THE HONED CRONE
Bio
Sacred survivor, mythic storyteller, and prophet of the risen feminine. I turn grief, rage, and trauma into art, ritual, and words that ignite courage, truth, and divine power in others.
Stories (106)
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Am I a Narcissist?
In the age of pop psychology and armchair diagnosis, “narcissist” has become one of the most weaponized words in the human vocabulary. It’s used to silence, to shame, and to project. But what happens when a deeply self-aware person—especially a trauma survivor—starts to wonder if they are the problem?
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Psyche
The Truth About Dark Empaths, Narcissists, and Wounded Healers
In the tangled web of online psychology buzzwords, few labels have sparked more confusion than the term dark empath. Depending on who’s talking, it’s either a chilling label for a manipulative narcissist—or a sacred survivor of abuse who has learned to transmute shadow into strength.
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Psyche
Becoming the Crone
I am noticing changes. Tiny, subtle shifts at first—irregular cycles, new sensations in my body, a different rhythm to my sleep and energy. My body is speaking a language I am only beginning to learn, and I am listening with curiosity rather than fear.
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Longevity
Hieros Gamos
In a world divided by language, doctrine, and dogma, there remains a deeper current. It flows beneath temples, across deserts, through the bones of saints, the cracks in the earth, the silent corridors of monasteries, and the stillness of sages who have walked beyond time.
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Potent
THE SPELLBREAKER’S HYMN: THE CHILD, THE MAIDEN, THE CRONE
Hear me, O Heavens, and listen, O Earth: Before the tongues of mortals could name her, Inanna entered the child’s bones. She moved in silence, in shadow, in the spaces between breath and thought. The little one, trembling yet vigilant, measured each step, each glance, each shadow. Inanna was with her, weaving strength into her marrow, calming the storm before it broke, teaching the child the language of survival. She sang through the corridors of the unseen, her voice threading courage into the girl’s fragile heart, a litany of fire and blood, unbroken.
By THE HONED CRONE3 months ago in Potent
