Where whispers of the nostalgic past, living stories of the present, and ashes of the future intersect.
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Tucked beneath the facade of the ordinary – cradled betwixt the liminal spaces of time – exists the realm of living story. There, this ancient primordial language dwells, living in the souls of the inanimate un-dead.
From this annex, they beckon. Calling to us in hushed reverent tones. At first we hear them not. But, if we listen from deep within the hollows of our souls, we can hear story’s symphony of whispers evermore- echoing from within the bones they dwell.
Here, they wait, these un-dead souls made of dust and history and lore.
Here, they wait, for their whispers to be heard.
Come, let us heed their whispers!
Walk with me into the belly of story to feast upon its marrow.
For, we are bone gatherers-of-olde – carved from the rib of the Antique Hag - and, this is story’s ancient brew.
Like the parlours of old houses – unique in design and function to each occupant but a room nonetheless; so, too, are the bones we gather.
Though differing in form and meaning, their ancient brew unites them by this universal and primordial ancient language called story - each bone choosing with whom to commune. Whom to be their conduit. Their storyteller. The hallowed one who will heed their whispers and preserve their origin in form and story.
This, is our legacy. It is the way of the whispering bones and their gatherers- to commune together as kith and kin at it always has been and always will be.
For, we are the bone gatherers-of-olde, and these are the living stories of the bones we gather – and will gather still.
I am a writer and creatix with a penchant for antiques, old houses, and folklore. Founder and creator of True Northology and The Whispering Bones, you may find me perpetually lost betwixt the liminal spaces of time, dreaming about the home I will one day have the honor of stewarding.
I write and create through my personal lens as a neurodivergent, chronically ill woman with disabilities. Mother to two magickal and neurodivergent wildlings, and a beguiling black cat named Phoebe, my writing style uniquely infuses the old ways of storytelling – equal parts myth, fairy tale, and lore – with autobiographical snippets.
As an animist and hearth witch, I believe that there is soul in the inanimate and magick in the ordinary. My values and work is rooted in ancestral restoration, historical and architectural preservation, and in the primordial art of storytelling. I believe that we are living history at this very moment, and that story binds our collective experiences of the nostalgic past, the living stories of the present, and the ashes of the future. As such, I endeavor to become a well ancestor and my guide two wildlings in their own ancestral journeys.
My ancestors are settlers to Turtle Island (i.e. North America). Primarily of Slavic and French/German roots, I am also of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Balkan, and Ashkenazi Jewish heritage. My children’s ancestors are First Peoples, indigenous to Turtle Island.
I acknowledge that we currently live on the traditional and unceded lands of my children’s ancestors; the Cree, Saulteaux, Dakota, Nakota, Lakota, and Metis peoples.