This is our all new oracle frame and card set.
The frame is totally handmade in our studio and comes complete with an initial 12 cards and meditation book on the cards.
Every single piece is handmade and the frame assembled.
The first 50 will also all be signed and numbered. 
These frames and book sets are very time consuming to make and for that reason the initial release set will only be 50 copies with more to follow in June
Each card comes with a new unique piece of writing to aid in your journey and below is one of the example pieces which go with the Otters Play card as seen above:-
 
It seemed, many years ago, that I would spend at least one day a week down by the river. I would sit by the old willow tree and imagine great adventures, I would paddle across the river, the waters reaching to the tops of my small legs and once, I remember, after days of very heavy rains the waters had risen high enough for me to swim.  But normally the river was not deep and spanned only 5 metres or so but it was a magical place. It was full of life, colour and tranquility. The banks were full of vibrancy, from the early hawthorn whites to the bluebells along the banks;  from the golden buttercups to the dogwood reds of winter and always running between them my special path, a path that only I knew.
So for many years I would come here and fill up on the wonders of the place and I suppose looking back it was one of my greatest joys of childhood, to be alone in this place, to create the magical dreams and fill up on stories.
 
Then there was the otters day, a day that, perhaps, has grown larger as the years passed but I can only tell the story as I remember it today. It was a warm mid spring day, the April showers had subsided and the clouds blown to dreamland, the place that all clouds eventually go to become new ideas and new adventures. For in my mind clouds did not drop their water and disappear, but they would continue onwards forever part of the dream world. I walked through the meadow now full of dandelion, celandines and just by the river banks the early bluebells. I entered the small wood area along the banks and could hear the water’s slow meander through the valley, the early bumble bees looking for their first nectars of the year and there at the very edge was the pathway that I always followed.
 
The pathway, not really a path,
But a well trodden gap between the wood,
And the river,
Taking me farther,
And farther,
Away from the meadow ,
And down a slope closer,
And closer to the river,
All sounds from before,
All feelings,
And hurts,
Disappear.
 
And I am alone at the turn of the river, with the willow tree branches touching the water, causing ripples that will go onwards forever and I sit amongst the gnarled roots of this ancient willow tree and stare down into the water. Time is lost to me here, I am lost to me here and I can be the very best of me.
 
Time passes or doesn’t,
Sounds sound or don’t.
 
And then I am in the water, my shoes and shirt off and I feel no cold but the river moving slowly around me I am an obstacle to be avoided
Something brushes my legs, I start back, could it be river weed but it happens again. A gentle nudge a push. It is then behind me and this time the nudge is stronger and I try to see down into the water but it is swirling and I can see shapes moving between my legs. Strong swimming shapes and suddenly I am off balance, my legs stumble for purchase and I fall backwards the ground disappearing beneath my feet. I expect a big splash as I go back first into the water, surrendering myself to the fall,
Instead I glide into the clear blue waters,
So deep I can no longer see the bottom,
And so wide I no longer can see the bank.
Creatures swirl around me,
Their bodies sleek,
As my body is sleek,
I swim like them,
And they pantomime around me,
For I am they,
And they are me.
And we play
And play
And play.
 
 
 
When I was young I just heard stories, adventures and play,
And when I grew up I heard stories but these told of pain and hurt,
And now I am old I hear that age old story of war,
And so I close my ears,
And remember,
Remember,
Remember,
The Otters play.
 
So many years have passed,
Too many years have passed,
But it is never too late.
 
 
And so I come back, and find the path easily. I think others must have found it for it to still be here and I follow once again. The path has not changed it still goes around the clumps of bluebells, it still travels down and down toward the river
And I follow,
As before,
The lightness of step shocking my body,
With memories,
No limp or aches,
Just freedom,
And peace.
Away from the meadow,
And down a slope closer,
And closer to the river,
All sounds from before,
All feelings,
And hurts,
Disappear.