Things have been evolving in my life and creativity. I’ve been regularly researching stories from Filipino & Finnish culture and having a blast. So starting in January 2026, I’ll be shifting to monthly reflections on folklore, cultural discoveries, and fragments that don’t always make it into my fiction. It’ll be part cultural storytelling and part personal meditation on belonging in the in-between.
In January I’ll be retiring my current Patreon tiers and introducing two new ones:
- The first tier will focus on on a monthly Chronicle (800-1,200 words) and a “field note” of complementary personal history or ritual (100-200 words).
- The second tier will include the above plus a bonus field note from other cultures (250-500 words), behind-the-scenes glimpses into my research and writing, twice-yearly PDF compilations and AMA videos, and the chance to vote on what elements I explore in my fiction (where applicable).
And the free tier has goodies too: Quarterly polls to help shape what myths, rituals, or themes I explore in future Chronicles, journal prompts, and Micro Field Notes.
There will also be a few low-cost downloadable seasonal & ritual guides for anyone who wants to support me without joining a tier.
Here’s a short preview of what that will feel like. This excerpt comes from one of the upcoming Chronicles for the new tiers.
The Shape of Your Future: Lead Divination in the Finnish New Year
In the darkness of winter, we call the light of the coming year closer.
The year’s end is an upside-down time. We’re reflecting on the months behind us and feeling that crackle of anticipation for the year to come. It can be a highly liminal space: between two years, early dark, disorientation. We want to prepare and maybe even get excited. In Finland, they call to the future with the steam and hiss of melted tin.
Tin casting, “tinanvalanta” – also known as New Year’s tin, “uudenvuodentina” – is popular way to mark the end of the year in Finland. In earlier times, this took place at the end of the agricultural year, in the period of about 12 days in autumn between the lunar and solar years. The exact date wasn’t fixed – instead, the year end fell after the autumn harvest. This was the old harvest festival called Kekri. The veil was thin in this time. It was perfect for gathering with loved ones in a cozy firelit home to indulge in a little divination. Who would get married next year? Who might die? How good would the next harvest be? Would money come to us next year? The tin (and some lead) told these stories and more.
Divination using molten metal (molybdomancy) isn’t unique to Finland, of course. Many cultures have held this tradition for centuries, and it’s been part of Nordic ones since the 18th century. Tinanvalanta came to Finland via Sweden, but wasn’t as popular in the eastern parts of the country.
The old version of the ritual worked like this: a mixture of tin and lead was placed in a ladle and melted in the oven’s fire. The assembled family would say the name of whoever it was the divination would apply to. Then, the molten metal was quickly poured out into a bucket of cold water, where it hissed and steamed as it solidified. Then, the now-cooled lead was pulled out of the water. Everyone gathered together to interpret the resulting shape and what it could mean for the person’s future. It was a communal affair, one of excitement and hope. I can picture the family gathered around a crackling fire, feeling a little scared at the potential danger of the hot metal, the laughter as they try to interpret the shape of the future.
[…]
The full Chronicle will go a bit more into the ritual, with the Field Note sharing a safer version that you could do at home along with me. The Bonus Field Note will explore lead casting across a few different cultures, showing the unique differences the practice takes – the shape of the future around the world.
Here are some of my favourite excerpts from my tinanvalanta research:
- “The water in the bucket was also believed to possess special properties. An unmarried girl could dip her scarf into it and sleep with the scarf under her pillow. She would then dream of who her groom was going to be.” – Anneke Lipsanen
- Tinanvalanta in Helsinki, 1964, photo by Matti Tapola:
