Wild Child Cauldron Bowl

Last night’s soup felt like stepping barefoot into ancient forest soil — the kind that remembers every creature that’s ever walked across it.

Maitake & king oyster mushrooms, wild grain rice, broth dark as tree bark, herbs like pocket magic —

the kind your ancestors didn’t measure, just knew.

This wasn’t polite soup.

This was primal, grounded, feral nourishment.

The kind that wakes something old and honest inside you.

Rich.

Earth-born.

A little wild.

A little witchy.

And absolutely unapologetic about it.

A soup you eat and suddenly remember:

I am an animal.

I am ancient.

I am allowed to take up space and be fed by the earth.

It’s hearty enough to make your nervous system exhale.

Flavorful enough to remind you you’re alive.

And playful enough to be a wild child’s delight —

if kids actually liked mushrooms 😂

Stones to set on the table beside the bowl:

Smoky Quartz — grounding without shrinking, primal earth breath
Yellow Jasper — wild curiosity, instinctual joy, feral sunshine in the belly

Let the stones hold the space while your body softens into its instincts again.

Eat slowly.

Let steam kiss your face like forest breath.

Remember the part of you that hunts, gathers, laughs too loud, and doesn’t apologize for being here.

No recipe today — that lives in the member’s kitchen.

This moment is simply for savoring.

Witch Life