The House of Ravenwood Listening Library

Lenore Wolfe
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The House of Ravenwood Podcast Welcome to The House of Ravenwood, where stories, healing, and ancient wisdom intertwine beneath the light of the moon. Hosted by author Lenore Wolfe, this podcast is a gathering place for dreamers, seekers, readers, writers, and kindred spirits. Together we’ll wander the halls of Ravenwood Manor, explore the mystical world of Children of the Goddess, journey through moon cycles and sacred journaling, discover crystal wisdom, reflect on life’s deeper lessons, and celebrate the quiet magick woven into everyday moments. Some episodes will transport you into enchanted realms filled with witches, guardians, dragons, and forgotten lore. Others will offer gentle guidance for healing, creativity, spiritual growth, and living with intention. Along the way you’ll hear behind-the-scenes stories from my writing life, pages from the Book of Shadows, oracle readings, and conversations designed to awaken wonder and remind you that the greatest magick often begins within. Whether you’ve come seeking inspiration, imagination, or simply a peaceful place to rest for a while, there is always a seat waiting for you by the fire. Welcome home. Blessed be. 🌙 houseofravenwood.substack.com

Episodes

  1. 3d ago

    Shadow would like a word… 🖤🐈‍⬛

    The doors to the House of Ravenwood are open, and our fluffy, ember-eyed keeper has an invitation just for you. Come for the stories. Wander into the Magickal Attic. Settle beside the hearth and discover a little magick of your own. Watch his invitation—and do listen to his advice about whispering books. 😉 Your chair is waiting.✨ https://houseofravenwood.substack.com #HouseOfRavenwood #EnterRavenwood #WitchyVibes #FantasyBooks #BookLovers This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    Shadow would like a word… 🖤🐈‍⬛

  2. Oct 16

    Tap into Your Inner Witch

    🌙 Tap Into Your Inner Witch An Invitation from the House of Ravenwood There is a little magick in every woman. Sometimes, we simply need to remember where we left it. Dear Kindred Spirit, Have you ever felt the whisper of something ancient stirring within you? A connection to the moon, the trees, the changing seasons… a quiet knowing that there is something more? Perhaps you’ve felt it all your life. Perhaps you’re only beginning to hear its call. Today, I invite you to listen to the first rendition of my song, Tap Into Your Inner Witch. ✨ This song is a celebration of the woman who has always lived within us. The intuitive woman. The creative woman. The woman who has weathered storms, gathered her wisdom, and discovered that her greatest magick was never somewhere outside herself. It was within her all along. And you don’t have to call yourself a witch to recognize her. She may be the woman who finds peace in her garden, who talks to the moon, who trusts her intuition, or who is simply learning to believe in herself again. This is an early rendition, a first little spark of something I hope will continue to grow within the House of Ravenwood. 🎶 Come, listen to Tap Into Your Inner Witch. And when the music ends, I would love to hear from you. What does tapping into your inner witch mean to you? Is it freedom? Creativity? Wisdom? Healing? Or perhaps remembering a part of yourself you once tucked away? Leave me a whisper in the comments. I would love to hear your story. Welcome to the House of Ravenwood, where stories, music, creativity, and a little everyday magick remind us of the beauty we carry within. With love and a little moonlight, Lenore WolfeHouse of Ravenwood 🌹 Until the next whisper from Ravenwood… Blessed Be. 🌙 Join my Circle of Readers and discover more music, mystical stories, creative treasures, and whispers from the World of Ravenwood. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    Tap into Your Inner Witch

  3. Oct 12

    Shadows in Ravenwood

    Enter the House of Ravenwood, where the woods remember, the ravens speak, and every shadow carries a secret. This is the Prologue of Shadows in Ravenwood, Book One in the Daughters of the Circle series, from the World of the Children of the Goddess. Long before the daughters return to Ravenwood Manor, something dark is already moving beneath the veil. In Denver, a young Wiccan senses a presence following her through the night. Shadows gather. Ancient forces awaken. And with one final name—Dante—the first thread of a much greater mystery is pulled into the light. This dramatic reading opens the doorway into a world of witches, ravens, forgotten bloodlines, ancient magick, forbidden love, and a living manor waiting for its daughters to come home. Subscribe, like, and share so you can find your way back for the next chapter in the House of Ravenwood. The Circle is gathering. The daughters are awakening. And Ravenwood remembers every name. Written and read by Lenore Wolfe. Begin the journey with Shadows in Ravenwood, Book One of the Daughters of the Circle series. #HouseOfRavenwood #ShadowsInRavenwood #DaughtersOfTheCircle #ChildrenOfTheGoddess #FantasyAudiobook #WitchFantasy #ParanormalFantasy #GothicFantasy #BookReading #FantasySeries This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    Shadows in Ravenwood

  4. Aug 12

    I Built Myself From Broken

    There is a line in my new Truth so Raw song that may be one of the most important things I have ever put into a song: Maybe I shouldn’t have neededto become this goddamn strong. I felt that one. Because we love stories about strong women. Women who survived. Women who rose. Women who walked through hell and somehow came out carrying fire in their hands. We tell them how brave they are. How resilient. How extraordinary. And they are. But sometimes I think we rush toward the strength because it is easier to look at than what created it. Sometimes strength was not a choice. Sometimes strength was what happened when there was nobody coming to protect you. Sometimes independence was born because depending on someone became dangerous. Sometimes hyper-awareness began because a woman needed to know what kind of mood someone was in before he ever opened his mouth. Sometimes silence wasn’t weakness. It was survival. Sometimes becoming small was the safest thing she knew how to do. And sometimes the woman everyone admires for being so damn strong would have traded every ounce of that strength just to have once felt safe enough that she didn’t need it. I Would Rather Have Been Protected While writing I Built Myself From Broken, these words came: Because I would have rather been protected.I would have rather just been loved. And there it was. The truth underneath so many stories of survival. I don’t want to romanticize what breaks us. Pain does not become sacred simply because we survived it. Abuse does not become a gift because eventually we learned boundaries. Betrayal wasn’t necessary so we could discover our worth. We should not have had to be destroyed to discover how powerful we were. Some things simply should not have happened. There is tremendous freedom in allowing ourselves to say that. I can honor the woman I became without being grateful for everything that wounded her. I can love my strength and still grieve the girl who needed protection. Both truths can exist in the same heart. The Woman Wearing Stone That became the imagery for this song. I saw a woman wearing stone. Not standing beside the ruins. Wearing them. Layer upon layer had hardened around her. The things she had been told. The things she had survived. The silence. The fear. The shame that never belonged to her. The boundaries she wasn’t allowed to have. The parts of herself she learned to hide because someone else was more comfortable when she was smaller. And I realized something. Some of that stone had once protected her. We don’t always build walls because we’re weak. Sometimes we build them because, at the time, they are the only shelter we have. So I didn’t want the stone ripped violently from her. I wanted the transformation to begin differently. With a crack. And through that crack— light. The Light Was Already Hers At first, only the faintest light appears. Then another crack. And another. Pieces begin falling away. And the more that falls, the more we realize something: Nobody is shining the light onto her. It is coming from inside her. I think there comes a point in healing when we begin discovering how much of ourselves we buried in order to survive. Our voice. Our anger. Our softness. Our sexuality. Our creativity. Our intuition. Our joy. Our wildness. Our right to say no. Our right to say yes. Our right to take up space without apologizing for the inconvenience of our existence. Maybe healing isn’t always about finding something new. Maybe sometimes it is about removing everything that taught us to hide what was already there. What Have I Been Carrying to Keep Myself Small? That question stayed with me as the images developed. What have we carried because other people needed us to remain small? What did we learn to suppress because somebody called it selfish? What boundaries did we abandon because somebody accused us of being cruel for having them? How many times did we swallow our truth because speaking it would make someone angry? How much of ourselves have we sacrificed just to maintain peace in places where there was never really peace to begin with? Eventually, there is a moment when the last pieces of stone begin breaking away. And I didn’t want the woman underneath to simply look like the woman from the beginning. Because that isn’t what healing has felt like to me. I don’t think we always go back. Sometimes there is no going back. Sometimes we become. A Woman Dressed in Sunlight As the stone fell away, I suddenly saw her differently. Almost like Cinderella—but there would be no prince coming to change her life. No fairy godmother arriving to make her worthy. No one outside of her granting the transformation. I saw her wearing a ball gown spun from sunlight. Yellow. Gold. Orange. Red. The colors of fire and courage and life. The colors I’ve been feeling so strongly through this Lion’s Gate energy. She wasn’t being rescued. She was revealing herself. And that distinction means everything to me. The woman at the end isn’t valuable because someone finally chose her. She chooses herself. She isn’t powerful because someone gives her permission to be. She stops asking permission. She doesn’t shrink her light so someone standing beside her can feel brighter. She shines. They May Have Made the Ruins One of the final thoughts behind this song became: They may have made the ruins.But I built everything that came after. That is where I want to leave the power. Not with the person who caused the wound. Not with the person who abandoned us. Not with the person who convinced us we were difficult, unlovable, crazy, damaged, selfish, needy or too much. With the woman who remained. The woman sitting among the pieces. The woman whose hands were shaking when she picked up the first one. The woman who didn’t know what she was building yet. The woman who sometimes put the same broken piece down a hundred times before she was finally ready to let it go. The woman who fell apart again after thinking she was healed. The woman who learned that boundaries could cost her people. The woman who discovered that losing someone is sometimes less painful than continually losing herself. The woman who slowly, imperfectly, stubbornly came home to herself. She built what came after. This Song Is for Her This song is for the woman who still checks the locks. The woman whose body remembers things her mind would rather forget. The woman learning that saying no does not make her cruel. The woman discovering that she doesn’t owe everyone access to her. The woman grieving years she cannot get back. The woman meeting herself again after spending a lifetime becoming whatever everyone else needed. And the woman who has only just noticed the first tiny crack in the stone. Especially her. Because if that is where you are, you don’t have to tear everything down tonight. You don’t have to become fearless. You don’t have to glow yet. You don’t have to know who you will be when all of this is over. Maybe today there is simply a crack. And maybe, for now, that is enough. Let a little light through. Then another. Then another. Until one day you realize— the light you’ve been looking for was coming from inside you all along. Piece by piece.Truth by truth.Boundary by boundary. Build. Not the woman they wanted. Not even necessarily the woman you were before. Build the woman you choose to become. And when the last thing you’ve been carrying to keep yourself small finally falls away— shine. ☀️🔥 I Built Myself From Broken is an original Truth so Raw song about survival, healing, boundaries, reclamation and transformation. If this piece or the song speaks to you, please share it with another woman who might need to hear it. Sometimes we never know how far one woman’s truth will travel—or whose light it might help uncover. Blessed be. — Lenore This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    I Built Myself From Broken

  5. Aug 11

    I Will Not Carry Your Violence

    I have been thinking a lot about the difference between remembering what happened to us and continuing to carry what someone else put inside us. They are not the same thing. Sometimes healing asks us to remember. Sometimes it asks us to grieve. Sometimes it asks us to rage. And sometimes it asks us to stand at the edge of everything we have carried and finally say: This belongs to you.It does not belong to me.And I am giving it back. That is where I Will Not Carry Your Violence came from. When the body remembers before we are ready There are wounds that don’t live neatly in the past. They can live in the body. In the way we brace ourselves. In the way we become hyperaware of another person’s mood. In the way a voice, a smell, a room, a particular sentence—or seemingly nothing at all—can suddenly open a door we thought we had closed decades ago. And when an old memory rises, it can feel cruel. Why now? I have already survived this. I have already cried over this. I have already worked so hard to heal this. Why am I here again? But I am beginning to understand something differently. Perhaps every memory that returns isn’t asking us to relive it. Sometimes it is asking us whether we are finally ready to release what became attached to it. Because violence leaves more behind than the event itself. It can leave shame. Fear. Self-doubt. Silence. Anger. A feeling that we somehow became contaminated by what another human being chose to do. And perhaps one of the most sacred acts of healing is learning to separate ourselves from what was done to us. What happened to me is part of my story. But it is not the definition of me. I will not carry your shame For too long, survivors can end up carrying the emotional consequences of someone else’s choices. We wonder what we should have done differently. Why we didn’t leave. Why we didn’t fight. Why we froze. Why we trusted. Why we loved them. Why we went back. Why we stayed silent. Why we didn’t understand what was happening while it was happening. And somewhere along the way, the person who was harmed begins carrying the burden that belonged to the person who caused the harm. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want another person’s violence occupying sacred space inside me. I don’t want their choices determining how I see myself. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life punishing the woman who survived because she didn’t survive in the way someone else thinks she should have. She survived. That is enough. The woman walking into the water As I began creating the images for this song, one image kept becoming more powerful to me. A woman walking toward the ocean. Barefoot. Then walking into the waves. And finally, instead of standing quietly while the water moved around her… she kicked it. She threw the water. She played in it. She moved. And something about that image touched me deeply. Because that is what I want healing to become. Not merely surviving. Not simply standing at the edge of life congratulating ourselves because we escaped something terrible. I want to walk back into my own life. I want to get my feet wet. I want to splash. I want to laugh. I want to create. I want to love. I want to make beautiful things. I want to feel the sun on my face without someone’s shadow standing between me and the light. There is a tremendous difference between escaping a prison and realizing: I am free. I will carry what belongs to me I am not walking away empty-handed. There are things I will carry. I will carry my wisdom. I will carry the boundaries I learned to build. I will carry my intuition. I will carry the voice I fought so hard to recover. I will carry compassion for the woman I once was. I will carry the knowledge that I survived days I once believed would destroy me. I will carry my stories. My creativity. My tenderness. My fire. My magick. My truth. But there are other things I am putting down. I will not carry your violence. I will not carry your shame. I will not carry your rage. I will not carry the names you called me. I will not carry your version of who I was. I will not continue the punishment long after you are no longer there to administer it. Those things belong to you. And I am walking away. Maybe this song found you for a reason Truth so Raw has become a place where I turn experiences that once silenced me into words and music. And something unexpected has happened along the way. I have found myself returning to these songs when I need them. Sometimes the woman who creates the medicine is also the woman who needs to hear it. Maybe that is part of why I keep making them. And maybe someday, somewhere, another woman will be sitting alone when one of these songs finds her. Maybe she has spent years believing something about herself that was never true. Maybe she has been carrying another person’s cruelty as though it were evidence of her own worth. Maybe she needs someone to whisper: You don’t have to carry this forever. If that woman is you, then this song is yours, too. You don’t have to deny what happened in order to move forward. You don’t have to forgive anyone on someone else’s timetable. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t hurt. You don’t have to become who you were before it happened. You are allowed to become someone new. And perhaps today you can put down just one thing that never belonged to you. One accusation. One piece of shame. One old voice. One burden. Leave it at the water’s edge. Then take another step. Let the waves come. And when you’re ready— kick the hell out of them. 🕊️ I will remember.I will speak.I will heal.I will live. But I will not carry your violence. — Lenore Wolfe | Truth so Raw This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    I Will Not Carry Your Violence

  6. Jul 23

    I Survived

    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit houseofravenwood.substack.com/subscribe

    I Survived
  • 6 Episodes

About

The House of Ravenwood Podcast Welcome to The House of Ravenwood, where stories, healing, and ancient wisdom intertwine beneath the light of the moon. Hosted by author Lenore Wolfe, this podcast is a gathering place for dreamers, seekers, readers, writers, and kindred spirits. Together we’ll wander the halls of Ravenwood Manor, explore the mystical world of Children of the Goddess, journey through moon cycles and sacred journaling, discover crystal wisdom, reflect on life’s deeper lessons, and celebrate the quiet magick woven into everyday moments. Some episodes will transport you into enchanted realms filled with witches, guardians, dragons, and forgotten lore. Others will offer gentle guidance for healing, creativity, spiritual growth, and living with intention. Along the way you’ll hear behind-the-scenes stories from my writing life, pages from the Book of Shadows, oracle readings, and conversations designed to awaken wonder and remind you that the greatest magick often begins within. Whether you’ve come seeking inspiration, imagination, or simply a peaceful place to rest for a while, there is always a seat waiting for you by the fire. Welcome home. Blessed be. 🌙 houseofravenwood.substack.com

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