The Lake Remembers: A Friday the 13th Ritual of Grief, Mystery, and Power
On Friday, June 13th, the lake stirs.
She does not forget.
Many think Friday the 13th is an unlucky day. The horror movies say something is coming for you.
But what if the thing coming isn’t a monster, but a memory?
Not a curse, but a calling?
In the original Friday the 13th film, the horror doesn’t come from the woods—it comes from the water. Camp Crystal Lake holds a wound. A drowned child. A grieving mother. And a truth no one wanted to face.
As a Lake Creator (one of 13 Creator Types invented by A’Hara), I feel this in my bones. The lake isn’t passive. She’s not just a background. She holds. She gathers. She remembers. She mirrors. She mourns. And, sometimes, when the wind is just right, she howls and roars.
And like so many bodies of water—and bodies of women—she gets blamed for the thing she never caused. It wasn’t the lake’s fault that Jason Vorhees drowned. He was bullied by other campers, thrown into the lake, and drowned.
Yet, we fear the lake.
We fear what lies beneath the surface.
In this blog, we’ll dive into moon magic, horror symbolism, and lake-hearted ritual.
Bring your tarot deck, your grief, your curiosity—and something to toss in the water.
What You’ll Find Lurking in the Waters Below
🌕 Why Friday the 13th Matters
🌊 Lake Magic & The Monster Beneath
🌕 Strawberry Moon & the Sturgeon
♥️ Tarot Spread: What the Lake Remembers
🕯️ Ritual: Still Waters Speak
🪞 Final Reflections
The lake won’t demand anything of you.
But if you listen—really listen—she might show you something you’ve buried…
Why Friday the 13th Matters
Friday is the day of Venus. A day of beauty, love, eroticism, and embodiment.
Thirteen is a lunar number. A number of the witch, of the fertile cycle, of sacred rebellion.
But stitched together, “Friday the 13th” became something to fear. And just like the lake, it was demonized.
Maybe because it reminds us of what we’ve tried to forget:
🌊 The rage of the grieving mother.
🌊 The memory of what was lost.
🌊 The power that lives in the dark water.
Lake Magic & The Monster Beneath
I’m not here to reclaim Friday the 13th the way a horror nerd would.
No HorrorCon here.
Or overnight horror-themed summer camp experience.
Or a dinner party of guests dressed as their favorite fictional slasher movie killers or survivors.
Although those all sound like so much fun, and right up my dark humor alley. 🤔
I’m here to reclaim Friday the 13th as ritual.
This date belongs to those of us who’ve carried grief so long it’s grown moss. And become a habitat for it.
Who’ve submerged rage so deep it began to shape-shift.
Who’ve felt the stillness of our own pain mistaken for peace.
Who’ve had to swallow screams to survive.
Who’ve kept the surface smooth while storms churned underneath.
Who’ve been told that our knowing was too much, our love too fierce, our intuition too inconvenient.
But the lake does not stay still forever. And even if it looks still, there’s a lot going on under the surface.
Strawberry Moon & the Sturgeon
This Friday the 13th is happening during the full moon phase of the moon cycle.
Full moons aren’t for releasing or calling in.
Full moons illuminate.
When the light is brightest so we can see more clearly in the dark.
Full moons are the time to reflect on what’s flowered. 🌻
I was born on a full moon—a Sturgeon Moon. Sounds lame, right? Well, it did to me.
Not a cool sounding full moon like the Pink Moon or the Buck Moon or the Snow Moon. Or even the Strawberry Moon—the full moon under which I’m writing this blog post. 🍓🌕
I didn’t even know what the fuck a sturgeon was except that people went fishing for it. So I did a little digging.
And digging is just what a sturgeon does.
According to Almanac.com, a sturgeon is a fresh water fish who can live up to 150 years and grow as big as a Volkswagen. When it looks for food at the bottoms of lakes or rivers, it stirs up silt and mud.
Sturgeon.
Stirrer of silt and mud. Shaker of sediment.
So, I’m here to bring some sturgeon energy. To stir the silt and mud. To shake the sediment.
To offer a primordial tail-flip that unearths the forgotten and hidden.
Which is perfect for someone like me who helps women reclaim sovereignty by cracking cultural spells and midwifing symbolic death and rebirth.
I’m the sturgeon who dives deep to shake things up and dares to disturb the soil and waters.
So, what’s stirring in your lake?
What’s ready to surface and be composted?
Here are two ways to explore that. Tarot and a ritual.
Tarot Spread: What the Lake Remembers
You can also let spirit guide you in this reflection with a tarot spread. Here’s a suggestion:
🌊 1. The Surface
What have I tried to keep calm or hidden?
🌊 2. The Depths
What memory, truth, or emotion is stirring underneath?
🌊 3. The Drowned One
What part of me was lost or silenced?
🌊 4. The Monster
What protective force within me has been misunderstood?
🌊 5. The Mirror
What truth wants reflection, not rejection?
🌊 6. The Shoreline
What wants to rise and rejoin me now?
You can bring your tarot insights into the ritual.
Not a fan of tarot? Use these as journal prompts.
Ritual: Still Waters Speak
On this Friday the 13th, try this:
💧 Find Water
A bath, a bowl, a lake, a tidepool, a puddle. Any body of water will do.
💧 Gaze and Whisper
Gaze into the water and ask:
What grief have I submerged?
What part of me is calling to be witnessed?
What part of me is calling to belong?
What wants to rise—not to hurt me, but to return me to myself?
💧 Drop Something In
A stone. A seed. A black petal. A whisper of grief. Let it ripple across the surface. Let it speak.
You may cry.
You may laugh.
You may feel nothing at all—until later, when the dream comes, or the song hits different, or the lake inside you ripples unexpectedly.
Final Reflections
Friday the 13th isn’t cursed.
It’s consecrated.
This is a date for reclaiming the drowned, the demonized, and the disowned.
Like Jason Voorhees—who kept returning from the dead to avenge his mother’s death.
And took it out on future summer camp counselors.
Because things that stay buried under the surface wreak havoc within us. And on others.
So let the lake speak—and to listen not with fear, but with curiosity and reverence.
You are not a haunted house.
You are holy water.
And the monsters that lurk below are sacred too.
And once we integrate the monsters, they become our allies and a source of power.
Love,
Heidi
If something stirred within you as you read this—a memory, a desire, a howl—there’s a private circle forming for those who live between grief and fire, burial and blooming, the mirror and the blade.
The next round of Virgin Sacrifice is abrew: The Rites of the Feral Sisterhood.
🔪 Join the Sacrificial Delights private list (link below).
Not a newsletter. A ritual fire.
