poems as portals
the deeper I journey within, the more I fall in love with my work. Watercolor painting with words.
from my journal - 4/5/2025
I woke up this morning beaming with clarity. Ready to share. Where do I even start to share this work that I’ve woven stitch by stitch with such deep awe and love? How do I share her with the world in a way that honors her mystery, her magic, her medicine? She sounds like the moon. Alignment, good. I started Closer to the Moon a year ago. A full Gaia cycle ago I created a vessel for my words. I remember how the name landed within me with minimal context, only that witchy knowing I love so much. It was easy, a soft landing. It was an invocation, a promise, a path that just felt like beautiful and aligned words at the time. Beautiful. Beauty. Coherence. Isn’t that a sign that reads - yes, this way…
Walking closer to the moon opened me up. Just look at us now, Cath, eating moonlight for every meal. How little I understood then that the magic of a moon in Cancer + Cancer ascendant was buzzing within my cells to return. To the Moon, to the waters.
That’s where I write from. Yes, that one meme of a computer in a magical place. Well ours is drenched in water and moonlight. I weave this work from closed eyes and deep connection. Last year we were still scared of the waters, I remember that note in my journal vividly from circle with
Back then in my Bambi legs, trying not to drown in the door of remembering I had opened, I could not even imagine this is what my inner wisdom meant. The waters. I remember dipping my toes so cautiously in the freezing Ireland coast, thinking– fuck, is it these waters? Should I not go in? Are they going to swallow me whole? Will I lose my mind if I submerge? And then one day, soft like breath, the re-membering just crystallized within, without effort, without strain. Just a day I didn’t even note in here because it seeped in as easy as night. The waters are the subconscious, my sacred waters. So natural and crystal clear within. And then I emerged from Pisces season, after fighting for my life in those waters, just knowing once again. This is the art my soul is craving in this season, watercolor painting with words.
It helped soften into this new space. The door where my writing was calling me to. I mean, my poetry has always been drenched in symbols, in channeled transmission, in mystery and the unseen, in that veiled space where I tune into the subtle notes and then all of a sudden my hand won’t stop writing and linear time gets swallowed whole by the song of Time. It used to feel so wild and frightening, and now I just feel wild and true. I somehow just started activating the parts of me that could hold this flow. My lattice.
Poems as Portals… hmmm. I hum in a melty YES every single time. I don’t want to kill its magic by reducing it to a “just this” definition. I really just want others to sense what it feels like. Like microdosing those moments of deep connection. These poems weave doorways into the subtle realms. They support organic opening, guiding us effortlessly toward internal wisdom, dreamlike insight, and transformative understanding. Water language that speaks directly to our sacred waters (our subconscious), the language of the unseen, woven with deep reverence and connection, artfully shaped into the felt, brewed into an earthy tea that works its magic in powerful, gentle, unseen movement and dialogue within us. I love the intimacy of feeling things we can’t quite name, box. Those spaces between words that water can course through. I sometimes wish I could just share this entire field of water wisdom that I have been swimming through with others. And yet, the journeying within is the best part, so why would I ever want us to just… arrive? I don’t. I guess that is an arrival. A soft landing. An acceptance that feels infinite. Water. Our feelings, emotions, energy in motion swimming like jellies through the deep, the subconscious, the dream world, the layer underneath that feeds us. And what do we feed our sacred waters in reciprocity? That’s what this work is. Poetic gifts for our waters, constellated transmissions that subtly help us remember. I love that the magic of true medicine is that it can be felt, sensed in the body. We need no external tools or wisdom to know if it is for us. We can simply… feel.
I feel excited to share work that isn’t fear or scarcity coded. Like I just want to scream from these wet cliffs, you are as whole as these waters. And I feel excited to see raised eyebrows or beams of light in curiosity. I can hold myself steady now in the knowing that my work is felt. How grateful I feel to speak this language, to welcome this back into existence from my deepest well. How grateful I am to feel and sense this deeply, to garden connection from our collective sea of divinity through our sacred body. I love the transformative power of Time, of saying that now, when before it felt truly debilitating to sense and feel this much. Drowning.
Drowning and generative work just started dancing together within. Drowning…learning to swim…generative work is a swim teacher…hmmm. I mean generative work opens you up, expanding and deepening us into a world of glistening, curious question marks. It’s not the work that closes doors. So generative work, this work, my work, reminds us how to swim. I don’t want to offer fake arrivals, and I will definitely not be ignoring each soul’s infinite wisdom by trying to swim for them. Water is generative. It ripples, it expands, it invites creation to happen, it is alive. It doesn’t just flow, period. It awakens. It activates. It unfolds. That is this work. Those are the seeds I want to share with others, work that is alive, that will bloom with care.
🔗 I invite you to explore Poems as Portals further here.
Poems as Portals
Poems as Portals has bloomed within me in fluidity, that fall-off-the-bone feeling of stepping exactly into my most authentic being. It feels deeply organic, rooted, effortless and alive. It feeds my entire system. It feels vulnerable, I arrived here through deep, intentional knowing, not bypassing the sacred energy of trial and error, of deeper discovery within, of the Fool’s path. I prayed for this, and intentionally embodied the parts of me that were ready to come back to life to be a conduit of it.
Like, yes, it feels natural within because I’ve prepared for this work for lifetimes.
My prayer, always: May the keys find their holders.
🌙