THE ORACLE MAGAZINE
LAUNCHING SOON!
I am fucking exhausted. Not in the “I need a nap and a green juice” kind of way.
I am exhausted from carrying so much and still being told to heal in a way that makes everyone else comfortable.
Let’s be honest, there is nothing pretty about healing.
True healing is messy, painful, it’s definitely not linear, and some days it doesn’t look like a woman glowing under the full moon with a cup of herbal tea. Some days it looks like sitting on the edge of your bed thinking, “How the fuck did I get here?”
I am tired of seeing people handed spiritual scraps when what we actually need is depth, truth, warmth, lived understanding, fire, and someone willing to say, “Babe, of course you are tired. Look at what you have been going through.”
That is why I created The Oracle.
Because I am that woman, disconnected from myself, called strong whist falling apart. I have held myself together with caffeine, trauma responses, intuition, humour, and whatever thread of patience I had left.
Having worked professionally in the industry for over 35 years, and deciding to focus my attention on a dedicated two-year intensive healing journey, I have come through the other-side realising I was done prostituting myself, chasing, searching for anything that would distract me from sitting quietly with myself and truly healing.
The hustle was real. Living in a perpetual state of survival was fucking exhausting. But I have come through it with a version of myself I am finally enjoying getting to know.
And I know I am not the only one. I cannot stop thinking about how many of us are suffering quietly, filling our days with distractions, spiritually bypassing our shadows because sitting with the truth of what we carry feels too uncomfortable.
The Oracle was created from this journey.
From everything I have had to face, feel, grieve, rage through, laugh at, soften into and slowly make sense of. Because grief does not discriminate when she arrives. Your body still hears the criticism long after you have stopped being hard on yourself. You still question your intuition, even though you have been right more times than not. And then there is the loneliness of outgrowing versions of your life you once hoped for.
Or the internal frustration that rises when someone tells you everything happens for a reason and you have to stop yourself from throwing a crystal at their head.
These are the conversations I want to have. Unpolished, messy and honest.
The Oracle is a monthly dose of no BS wisdom delivered to your door.
A place where we talk about healing, spirituality, grief, embodiment, intuition, womanhood, ageing, shadow work, earth medicine, the moon, the seasons, the nervous system, the body, the mess, and the magic.
Inside The Oracle, you will find real stories from women who have lived things, lost things, questioned everything, and still found some deeper truth inside themselves. You will find interviews with women doing grounded, meaningful work in the world. You will find wisdom, seasonal guidance, rituals, herbs, crystals, body practices, journal prompts, kitchen witch recipes, blessings, sacred reflections, and the little pieces that make you stop and think, “Oh my God. That is exactly what I need."
The Oracle was not created from theory. It was created from lived experience. Where healing is rage, the ugly crying into your tea, and admitting you are lonely. It is looking at your life and thinking, “Hang on. I would like to renegotiate my contract and start over again please.” And sometimes it is laughing with a friend about how absolutely ridiculous it is that we are expected to be regulated, moisturised, grateful, calm, intuitive, successful, emotionally available and spiritually evolved all before lunch.
I want us to stop handing our power to people who have never had to live inside our shoes. I want a place each month where we can breathe out and feel less alone. A place where we can tell the truth without having to make it aesthetically pleasing to fit a narrative.
That is The Oracle. A monthly gathering delivered to your door, filled with good shit to keep you going!
So, pour the margarita. Take your bra off. Light a candle. And sit the fuck down with me, as you put your feet up and breathe.