Awakening the Divine Feminine.
Un-earthing Feminine Wisdom.
Flame Keeper.



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Witch School
Week I / Night One.
Intro Circle.
Aligning with & Working with the Phases & Magic of the Moon. Sarah will lead you through the phases of the moon- how to live and work with their particular magic. Plus, she’ll offer ritual and mantra for each magical lunar phase. Once we begin to align with Her phases, we begin to see the Divine Blueprint that is always guiding us deeper and truer.

School starts August 26, in the dark of the new moon, the most auspicious time to enter a new phase of one’s life.
For further course outline, information & registration, please go to

DOITGIRL. 5.29.14
I’m not perfect. I’ve sought love outside of myself as if it could save me. Only my love can save me. I’m not perfect. I’ve sought external approval despite it coming and going like the tide. I’ve sought out instead of in. I’m not perfect. I’ve numbed myself with substance and food time and time again when I was terrified of what I felt. But that doesn’t fill the love-hole inside of me, only I can fill that, and that doesn’t protect me from life, nothing can. I’ve gotten wasted to run from the monsters but they only get bigger and they only get faster. And every time, I said it was “the last time.” But while I’m here, I want to open my heart and say “yes,” and “thank you,” and I want to be naked with the universe. I’m not perfect. I’ve gossiped, which is witch-hunting other women. And then I only hurt myself. They are me and I am them. When I hurt you I hurt me. So often we fear the mirror. I’m not perfect. I once had a spiritual ego. Thankfully Kali killed that, it was so painful and isolating. I don’t want to be on a shaky pedestal, I prefer the earth. I’m not perfect. I once didn’t understand there was no difference between a secret and a lie. Kali also showed me that. I learned that lesson so deep it branded me for life. I’m not perfect. I once had frenemies, friends with agenda, friends out of ego or fear. Now if you’re in my life I only want the highest for you. I’m not perfect. I can channel the divine but I’m so fucking human. This can be terribly confusing for myself and others. I’m not perfect. I’m a medicine woman who sometimes forgets to take her own medicine. This makes me sick. Then when I take my own medicine, I heal. I’m not perfect. I can give but have trouble receiving. I’m not perfect. I’ve said what I thought others wanted to hear and not what I truly felt. But that was only speaking the language of fear, a teacher taught me that. I’m not perfect. I’ve doubted myself and my path and love time and time again. The lesson won’t leave til you’ve learned it. Nothing changes until you accept it. I’m not perfect. When things are going too well I self-sabotage and want to run. I’m not perfect. There are days that I don’t get out of bed but tell others to rise. I’m not perfect. I have reached into the known of my past when I was too scared to live in the unknown of the present. That hurt like hell. I’m not perfect. I’ve wished for normalcy when I was too scared and tired of being different. You don’t fit in because you are spectacular. Spectacular, but not perfect. I’ve fought hard for equality then laid down for men who didn’t fight for it themselves. That also hurt like hell. No more sleeping with soul strangers. I’m not perfect. I’m not perfect at all. I’ve sought the love of people who didn’t love me and ignored the love of those who do. I’m not perfect. Sometimes I push others to speak their truth while I cower in the corner in fear. I’ve let what others think about me matter more than what I know to be true. I’m not perfect. I’ve placed my worth on my external looks and others’ worth as well. But the heart is all that matters. I know this, but I forget. Because I’m not perfect. I am terrible at confrontation, I shake and shrink and close my eyes and wish I could fall through a trap door. I’m not perfect. I have Money issues and Men issues and Mother issues. The three M’s. But I’m working on them. I’m not perfect. I tell you to speak your voice but even as I write this, I wonder who the fuck am I to write this, and I think of others saying “who the fuck does she think she is.” And they do, and they do, all the time. But still I rise. I’m not perfect. But still I write. Still I speak. I am you and you are me. My story is your story. And it’s not perfect.

I’m not perfect.

But I’m still a phenomenal woman.

I’m not perfect.

But my voice still counts and my voice still matters.

I’m not perfect.
But still
I rise.

Thank you Maya Angelou, Always & Forever.

Your words changed my life.

I’m not perfect, but still, for you and for me and for us for She,
I rise.

Jai Maya.

SO excited for my third journey into teaching with Shakti Sunfire…

Enter our virtual circle if you want to …

Learn how to lead your own moon circle
Align with the Phases of the Moon
Create Ritual
Realign with Nature
Work with the Elements
Walk as Priestess
Be initiated into the path of the Dark Goddess
Self Healing & Earth Healing Practices
Share with Sisters on the Path
Enter the Coven of the Wild Woman?

xoxo )O(


"The superior learning of witches was recognised in the widely extended belief of their ability to work miracles. The witch was in reality the profoundest thinker, the most advanced scientist of those ages… As knowledge has ever been power, the church feared its use in women’s hands, and levelled its deadliest blows at her".

- Matilda Joslyn Gage, 1893

The Second Agreement, Don't Take Anything Personally from DOITGIRL on Vimeo.

Morning Coffee Reading: The Second Agreement: Dont Take Anything Personally.

Valentine's Day Full Moon from DOITGIRL on Vimeo.



She said

You call in the perfect partner
by becoming your perfect partner. So I keep doing that
for me.
I bring myself coffee in bed. I light candles and run hot baths with lavendar. I dance. I soften up on myself. I clean up after dinner for myself, playing Bonnie Raitt in the glow of the Christmas lights. I teach yoga in my living room. I take guitar lessons, and play, badly, but smile through it. I watch the cardinals land in the slush outside. The red in the vast sea of white
is a witchy metaphor
that Love can find you anywhere.

I saged her heart in yoga this morning. And then I saged mine. May the dead leave
to make space for what longs to live. {We’re three quarters through winter. Light and life are officially taking the lead. } Like helping spirits cross over into the light, my friends have gotten good at that. For everyone is talking about how their house gets so haunted on this island in the winter, all our ghosts coming out to play. I exorcise my heart. I remember how I never really knew what love was at all. How it’s taken me four years to really heal from my great love shipwreck. We were given each others hearts, but we had no idea what to do with them. Babies trying to care for babies. Love is a living thing, to tend to, to care for. We didn’t know how to care for ourselves, let alone the love we’d been given. It is a language I am only just learning how to speak. How could we have known, if we hadn’t have learned, so painfully. The lovers since him I’ve only played in shallow water with. I haven’t dared swim out deep with them. God forbid I can’t make it back this time. I barely made it back last time.

I empty out the tomb
that holds the old lovers
to make space for the new ones. For the One I will love the way they long to be loved. I learn how to love him
by loving

What is your intention for the day?

Radical Self Love.

She said what if instead
of having a crush on another dude
You had a crush
on yourself. What if you saw yourself
through the eyes
of your Beloved.

What if you knew you belonged
So deeply to this world
It couldnt breathe without you that there was nothing you could do

to make it un-love you.

{Let love express itself through you.}

I said how did you know my secret

that I have never really felt like I belonged.

She said its all of our secret. But the truth is no one

could belong more than you do. We all belong. Belong, in this very moment. She said take a deep breath and Come home. Stop wandering like a beggar. You are home. Relax into your body and drink the air like wine.

You belong You have permission It is all green lights. Now what?
This world responds
to your every thought.

For every single action

there’s a reaction.

Every. Single. Action. It took me

until two days ago

to process that, despite being told my whole life. Does it blow your mind, the way it did mine?

I play a lullaby naked on the guitar- I remember I’m singing it to you, and my voice softens.
I eat the chocolate chip cookies for breakfast,
she brought me over for Valentines Day.

They tell you to write love lists like ordering from the Love Diner.

I realized I had never known

my whole life

what I wanted

until now. Because I had never really known me, until now.

What’s on your list, she asked

and peered over my shoulder.

She smiled at the big hands

and messy hair part

then I said, I also want to be called His Girl. I always loved

being called

His Girl.

I pull together old writings, painstakingly, like going though skeletons in the closet. My, how awakenings can be so messy and not flattering, that’s right, embarrassing, it’s wincing work. But I pull them together, anyway. I want to have somethign to show for all my changes. It’s hard work, rifling though your closets of disaster and discovery, but I hear “Fuck it, Be Fearless,” from the angel on my shoulder and I carry on.

I take a break from the work to write to you. I get so full of thoughts I have to lay down and birth them.

The birds are knocking at my wooden door with their beaks, carrying a message. Death has knocked on many doors this winter. Everyone feels the chill. If you could do it differently, what would you change? I would be happier. I wouldn’t care


they thought. I’d smile so big

they’d have to wear sunglasses. I’d ride my broom

through town

in a velvet kimono. I’d raise enough money to buy a horse farm. I’d rescue every dog in the tri state area. I’d build a healing center by the lake. I’d hold free reiki clinics and teach self love yoga to teens. I’d hug those who call themselves my enemies and tell them how much I loved them and had learned from them, even though it drove them crazy. I’d play my bad lullabies in coffee shops, then open up a poetry circle on the stage. I’d take naps and not feel bad about it. And. More.

The wind blows so strong, carrying trash can lids and tree limbs across the yard. The more wind, the more change. So much change on this day of Love. Love changes you. Are you ready, to be changed?


I got too good at saying no. I turned them all away at my door. I say Yes now, instead. Life kept asking me to dance and I kept wall-flowering it. Arms crossed, waiting for a better offer than what was. What is is the only offer, the now is inviting you to be in it. Might as well dance. We don’t know how long we get. Sometimes I think I only get ten more years, because that’s how long my mother got. But it could be less. And it could be more, the only thing I’m sure of is I have right now.

She asked when are you going to claim the life that waits for you.

I’ve watched people and animals and crops
die without love.
I’ve watched people and animals and crops
be saved
by love.

Everytime I seek outside of love, I come back to love, as the highest of all the laws, and the only religion, and always only ever
the lesson. If youre wondering what the answer to your question is, it’s Love.

I’ve made some bad choices, I’ve followed my ego, and not my heart. Can I trust myself anyway?

What’s a warrior? Someone who gets up after they fell down.

At lunch I’ll eat the handmade quiche
from a friend I had dinner with last night. I’ll make a fire with the kindling her boyfriend put in the front seat of my jeep while she and I caught up. We talked with the Olympics as background music
about how last week was so hard
we cried like babies
waiting to be burped. But this time,
talking about it
we were laughing. That’s how
it works. We were sad last week and this week we lived to laugh about it.

Mantras come to me in my sleep. The only thing that is happening

the only thing that is real

is what’s happening now. The other night it came like a Gregorian Chant. The only thing that is real is the now.

My bank account is empty. My heart is not.

Being broke

feels rather rich.

It seems really really fitting that my blog is finally up (thanks to my dear cousin Matthew) as things in my life have shifted so much.
I’ve been on this road for three years and it’s… ended.
So I could begin.
They told me… when I came out my mother’s stomach I came out crying, screaming bloody murder, I had ripped a clamp out of her incision, I held it high in the air in a tightly clenched fist..nurses came running. I made a BIG FUCKING DEAL about my first birth, and… I made a BIG FUCKING DEAL about my second birth. Cuz it felt important to tell it. And looking back, I would never be able to do it again, I would never have the guts to… spill my guts out, so personally…but isn’t that what they say about birth, that it’s so painful, that’s why we forget. Because if you could remember it in detail you would never do it again. It was gory and humilating and terrifying and visceral and amazing.
And it was a long three years in the birth canal. And it was a ton of digging out the grave I’d made for myself. And it was a bunch of swimming to a new shore after I dove off the old one. And it was a bunch of Kali scything away the false mes to get to the real me. Which she will continue to do, I just hope she never has to work as hard as she has the last three years- for her sake, my sake, the sake of others.
And, most importantly for me, because it’s how I’ve felt my whole life, I broke the glass on this tomb I’ve been living in, the glass that separated me from life. And I took a big deep breath in, and I relaxed. And I received. Like Anais Nin says, “If I had not created my own world, I would certainly have died in other people’s.” I did die in everyone else’s world and it’s been three hard years creating my own world. And now I want to live in it.
The last few weeks I’ve been seeing suitcases. Like, I’m packed up and ready to take off on a new adventure. I’m tired of who I was, I worked really really hard to heal. And I hope, in the process, re-awaken the feminine and de-stigmatize the witch.
And now I’m open to who I can become. I no longer have the wounds, just the lessons. I’m lighter, I’m more open. I’m here. Joy and I are becoming bedfellows. I’m happy-sore from dancing.
I pass the torch of the rebirth – the destruction of my old life for the creation of the new, the life of purpose…on to so many beautiful men and women. After rebirth… comes life. Comes love. And more art.
I think, in part, I chronicled my awakening so publicly so as to prove that it was possible.
You can change your life.
And now, I say freely, I don’t know. I don’t know. I have no…idea what next. Which means, anything is possible.
Jai Ma,
image: Frantisek Drtikol

Sometimes she still flinches
When you reach out to touch her.
Sometimes she still barks
when you’re only trying to help.
Sometimes she’ll even bare her teeth
if you get too close
to her wound.
It’s true
My rescue
and I are not that different
No she’s a mirror
of a feral creature
still learning what love is.
We’ve both been saved
we’ve both been found
- we got our
second chances.

But somedays
some nights
it’s a little too easy-
no matter how hard life tries to remind us-
to forget.

And then we remember-
which always comes on the heels of the forgetting
like day always following night-
found, following lost-
and we look around in wonder
that we are home
in a home
we are safe
and - most astonishing of all-


A story. December was hard. I fell in Fall. I died in winter, as I always seem to do since my spirit became aligned with earth’s seasons. Things came to me, new thoughts took the place of the old ones that died, as nature works, when you trust the die to live, winter for spring part of life. A lot came to me in between sleeping and waking, that time before the mists part on your “reality.” This thought came, one morning in that mist- time. “Treat them as if they’ve already died.”
Perhaps you ask what that means.
My mother’s death was my first real up close and personal encounter with death, the first death that tore my heart out. I beseeched the Universe for answers, plead with it for a bargain, a way out of the torture of regret: “If I had only done this, If I had only said this, if I hadn’t of run when I should have stayed.” Because I hadnt acted, when I had my last few years with her, as if she was really leaving. As if death was truly final. But when it did actually happen, and she truly left, and I spent months on my knees, maybe years. How could I have avoided this searing regret? How could I have known? Why couldnt I have treated her differently? No answer came. I just kept crying, “please just give me one more day with her. I would give my life for one more day.” Then I even just begged for one more hour. I still ask, for just one more hour with her, to show her how much I loved her, and breath her in, hear her laugh. When death is at your door or your loved one’s door, every second becomes gold. When we forget death, we spend hours, days, under the covers in self pity. At least I do. That’s no way to live. That’s a way to die.

And then it seemed to have come 17 years late this December. You see, death is real, and it is coming for all of us. If you treat everyone, especially the people you love, knowing that, that they will die, and then, as if they already have- feel the searing pain of losing them, grieve them, think of everything you might regret saying or- not saying. Then comes the alchemy. When you are with them again, every converstion, interaction with them is just a miracle-
a back from the dead-for-a-day gift, things shift.

And then walking on the frozen lake the morning those words came, “Live as if you have already died,” filled my head. This day is just a bonus, a moment you could come back and do things differently. Yesterday was the day you died. Today is the day you wake up and live differently.

If you treat yourself like you have lived and then died- but were given a chance to come come back, by some miracle -choose to love yourself with that radical self love that is blooming in you, live the way you always wished you had. Tie that in with treat everyone like they’ve already died, and you’ve had to lose them but now you get a second chance to shower them with love- and the whole experience becomes one trippy choice-filled awe inspiring gift. Which, which of course it is. But we’re human, so we forget. Today, don’t go back to sleep. Don’t forget. Treat everything and everyone as if you already lost them, but then were given one more moment with them. Forgiveness comes in, lands on golden wings. You unclench from that anger and blame in death, you have to let it go. All that is left is the love you felt for them.

Treat your house as if you were walking through it for the last time, then close your eyes, then see it again for the first time. Pet your dog like it’s your last day together. Let that love fill your heart. And then realize- you get a little more time. To do what you dream of doing. To love the people you love. To treat yourself like the innocent child you are. What a gift.

Treat life like you already lost it, but were given one more day. I wish I had done this with a few choice people, treated them like the gifts they were. It would have saved us a world of pain, because the little things fall away. Love takes the stage, fills the big roomy spotlight. Gratitude hangs in the air, Grace fills every word. Try it and see. If you get one more day with them, one more hour with them. One more day with you, one more hour with you. What would you do, how would you be, how would you act differently?

Just a reminder: My Full Moon #virtualcircle will be live at 6 PM, Here is all the info…

I will be honoring the Final Full Moon of the Water Snake before entering the Year of the Horse with a Moon Ceremony. For those of you who have written in asking how to honor this moon, who do or do not have a circle to attend, who want to know more about circles, this is for you. You can purchase admission to the sacred ceremony on my ETSY page. In return, you’ll receive the passcode for the video which will go live on the DOITGIRL Vimeo page tomorrow, January 15th, at 6 PM, but please feel free to watch or listen whenever is convenient for you. 

I will be speaking about what this Moon meant to our ancestors, how to release the energies of the Water Snake to ride the Horse, and lead us through ceremony, ritual, and story in honor of the moon & you. Thank you so much for honoring me in the sacred and most natural rhythm of the universe: give and receive. )O(

Hey empty spaces. Hey quiet silences. Hey, not knowing. I’m cool with you.

"Why don’t you just tell him
you love him,”
she asked. 
"Ive done that before," she replied. "With a man last winter. I put on silks and velvet and my best
hat and I filled a glass with courage and I drank it down and I went out and let him know
in the only way I knew.” 
What happened?
"The next day I wrote a poem in bed
about a warrior
dragging herself out of a cave
with the teeth marks of last night’s rejection
carved into her flesh.” 
"Heavens, that’s dramatic," she said. 
"Hell," she replied, "it was."
"Well have those scars healed?"
She surveyed her arms her legs and then she put a hand over her heart. Scarred but strong it still beat, as loudly, louder, than it had before, like a hungry child, awoken from its slumber, it cried out for more.
"I suppose so."
"Well then I suppose
it’s time you tried again. Because the longer you stay
in here 
it would appear
you live in fear.”

I relapsed over Christmas and had a few glasses of wine. It wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t wonderful, it just wasn’t at all for me. The only substance I’m allowed of late is the spirit inside of me. I had two glasses with a friend and wandered down an icy road to mainstreet. We watched a puppet show
I’m not sure of what was happening
like good art it left a lot up to interpretation
but someone was in search of their voice
and when they found it it was like giving birth to a baby. I remember finding mine, when my soul woke up. “What do I feed this thing, and how do I care for it?” I forget sometimes we are our own children, what we feed ourselves we become, we still have to be really careful of what we take in. So be careful of the junk and be careful of the lies. And the more I read about Avalon the more I become Avalon and the more I read about ghosts the more I become one. I’ve been wondering if I am one again, Cathy scratching on Heathcliff’s windows. But the closer I get to Goddess the more she reminds me I am doing as she does, dying in winter to be reborn in spring, dismembering to remember, deprogramming to reprogram. And, that makes soul-sense to me. When you’re in your underworld you don’t make much sense to people on the surface. But you have to trust your own descent. You’ll be back wearing her jewels. You’ll rise with the gold from the wreck. You’re down on the bottom of the ocean, in your own Atlantis. Those who cant see Avalon don’t understand, those who trust in magic and honor the cycles do. They let you go down all the way down. They know you’ll rise as you always do. Spending so much time with Goddess you can’t hep but become Goddess. Half real half magic half death half life half dark half light half sun half moon. But don’t try to be just one. Marion says if you try to be a Goddess all week you’ll become the devil on the weekend. Don’t try to be anything, just be. It’s why you feel so good floating on the water in the summer. Half of you basking in the light of the sun, the other half caressed by the murky dark depths. And certainly stop trying to be what you already are, which is so much more than enough. She wakes me in the middle of the night, I keep a pen on the nightstand for her. The other morning I woke and found I’d scrawled this on a book jacket: “I hope my writing will serve
as the glue
to help put you back together.”

And She said, “maybe when the wounds are not so raw
and the pain isn’t so new
when you don’t have to wince to see the truth
we’ll sit by the fire and sift through the mire
we’ll pan through the dirt
til we find the gold
then we’ll dust off from the battle
and forget all but the love we’ve been told
but for now be still sink deep be heavy
and know it’s you in my arms I hold.”


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