Once upon a time under the waning gibbous September Moon, deep in the Dutch Low Lands, a pencil in my tiny left hand and a stubborn frown between my eyebrows, I came into this world. From that moment on.. paintbrushes, pens, and pencils were magic wands. My magical wands. I captured all that I witnessed and felt around me and conjured them on paper, wood, or whatever I encountered on my wanderings.
I grew up in the Land of Water, surrounded by the Nature Spirits in the Earth. The Rivers, the whimsical wild flowers, enchanting forests of plant life, the wise and sometimes grumpy old stones. I learned to listen very carefully to their ancient stories whispered by the winds. To let them carry me to other worlds with wonder & strangeness where the concept of time doesn’t exist. I sculpted little creatures from the clay of the cornfield opposite our house, made amulets from twigs, stones, and wrote diaries full of enchanted stories.
Like a moth drawn to the light, I turned out to be a butterfly attracted to the darkness. I soon realized that the stories and fairy tales that were being told did not match what I was feeling and seeing. There is an incredible beauty in the night. The monsters and creatures in my dream worlds were not scary or terrifying, but beautiful beings with a depth and wisdom that I was looking for. A dark canvas tells just as much truth as a light one. Maybe even more. And though often misunderstood and perhaps sometimes considered strange. I continued to embrace the mysteries and visions my dreams gave me.
I’ve always believed in these Spirits and Beings. Not a day went by that I doubted the signs my dreams gave me. To this day, this is my truth, my reality. Getting older in a world where this is considered fantasy is not always easy. I took a deep dive into the hidden kingdoms deep underground. Sometimes, I even dared to take a look through the cosmic portals. I remembered that I had a little golden key that fits every hidden door. But wherever I get lost, I always come back home to this Planet, well… sorta.
So yes.. I was born by myself but carry the spirit of my ancestors. It’s my foremothers calling me. It is my own mother’s written fairy tales and music that have shown me where real magic exists. And that no one dare have the guts to take that away from me. It’s the fire in my grandmother’s dark brown eyes, her righteous stubbornness, that accompanies me in moments of injustice. It’s that ancient Fire. It belongs to me. I have often been told that I am too fiery. Too intense. Too much for some people. You know what, that is okay. But I could not create what I do if I feared the flames. I wouldn’t have become the woman I am now after 40 years if I hadn’t pulled myself up from the ashes every now and then. I have learned to control it and am still learning. And honestly, it has burned me at times, but with it, everything that needed to be cleaned and transformed. And so it is,
if you’re looking for me, you can find me in the woods collecting herbs, bones, skulls and feathers with my boys. Or painting, drawing in my tiny messy, but cozy, art studio. Which at the end of summer is transformed into a pharmacy with loads of dried plants for tinctures and ointments, who go with me into winter with their medicine. I still feel most at ease in the twilight, in deep forests and misty fields. The night beings remain my favorite. Their ability to live in both worlds continues to fascinate me. The Spirits that have always been demonized in our world inspire me even more to bring them into the light. I love being in those dream realms where anything can happen. Where furs turn to snake scales and skin to feathers. Where secret signs are written in moonlight on plants and mushrooms. Where everything and everyone is a shapeshifter. Because that’s what we are, everything. I am completely uninterested in a life without Magic. It’s that place between sleep and awake where the veils are thin. That place where you still remember dreaming…That’s where You’ll find me.
Love and Magick, Meg.