Granny Frass, Sage, and the Sacred Turf Shed…

Well now, would ya look at you, walking round the house with sage in one hand, a crystal stuffed down your bra, and chatting away to the Almighty like He’s your next-door neighbor. Fair play to ya, pet. Fair play. That’s the kind of spirituality I can get behind. None of your stiff-collared sermons or them fella’s in robes telling you what to think. No, no – give me a good honest natter with the Universe any day.

You see, in my time, we didn’t have words like ‘modalities’ or ‘aligning your chakras.’ We had tea leaves, candle flames, the creak of a floorboard when no one was about, and the odd dream visitation from your Auntie Peg who’d been dead a decade but still had opinions on your choice of fella. And you know what? It worked just fine. No need for apps or online tarot readings, your gut was your guide, and your granny was your oracle.

I’ll tell you something for nothing, love, it doesn’t matter what you call it. God, the Universe, the Divine Feminine, Your Higher Self, or Old Mags from the end of the road who always seems to know what’s coming. The names change, but the truth is the same. There’s something bigger, wiser, and with a much better sense of humour than any of us running this whole show. And if you’ve any sense, you’ll keep the conversation going.

Talk to them when you’re sad. Talk to them when you’re boiling the kettle. Ask for a sign. Watch for the feather, the song on the radio, the number that shows up everywhere. Trust the shivers down your spine and the sudden knowing in your chest. Don’t be waiting for permission from some fella in a pulpit. Your soul already knows the way.

And when life gets too loud, sage the place till it smells like the back of a turf shed, light a candle for your ancestors, and give thanks you’re still standing. Even if your legs are a bit wobbly and you’ve no notion what day it is.

Spirituality isn’t about floating around like a holy woman or having a crystal for every occasion (though I’ll admit I had a fondness for a nice bit of amethyst myself). It’s about knowing you’re never alone, even when the house is empty. It’s about laughing with the Universe when things go sideways, and reminding yourself that some of the greatest wisdom comes from the daftest moments.

So you keep walking your walk, pet. Light your sage, clutch that smoky quartz, chat to your angels, and carry on being the gloriously untamed, slightly mad, beautifully spiritual soul you were always meant to be.

And if anyone has a problem with it? Tell them Granny Frass said to shag off.

Granny Frass 🌻