𝔬 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔵 𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔭𝔞

she, 30s, bi ❖ mystic christianity, local animism, folkloric witchcraft ❖ contemplative, cunning, heterodox, beloved

[highholyhill]

hi hello! i'm avery, a 30-something woman living in the northwoods of wisconsin. i'm here to talk about christianity and witchcraft. for me, the two sometimes walk hand-in-hand, and they sometimes split up. i'm exploring that, all of it. it may well be my life's work.

anything else you need to know about me you'll learn as we go along. 💙

[furordinaricvs]

Cat resting on a cross of Orthodox church in Perast, Montenegro.

[kurhanchyk]

okay let's make a poll where most options will be 2%

what kind of christianity did you grow up with

church of the east

oriental orthodox (coptic, armenian, ethiopian, etc.)

eastern orthodox (constantinople and others)

eastern catholic (maronite, syro-malabar, greek catholic, etc.)

roman catholic

protestant (lutheran, baptist, methodist, anglican, pentecostal, calvinist...)

restorationist (lds/mormon, jw, iglesia ni cristo, etc.)

interdenominational

other

atheist (post-christian)

i have nothing to do with christianity

Voting ended onMay 16, 2025

[opencommunion]

Duane Michael, Christ in New York, 1981. "Christ cries when he sees a young woman who has died during an illegal abortion," "Christ eats dog food with an old Ukrainian lady in Brooklyn," and "Christ is beaten defending a homosexual."

[bobdylanyaoi]

the most annoying person you know: dante’s inferno is such a fanfiction and my favorite painting is the creation of adam and this is my henry winter study playlist and i want to read sappho with my girlfriend in a field and make out in the greek statue wing of an art museum and im a sapiosexual quote poetry to me i love being an intellectual who is langston hughes? who is james baldwin? basquiats art isn’t aesthetic :( i like caravaggio :) yes i know african art history i love ancient egypt. did you know antigone is a feminist? who is audre lorde? i don’t know any rappers i only listen to tchaikovsky and hozier. public libraries are so punk! look at this tweed blazer i got on shein! who is zora neale hurston?

[sacredheart-stigmata]

So whose looking forward to stealing May 1st for the unions

[chewedcorn]

christ on a cracker (the last supper, oil on saltine)

[daffolou]

Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris (1970)

[jeanritchie]

you will be a better writer if you stop regurgitating popular imagery from tumblr’s #aesthetic of the month it’s just a fact you need to do it you need to use some imagery no one else cares about or your work will keep giving your ichor wings are melting and now divinity stains your bronze fingertips like a pomegranate and you are holy holy holy. it’s just the truth

[espressoestradiol]

[blood-is-the-life]

There are no white LED ceiling lights in heaven inshallah

[tlirsgender]

Being sensitive to changes in barometric pressure is crazy what do you mean my problem is that the wind changed direction. What do you mean it's the fuckin clouds

[charl0ttan]

white people dont even say "its may i go to the bathroom" any more. now they just wander the desert, looking for answers and finding none

[achillesinhighheels]

[zegalba]

Stane Jagodic: Contemporary Golgotha (1999)

[and-her-saints]

"remember that if you're feeling far from God, He is not the one that moved." me when i have a shallow vision of God. me when i don't understand the intricacies of the Dark Night of the Soul. me when i have no concept of divine silence. me when i have never wrestled with God. me when i have no healthy view of doubt. me when i thoughtlessly spew out easy-to-digest phrases i heard once in evangelical summer camp and never had the bravery to argue against pinterest quotes being seen as dogma.

[urgetocreate]

Leonard Koscianski (American b.1952), On the Corner, 2017, Oil on canvas

[highholyhill]

today i watched a video in which a team of archaeologists talked about uncovering woolly mammoth fossils on a little island north of russia in the chukchi sea. mammoths survived there in isolation long after they'd died out everywhere else. on this island fossil ivory sticks out of the ground like old tree roots, so common as to almost be unremarkable, stained red and umber and curious misty grey. i watched one fellow and his assistant haul up a tusk and drop it unceremoniously on the wet grass, laughing together from the effort and strangeness of it.

when my mother died i became an archaeologist of sorts. a parent's death marries grief to work. i have no other choice. when i visit my stepfather i nap in their bed, on the side she used to occupy; in my mind this is much like wearing her shroud. i poke around in her dressers and closets. a list here, a christmas card there. clothes and jewelry, books, kitchen implements, stuffed animals. it feels like interpreting and arranging grave goods. it feels like pulling ancient bones from the ground, sweating and grimacing and laughing.

i am unchurched—raised agnostic—and as such i suppose i have a pretty fanciful, almost childlike idea of what an afterlife might look like. i mostly imagine a world much like our own, but without factories and oil rigs and pawn shops. a place where you can spend ages upon ages with your granny if you like, or walk for endless time in hills and fields without seeing another human soul. space for angels, jimi hendrix, your childhood dog, old redwoods cut down too soon. a space big enough for god to stroll through.

i have to believe that this god—garden walker, watchful eye, maybe something of a historian himself—loves me. that he loves my mother, too, sees what we were to each other, sees my hurt and cares for it. this is something i tell myself over and over. that he is gathering everything to himself: daughter, archaeologist and assistant, mother, mammoth.