At the misty thresholds where life ferments into death, and death feeds new forms of life, stands Siduri. Forgotten goddess, veiled innkeeper, alchemical oracle. Before she was erased and reduced to a mere roadside distraction in the Epic of Gilgamesh, Siduri was a guardian of paradox and pleasure, an elder of ecological wisdom and sacred hospitality.
In this mythopoetic and eco-relational text, Siduri’s Nectar distills an ancient dream into contemporary ferment. Woven from years of study, ritual, grief, and dream, Sofia Batalha reclaims Siduri’s presence from the margins of myth and invites readers into a sensual, cyclical ecology of mourning and renewal.
This book is not a historical reconstruction, nor a manual for self-improvement. It is a relational fermentation, a living, breathing weave of mythology, eco-mysticism, ancestral memory, feminist critique, and poetic emergence. Drawing inspiration from Robin Wall Kimmerer, Adrienne Maree Brown, and the GTDF's “Rude Diagnostic,” Batalha repositions Siduri as a guide for navigating our dying systems and regenerating the ground of life.
Through storytelling, dreams, etymologies, lamentation, and the symbolic nectar of fermentation, Siduri’s Nectar offers an invitation to sit on the warm stone beside the veiled goddess, to sip from her cup, to mourn what must be mourned, and to feel your way, again and again, back into life.
This is a book for those: tending grief that won’t resolve into solutions; composting illusions of control and superiority; dreaming with the earth, not above her; seeking an embodied mythic literacy beyond patriarchal and extractive logics.

“Tales of the Serpent and the Moon” is a woven shawl of mythic threads, eco-mythological whispers, and tentative mendings of the broken stories that still hum in the bones of the land. These are not tales to consume or decode, but to live with, to compost and be composted by.
In the entangled spirit of mythopoetic inquiry, Sofia Batalha invites us into a landscape where stories emerge as sentient companions, and images become thresholds to ecological reciprocity, ancestral memory, and soul-rooted listening. Each tale acts as a shimmering riverstone, arising from dreams, places, and relationships, that can be held, turned, and reflected upon in one’s own inner cauldron.
This book is not about recovering a pure past, nor is it a bypass from modern complexity. It is a remembering of the sacred ways life speaks through serpents, grandmothers, swamps, lamias, crows, daemons, and rivers. It invites readers into embodied relational practices with myth, image, and land, away from extractivist knowing and toward felt, situated, ethical entanglement.
Sofia writes from a rooted European perspective, tracing stories beneath domesticated culture, colonizing narratives, and identity myths. These tales invite us not into clarity, but into complexity. Not into escape, but into repair. Not into certainty, but into reverent unknowing. This is a book to be stirred like a potion, lived like a question, and remembered like an old song.