Turning the Wheel

Turning the Wheel One Psychic Mediums  manifesting crash course .

Last October in 2024 I led fourteen eager seekers through a sunlit loft space for “Wheel of the Year” Manifesting eight holidays squeezed into one long incense thick Saturday .We kicked off at Samhain black cloth on the table cauldron bubbling sage water. Each of us scribbled a fear on scrap paper mine was “people pleasing” , then we fed it to the flames watching the edges curl felt like swallowing hot tea too fast relief and scorch in equal measure. By noon the ashes had cooled and the fire alarm stopped dinging with fake emergencies .

Yule arrived mid afternoon, We swapped the cauldron for cinnamon wands thin sticks rolled in spice taped to wishes we rolled under our tongues, I muttered clients who pay on time slid mine across basil dusted fake snow and laughed when it skidded straight into an accountant’s lap! She became a regular client .

Danielle Twigg

 Imbolc thawed us out white candles sheep milk soaps I couldn’t resist sniffing. We cupped palms like bowls whispered I deserve rest into our own hands, clapped once the room rang like crystal bowls mine cracked literally and my voice broke on “deserve”. The smells from the beeswax in there felt like the air itself was healing. Spring Equinox turned feral dirt trays marigold seeds labelled “ I'm enough “, mine sprouting with three green insults to every doubt .

Then Beltane drummed us silly honey on wrists blind Shammanic journeys with mine from another therapist who now sends me voice notes that sound like lullabies. 

 Litha lit us up our Solar plexus spiralling more gifts, we twisted copper wire into sun wheels etched every spoke with intentions. Mine was a soul tribe that heal together, then came from a quiet inbox a message from a woman “can you guide my grief group?”. 

 Lughnasadh smelled like fresh bread and peach we swapped real gifts manifested since Samhain I traded client leads for homemade jam and I received an apology I’d stopped expecting through spirit. 

Mabon ended in apples dipped in caramel gratitude sauce we called it we wrote “what stays what sways “ tied the paper to a broom and swept the floor leaving scraps for the wind symbolic of  cleanup.

Cheat code !! manifesting isn't begging the universe Its choreography, this Samhain we will cut deadweight, Yule we enter Dreamtime at Imbolc midwifing our dream into Ostara then germinating with finally Beltane igniting our “Dream”.

Seasons don't rush they rotate!!  you just need to spin with them. 

This blog was written by Danielle Twigg who runs The Golden Wolf Wing

Follow Danielle Here.