Introducing Maris Blackthorn – The Skeptic in the Backcountry Mystic Family

At some point, it occurred to me that if I’m going to drag you all through the chaos of Backcountry Mystic—our accidental spiritual B&B turned metaphysical sideshow—you might as well meet the cast of characters I call family. Consider this a proper introduction to the people behind the sarcastic blog posts, mysterious wind chimes, and caffeine-fueled existential breakthroughs.

First up: my eldest. The grounded one. The skeptic. The spreadsheet-wielding voice of reason in our cosmic soap opera.

Introducing Maris Blackthorn.

If you ever want to feel like your entire life is one long cautionary tale, try raising a daughter who becomes a finance executive.

Maris is the kind of woman who reads the fine print, follows the tax code for fun, and color-codes her reusable grocery bags. She triple-checks her travel itinerary, volunteers at local nonprofits, and files her receipts—monthly. Meanwhile, I once lost an entire shoebox full of receipts because I was using it to store a salt jar that exploded mid-retrograde.

She’s my firstborn. The one who made me a mom. And probably the only person on Earth who considers my mystical leanings a personal challenge to her patience and her insurance premiums.

When I announced I was moving to a weird little town in the mountains to open a bed and breakfast with her father—and yes, we planned to live above it, with two grandkids, a mysterious wind chime, and zero relevant experience—she didn’t scream or cry or beg me to stay. She just blinked slowly, asked for the zoning reports, and offered to run the numbers if I was serious about making it viable.

That’s how Maris shows love. Not with incense or incantations—but with logistical backup and firm, clear boundaries. And yes, sometimes that comes with side-eye so sharp it could slice through my aura. But she’s there.

Always.

Through the chaos of raising her brothers. Through her father’s half-baked schemes. Through the mess of grief and change and starting over in my fifties. She’s the one who sends birthday cards on time, remembers your dentist’s name, and double-checks that your life insurance is up to date—even if she thinks your chakras are a scam.

She worries about us out here. About Rowan and Nova especially. She doesn’t say it often, but she shows it—in surprise grocery deliveries, in fussing over our Wi-Fi speeds, in checking in “just to make sure there’s a contingency plan.”

She’s not just a skeptic. She’s the glue. The quiet, sarcastic, coffee-powered glue that holds our frayed edges together even when we forget to say thank you.

Maris doesn’t believe in magic.

But she believes in order.

In responsibility.

In showing up even when she thinks your B&B business plan came from a dream journal and your wind chime might be cursed.

And that’s a kind of magic I’m still learning to appreciate.

Q&A: Introducing Maris Blackthorn (Who Begrudgingly Agreed to This)

Q: What do you actually do for work?
Maris: I work in corporate finance. I manage budgets, analyze risk, and try to keep other people from accidentally tanking their futures.

Q: What’s it like being the daughter of a woman who moved to run a B&B with two grandkids and a haunted wind chime?
Maris: Like watching a clown juggle knives. It’s objectively dangerous, but also strangely impressive that she hasn’t bled out yet.

Q: Do you believe in any of this metaphysical stuff?
Maris: I believe in retirement savings, seat belts, and not lighting herbs near flammable curtains. That’s as spiritual as I get.

Q: But you still support your mom?
Maris: Of course. I don’t have to believe in it to believe in her. And someone has to make sure she doesn’t accidentally Airbnb a portal to another dimension.

Q: Any advice for people trying to reconnect with their adult kids?
Maris: Respect their time. Don’t guilt-trip them. And maybe don’t send them five-minute voice notes about your past-life regression dreams.

Q: Favorite quote?
Maris: “Do the right thing. It will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” — Mark Twain.

Want more behind-the-scenes chaos and unfiltered family truths?
Join the Unstable Magix email list for weekly misadventures, metaphysical mishaps, and mildly cursed wisdom from BriarVeil. Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok to meet the rest of the family—and maybe laugh-snort through your Tuesday.

Magic, mayhem, and manifesting… eventually.
Subscribe Below!

💜 Everlie