are no longer working, crumbling even,

around us.

Let us find a new way.

Let us use the magick…of re-membering…to open a road together.

Let us look deeply into where we’ve been, where we are and why we’ve come here.

Let us breathe new life into the story.

Let us open a new way,

At this crossroads,



I woke this morning, with this poem running through my mind. It is a first attempt at describing the work I want to offer in service to others, a way to verbalize the many strands of the web that wants to work through me. It is an offering called Re-Storying, and it seeks to help people look at their stories, especially stories around illness and shadow, and to see these stories in a new, more empowering way.

It has taken me a long time to feel confident enough to say I have something to share that will help others, not because I think I am a horrible person, but because I still struggle. Something in me feels like I somehow have to be perfect in order to be qualified to assist another through their darkness.

But I’m not perfect, and that’s okay. That’s the old story I am breaking free from, my own crossroads. Of whether to keep hiding what I’m here to give because I haven’t reached some sort of Holy Grail…or to step forward with my heart’s longing to help and to see what my perfectly imperfect life can lend others in their search for wholeness.

What I do realize is that I have taken a life that is filled with typically shame-inducing experiences and have managed to re-story it into one of deep initiation and sacredness. I have written about this in my memoir, Food Memories, but I have also spent the past twenty years actively living out and believing in that re-framing. I have chosen to not let the cultural projections of what I’ve been through, including even the Recovery culture, deter me. Don’t get me wrong…I have fallen over and over again into forgetting who I am and what the hell I’m doing here. I have wept and doubted myself and my attempts to re-member myself, my true story, in the sheer intensity of the projections that sought to tame me.

I am not perfect. But I do feel that my journey, and that imperfection is incredibly sacred. And that is what I think I have to offer, helping others find that in themselves no matter where they are in their life process.

I am Letting Go of the story that I am confused. I am Letting Go of the story that I don’t know what I am talking about. I am Letting go that I have nothing to offer. Or perhaps, it is indeed that I have Nothing to offer, that beautiful place of sitting in the not knowing and finding magick arising from it. I am Letting Go of the story that even Nothing, silence, presence is somehow unfit to offer others in their time of need.

Perhaps, like the Phoenix rising, there is a new story within me that desires to be told. One that includes accompanying you, and the remembering of your equally amazing and sacred journey, together. Even in these incredibly crazy times, can we find a way?

Let us open this road, together.

*Thanks for reading! If you’d like to learn more about the Food Memories book I’ve referenced for this post, you can support a small bookstore by purchasing it here: 


or by searching for Food Memories by Reagan Lakins on any major book selling website.

Yearning For The Sun

Photo by Nilay Ramoliya on Pexels.com

I wake up

And even though you are shining

Inside it is so very cold

So very dark

So very quiet

The hearthfire

Has burned down to embers

Only struggling glowlight


Unlike an external furnace

I am not equipped with instructions

Of how to revive you

Oh internal Sun

Where have you gone?

I yearn for your rays

Your red hot arms

Ankh extended throughout being

To revive me

Inspire me

Help me

Know who I am

And what I am here to do

Instead it is just this flickering

This flickering


Of question marks

Evanescence wandering

And perpetual grasping

Oh internal Sun

Would that you burn brightly

Within me

To know this

To give this

To serve from this

My deepest desire


I both create space for hope

And wait without hope

That someday

I will feel you

Roaring brightly


Knight of Wands

For lack of an idea of what to share with you in my weekly post, my tarot deck wanted to help :} The card that came forward to share about was Knight of Wands. Let us unfold this card to see what its teaching is for me…and perhaps you…today.

In this card, we have an armored Knight on their steed, passionately galloping into an unknown future. S/he carries a flaming wand aloft and into this, determined and confident, ready for anything.

S/he often carries the energy of impulsiveness, s/he is often one who will take action for the sake of taking action, not necessarily because it is what is truly aligned to take. Bored and frustrated with the current situation, the Knight of Wands will travel, move, start a relationship, do something drastic just to get the energies moving. Sometimes this is wise, often it is not. The Knight has much valuable energy but needs to find ways to balance this drive with listening, patience, grounding. To make sure their energy is not wasted, or to prevent a decision from being made that is unwise and cannot be undone.

At this time, I can relate wholeheartedly with this card. Inside, I have a Knight of Wands raring to go…to make some sort of major change. It’s not enough that there is so much upheaval in the world today, strangely. There is this part in me that feels the need for change and wants it NOW.

Like the Knight of Wands, I am feeling the need to move, shift, burst forward out of the monotony. I have several offers of places to move, even though where I am isn’t the most ideal but it’s not all bad. Struggling whether just because these offers have come really means it is time for me to move. There are many things in my life at this time that feel stagnant…and I am raring to just change SOMETHING. It does seem like it would feel good, to just do something to shift this sense of urgency inside.

Yet I know enough about my sensitivity to get that perhaps I am feeling the collective—pissed, frustrated and raring for action in a new direction than the stagnant one it has been in. Perhaps it has nothing to do with me, and so me taking it personally and making some drastic move or job change wouldn’t be wise at this time. This is where listening, patience and breath come in handy.

What about you? Can you relate with this figure? Are you feeling frustrated and making rash plans to change things, anything, to just be out of stagnancy? Is it a wise, grounded decision? How do you know? Are you breathing, listening and balancing your passionate fire and desire for change?

I’d love to hear :}