The Crow Woman, Daresbury (2026)

01/09/2026

Here in England, the turning is beginning.
The mornings are darker.
The evenings arrive a little earlier.
The air carries a cooler edge, even when the sun still warms our faces.
The trees are beginning to loosen their grip.
One leaf.
Then another.
And another.
Summer slowly surrenders itself to Autumn, and there's something deeply sacred in watching it happen.

We live in a world that often teaches us to resist endings.
To hold on.
To keep what we love exactly as it is.
But nature doesn't.
The oak doesn't cling to every leaf.
The hedgerows don't mourn every fallen flower.
The fields give up their harvest.
The land releases what it can no longer carry.
And perhaps we can learn from this.
Death work asks us to recognise that not every ending is a failure. Some endings are simply part of the natural rhythm of life.

As we move from Summer into Autumn, this is a beautiful time to ask yourself:
• What am I ready to release?
• What has served its purpose?
• What have I carried through this season that I no longer need to carry into the next?
• What old story?
• What expectation?
• What relationship with myself?
• What fear?
• What version of who I thought I had to be?
And before we release it, give thanks. We can be grateful for what something taught us and still let it go. We can honour a relationship and accept that it has ended. We can thank an old version of ourselves for getting us this far and still allow her to die.

🍂A CEREMONY OF RELEASE🍂
Find a quiet place outdoors.
Take a fallen leaf into your hands.
Hold it gently and think about the season you are leaving behind.
Name three things you are grateful for.
Then name one thing you are ready to release.
Speak it aloud.

“I thank you for what you have given me.
I honour what you have taught me.
I release what I no longer need to carry.
What has ended may rest.
What is ready to die, may die.
And I step forward lighter.”

Place the leaf upon the earth.
Let the earth take it.
Let the season change.
And trust that there is wisdom in the letting go.

Words by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson

23/08/2026

The Morrigan doesn't always ask you to heal. We've become so accustomed to being told that everything must be healed.
Heal the wound.
Heal the trauma.
Heal the relationship.
Heal the past.
Find the lesson.
Find the forgiveness.
Find the light.
But what if healing isn't always what is being asked of you?
Sometimes The Morrigan doesn't come to soothe the wound.
Sometimes She comes to show you what the wound is telling you.
Sometimes She asks you to sit in the darkness long enough to recognise that something has ended.
A relationship that can no longer be resurrected.
An identity that no longer belongs to you.
A pattern that has already consumed enough of your life.
A dream that has died.
A version of yourself that you keep trying to bring back because you are afraid of who you might become without her/him.
And sometimes the sacred work is not healing what has died.
It's allowing it to remain dead.
There are things we keep trying to revive because we mistake familiarity for love, suffering for loyalty, and endurance for strength.
But The Morrigan knows the difference between something that is wounded and something that is finished.
Not every ending needs to be repaired.
Not every loss needs to be turned into a lesson.
Not every wound needs to become beautiful.
Some things simply need to be mourned.
Named.
Witnessed.
Buried.
And released.
The Morrigan may not always ask you:
“How can you heal this?”
Sometimes Her question is far more uncomfortable:
“Why are you still trying to resurrect it?”
And perhaps that's where the real transformation begins.
By having the courage to let the dead remain dead.

Words by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson
Artwork by Mary Feywood

20/08/2026

Me: The wind has been full of wings lately.
Badb: You know that it's me.
Me: I thought so. I've felt watched.
Badb: Not watched. Guarded. You are my crow.
Me: Thank you.
Badb: You walk the battlefields. Places of endings, of bone, of change. You scavenge truth from carrion. You speak the language of omen without flinching. Such ones are mine.
Me: Do you need me to do something?
Badb: Nothing. Just keep following the scent of storms. Speak when others are silent. Tear away rot so life may feed upon the clean remains. Fly when I call.
Me: And if I fail?
Badb: A crow cannot fail at being a crow. It can only fly or starve. Choose flight.
Me: Then I will fly.
Badb: Good. The sky is wide, my crow. And it is ours.

Conversations with Badb by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson (August 2025)
Artwork by David Seed fine art

16/08/2026

For years, I've walked the path through death, transformation, sovereignty and the liminal with The Morrigan.
Through Her, I've come to understand that death is a threshold that asks us to witness, to honour, to grieve, to release and, sometimes, to begin again.
Increasingly, I've understood that I'm not simply being called to speak about these thresholds. I'm being called to tend them.
To sit beside them.
To witness what is leaving.
To honour what has died.
To hold space for those who are grieving, those who are dying, and those standing at the many thresholds of change that life brings.
I'm being called to create and share ceremony, rites and ritual around death, dying, remembrance, grief, transition and transformation.
Rites for the dead.
Rites for the dying.
Ceremony for remembrance and closure.
Vigils and offerings.
Laments and incantations.
Cleansing and blessing.
Life reviews for those who are still here.
Ceremony for the deaths that happen while we are still alive.
And increasingly, this work extends beyond human death and towards the animals, land and places that also experience loss, destruction and change.
There are deaths that receive funerals and there are deaths that pass almost unnoticed.
A miscarriage.
An animal lost on the roadside.
A tree destroyed by industry.
A home after someone has died within it.
A landscape changed forever.
The ending of a season.
The death of a relationship, an identity, a life chapter or a version of ourselves.
Not every death has a funeral.
Not every grief has a grave.
And these thresholds are asking to be witnessed, honoured and given ritual.
This is where I find myself walking now. Still walking with The Morrigan, but into a deeper expression of the sacred death work I've always been called to do, where death, remembrance, transformation and the sacred meeting place between worlds can be fully witnessed, honoured and given ritual.
If any of this speaks to you or you need help with this subject, drop me a message. I've been a deathwalker/psychopomp since my childhood, I'm a trained celebrant and sacred ceremonialist, and I'll gladly assist you freely. Whether that's creating a ceremony for you to do yourself or a ceremony that I do for you, I'll help as best I can.

15/08/2026

"Some roads take you where you’re going. Others remind you who you are."

Words by Kevin Lawson
Artwork by Julia Jeffrey / Stonemaiden Art

12/08/2026

I asked The Morrigan for power.
She weighed my hands with books,
books heavy with storm and bone,
pages dripping with the blood of old words.
I asked The Morrigan for protection.
She pressed a spear into my palm,
its shaft warm from Her hand,
its point hungry for the hearts of my enemies.
I asked The Morrigan for prophecy.
She wrapped my days in silence,
the kind that hums in the bones,
where the voice of the Otherworld waits to be heard.
I asked The Morrigan for courage.
She set my feet upon the battlefield,
and every step rang with steel,
and every breath tasted of war.
I asked The Morrigan for truth.
She cracked the mirror of my soul,
and from the broken glass I saw the crow winged shape of what I could become.
I asked The Morrigan for freedom.
She opened the sky to me,
and I rose with the black feathered host,
riding the wind beyond fear and fate.

Words by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson
Artwork by Anna Valerious

11/08/2026

To work with Badb as the Washer at the Ford is to meet Her in the liminal place where endings and beginnings entwine. That quiet, haunting threshold between what was and what is to come.
In this aspect, She appears washing the bloodied garments of warriors fated to die, Her hands steeped in prophecy and inevitability.
To approach Her is to confront mortality, surrender, and transformation as living forces within your own life.
She teaches discernment, showing you what must be released, what parts of your identity or path have reached their natural end, and what must be cleansed for you to move forward in power.
In ritual or meditation, this aspect of Badb calls you to witness your own becoming with unflinching honesty, to look upon the waters of fate and not turn away.
She comes to strip away illusion so that your strength and purpose can rise clean and renewed from the river’s edge.
In this aspect, She is seeress, the prophetess of fate, and the one who stands between life and death.

Beloved Badb,
Seeress of the end and the beginning,
I come to the water’s edge to meet You.
Teach me to face my own becoming without fear.
Let me look upon the waters of death and change
And see the shape of renewal beneath the surface.
Strip from me what no longer serves,
Wash from me the false and the fragile,
Cleanse the old wounds I have carried too long,
And ready my spirit for the battles yet to come.

Words by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson
Artwork by Art of Naomi Cornock

01/08/2026

✨️1-2-1 Morrigan Mentoring Sessions (Online)
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✨️Goddess Circles (Warrington)
✨️Women's Drumming Circles (Warrington)
✨️Finding Goddess (8-Week Online Course)

Booking link in comments 🤍

01/08/2026

Whether you call it Lughnasadh, Lúnasa, Lùnastal, Luanistyn, Lammas or Gŵyl Galan Awst, first harvest blessings to you all 🌾

"Hoof and Horn, Hoof and Horn,
All that dies shall be reborn.
Corn and Grain, Corn and Grain,
All that falls shall rise again."

Photo by The Crow Woman / Lyndsey Watson

28/07/2026

Would any experienced deathwalkers care to join me in deathwalking all the animals lost to these dreadful fires? I'll be working on this over the next wee or two. Deathwalking plant life is also welcomed. If joining, please work at your own pace. I know it's tiring work. Thank you 🤍

The Crow Woman

01/09/2026

23/08/2026

20/08/2026

16/08/2026

15/08/2026

12/08/2026

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28/07/2026

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