A series of stories, meditations and conversations released twice a month following the lunar calendar. Let's explore wisdom that has stood the test of time.

As standard days go drifting by,

And years grow wiser in my eye,

Time slowly paints its hidden hue,

While fading memories slip from view.

I wonder if our paths will cross,

Within this life of gain and loss,

Where every bond is tightly bound,

By rules unseen, without a sound.

It stings to know you took for granted,

The fragile hours that we planted;

You chose a war we could not win,

A losing battle from within.

I wish you felt the ticking clock,

Before the key turned in the lock—

To know the depth of what we shared,

How few have ever loved or cared.

I only wished for one more hour,

Before the sweetness turned to sour,

To build a fortress made of rhyme,

Defying all the laws of time.

Instead, our story fades away,

A trend that lived for just a day,

Erased by rules of what is new,

Leaving me here, recalling you.

Perhaps when our brief lease is run,

Beneath this heavy, fading sun,

We’ll meet within a higher plane,

And play the cosmic game again.

Maybe I’ll know you right away,

Or maybe you will lead the way;

Maybe I’ll play the fool anew,

Just searching for a glimpse of you.

But still, I long to see your face,

Beyond the trials of this place.

Through every test the world could cast,

Where I just barely scraped and passed,

My favourite moments, come what may,

Were recess breaks within the day—

The quiet blocks of sacred grace,

Where we just paused and held the space.

Sometimes I wish I’d never left,

Of every forward step bereft,

But turning back is just as stark,

A blind man walking in the dark.

Perhaps I’ll break the clock at last,

Where there is no tomorrow, no past,

No forward march, no backward stride,

Just you and I, side by side.

A front united, fierce and brave,

To keep us loved, alive, and safe.

For that is where the tether breaks,

And time forgets the tolls it takes—

Dissolving in a boundless sea

Of love that sets the spirit free.

Maybe I'll recognize you then...

Or maybe you'll finally get to know me,

the real me.

Recently, visions of Kali draw near—

The fierce, untamed goddess whom most look upon with fear.

Yet where others shrink back, I am healed and inspired,

In her dark, blinding radiance, I am seen and empowered.

I feel a deep love that is ancient and real,

A presence that cuts through the lies that would heal.

My grandmother sits on the edge of the dark,

In her eighties, they say, she is losing her spark.

“Her time is now short,” so the whisperers say,

“She is bound to her bed, she will pass any day.”

Yet each time they write off the strength in her bones,

She rises like embers from cold, heavy stones.

She rises not simply because she is strong,

But because to her nature, such triumphs belong.

She’s the fiercest of fighters, the baddest alive,

The wildest, the funniest, built to survive.

Though her body grows fragile, her spirit stays sharp,

A warrior’s breath playing death like a harp.

She fools every shadow that creeps through the door,

The strongest soul left on our ancestral floor.

For centuries, ignorant men of the world

Kept the flag of the sacred, wild mother unfurled—

They suppressed every fire, demanded her silence,

Fearing her truth and mislabeling her violence.

They try taming wolves into slaves for their own gain,

For a slave can be used, can be held in a chain—

But the feminine wakes now, far fiercer and fast,

Reclaiming the glory denied in the past.

To rise is to know her own power at last.

Like a mother who plays touch-and-go with the dark,

To deliver new life through her labouring heart—

In that moment of blood, as the infant crawls out from the womb,

A mother is birthed back to life from the tomb.

She brings forth the child to step onto the earth,

And reclaims her own soul in the moment of birth.

And that is why Kali arrives in the night:

To reveal the truth that’s been hiding in plain sight.

She doesn’t wait meekly for quiet or peace—

She stomps on the falsehoods to demand your release.

She dances through wreckage of weak-willed men,

To crown the wild warrior women again.

A quick shout out to Carla Kuhlmann, thanks for sharing this post on Kali and Dasa Mahavidya on Instagram. Carla has has completed 500 hours of Tantric Sadhana. These are inspired by Dasa Mahavidya. The algorithm seems to be bringing me closer to Kali:

“Bring me your shame.

Bring me your guilt.

Bring me every illusion you mistake for yourself.

I feast on everything

that stands between you and your liberation.”

“Don’t tame your desire.

Burn away everything that keeps you from it.

Desire and pleasure is life

remembering itself through you.”

“You call is loss.

I call it expansion.

Every identity I take from you

makes room for the infinite eternal.”

“I am the dark mother.

I do not protect your comfort.

I protect your truth.

Everything else.. chop chop”

“I wear ten avatars.

One will seduce you.

One will shatter you.

One will silence you.

One will make you roar.

Everyone of them will return you

to your true self.”

On the one year anniversary of Wise Wolf, we’re excited to bring you this episode which includes a deep meditation section to help you relax and digest the contents of this episode.

Strawberry Moon, Second Full Moon of June 2026, Summer Solstice and Peak Summer, Non-Attachment, The Myth of the Archer and the Moon Goddess, Rhythm of time, day, season and the planet.

Tonight, under the absolute quiet of the mid-May dark moon, we invite you to step into the quiet architecture that shapes our reality. We look closely at the earth’s natural geometry—from the synchronized rising of mayfly clouds on the rivers to the perfect Fibonacci spirals of unfurling ferns—to discover how nature repeats its truest designs without ever becoming stagnant. Strip away the internal noise and explore the profound difference between the closed loop of the circle and the evolutionary growth of the spiral. The second half of the episode opens into a deep, immersive dark moon descent—a space of pure rest accompanied by a slow, grounding track to help you fully drop into the physical rhythm of your breath.