3 Roots Center

04/18/2026

We live our dandelions

The dandelion is one of the most dismissed plants in modern life. Pulled out. Cut back. Treated as something unwanted. But in witchcraft and old herbal traditions, the dandelion was never seen as a nuisance.

It was seen as resilient magic. Growing through cracks in stone, thriving in disturbed soil, returning again and again no matter how often it is removed the dandelion became a symbol of survival, persistence, and quiet rebellion against control.

In folk magic, every part of the plant was used. The roots were tied to divination and spirit communication, believed to strengthen connection to the unseen. The leaves were used in cleansing and healing work, supporting the body’s natural purification. The flowers, bright and solar, carried associations with vitality, strength, and life force.

And then there are the seeds.
Blown into the air, carried by the wind, spreading far beyond where they began. Because of this, dandelions became linked to wishes, intention setting, and the movement of energy across distance.

But this wasn’t just poetic.
It was understood as a form of air magic intention released and carried into the unseen.

In witchcraft symbolism, the dandelion represents resilience and survival,
wish magic and intention, spirit communication, cleansing and renewal and lastly air element and movement. The dandelion teaches something most people overlook.

Power does not always come from rarity.
Sometimes it comes from persistence.
From the refusal to disappear. From the ability to return stronger in the same place you were removed.

Dandelion medicine asks:
Where are you being told you don’t belong?
What keeps trying to remove you from your path?
What part of you refuses to die no matter what?

Because the dandelion does not fight the world loudly. It simply grows anyway.

Again.
And again.
And again.

04/17/2026

More labyrinths yes to getting lost and finding yourself again

04/14/2026

amazing news

It might sound like a small step, but it’s actually a huge moment for cultural survival. While many seed banks around the world focus on agriculture, this move is about something deeper—protecting identity, history, and knowledge that has been passed down for generations.

The Cherokee Nation became the first U.S. tribe to place its traditional heirloom seeds inside the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, a secure facility built deep in the Arctic to safeguard the world’s crops. These seeds are not just plants—they represent centuries of farming traditions, resilience, and connection to the land. By storing them there, the tribe is making sure their heritage is protected even in the face of climate change, disasters, or loss.

Compared to large global institutions that store seeds for food security, this effort stands out because it centers on Indigenous preservation. It’s not just about feeding the future—it’s about keeping culture alive. In a world where many traditions are disappearing, this move shows how modern science and ancestral knowledge can work together to protect something truly irreplaceable.

04/12/2026

May I be free from resentment and conflict.
May I be free from physical suffering.
May I be free from mental suffering.
May I be free from danger, and may my body and mind be at peace.

May all beings be free from resentment and conflict.
May all beings be free from physical suffering.
May all beings be free from mental suffering.
May all beings be free from danger, and may their bodies and minds be at peace.

May you and all beings be well, happy and at peace. 🙏✨

04/08/2026

There is a fire within you
that does not belong to the noise of this world.

It is older than your worries.
Older than your anger.
Older than the stories that tried to make you forget yourself.

Êkwa…

In this moment,
we sit beside that fire again.

We do not need to make it bigger.
We do not need to prove anything.

We just need to tend it.

With our breath.
With our presence.
With the way we choose to walk forward from here.

If something was said to you today
that tried to shake you…

let it pass like wind through the trees.

If something within you feels heavy…

place it gently beside the fire.

Not to throw it away—
but to let it be seen,
warmed,
understood.

Because not everything we carry
is meant to be held alone.

Mâmawi… together…
even in quiet ways.

Kisê-Manitow,
help us remember who we are.

Help us walk in miyo-pimâtisiwin…
the good life…
even in small steps.

And if we forget again—

kîhtwâm…
again and again…
bring us back to the fire.

Êkwa.

Walk gently this day.
Carry only what is yours.

Ekosi.

—Kanipawit Maskwa (Standing Bear)

04/07/2026

so beautiful

The Spirit That Walks Beside Fire

The elders say—
there are guardians
who do not belong to the ground,
yet they never leave it.

They come when the heart is quiet,
when the mind has laid down its weapons,
when a person is ready
to stand without pretending.

I was told—
you do not choose such a presence.
It chooses you
when your spirit remembers its own truth.

Do not speak too quickly.
Do not reach with restless hands.

Stand.
Breathe.
Let your courage rise slowly,
like warmth returning to cold bones.

For there is a strength
that does not fight—
it simply is,
and in its presence,
all things become clear.

If you are seen,
be worthy of that seeing.

If you are guided,
walk with care.

And when the fire within you grows steady,
you will understand—

you were never alone,
only learning
how to recognize
what has always walked beside you.

🎨Artist and storyteller: Dorothy Vera

04/06/2026

Pegasus is often remembered as something soft, a symbol of beauty, freedom, and escape.

But his origin is anything but gentle.

He was born the moment Perseus severed the head of Medusa. Not from light but from violence. From rupture. From a moment where something sacred was destroyed.

And from that he rose.

Fully formed. Untouched. Already powerful.

Pegasus is not just a creature of flight. He is what emerges when something is broken open and transformed rather than ended.

He does not stay bound to the ground that created him.
He ascends.

In myth, he becomes tied to Zeus, carrying thunder and lightning not as something he fears, but as something he moves with. Power does not consume him. It becomes part of his path.

And that is where his deeper meaning lives.

Pegasus is not escape.

He is elevation after destruction.
Movement after rupture.
Freedom that is earned through what was survived.

There are parts of you that were not born in softness.

Parts that came from endings, from loss, from moments that split something open.

And still… they rise.

Not despite where they came from.

But because of it.

04/05/2026

In Irish mythology, the union with The Morrígan was never about love, devotion, or romance, it was about sovereignty in its most primal, unfiltered form.

A king did not simply inherit power. He did not claim it through strength alone. He had to be recognized by the land itself. And the land was not silent. It was alive, conscious, and watching through her.

The Morrígan did not come as a gentle consort or a passive bride. She came as a test.

In some tellings, she appears as a radiant woman, powerful and commanding. In others, she takes on forms that are unsettling wounded, aged, wild, or unrecognizable. This was not inconsistency. This was intention.

Because the truth of sovereignty is this: a ruler must see clearly, beyond illusion, beyond comfort, beyond expectation.

If he could only honor her in beauty, but not in chaos. If he could only accept her in power, but not in shadow. Then he was never fit to rule what she embodied.

To accept her fully, without hesitation was to enter into a sacred alignment with the land itself. It meant understanding that rulership was not ownership, but responsibility. That the land was not something to control, but something to be in relationship with.

And if that bond was broken, everything followed.

The myths speak of failed kings whose lands turned barren. Crops withered. Prosperity collapsed. Not as punishment but as a reflection. The ruler and the land were no longer in harmony.

This is why her presence is often misunderstood.

She is not simply a goddess of war or death. She is the force that determines who is worthy to stand in power, and who will inevitably fall from it.

She does not crown kings gently.
She does not guide them softly.

She meets them at the edge where desire, fear, power, and truth collide and reveals what they truly are.

And in that moment, there is no pretending.

Because she does not make kings.

She reveals whether they ever had the right to be one at all.

04/03/2026

Lilith is most often remembered for one act, leaving Eden. Refusing to submit. Speaking the name that gave her power, and walking away from what was meant to contain her.

But her story does not end at the gate.

It begins there.

After the garden, Lilith is no longer part of a controlled world. She enters the wilderness, the unknown, the spaces that exist beyond order and expectation. And this is where her transformation takes place not into something lesser, but into something unbound.

In later traditions, she is cast as a demon, a night spirit, something to be feared. But that shift says more about perception than it does about her.

Because what is a woman who cannot be controlled, cannot be silenced, and cannot be returned?

She becomes a story people warn others about.

Lilith is said to dwell near the Red Sea, in desolate places, in the night itself. She is associated with winds, with shadows, with the unseen. Not because she is chaos but because she exists outside of systems that require obedience.

And yet, there is power in that exile.

She is no longer defined by partnership, by role, or by expectation. She answers to nothing beyond herself. She becomes something ancient in feeling closer to instinct, to autonomy, to a form of existence that does not ask permission to be.

Her story is often framed as a fall.

But what if it was a departure?

What if leaving was not the loss of paradise
but the refusal to live in something that required her to be less than what she was?

After Eden, Lilith is not softened.
She is not redeemed.

She is remembered.

Not as the one who stayed.
But as the one who chose herself and became something the world could no longer define or contain.

03/28/2026

People are the leading cause of death of wolves in Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota, a new study by MSU and collaborators finds. Illegal killings account for the largest share. Other causes include vehicle accidents, legal hunting and poisoning. DNR and Michigan Tech experts discuss. By Sonja Krohn...