Mj Pettengill

Sometimes I dream of a better world.

The sphere of mothers and daughters is much broader, with more possibilities of getting lost.

We talked about how we had handled our descent into darkness, when all of our illusions were ripped away, only to be replaced by new ones.

The red oil of the plant represents the blood of John the Baptist, allegedly martyred on June 29th...

I quickly remind myself that it's buggy because of all the various forms of wild water and vegetation.

I do know my way around the woods, but even the most experienced woods-woman will face unfortunate encounters.

The grass has been mortally wounded and is trying to protect itself while sounding the alarm.

We seemed to have lost our ground, our firm footing in the dirt that we used to know.

More stories are to be told as words flow downstream, not to be missed or forgotten.

From the bosom of the devastated earth, a voice goes up with our own. It says, "Disarm, Disarm!"

These flames are a gift bestowed upon me from Hestia, the goddess of the hearth and its fires.

Perhaps there is regret in feeling that there was not enough time to love all of what I love—not in the way that I know.

In this life, you provided many valuable lessons.

You have the opportunity to respond according to your instincts and intuition.

Do we cheer for Our Mother or cry for humanity?

Throughout time, in many dire settings, I have learned that as divided as they appeared to be, people were often bound by their afflictions.

Today, many are intrigued, longing for more information surrounding the history of mass burial grounds in New York City, across the country

No star is lost. It is we who have gone astray. We are finding our way home.

I no longer rely on princes, and frogs have more potential than what we learned in myths. They earned my respect in a much different manner.

As always, give thanks to every plant that volunteers to be an ally. The healing is mutual.