Woven Earth Traditions

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?” - Mary Oliver

Hello! I’m Carriese

Mother Hedge Witch Storyteller

Beaming with curiosity about the nuanced, strange, wildly intelligent complexity of being human—healing, heartbreak, lineage, the body, and the beauty of our shared and messy authenticity.

I am a lover, a birth, body, grief and joy worker, and a deep inner-earth dweller. Swamp woman, as my friends lovingly call me. Mostly because I’m not afraid of the depths, the dark, the muck, or sitting beside someone when life has sharp and sideways angles. I have a particular affection for the places we’ve been taught to avoid, and somehow, in the midst of them, I tend to create an atmosphere of existential okayness. Divinely, things even bloom there.

Earth reverent, hilarious and squishy, total sweetheart (with a little spice). I live in the garden during warmer seasons and thrive bundled in a good wool blanket passing as a scarf in the winter. I make art, weave magic, grow things, tend land, and make exceptionally good soup. My home and kitchen table will undoubtedly remind you of your most cherished auntie or grandmother—or perhaps the one you never had but always wished would pull out a chair, feed you something warm, and say, “Baby, come sit down. Rest. We’ve got your back.”

My path into this work was shaped by my own underworld descents, curiosity, rupture, motherhood, truth-seeking, and more than a few spiritual reckonings conducted on the bathroom floor. (We all know its the best place to wail and transform).

I entered the places where old beliefs had taken root. Listened to memory braided into tissue, lodged in bone, and knotted into the architecture of my cells. I watched stories loosen and crack me open. I gathered scattered pieces of myself, broke a few inherited spells, and clawed (crawled, stumbled, occasionally complained) my way toward believing in my own wholeness.

What I learned is that transformation rarely looks like ascending gracefully into the light. It is much more ordinary, much more human, and much more beautiful than that. Alchemy asks for grit and tenderness. That we arrive as we are: grief-filled, vulnerable, laugh-cackling, skeptical, furious, exhausted, hopeful.

Alive

Lineage At the heart of my practice is a simple orientation: the body is not a grievance. It is a wise elder who holds the wisdom of our unique story.

This work lives at the meeting place of body, psyche, memory, lineage, ritual, and relationship. With particular interest in the unconscious realm and the emotional imprints that shape how we experience ourselves and the world.

My practice is informed by and integrates the BioMystica Framework, named by my teachers, Qiddist Ashé and Maura Flynn, and transmitted through their teaching at The Holy Well.

This modality holds the orientation that our bodies are extraordinarily adaptive. Meaning that our cells organize themselves around what we have lived through and what we have inherited. What we call a “pattern or a symptom” is a strategy with one job: protect and survive. What feels stuck is something that has never had enough safety, time, relationship, or language to move differently.

Through intuitive psychosomatic work, embodied inquiry, ritual, time travel, deep presence, and affirmation - we become curious about the story your body is telling and the places where you learned to brace, disappear, perform, please, protect, endure, or become someone other than yourself in order to belong.  

Imagine. You find words that have waited decades to be spoken. The wounds tucked like rope around your organs finally begin to loosen and unwind. Your mothers voice caught in the back of your throat like an echo, and her mother’s voice somewhere behind hers dissipates and you can hear your own. 

The movements your animal body needs to feel through are available. You speak, shake, tremble, push, curl inward, make sound, laugh or cry until something breaks open only to discover that embodiment is an honest and natural way of being. It might be the whole point. 

And sometimes the spectacular is subtle and looks like  “nothing happens at all. You breathe. You notice. You stay. You have a thought differently. You feel more space or peace or joy or pleasure next to the grief. And it feels ok. That, too, is profound.

I am less interested in forcing a breakthrough than I am in cultivating the conditions where something true can emerge. I don’t believe healing is about endlessly excavating yourself for evidence of what is wrong. I believe it is a gradual restoration of relationship—with sensation, instinct, pleasure, grief, boundaries, desire, imagination, and the deep intelligence already living inside you.

A willingness to be with ourselves.

From this place: Energy moves. Magic weaves. Miracles happen. Lives are changed.

Are you ready to step into your house of healing?

Woven Earth Tradition

Love Letters to the Body

Spontaneous writings on embodiment, rebirth, grief, and coming home to the body. These love letters are reflections from my personal healing journey: thoughts on the wild and robust work of remembering ourselves.

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