Rootstick Wands: Tools for Liminal Rites

“We are not invisible because the world does not see us. We become invisible when we cannot see ourselves.”
—Ben Okri, The Famished Road

This line sticks with me. It speaks to the quiet power of ritual, of reflection, of seeing ourselves clearly—even when the world doesn’t.

That’s what the Rootstick Tide Wands are for.

They are more than found objects bound in yarn and memory. These wands are power objects—handmade instruments for those standing at the threshold between what was and what will be. Each one is crafted intuitively, using driftwood, discarded utensils, feathers, selenite, bones, and beach-swept beads. Materials that have already crossed boundaries, survived the elements, and returned ready to be transformed.

I began making them after moon-charging a collection of selenite under the Strawberry Moon. The energy was palpable. I didn’t plan it. I just knew: now is the time. The wands came together quickly, as if they’d been waiting.

They’re meant to be used. For clearing space. For holding intention. For witnessing grief. For marking the sacred. For tethering ourselves when we feel unmoored.

Each wand is a guide for liminal rites—the inner ceremonies we perform when words fail, when the world shifts, when the soul needs a signal fire. In my hands, they’ve become companions. In yours, they may become portals.

If you’re moving through a threshold—call in what you need. Let the wand speak. Let it guide you home to yourself.

Rootstick Tide Wands: Called by the Moon

The Rootstick Tide Wands began under the luminous gaze of the Strawberry Moon. That night, I placed my selenite out to charge under the moonlight. By morning, I felt an undeniable pull—like the materials themselves were asking to be gathered. Driftwood and discarded spatulas. Feathers, coral, bones. Beads and buttons waiting to be strung. I listened. I followed the current. And I began to make.

These wands are not ornamental. They are ritual tools—conduits for renewal, rebirth, and release. Each one is wrapped with intention and woven from the thresholds between land and sea, spirit and body, memory and motion.

Reading The Way of the Eight Winds by Nigel Pennick helped me name what I was already feeling: that each wand aligns with directional energies. North for stillness. East for new breath. South for fire and transformation. West for the tides we release into. These elemental currents are embedded in every fiber, shell, and knot.

The tarot’s Eight of Wands captures the same urgency I felt while making them—swift movement, decisive action, a rush of spiritual momentum. These are wands for those standing at a threshold. For those who know it’s time to let go, call something in, or begin again.

Each wand holds charged selenite and moonlight. Each wand is a spell. A signal. A tether to the unseen forces moving us forward.

If you feel called, trust the pull. The wind doesn’t wait.