by Sarah Wieland | Dec 29, 2020 | Sarah Wieland, Story, Strega Tree
One of the amazing gifts of tending to the Dagara lineage is that its tools and listening technologies are allowing our community to tap into the wisdom of this land that we live on. This land in California is vastly different from Africa, so it would make sense that a new language might develop along with some different shrines to the beings of this land. We have been nudged, ever onward by our guides to begin the journey of connecting to a spirit elder of the First people of the land here.
by Amy Tanzman Palmer | Feb 19, 2019 | Amy Tanzman Palmer, Divination, Story, Strega Tree, Voices of the Community, Wedeme
In a stick divination I was told that my ancestors knew how to record and retrieve stories from the stones, using the help of Grandmother Moon. My ancestors also worked very intimately with Brigid. Now it was time for me to learn as well.
In this same divination I was told by the wedeme (elemental beings of the wild) that Brigid had a story to share with me. Retrieving and sharing the story would not only help the Goddess, but it would also help my four-year-old son. She wanted me to record and share this story with him.
by Sandy Eastoak | Jun 5, 2018 | Story, Strega Tree, Voices of the Community
The question of how a food lives on in us first arose when I was eating a delicious organic artichoke. I was happy with this beautiful food and the opportunity to eat it. Until I tuned in. Then I found a being who was not at all happy to be eaten, but was a mix of angry and sad. Startled, I contemplated the reality of artichoke as a big thistle bud: When you eat us, we don’t get to fly. When we’re allowed to flower, we develop seeds with parachutes. The slightest wind sends us flying, which is our greatest pleasure in life. Even more fulfilling is being eaten by a bird, then we fly higher, farther, faster. When you eat us, all this delight is stolen. We don’t like it.
by Sarah Wieland | Oct 11, 2016 | Sarah Wieland, Story, Strega Tree
One day while asking the river what offerings I could leave for her, a pair of playful otters surfaced. I watched their splashing and listened to their chatter for quite some time. The story that they shared with me was quite a different tale of Narcissus when he gazed into the river than the one we are familiar with.
