One Hundred Letters
And just like that, this is the 100th letter I’m sending out from Under a Fig Tree! 100 thresholds crossed into the attempt to retrieve old ways of knowing to apply to our strange, wild world.
Listen via audio:
Dear friends,
Hello from a village in the mountains of Andalusia. I’m here visiting my parents and sending you this from the discombobulating dreamworld that is hemispherical travel!
And just like that, this is the 100th letter I’m sending out from Under a Fig Tree! One hundred thresholds crossed into meaning-making, mythic consciousness and the attempt to retrieve old ways of knowing to apply to our strange, wild world.
What began as an intimate place where I shared essays on the Imagination from my little cottage in the rolling hills of Devon has now become the main archive of my work: a hearth where I can write on a weekly-basis thanks to those among you who are paying subscribers.
The other day I went to an Aussie footy match with my partner and his dad. At one point, I looked out to the rows of seats ahead and counted a hundred, imagining the hundred (and twenty) of you who pay for this publication all in one room. The thought of it, of all of you, filled me with awe. Thank you for being part of this shared space. A hundred people is a lot of people. And so is a hundred letters.
I hope my gratitude to you is felt.
Under a Fig Tree was recently named one of the fastest growing literary publications on Substack and is now read across 68 countries and 47 US states.
There are over 2,000 of you here now, with 120 of you on a paid subscription.
When I began this publication, I had just walked away from a spiritual community that turned out to be a cult, in which I was groomed by my then teacher for about five years. I discovered that much of what we had been taught as an unbroken lineage was in fact made-up, and amalgamated from an eclectic melange of traditional cultures, western esotericists, surrealist artists, and good old fantasy. I was one of the whistle-blowers, and was exiled, pretty viciously, by the community.
I went on to search for the origins of the teachings, and found them. Wrote a book that I’m currently looking for a publishing home for. And meanwhile returned to academia to reground myself in intellectual rigour, supervision, and trustworthy ways of knowing.
However, I am not a scholar who relies solely on academia. Throughout my twenties, I apprenticed myself to Don Cesar, a Peruvian shaman and his apprentice son, Julio. I also lived and studied with Jain nuns in their London home and in their desert temple in Rajasthan.
My approach is both intellectual and experiential; academic and somatic - melding rigorous research with lived experience. By specialising in mythology, animistic traditions, and the history of religion, I don’t just study these subjects; I inhabit them using storytelling, ritual, and the mythopoetic to help others connect with the living threads of ancient, animistic knowledge.
I rely as much on evidence as I do on the imaginative and intuitive faculties.
As one of my mentors would tell me: pen in one hand, veil of the Seer in the other.
This is my 100th post. One hundred letters sent out like offerings - to those of you who have been here since the beginning, and those who joined halfway through, or even just this week. Thank you. You’ve helped me keep writing. You’ve helped me stay close to the hearth and vision of this work.
In these past few years, I’ve learned that writing is more than a transmission, it’s a form of listening. The essays I thought would be quick explorations have often opened into thresholds I didn’t expect. The themes that keep returning - sacred memory, the feminine voice, ancestral knowledge, ecological grief, spiritual sovereignty, the reclamation of ancient knowledge - have all grown deeper with each post.
And you’ve met them with reflection and with great care. What began as a solitary thread has become a shared weave - a community I am deeply grateful for as a writer whose craft requires prolonged periods of solitude.
Looking ahead, I’ll be expanding several of these threads:
Continuing the series on “Poetic Disobedience: The World’s Great Mystics”, with upcoming pieces on Mirabai and Ibn ‘Arabi
Followed by a series of re-imagined Greek myths and fairytales, drawing from older, pre-patriarchal versions — including the myths of Demeter and Persephone, Aphrodite, Ariadne and Dionysus, and the fairytales of Little Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White
I’ll also be beginning a new series called "The Lineage of Sacred Poetics" — on poets who treat language as ritual, beginning with Rainer Maria Rilke, H.D., Octavio Paz, and Sappho
And don’t forget to send in your questions to my recent advice column The Ochre Papers! This is still currently free. And Issue #2 will be sent out this month.
I’d love to hear from you!
In honour of this milestone, I’d also love to invite current readers to share who you are, where you are in the world, and what this space has meant to you - whether a particular post stayed with you, a theme stirred something personal, or the Sunday ritual of this writing has accompanied your life in some way… Also anything you would like to see more of would be welcome!
Gift for paid subscribers:
As a thank you to paid subscribers, I’ll be sharing a short audio meditation - a gentle reflection designed to help you return to stillness, to the heart, and to that quiet place from which this writing stems. It’s a small offering of presence and gratitude, and one that you can add to your own practice or re-listen to as a daily meditation. You’ll find it beneath the paywall, just below this post.
And for free subscribers:
In gratitude to free subscribers, I’ve temporarily unlocked one of my most-loved paid posts for 1 WEEK for everyone to read. If you enjoy it, this is the kind of writing you’ll find in the subscriber’s circle!
This space is and has always been reader-supported. If you’ve felt nourished by these writings and find value in this publication, it would mean the world if you became a paid subscriber.
My research and scholarship are fully independent and it’s your support that keeps this work alive and allows me to carve out the time and space to keep listening, researching, and writing from a place that’s not driven by trend or financial urgency or an academic institution.
Here’s to the next hundred letters.
With gratitude, and awe,
Gabriela
Poetry Offering
During the monthly online ritual I hold, I read a poem chosen through bibliomancy. I thought I would share it with you all here today because if my soul were to speak in a poem right now, I believe this would be it.
This one is by Louise Glück, titled The Myth of Innocence. Glück is a poet whose work is known for its emotional depth and precision in its exploration of the human condition. Her poems often delve into themes of transformation, loss and the complexities of the self. The Myth of Innocence reflects on the delicate tension between childhood innocence and the awareness that comes with experience; a rite of passage, as it were.
Her words echo the quiet reflections and shifts that have been unfolding in my own journey, and I hope they resonate with you too.
The Myth of Innocence One summer she goes into the field as usual stopping for a bit at the pool where she often looks at herself, to see if she detects any changes. She sees the same person, the horrible mantle of daughterliness still clinging to her. The sun seems, in the water, very close. That's my uncle spying again, she thinks— everything in nature is in some way her relative. I am never alone, she thinks, turning the thought into a prayer. Then death appears, like the answer to a prayer. No one understands anymore how beautiful he was. But Persephone remembers. Also that he embraced her, right there, with her uncle watching. She remembers sunlight flashing on his bare arms. This is the last moment she remembers clearly. Then the dark god bore her away. She also remembers, less clearly, the chilling insight that from this moment she couldn't live without him again. The girl who disappears from the pool will never return. A woman will return, looking for the girl she was. She stands by the pool saying, from time to time, I was abducted, but it sounds wrong to her, nothing like what she felt. Then she says, I was not abducted. Then she says, I offered myself, I wanted to escape my body. Even, sometimes, I willed this. But ignorance cannot will knowledge. Ignorance wills something imagined, which it believes exists. All the different nouns— she says them in rotation. Death, husband, god, stranger. Everything sounds so simple, so conventional. I must have been, she thinks, a simple girl. She can't remember herself as that person but she keeps thinking the pool will remember and explain to her the meaning of her prayer so she can understand whether it was answered or not.
Announcements
Mentorship
This month, I have 2 openings for 1-1 mentorship. This is for anyone who would like support and/or supervision within both creative endeavours, spiritual work or personal support drawing on myth, stories, shamanic and animistic techniques for inner transformation.
These personalised sessions are structured to meet once a month for 3 months.
MAY 8 | Poetry Reading
I’m delighted to have a poem published for the next issue of Clarion Poetry Magazine! There will be a free online launch on May 8th, where some of the featured poets will read their work (myself included). Would love to see you there!
MAY 27 | Monthly Ritual Dismemberment
Every New Moon I hold an online ritual that can be attended live or via recording. This is based on the death and mystery rites of the ancient world, particularly the cult of Dionysus. You can sign up for an individual ceremony, or for the next six months (and get 1 month free) to introduce more ritual practice into your life. This is the only ritual I am currently holding live.
The Ochre Papers Advice Column
Here is the new landing page for the Ochre Papers advice column. Looking forward to receiving more of your questions!
New!
The Ochre Papers advice column is an exercise in our shared humanity. It is a refuge and reminder that the things that bring us together are far greater than those that separate us.
LATEST SERIES FOR PAID SUBSCRIBERS
And finally, a reminder that I’ve launching a new series for paid subscribers. You can upgrade your subscription to receive each one to your inbox on the upcoming Sundays. Here are Parts 1, 2 & 3:
Guided Meditation Audio
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