What are the opening hours?

Monday 9am - 6pm Tuesday 9am - 6pm Wednesday 9am - 6pm Thursday 9am - 6pm Friday 9am - 6pm Saturday 9am - 6pm Sunday 9am - 6pm

The Sanctuary - Sacred Paths, 132 Hospital Road, Callicoon, NY (2025)

10/14/2025

Some days I’m planting trees and listening for bee-medicine. Other days I’m helping people build the thing their soul keeps whispering about—and yes, make a living from it.

I don’t hand out fish. I teach you how to fish, how to restore the river, and how to stop apologizing for needing to eat while you serve. Ceremonial and strategic, a little fire under our feet, a lot of love in the room.

Too many people carry a true dream for years—tucked under the ribs—until it hardens into regret. If your dream has been knocking that long, let’s open the door. Make it real, make it sacred, make it sustainable.

Right now I’m welcoming 5 new seats at the fire in Sacred Business Mastery by October 31 (CET). If you’re:

Wanting to build a retreat/community center and need a real plan.
a practitioner overwhelmed and under-resourced,
carrying a forest school dream that hasn’t started yet,
ready for steady income from your spiritual work,
or done with corporate and crafting a soul-aligned online income for your family…

…pull up a chair. We’ll map your offers, pricing, and rhythms—and we’ll do it in a way your nervous system can trust.

Learn more here: https://www.sacredpaths.earth/sacred-business-mastery

P.S. The image is our future medicine wheel at La Ferme du Cerf Bleu—an open circle for remembering, building, and blessing what wants to live through us.

09/25/2025

Today the first trees landed. Old varieties of Grapevines. We’re planting them in a spiral, ringed by a half-moon of companions: wild blackberry, hawthorn, blackthorn. We set them on the ground like guests at a long ceremony and asked the field where it wanted them.

Empire loves straight lines and yield at any cost. The land said: curve. Thorned guardians to teach loving no (blackthorn). Heart-medicine to sweeten the blood of the place (hawthorn). Trickster bramble to feed the bees and shelter the nests (blackberry). Fruit is never a solo act; it ripens inside community. So—f**k the tidy rows. Let the vines learn a curve. Let the bees write the margins. If wine ever comes from here, may it taste of consent and ancient remembering.

I’m not the expert here; I’m the apprentice. Knees in the dirt, ear to the ground, hands a little bloody from thorns, laughing anyway.

We’re beginning the rewilding of twenty acres not as a trend, but as a prayer, as a vow: to remember how life grows when we stop bossing it around. Holy hell, the field feels alive when you let it make decisions.

👉 What shape are you planting next—spiral, circle, half-moon? And who are your companions (human or more-than-human) you’re calling in to protect, to pollinate, to sweeten what you’re growing?

09/24/2025

They call it civilization, but I call it a slow-death machine. Empire wants you exhausted, distracted, obedient—convinced that silence means weakness and busyness means worth. And yet beneath the noise, there are ropes. Sacred ropes. Contraband ropes.

I just released my most fiery essay yet: The Empire Survival Guide. Inside are eleven ropes for survival in an unraveling world, each one a refusal to let empire own your breath or break your soul.

And because words on a screen are not enough, I created a 22-page pocket guide you can download—complete with expanded practices, a mythic thread, a prayer, and a sigil talisman. Print it, fold it, smuggle it in your bag or your altar. Carry it like contraband, a reminder that you are not alone.

This is not self-help.
This is soul contraband.
This is survival.

🔥 Read + download here → https://angelldeerwisdom.substack.com/p/the-empire-survival-guide?r=19s10u

09/21/2025

This morning I stood at the stove for hours, cooking down wild rose hips into syrup. Hours of straining, stirring, and waiting. Hours most people would rather spend scrolling their feeds, worrying about s**t they can’t control, or complaining about the state of the world.

But here’s the thing: those hours were the medicine.

The cutting of the hips, the simmering pot, the slow thickening into sweetness—this was a prayer. This was a f**k-you to the empire that tells us speed is holy, distraction is survival, and our hands were made for keyboards instead of berries.

So often what we truly need isn’t another app, another guru, another “fix.” What we need is ritual. The kind you can taste. The kind that stains your hands red and leaves your kitchen smelling like wild medicine. The kind that reminds you: life is ceremony, if you let it be.

Maybe it’s rose hips for you. Maybe it’s bread dough, or splitting wood, or tending the damn compost pile. But don’t underestimate it. These small, ordinary sacraments are what keep us alive, sane, and tethered to something older than doomscrolling.

The medicine is here. In the work. In the waiting. In the syrup on your tongue that carries the memory of the wild.

And empire can’t algorithm that s**t away.

So tell me—what’s your ritual today? What’s the small, sacred rebellion you’re tending with your hands?

Angell 🦌

Address

132 Hospital Road
Callicoon, NY
12723

Opening Hours

Monday	9am - 6pm
Tuesday	9am - 6pm
Wednesday	9am - 6pm
Thursday	9am - 6pm
Friday	9am - 6pm
Saturday	9am - 6pm
Sunday	9am - 6pm

Website

https://www.sacredpaths.earth/sacred-paths

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