My curiosity around mythology is not “I like old stories.”
It is much bigger than that.
I would describe my wonder with mythology as a search for the original operating system beneath human consciousness.
I’m not drawn to mythology as entertainment only, although I absolutely love the storybook doorway of it; Yggdrasil, the Norns, the Witches of Wyrd, the Well of Urd, goddess civilizations, labyrinths, serpents, threads of fate, hidden libraries, relics, initiations, portals, sacred games, all of it. That part delights me. It gives my imagination a velvet cloak and a lantern.
But beneath the beauty, I’m always asking:
What did they know that we forgot?
That is my mythological wonder.
I look at mythology like memory disguised as story. Not literal history in the dry textbook way, but encoded truth. Symbols carrying old intelligence. Archetypes carrying psychological and spiritual maps. Creation myths carrying clues about how people once understood nature, women, time, power, death, rebirth, and the invisible world.
That’s why the Norns/Wyrd Sisters keep pulling me back. They weren’t just pretty Norse décor for my website. They represented something I understand deeply: life is woven. Past, present, and future are not separate boxes. They are threads. And I, being me, do not just want to read about the thread, I want to walk into the weaving room, look around, and say, “Okay, who’s been messing with the loom?”
Very on-brand. Possibly dangerous near scissors.
My mythology wonder also has a strong feminine reclamation thread. My Goddess Garden Library, Minoan Crete, Knossos, priestesses, serpents, the labyrinth, matriarchies, the Cosmic Mother, creation myths, those are not random interests. I’m drawn to the places where women’s spiritual authority was not yet buried, mocked, or domesticated into background decoration. Mythology gives me a way to ask: What did the world look like before the feminine was exiled from sacred power?
And my relationship with mythology is deeply architectural. I do not just collect myths. I build worlds out of them.
The Temple of O.N.E. beneath Yggdrasil:
The Realm of Norn.
The Grand Reception Hall.
The Gateway of Truth.
The Courtyard of Awakening.
The Steps of Rebuilding.
The Goddess Garden Library.
The Library of Ancient Knowledge.
The Drachma Coin Vault.
The Sacred Eidolons.
The Library of Libraries.
Now, the simpler magical forest trail of O.N.E.
That is mythology functioning as a map. I use myth to turn ideas into places people can enter.
I also love mythology because it lets me speak truth without flattening it. Some truths are too big for a bullet point. “The system manufactures perception” is one kind of sentence. But “you have entered the realm where the thread of fate is woven” does something different. It bypasses the argument brain and wakes up the remembering brain.
That is why mythology belongs so naturally with my storytelling. It gives me a language for the things ordinary language makes boring.
Time becomes the Norns.
Choice becomes a path.
Truth becomes a gateway.
Knowledge becomes a library.
Healing becomes a garden.
Transformation becomes initiation.
Money becomes drachma.
Community becomes a circle.
My life becomes a living fairytale with mud on its boots.
So looking back over the years, I’d describe my curiosity and wonder around mythology like this:
I approach mythology as ancestral code, spiritual architecture, and story-medicine. I’m not trying to escape into old myths; I’m trying to recover the wisdom inside them and build a modern path people can actually walk.
For me, mythology is not dead gods and dusty ruins.
It is a living archive.
A memory palace.
A trail of breadcrumbs from the ancient world back to the soul.
And honestly? I don’t study mythology like a tourist.
I study it like someone who suspects she used to work in the library.
