When all the signs point to yes.

This week I went home. By home I mean that Ben and the girls and I drove back to the South Coast where Ben and I grew up and met, and where we left our home and our families and our jobs and our friends 3 years ago to embark on this adventure.

SO so much has happened in those 3 years. We’ve changed. The girls have grown. The places and people have changed.


It felt simultaneously like a spiritual homecoming, and also a spiritual cord-cutting.


Whilst staying at my mum’s, I walked the beaches I played on as a toddler, dug my toes into the sand, smelled the salty briny air, and connected. The ocean is so much apart of me. I was never a surfer like my parents, but whenever I go to the beach, people always comment that I look at home in the water. And I am home.


One day, while we sat over looking the harbour of my hometown eating lunch, I was relaying a story to Ben and pointed vaguely out to sea – and pointed right at a passing whale, announcing its presence with a glorious spray of water. I literally went “Oh-OH MY GOD! THERE’S A WHALE!” What a gift! A glorious all-knowing spirit animal, there just for me at the perfect moment.

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And I met with some old friends, that I hadn’t seen for a while, and we laughed and connected, and I realized that they’d all changed so much. And I was so different. But our friendship was the same. As with all true friends, distance and time cannot break bonds. We were still connected by our hearts.

But then some things, inevitably, were different. And I felt a kind of ‘letting go’. Like some of these childhood ways, comforts, habits: It was time for them to be put away. I dyed my hair, bought some new clothes, and forgot to check-in with all the usual ‘imaginary opinions’ that I used to check-in with as an insecure people pleaser. My step dad obviously hated my new hair. And I laughed and I truly didn’t care.


I saw an old friend clearly, for the first time in a long time, and realized I’ve changed so much, that it was time to let them go. They obviously did not see my worth anymore, and I felt uncomfortable, inconvenient and taken for granted. But I know my worth now. And I could choose to let go of what was no longer worthy of me. And I did. And it felt INCREDIBLE.

Then on the way home I listened to Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ “Woman Who Run With The Wolves” and had my mind absolutely blown open. I felt like she was summarizing the entire spiritual awakening I have had in the last few years!

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There were moments while listening where I audibly gasped, as I heard the author literally tell ‘my story’. If you haven’t read this, I highly recommend it!

It was as if she was writing the concluding paragraph to the ‘coming home, but letting go’ essay of the past week.

And I got home, and I threw open the windows of Hill Shadow House, and I scrubbed my kitchen floor, and I took out the garbage, and ripped all the unneccessary clothes from my wardrobe and bagged them up for charity. It was a purging. A throwing off of all that no longer serves me. a literal shedding of the skin; climbing out of my chrysalis to unfold my new wings. To welcome in this new era, and step into my power as the Wool Witch.

Here I was: Home at last. In my body, at my hearth, ready to use my intuition and the ancient knowledge of my sisters to create and to work the magic.

And then, the Universe threw me one final lightening bolt.


I had listed my last remaining skein of Activated Yarn onto an online Facebook yarn auction before I left. A roll of the dice. I reasoned that the person who needed it would find it. It was a golden bamboo-blended skein of Luck & Abundance. Infused with reiki energy, Zucchini flower, Aventurine and Citrine. A lady bid for it, saying she was going through a rough time, and could use some good luck. A second lady bid, and finally won the auction. She then contacted me by email saying that she had paid for the yarn, but could I contact the first lady for her address and send it there. She had bought as a gift for her.

Complete strangers. A completely random act of kindness brought about and manifested by threads, earth and energy. Ancestral medicine that made better three people.

That, my friends, is BIG MAGIC.

I felt overwhelmed and humbled by what had just occurred. The universe took me on this journey, showing me who I was before, and who I have now become. It showed me that I was rebirthing, shedding off all that no longer served me, while connecting to what is  deep, deep in my spirit. Then it finished up with a veritable “mic drop”.

BOOM!: THIS. THIS IS WHAT YOU DO.

The Volva has arrived.

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It’s about more than just wool.

No one ever makes something without an intention. And no one ever knits or crochets an item without someone or some purpose in mind. I’ve long been inspired by that, and by the chain of hands yarn goes through in the process of becoming ‘someone’s’. A chain of creativity and intention.

I love the way fibre craft connects me. I sit down, my mind slows, and I create. I can just be. I think about my Nan and Pop – they passed away when I was seven – and Nan was a very ill lady for a long long time. She couldn’t get out and do much. But she sat down, and put her hands over mine, and she taught me to knit. And my pop taught me to crochet. and I think many many people who knit and crochet were taught this skill by their grandparents, and aunties, and uncles. It’s probably one of the few skills still passed down this way. Generation to generation. Hand to hand.

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See, the thing I love about handmade items is their uniqueness. Their flaws. But also, their ‘story’. I love to imagine all the hands, all the skills, all the intentions that have gone into a handmade item. I’m just a link in the chain of something really special. I add my chapter of the story, then I pass it on to the next person, and they add theirs.

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It’s part of the reason I prefer to buy raw fleece from small scale farms, rather than commercial roving dyed in huge dyelots. I like to know the whole story. I like to know that this was Wilma’s fleece; a rescue sheep from Daylesford. She belongs to Linda. Linda collected and sold her fleece, and I add my hands to the story. And then I will hand it along to the next person, who will add their chapter to the story; knitting a blanket for their grandson, a beanie for their Nanna, a scarf for Uncle John. A chain of love, and creativity, and intention.

There’s something magical about that.

So that set me to thinking: I want to activate the yarn. I want to imbue it with healing qualities. I want to capture the spirit of ‘connectedness’, of ‘ancestry’, of ‘specialness’ and  healing’ that I see in yarn. And so I’ve been lead to create “Activated Yarn”.

So here’s my creation unfurling. This first attempt at a fledgling idea. I bathed my crystals in the light of the lunar eclipse. I cleaned, processed and handspun a soft Corridale fleece, into a DK weight yarn. I smudged it with White Sage to remove any negative energy, and used natural organic plant dyes to dye it a beautiful healing green. I then put it into a steeping blend of homegrown Eucalyptus and Lavender -picked from my garden – and Clear Quartz, Amethyst, Aventurine and Ruby Fuschite for healing, soothing and purifying. This cauldron bubbled away over a white candle, opening the pores of the fibre and allowing the properties of the crystals and plants to seep in. Lastly I added a tail hair from my horse Will, as an animal totem. He broke his leg as a foal, but defied all logic to not only heal, but to then go on and win races. A miracle horse. His racing name was ‘Once a Blue Moon’, so rare and miraculous his recovery.

My healing yarn is now out drying in the moonlight. What I do is not Witchcraft. It’s not Magick or anything mysterious. I work only and always from a place of love and light. It doesn’t fit into a box or a definition. All I have done is filled this yarn with love, focus and intention. Its art. It’s a special creation. My hope is that someone buys this yarn and makes something special. I hope they think about their Aunty while they make her some mittens, and that they add their chapter to the story. And that when they give the mittens to their Aunty, she feels the hands and the energy that has been put into this special creation, and it makes her heart feel good. That’s all.

It’s not magic. It’s not going to cure cancer. It’s not going to change the world.

But it’s my art. And I hope you like it. – And it’s also ok if you don’t 🙂

And you know, if you’re sick, this healing yarn wont ‘cure’ you. But I hope that if you’re going into battle, you’ll wear my armor. I made it with my heart and my hands x

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When it all feels like a ‘job’.

Lately, I’ve been finding it hard to slow down. There always seems to be another task in the back of my head that needs to be done, and not nearly enough time to do it all. Im working on a number of projects at the moment, all of which demand my attention, my work environment has been tense and stressful, and the girls have all their end-of-year activities on and:swimming lessons, dance recitals, christmas parties.

And the news is full of violence. And the pollen is itching my eyes. And we’ve had restless broken sleep each night for various reasons. And it’s all just a bit loud, a bit bright, a bit much.

I’m trying – REALLY TRYING – to keep slowing down. To breathe. To remember the really important things.

Im trying to carefully and deliberately to compartmentalise my work hours to keep work from bleeding into my day. When I plan to work for an hour, at the end of the hour, I close the program, get up and walk away from the computer.

Easier said than done.

Part of the stress is planning for a big market coming up. I’ve been spinning wool and dyeing roving late into the evening (aften way past when I planned to go the bed!) spinning wool until my eyes ache and my fingers are stiff. I want to have tonnes of beautiful things for the stall. Often I work myself to the bone like this, only to sell NOTHING on the day, and come home not even having my stall-money re-couped. That can be so disheartening.

But then I had a bit of an epiphany at a friend’s house the other day. She made a comment about trying to find a craft that would be lucrative. She was going to try pottery, commentting on how she felt she’d be able to make more volume in less time. (Can I add as an aside here, that I do not mean to suggest in any way that this friend is materialistic or intends to sell-out and go into mass production! Merely that she was talking about the need to help supplement her family income! I hear that!) But it made me think about handcrafting vs mass-production. Would I sell-out if I could find some way to make this stuff pay?

And I realised I wouldn’t. I really enjoy the spinning and knitting. I love the slowness and meditation of feeding out the fibre, and the suprise results of dyeing, and making bits and bobs for people I love who appreciate my pieces. When I feel like Im working to a deadline, or trying to make it profitable, I dont enjoy it. It becomes mundane, and becomes just another ‘job’.

I have a job. I do this because its fun. Even when I get up in the dark, load the car, drive to a market, set up sit in the sun/wind/rain all day, and come home having not sold a single thing; I’ve still had a fun day.

So I’m not going to find another more lucrative thing to sell. Cos I love doing this. And someday I may have to buy a warehouse to store all my unsold bits and pieces, and then move in to it because wool wont pay my rent. Oh well.

But I AM going to remember to stop stressing about finishing items in time for the markets. I can never predict what’s going to sell or not anyway! This is NOT MY JOB. (I should stop making it like one!)

And as for my actual job… :/ Weeellll. It pays the bills. Mostly. And the people are nice. Mostly. And I can turn off my computer, and not open my email, until I decide to be in “work mode” tomorrow.

Its been getting warmer too. We had friends over for our yearly “hazard reduction burn” (aka Bonfire Night) and the kids had a ball! I wanna plant more food in my garden. And take the girls to the beach more. And start doing some running again. Not for weightloss this time. Not for punishment. I dont do that anymore. Just for a bit of fun, and to get the dog out for some exercise. Thats another thing I have conciously decided not to make into a “job”. It started to become one a while back, so I stopped, cold turkey. I realised I was using running to punish my body for being “too big”. I was using it as a weapon to beat myself with, when I really needed to be my own friend.

The little voice in my head became a drill sargent. screaming out internet “fitspo” slogans: “You’ll make time, or you’ll make excuses!”, “you just dont want it bad enough!. I imagined laying my boot into myself, curled in defense on the ground, kicking and flogging it to get up and get my ‘fat ass’ to do one more rep, when what I really shouldve been saying to myself is “…honey, you’re tired. You’ve been caring for 2 little kids, a farm, and a sick partner all day on your own. It’s ok to go to bed.” I was my own worst enemy. In fact if i had heard anyone absuing someone the way I abused myself inside my head, I would’ve bodily thrown myself inbetween, screaming “STOP! STOP!!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! SHE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! LEAVE HER ALONE”.

But I wasn’t my friend.

I choose to be my friend now. I wont punish myself anymore.

So I choose to slow down. To log off. To stop making the things I love a ‘job’. Even if I only have a few beautiful, hand made things on my market stall, they will be made with integrity and love. Even if I didn’t push through to get that last email sent, at least I wont be stressed and yelling distractedly at my kids. Even if the house is dusty, and the garden’s going a bit to seed and weed, Im not a size 12, and I havent worn my Garmin in months, it’s ok. I can cut myself some slack and do something nice for me. It’s what friends do.