Notes from The

Apothecary

Notes from the Apothecary is a free newsletter from me (Angel Sullivan, the Rooted Mystic in charge at The Apothecary at the Edge of the Woods) - for souls ready to stop performing and start excavating.

A few things to know

before you enter

I curse. Not gratuitously, but authentically. If that offends you, these letters aren't for you.

I talk about death. A lot. Not to be morbid, but because working with Death as an ally in Life brings the magick with a quickness. It's the great clarifier, the ultimate excavation tool.

I don't offer trigger warnings. My work is Underworld work, meant to transmute. If you need extensive content warnings right now, this may not be the right time for you to join me in the depths.

I believe your darkness is rich beyond your wildest imaginings. And without it, everything else is just... blah.

If you're still with me, buckle up.

Things are about to get interesting.

Your soul left you breadcrumbs, and I'd be honored to help you follow them home to yourself.

No matter what—you can't miss what's yours to experience.

Watercolor iced coffee
Watercolor torch with gold dust behind

Come in, the torches are lit.

What you’ll find in your inbox

  • Stories from the Depths - real dispatches from someone walking the path, not observing it from a distance

  • Excavation Experiments - small, practical ways to uncover what's been buried

  • Tools for the Journey - the maps and medicines that help you go deeper

  • Invitations - to offerings, to reflection, to whatever wants your attention next

What Others Have

Found in These Notes

“Your emails always bring me breath.” ~ Michelle R.

Watercolor torch with gold dust behind

“Thank you for this reminder of how things that transfix us can be a looking glass.” ~ Paulita

“I love your writing & presence. You're a rock star in my book. Thanks for being who You are & doing what You do.” ~ Tracy C.

So, are you ready to dance?

Watercolor torch with gold dust behind

I create spaces where both light and dark are celebrated. Think of me as your torch-bearer in the cave, where those shadows on the wall are invitations to the dance. Consider this yours.

Pssst - letters arrive when they’re ready to be born. Sometimes weekly, sometimes when the magick demands. You won’t be overwhelmed, only nourished.