The thistle is my sigil. Not delicate, but deeply sacred.

It grows in hard soil. It blooms under duress. It protects itself with grace and thorn. Often it is underestimated, and yet, it thrives.

Wild Thistle is named for this bloom—the one that survives storms, sings its own kind of beauty, and refuses to be uprooted.

It stands for:

Protection — thorns that say: do not enter unless you come in truth
Resilience — blooming in harsh conditions, wind-swept and still radiant
Wisdom — long used in folk healing, often overlooked, yet deeply powerful
Ancestral Connection — a fiercely Scottish symbol, a bloom that outlasts empires

Wild Thistle is the wild place within—where I write from. It’s about the roots, the ritual, the remembering.