✨ High Priestess Raven
@highpriestessraven.bsky.social
🔥 High Priestess of Sacred Rebellion
✨ Spiritual Journalist
💀 Keeper of The House of Embers
✨ Spiritual Journalist
💀 Keeper of The House of Embers
Neuro-spicy brains are like glitter:
annoying to some,
everywhere once you open the jar,
and impossible to contain.
That’s Sacred Divergence. And I wouldn’t want me any other way.
annoying to some,
everywhere once you open the jar,
and impossible to contain.
That’s Sacred Divergence. And I wouldn’t want me any other way.
September 10, 2025 at 12:15 PM
Neuro-spicy brains are like glitter:
annoying to some,
everywhere once you open the jar,
and impossible to contain.
That’s Sacred Divergence. And I wouldn’t want me any other way.
annoying to some,
everywhere once you open the jar,
and impossible to contain.
That’s Sacred Divergence. And I wouldn’t want me any other way.
Keeping the peace should never mean killing your voice.
If your calm is costing you your truth...
It’s not peace—it’s performance.
If your calm is costing you your truth...
It’s not peace—it’s performance.
August 6, 2025 at 11:49 AM
Keeping the peace should never mean killing your voice.
If your calm is costing you your truth...
It’s not peace—it’s performance.
If your calm is costing you your truth...
It’s not peace—it’s performance.
Just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s true.
Don’t react — research.
Then respond, if it’s even worth your energy.
Fear-mongering isn’t a spiritual gift, babe. It’s just performative panic.
Don’t react — research.
Then respond, if it’s even worth your energy.
Fear-mongering isn’t a spiritual gift, babe. It’s just performative panic.
August 5, 2025 at 4:26 PM
Just because it’s loud doesn’t mean it’s true.
Don’t react — research.
Then respond, if it’s even worth your energy.
Fear-mongering isn’t a spiritual gift, babe. It’s just performative panic.
Don’t react — research.
Then respond, if it’s even worth your energy.
Fear-mongering isn’t a spiritual gift, babe. It’s just performative panic.
Ever feel like you’re trying to build a temple in a space that sometimes feels more like a trauma landfill?
Me too.
But I’m lighting the incense anyway.
Me too.
But I’m lighting the incense anyway.
August 2, 2025 at 7:38 PM
Ever feel like you’re trying to build a temple in a space that sometimes feels more like a trauma landfill?
Me too.
But I’m lighting the incense anyway.
Me too.
But I’m lighting the incense anyway.
He was the hit.
The high.
The withdrawal.
And I kept calling it “connection”
because I didn’t know how to say
“chemically induced trauma bond."
The high.
The withdrawal.
And I kept calling it “connection”
because I didn’t know how to say
“chemically induced trauma bond."
August 2, 2025 at 2:56 PM
He was the hit.
The high.
The withdrawal.
And I kept calling it “connection”
because I didn’t know how to say
“chemically induced trauma bond."
The high.
The withdrawal.
And I kept calling it “connection”
because I didn’t know how to say
“chemically induced trauma bond."
Not everything that crumbles is a crisis.
Sometimes it’s just your spirit clearing space. Not breaking down—breaking open.
Sometimes it’s just your spirit clearing space. Not breaking down—breaking open.
August 2, 2025 at 12:58 AM
Not everything that crumbles is a crisis.
Sometimes it’s just your spirit clearing space. Not breaking down—breaking open.
Sometimes it’s just your spirit clearing space. Not breaking down—breaking open.
Why TF am I missing him?
We’re DONE done.
Then I remembered:
THE MAGICK + TRICKERY OF TRANSITS ✨
Transits don’t just add noise—they complete gaps in your chart. And when they light up a gate that holds your wound (hello, Gate 30)... That ache? It flares.
We’re DONE done.
Then I remembered:
THE MAGICK + TRICKERY OF TRANSITS ✨
Transits don’t just add noise—they complete gaps in your chart. And when they light up a gate that holds your wound (hello, Gate 30)... That ache? It flares.
August 1, 2025 at 6:26 PM
Why TF am I missing him?
We’re DONE done.
Then I remembered:
THE MAGICK + TRICKERY OF TRANSITS ✨
Transits don’t just add noise—they complete gaps in your chart. And when they light up a gate that holds your wound (hello, Gate 30)... That ache? It flares.
We’re DONE done.
Then I remembered:
THE MAGICK + TRICKERY OF TRANSITS ✨
Transits don’t just add noise—they complete gaps in your chart. And when they light up a gate that holds your wound (hello, Gate 30)... That ache? It flares.
Your breadcrumbs tasted delicious.
I nibbled on hope like it was a meal.
But now?
I’d rather starve than beg.
That’s what healing does.
It ruins your taste for crumbs.
— High Priestess Raven | The House of Embers
I nibbled on hope like it was a meal.
But now?
I’d rather starve than beg.
That’s what healing does.
It ruins your taste for crumbs.
— High Priestess Raven | The House of Embers
August 1, 2025 at 12:21 AM
Your breadcrumbs tasted delicious.
I nibbled on hope like it was a meal.
But now?
I’d rather starve than beg.
That’s what healing does.
It ruins your taste for crumbs.
— High Priestess Raven | The House of Embers
I nibbled on hope like it was a meal.
But now?
I’d rather starve than beg.
That’s what healing does.
It ruins your taste for crumbs.
— High Priestess Raven | The House of Embers
Before you leap into a new month — pause.
Don’t pressure yourself to “start fresh” with fake fire.
Instead, ask yourself:
🖤 What did I outlive this month?
🖤 What lie did I stop feeding?
🖤 What part of me is ready to be laid to rest?
Welcome the new month with presence, not pressure.
Don’t pressure yourself to “start fresh” with fake fire.
Instead, ask yourself:
🖤 What did I outlive this month?
🖤 What lie did I stop feeding?
🖤 What part of me is ready to be laid to rest?
Welcome the new month with presence, not pressure.
July 31, 2025 at 12:22 PM
Before you leap into a new month — pause.
Don’t pressure yourself to “start fresh” with fake fire.
Instead, ask yourself:
🖤 What did I outlive this month?
🖤 What lie did I stop feeding?
🖤 What part of me is ready to be laid to rest?
Welcome the new month with presence, not pressure.
Don’t pressure yourself to “start fresh” with fake fire.
Instead, ask yourself:
🖤 What did I outlive this month?
🖤 What lie did I stop feeding?
🖤 What part of me is ready to be laid to rest?
Welcome the new month with presence, not pressure.
Stop Holding the Door for Ghosts.
You’re not a doormat for divine timing.
But somewhere along the way, you made a sanctuary out of absence and called it sacred.
Burn the welcome mat. They’re not coming back. And honestly? You’re not even there anymore.
But somewhere along the way, you made a sanctuary out of absence and called it sacred.
Burn the welcome mat. They’re not coming back. And honestly? You’re not even there anymore.
July 26, 2025 at 1:03 PM
Stop Holding the Door for Ghosts.
You’re not a doormat for divine timing.
But somewhere along the way, you made a sanctuary out of absence and called it sacred.
Burn the welcome mat. They’re not coming back. And honestly? You’re not even there anymore.
But somewhere along the way, you made a sanctuary out of absence and called it sacred.
Burn the welcome mat. They’re not coming back. And honestly? You’re not even there anymore.
Some days you sprint.
Some days you stall.
Sacred rhythm isn’t always linear.
The starts and stops?
Still movement.
Still holy.
Still you.
And gosh darn if I ain’t sitting in a stall day. Time for some tea. 🫖
Some days you stall.
Sacred rhythm isn’t always linear.
The starts and stops?
Still movement.
Still holy.
Still you.
And gosh darn if I ain’t sitting in a stall day. Time for some tea. 🫖
July 25, 2025 at 2:19 PM
Some days you sprint.
Some days you stall.
Sacred rhythm isn’t always linear.
The starts and stops?
Still movement.
Still holy.
Still you.
And gosh darn if I ain’t sitting in a stall day. Time for some tea. 🫖
Some days you stall.
Sacred rhythm isn’t always linear.
The starts and stops?
Still movement.
Still holy.
Still you.
And gosh darn if I ain’t sitting in a stall day. Time for some tea. 🫖
Spiritual microaggressions are the subtle jabs hiding behind compliments.
The coded shaming dressed up as guidance.
This isn’t about nitpicking language.
It’s about naming the ways spiritual spaces can still harm—
even when everyone’s holding crystals and claiming compassion.
The coded shaming dressed up as guidance.
This isn’t about nitpicking language.
It’s about naming the ways spiritual spaces can still harm—
even when everyone’s holding crystals and claiming compassion.
July 24, 2025 at 2:38 PM
Spiritual microaggressions are the subtle jabs hiding behind compliments.
The coded shaming dressed up as guidance.
This isn’t about nitpicking language.
It’s about naming the ways spiritual spaces can still harm—
even when everyone’s holding crystals and claiming compassion.
The coded shaming dressed up as guidance.
This isn’t about nitpicking language.
It’s about naming the ways spiritual spaces can still harm—
even when everyone’s holding crystals and claiming compassion.
Venting moment - I post on Substack and Medium and this formatting for “readability” is totally yucking my yum. I love to write ✍️ and this is cramping my style. And no one is reading it anyway! Ahhhhh - I said it!
July 23, 2025 at 12:38 PM
Venting moment - I post on Substack and Medium and this formatting for “readability” is totally yucking my yum. I love to write ✍️ and this is cramping my style. And no one is reading it anyway! Ahhhhh - I said it!
There’s a holy grief in the moment
you stop confusing hunger with hope.
When you stop calling it spiritual chemistry
and start seeing it for what it was—
just… inconsistency and a choice.
you stop confusing hunger with hope.
When you stop calling it spiritual chemistry
and start seeing it for what it was—
just… inconsistency and a choice.
July 22, 2025 at 1:42 PM
There’s a holy grief in the moment
you stop confusing hunger with hope.
When you stop calling it spiritual chemistry
and start seeing it for what it was—
just… inconsistency and a choice.
you stop confusing hunger with hope.
When you stop calling it spiritual chemistry
and start seeing it for what it was—
just… inconsistency and a choice.
I’m done mistaking emotional crumbs for a feast.
I was never hard to love—they were just unequipped. (In ways that matter)
I won’t chase clarity from chaos or beg loyalty from confusion.
They don’t get to call it love if it starved me.
I didn’t unlove them (wish I could)
I just outgrew the hunger.
I was never hard to love—they were just unequipped. (In ways that matter)
I won’t chase clarity from chaos or beg loyalty from confusion.
They don’t get to call it love if it starved me.
I didn’t unlove them (wish I could)
I just outgrew the hunger.
July 21, 2025 at 4:19 PM
I’m done mistaking emotional crumbs for a feast.
I was never hard to love—they were just unequipped. (In ways that matter)
I won’t chase clarity from chaos or beg loyalty from confusion.
They don’t get to call it love if it starved me.
I didn’t unlove them (wish I could)
I just outgrew the hunger.
I was never hard to love—they were just unequipped. (In ways that matter)
I won’t chase clarity from chaos or beg loyalty from confusion.
They don’t get to call it love if it starved me.
I didn’t unlove them (wish I could)
I just outgrew the hunger.
Coming out of the spiritual closet is one thing.
Coming out as a threshold-walker, wound-namer, spiritual journalist — with scars still bleeding — that’s another.
I started writing again because my bones said “enough.”
It’s not easy to be this visible. (Open wound here.)
But it’s necessary.
Coming out as a threshold-walker, wound-namer, spiritual journalist — with scars still bleeding — that’s another.
I started writing again because my bones said “enough.”
It’s not easy to be this visible. (Open wound here.)
But it’s necessary.
July 19, 2025 at 4:57 PM
Coming out of the spiritual closet is one thing.
Coming out as a threshold-walker, wound-namer, spiritual journalist — with scars still bleeding — that’s another.
I started writing again because my bones said “enough.”
It’s not easy to be this visible. (Open wound here.)
But it’s necessary.
Coming out as a threshold-walker, wound-namer, spiritual journalist — with scars still bleeding — that’s another.
I started writing again because my bones said “enough.”
It’s not easy to be this visible. (Open wound here.)
But it’s necessary.
You called it healing.
But really—you were shrinking.
Shrinking rage into polite prayers.
Bypassing your truth and calling it peace.
But sacred rage doesn’t vanish.
It waits.
Not to burn you—
To forge you.
But really—you were shrinking.
Shrinking rage into polite prayers.
Bypassing your truth and calling it peace.
But sacred rage doesn’t vanish.
It waits.
Not to burn you—
To forge you.
July 18, 2025 at 4:39 PM
You called it healing.
But really—you were shrinking.
Shrinking rage into polite prayers.
Bypassing your truth and calling it peace.
But sacred rage doesn’t vanish.
It waits.
Not to burn you—
To forge you.
But really—you were shrinking.
Shrinking rage into polite prayers.
Bypassing your truth and calling it peace.
But sacred rage doesn’t vanish.
It waits.
Not to burn you—
To forge you.
When the sky gets heavy with what it can no longer hold,
it doesn’t ask for permission to release.
It doesn’t schedule its feelings.
It doesn’t apologize for the boom.
It just lets go.
The storm doesn’t perform peace to keep you comfortable. It rages clean. It rumbles truth.
It just lets go.
The storm doesn’t perform peace to keep you comfortable. It rages clean. It rumbles truth.
July 17, 2025 at 5:19 PM
When the sky gets heavy with what it can no longer hold,
it doesn’t ask for permission to release.
It doesn’t schedule its feelings.
It doesn’t apologize for the boom.
It just lets go.
The storm doesn’t perform peace to keep you comfortable. It rages clean. It rumbles truth.
It just lets go.
The storm doesn’t perform peace to keep you comfortable. It rages clean. It rumbles truth.
Don’t text the ex.
Not because you don’t miss them—
but because you don’t miss the version of you
who needed to be half-swallowed
to feel whole.
You’re not here
to reapply for roles
you’ve already outgrown.
Not because you don’t miss them—
but because you don’t miss the version of you
who needed to be half-swallowed
to feel whole.
You’re not here
to reapply for roles
you’ve already outgrown.
July 16, 2025 at 4:20 PM
Don’t text the ex.
Not because you don’t miss them—
but because you don’t miss the version of you
who needed to be half-swallowed
to feel whole.
You’re not here
to reapply for roles
you’ve already outgrown.
Not because you don’t miss them—
but because you don’t miss the version of you
who needed to be half-swallowed
to feel whole.
You’re not here
to reapply for roles
you’ve already outgrown.
They told you to be nice. To be small.
To be soft enough to keep your edges from cutting.
You were never meant to be anyone’s comfort object.
You are the flame. The forecast of change.
You are what happens when a woman stops waiting for permission and starts listening to her own damn self.
To be soft enough to keep your edges from cutting.
You were never meant to be anyone’s comfort object.
You are the flame. The forecast of change.
You are what happens when a woman stops waiting for permission and starts listening to her own damn self.
July 15, 2025 at 4:11 PM
They told you to be nice. To be small.
To be soft enough to keep your edges from cutting.
You were never meant to be anyone’s comfort object.
You are the flame. The forecast of change.
You are what happens when a woman stops waiting for permission and starts listening to her own damn self.
To be soft enough to keep your edges from cutting.
You were never meant to be anyone’s comfort object.
You are the flame. The forecast of change.
You are what happens when a woman stops waiting for permission and starts listening to her own damn self.
She didn’t rise from the ashes. She ordered the fire to kneel.
Stop calling it rebirth if you never burned anything down.
That feathered voice whispering in your chest?
That’s your own becoming—unfiltered & unpolished
This is not a glow-up. This is a soul detonation.
Stop calling it rebirth if you never burned anything down.
That feathered voice whispering in your chest?
That’s your own becoming—unfiltered & unpolished
This is not a glow-up. This is a soul detonation.
July 13, 2025 at 8:02 PM
She didn’t rise from the ashes. She ordered the fire to kneel.
Stop calling it rebirth if you never burned anything down.
That feathered voice whispering in your chest?
That’s your own becoming—unfiltered & unpolished
This is not a glow-up. This is a soul detonation.
Stop calling it rebirth if you never burned anything down.
That feathered voice whispering in your chest?
That’s your own becoming—unfiltered & unpolished
This is not a glow-up. This is a soul detonation.
If I ever fall in love again, he better know the Latin for banishing rituals and not flinch when I say “my altar stays.”
July 12, 2025 at 12:25 AM
If I ever fall in love again, he better know the Latin for banishing rituals and not flinch when I say “my altar stays.”
If I had to explain my spiritual journey to a child:
- I used to be scared of the dark.
Now I throw tea parties in the underworld.
- I used to be scared of the dark.
Now I throw tea parties in the underworld.
July 11, 2025 at 4:17 PM
If I had to explain my spiritual journey to a child:
- I used to be scared of the dark.
Now I throw tea parties in the underworld.
- I used to be scared of the dark.
Now I throw tea parties in the underworld.
It’s a miracle I function at all.
Between the Schumann Resonance spiking like Earth’s having a panic attack,
Mercury shadow boxing my brain,
and Human Design whispering “wait”…
I’m just over here trying to drink my tea before it gets cold.
Between the Schumann Resonance spiking like Earth’s having a panic attack,
Mercury shadow boxing my brain,
and Human Design whispering “wait”…
I’m just over here trying to drink my tea before it gets cold.
July 11, 2025 at 9:58 AM
It’s a miracle I function at all.
Between the Schumann Resonance spiking like Earth’s having a panic attack,
Mercury shadow boxing my brain,
and Human Design whispering “wait”…
I’m just over here trying to drink my tea before it gets cold.
Between the Schumann Resonance spiking like Earth’s having a panic attack,
Mercury shadow boxing my brain,
and Human Design whispering “wait”…
I’m just over here trying to drink my tea before it gets cold.