Hi, my name is Yarrow.
I live a soft, slow life in Scotland and create rituals and ceremonies for the big and small milestones in life. I also write, make textile art, host a podcast, swim in the sea all year and do a lot of queer dreaming.
I share my practices as an offering that you can receive and make your own. They are woven together from independent celebrancy, European folk magic, expressive art and exploratory weirdness. There is space for both grief and joy here.
To me rituals are healing and healing is always political, which is part of the reason why my programs are available on a pay what you can basis. If you enjoy my work please consider becoming a Patreon – this will support my Daydreaming Wolves podcast and gets you access to workshop recordings, my digital zines, my Embodied Magic program and upcoming live classes.
A heads up:
I’m regularly taking extended breaks from social media to focus on creating indy media like my podcasts and zines.
If you’d like to stay in touch you can sign up for my newsletter below – you will usually hear from me once or twice a month and you can unsubscribe any time. You will also get access to a free course on embodied magic and I am occasionally sharing free zines to download.
The daydreaming Wolves Podcast
Hey everyone, I am sorry for the unexpected podcasting pause! Much has happened in the world, I have moved to a new home and I just didn't have the headspace to edit & upload a new episode in a little while. But I am back and excited to share thoughts and...
Hey everyone, I'm happy to be back with a beautiful interview episode - I talked to Katherine May (a fellow writer!) about her book Wintering, our experience of the pandemic, the creative process and many other interesting things. I dropped deep into her writing this...
Hey everyone, I'm so happy to send this interview with Sheree Mack your way - it's been beautiful to talk to her and I got so much inspiration from the way she approaches creativity, nature and life in general. Here is some of what we talked about: How Sheree...
To have regular practices of reconnection to turn to in times of loss and upheaval feels more important than ever, as does coming together for celebrations of life and community.
I'm interested in rituals as a practice of place making, social and ecological healing as well as activism. To me being in ceremony means to make more space for stillness, for community care, for heart to hearts, for touch and poetry and for intimacy with the human and non-human worlds.
What I love about rituals is that they can encompass the whole range of human experiences, including joy, pleasure, anger, grief, intimacy and deep sorrow. They offer a way to engage with periods of transition in empowering ways.
In ritual space I can feel that my grief is open, soft, tender and necessary and that my pleasure is radical and healing.
When we step into ritual space we separate from ordinary life by putting our phones down, creating a beautiful container and setting an intention. Sometimes the separation is a chosen step, one that feels like it's been a long time coming, and sometimes it's one that we were forced to confront, for example through a break up or a sudden death.
The liminal space of a ritual can be filled with things like music, meditation, bodywork, plant magic, writing and movement to help us orient ourselves and receive insights about the transition we're in, but it can also be quiet and gentle to make space for some tears and letting go. It can be witnessed by loved ones or it can be just for yourself.
After a ritual we make space for integration so that we're returning back to our ordinary lives a little different - maybe a little more inspired, open, calm and clear about what's next or maybe just with a little less weight on our shoulders.
“The doors to the wild self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.”
– Clarissa Pinkola Estès