OREGON COAST
WILD WOMAN RITUALS

There is a particular kind of magic that's created on the Oregon Coast at night—the kind that asks you to step into the dark with trust, to let the ocean guide you by sound alone, to feel your way forward as the world slowly wakes. I’ve walked this beach countless times in that sacred hour, wrapped in the hush of early morning, but nothing prepared me for what happened today. I was moving along the shoreline, the sky still ink‑black, the waves breathing their steady rhythm be

This morning in Lincoln City, the beach was alive with people—heads down, eyes scanning the grass, searching for glass floats hidden along the shoreline. I thought the city must have advertised a float drop for the new year. There were always people looking for float but rarely this many. As I watched dozens of people comb the beach, I turned my eyes skyward. Above us, the sky was turning purple. The sunrise was breathtaking. Gold melting into rose, rose dissolving into laven

Every morning at 5 a.m., long before the first hint of dawn touches the Oregon Coast, I step onto the sand and begin an eight‑mile walk in complete darkness. No flashlight. No headlamp. Just me, the roar of the Pacific, and a sky scattered with more stars than I could ever count. People often ask why I do it—why I choose to walk alone in the dark, why I don’t bring a light, why I commit to it every single day. The truth is simple: this ritual has become one of the most healin

There is something otherworldly about watching a full moon set into the ocean—especially the first full moon of a new year. In the early hours of January 2026, the Wolf Moon hovered above the Pacific like a glowing lantern suspended between worlds. The air was cold, the tide was low, and the horizon held that soft, silvery shimmer that only winter moons seem to carry. Standing on the Oregon Coast, wrapped in the quiet of dawn, I watched as the moon slowly descended toward the