#Triquetra

[birdsofrhiannon]

[witchthewriter]

@heffer-wen.

[marquisegallery]

"If you really want to make money off of designs and stuff, you should follow the big art trends like holidays and--" Oh fine, St. Patrick's Day is coming up soon, so let's try it out with some lucky clovers! Also a triquetra and a triskelion while I'm at it, because why the hell not :u

Doing something a bit different with how I make these design posts. Mainly just posting the design with a watermark, instead of a screenshot of the store listing for the design. I think it comes off as less tacky this way? Maybe?? Let me know what you think!

Anyways, yeah, you can get these as stickers and pins and stuff over on my store!

[alexlibris-bookart]

The Triquetra symbol featured on various book cover designs, each crafted with unique details and personalized touches. This ancient symbol, often representing unity and eternity, adds a meaningful element to every journal. The origin of the triquetra symbol is unknown, but it dates back to pre-Celtic times.

[abby118]

transparents:

[nidamonroe]

Celtic knot + Flower of life

art by @nidamonroe

[goddessofstrife]

our altar and offerings for lughnasadh. I ran out of spoons today so more festivities to come tomorrow!🌾☀️

⋆˖⁺‧₊⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆

[artsystudiofinds]

https://artsystudiofinds.etsy.com/listing/1866178511

Presenting one more special carving in genuine moldavite, a triquetra carving. This unique and difficult carving on authentic moldavite is done by hand using traditional carving hand tools. Symbolising balancing of life on all the layers of existence using the moldavite can accelerate personal growth, spiritual evolution and higher consciousness.

Created using 100% authentic Moldavite, you can treat yourself with its energies or gift someone special with this extraordinary moldavite carving having the essence of the stars. For more information about this cosmic entity, please follow the link.

[ogrody-ilangory]

Triquetra

„Cokolwiek zrobisz, wróci to do ciebie z potrójną siłą”

[musing-druidess]

[birdsofrhiannon]

[samkuchingdraws]

a sleepy antler boi

it has been quite an exhausting few weeks, and unlike january, february has been much too fast -- but no less packed.

i pray march will be kind.

[figmentsfragments]

An Irish Goodbye

By E. Carry

(TW/CW: grief, grandparent loss, Catholic upbringing)

I was born into a big family — the Irish-Catholic way. Most of that family is gone now, and those left are dysfunctionally disconnected — another one of the Irish-Catholic ways.

Once upon a time, we had a matriarch. And what a matriarch she was. She was Helen Clare to many, but she was always Nana to me. When I needed advice on friendship, flower gardens, medical care, or anything really, I went to her. When everything was wrong and could be cured by only one hug, it was hers. The best childhood memories I cling to were the ones in her house — both of her houses.

Before my grandfather died, they lived a reasonable half hour away from my parents’ house, so we ate dinner there on many weeknights. My mom has since explained that she did that to save money, but all that mattered to me was spending time in my favorite place with my favorite people, my grandparents. My sister and I spent many summer days there, learning which of my mother’s childhood toys stood the test of time and which walls held the most ghosts. Eventually, my grandfather moved to a nursing home when his health declined too far, and, on one particularly terrible day, I stood in the kitchen alongside my Nana when the nursing home called to say he’d passed.

After my grandfather died, Nana sold their house and downsized to a townhouse across the street from my parents. I essentially lived there on weekends and most weeknights. After particularly bad school days, I would walk straight out of the minivan over to Nana’s front door, bypassing my own house entirely. Many a Bing Crosby, Perry Como, or Irish folk album was played in that kitchen with my Nana belting her brogued accompaniment, cigarette and coffee in hand. Many hands of War and Old Maid were played, with my blatant cheating never called out. I taught her to use her large-buttoned TV remote so we could watch Judge Judy, soap operas, true crime, QVC shopping network — you name it. Nana taught me the true art of mindless television, and she’d let me watch the music videos my parents tried to ban. I’d help answer all the modern pop culture questions of her crossword puzzles. We’d trade newspaper sections in silence sometimes, and, on gloomier days, we’d just talk about my grandfather until the sun went down. We missed him deeply and had experienced the worst day of our lives together, but at least we were together in it.

She lived in that townhouse on our street for the last three years of her life. She lived there until the day she was carried out by paramedics for her last hospital stay. It was the day after President’s Day — I was wearing red, white, and blue instead of my middle school uniform. We spent hours at her bedside and I begged my mother to let me stay for the duration. She said she didn’t have the strength to be there any longer, so we gathered our things to leave.

“Say goodbye to Nana. Remember, sweetie, this is probably the last time you’re ever going to see her.” Knowing full well that I’d already attended eighteen funerals, she had no reason to explain it down to me quite so pedantically.

“She’ll be okay. Well, not really okay. But Aunt Robin will stay with her, so that will be okay. Anyway, let’s get going. Remember, you’ve got school tomorrow, kid.” My heart had never felt heavier.

There were a million things I wanted to say to the strong, beautiful, kind woman that raised me. But I couldn’t say any of it with my mom waiting expectantly in the doorway, equally impatient to leave and eager to listen to everything I might say.

I stared into Nana’s eyes, as blue as ever, but so much wider than I was used to seeing. She was unable to speak from the intubation, and her face held so much fear I felt strings inside my heart just snap.

So I just said, “Goodnight, Nana. I hope you sleep tight. God bless you. I love you,” except I slurred it together the way my family always said it — more along the lines of “godbleshya, iluvya.”

I had long since given up on any concept of God, but I kept up the charade for the people to whom it mattered. It took every ounce of control I had to hold back my tears to speak, but I sensed in her panicked eyes that she needed to feel calm and normal. To this day, I wish I’d said so much more and so much else.

Nana spent the next three days on a morphine drip with Aunt Robin praying beside her. In those long days before she passed, my mother emptied out Nana’s entire house. She planned and scheduled her mother’s funeral while she was still alive in a hospital bed thirty minutes away. My mother tends to be a deeply unsentimental woman, at least in the moments it matters most.

Her funeral was the last day that side of my family existed; everyone fell apart in separate directions without her. I have a triquetra tattooed over my heart to keep close to me the little trio of a family I always wanted to keep: my grandparents with me. Nana taught me to cook in her kitchen and she also taught me everything worth knowing for the first twelve years of my life. I carry her in every part of my heart, mind, and soul still at age nearly-thirty.

She was a believer in the concept of guardian angels, like most of us who’ve known great loss. I have a long-standing beef against religion and the concept of god with a capital G, but I do consider myself spiritual in a much hippier way. I most certainly do feel my favorite people’s spirits guarding me all the time. I used to have a big family, and I still do; where they’re no longer physically here, their impact, lessons, and memories stay with me.

[ivaldisonsforge]

Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Triquetra ring. Sterling silver Celtic ring. Handmade trinity knot ring Celtic jewelry.

[abby118]

I gotta post this on main because I don't do this elsewhere but #triquetra spotted, Jayce's room edition.

[vavuska]

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Snow White is about inner beauty not only physical beauty. The Evil Queen is indeed a very attractive women, but is despicable as mother figure and reigning queen.

Some time ago I red "Triquetra" by Kirstyn McDermott, a dark fantasy novelette about the fraught relationship between Snow White and her stepmother after Snow White has married the prince and has her own child. She visits her stepmother monthly promising to kill her in ever more horrible ways, at the same time attempting to stay away from the mirror that started it all.

“Heed me well, Fairest. When you stand before that thing [the mirror], when you peer into its depths, you also allow it to peer into you. It will see the very darkest of your fears; it will sup on them and find them delicious. And it will use them against you in terrible ways.”

Triquetra is the symbol of one of the specific Celtic triple goddesses – for example the battle goddess, The Morrígan, but is also sometimes used by Wiccans, White Witches, and some New Agers to symbolise the Triple Goddess, who are described as the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, each of which symbolizes both a separate stage in the female life cycle and a phase of the Moon, and often rules one of the realms of heavens, earth, and underworld.

In "Triquetra" is pointed out how aging was the source of insecurity that led the Queen into trying to murder Snow White - who is merely seen as the "fairest" for her very young age (the mirror is starting to minate her SW's own mind into believing her child daughter as a threat - due to her young age).

The mirror is some sort of cursed artifact that plays with people's minds and their secret insecurities, so it made this powerful queen and skilled sorceress jealous of the youth of their own children. Another theme is also grooming and abuse on children, motherhood, women supporting women and helping each other.

“Is that what you think? That I could leave you to the fate I myself had wrought? You, and then your daughter? The mirror held me for so long, so sweetly and so ruthlessly—but the fault was mine. I stood before it. I asked my foolish question. I opened my heart to its hooks.”

The mirror is also a little window on Prince's sick mind.

That fucking mirror, though...