when lost, clean house.
make fires and art.
cook.
especially when the veil is thin.
Leaves change and fall,
clearing the way for the next Spring.
It is hard to keep moving forward,
gentle with ourselves
fierce with the world,
always coming from a place of love.
This crazy balance.
Taking in last harvests,
everything on the mountain ripens late.
More appreciative than with the early ones,
knowing it will be months of darkness
before there is more.
Now many weeks later it is the time of closing that door.
Winter is here though we have been given a respite from the cold and rain.
Hard killing frost on the eve of Hallowe'en
on a Blue Moon
in a time of fragility and fear
and possibility.
we have faithfully put out dumb suppers
feeding our ancestors and those traveling through.
The spirits have been very present,
perhaps the only thing actually keeping us together
during these challenging times
and always.
With great gratitude we honor them,
thanking them for their sacrifice and for going before
sharing lessons and knowledge
bringing us here now.
Because of the moon, because of the times,
because of the illness and anger and fear and the cold and our need to cope,
we set up a fire on All Hallow's Eve and made sacrifice.
Two small beeswax candles lit the fire made of sacred sticks from the Nemeton,
while another candle burned at the shrine out there.
Simple but enough.
But in this time of Samhain,
this post should be about our Equinox.
Balance is so fleeting
and that is the point.
Balance is movement.
Balance is fluid.
Balance is acceptance and action.
Balance is understanding.
Balance is letting go.
Like the leaves from the trees,
like the cycles of the seasons and years,
like our evolving bodies and minds,
balance re-calibrates.
We have moved through first autumnal colors
to an incredible and lingering peak season
to the winds bearing change
tearing through the trees
and carpeting the land with what has now become
-through days of raking and blowing and mowing-
mulch to protect
through the winter
next year's garden.
This is the magic that brings us to a new day,
a new balance.
It is silent these nights except for a lone coyote or dog or the owls
and there is rarely a bird song at dawn,
but then
as we were edging into this season
there were still flying insects and butterflies,
the call of migrating geese,
bears passing by,
and flowers everywhere.
At our ritual was a last hummingbird
buzzing through during our offering for Bridget.
Two bats circled overhead at the end.
Pigeons were in the road and snakes on the land
and a troop of blue jays all around.
That night there was a symphony of owl song
and a cacophony of a coyote pack
loud and close.
There was comfort and discomfort
and gentle interaction.
These times of uncertainty
where caution is essential
and fear lingers everywhere,
speaking our heartfelt truth
is all we got.
Prayers for good fortune.
Sparking seeds.
An exploding egg.
feeling whole and holy.
Balance is here to remind us
that the closing of doors is the opening of other ones.
Pics from then with whatever memories they bring
as always read the flames.
family gathered with love
finally using the long-ago gifted kombucha as sacrifice
from the Gods & Goddesses:Ansuz or Os- the Voice and the Wind: its Odin's cape blowing,
the air/wind/voice/intelligence/message of the gods. LISTEN
Ancient Wild Strength from Within
rekindled with gratitude and peace
