I have spent a lifetime bringing things home.
Stones from the creek. Feathers. Small pieces of wood. Things that catch my attention and end up in my pocket before I have decided what I’m going to do with them.
Sometimes they sit for a while.
And sometimes the things I have gathered begin to come together, and I understand why I kept them.
Sruth grew from that.
It also grew from my intuitive work, my Scottish ancestry, and the connection I feel to the Wise Women and healers who came before me. I find myself thinking about their hands. The things they gathered. The words they spoke over something prepared with care.
There is something meaningful to me about bringing that kind of attention into what I create.
Sruth is a Scottish Gaelic word for stream or current.
Living beside a creek, I have plenty of opportunities to watch what a current can do. Water moves around what is in its path. It gathers, slows, and finds an opening.
That felt like the right name for something created around intention.
An intention begins somewhere inside us. We may think about it for a long time before we give it words.
I wanted to create something that gives you a place to begin.
Something you can open, arrange, touch, and spend time with. A ritual that asks you to pause long enough to hear what you are saying.
The materials are part of that story.
The creek stones come from Appalachian waters. The salt comes from ancient waters beneath these mountains. I love that they can sit together in one small vessel, connecting the creek I know so well with a sea I can only imagine.
A seashell fragment holds another connection.
Here in Appalachia, the ocean can be hours away. Yet so many of us know that pull toward it. The salt air. The sound. The feeling of standing at the water’s edge and finally taking a deep breath.
I wanted to leave room for that, too.
The places that formed us, and the places that still call us.
There are wishing seeds, a feather, quartz, and an herbal blend. Each has a place in the ritual. Each brings something of its own.
I gather the elements together on the full moon, a time I honor for fullness, illumination, and possibility.
As I prepare each Sruth, wooden flute and drumming music fill the room. Palo santo smoke curls into the open glass and moves between the pieces. A blessing is spoken. A little of the cooled ash remains.
I take my time with this part.
The gathering matters. So does how it is brought together.
Then I begin the personal intuitive work.
Each Sruth includes a message received for you. From that message, I draw a living grid by hand, allowing what comes through to guide its shape.
I also write a sacred invocation for you to speak aloud.
Your message, your grid, and your invocation belong together. They become part of what you receive and what you bring to the ritual yourself.
That is what makes each Sruth personal.
My hands prepare it, but your voice becomes part of its story.
When it reaches you, you have something to return to. A place to give your attention to what matters. To speak the words again. To remember what you felt ready to welcome, and consider what comes next.
I think about the creek when I think about that.
How often I have stood beside it with something on my mind. How the sound gives me enough quiet to hear myself.
That is some of what I hope to offer you through Sruth.
A gathering from this land.
A message received for you.
Words waiting for your voice.
And somewhere to let the current begin.
I invite you to explore Sruth.
