Seasonal Truth

My Saturday morning walk was greeted with a casual drop of the promised snow predicted in the coming hours. I woke up an hour and a half before and was looked at by lazy dogs that decided that a good morning pat was in order.

After a good cry that removed the rest of yesterday’s mascara, I put on my boots, gloves, and hat. I grabbed my walking stick and out we went to the yard.

I am a bit sad today.

 Today it is real. Winter is arriving, I miss my family; those living and those that have passed and I fucked up.

  I did.

 I admit it fully.

 I am not always the best communicator. Words come to me easily when I write an essay or blog. I can express myself and usually get my thoughts and feelings across. When I have to put on my work face and speak my job language, I am sufficient.  But speaking my truth, person to person in a tongue that they can hear is not always my strong point. It takes me time to form the words and bring them forth. Most listeners are impatient and don’t want to wait for them. They will try and finish the sentence for you so they can say the words they need to express or get angry because they don’t understand. Text and Messaging is a bit of a crutch for me. This is my social phobia that I rarely, if ever share with others. What arises with the modern form of communication is misunderstanding and conceived ideas that are not always the case. We all do it, but, short, one line quips can bring on a storm and this is my doing. I feel horrible about the drama, as in my head, I knew what the outline of the situation was, but I failed to bring the information out for the receiver to understand. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but 12 hours later, I have been demoted to the family single cell life form.

My dogs don’t care about this, they care about Mama. They sense my sadness as they prompt me down the hill. I speak to them and give them just enough freedom to wander and sniff the deer scent left under the apple trees last night.

I walked over to my sacred circle and spotted a white tail running away. The boys luckily did not spy this as it would have caused a great alarm heard in the morning air.

I turned and went towards the apple trees. I could see the indents of the deer laying in the grass. This gives me great comfort, knowing that these creatures use my yard as a place of rest and replenishment.

I looked down to my boots and a sweet little bird’s nest was at my toes. Entwined with clumps of dog hair and blue tarp threads. This filled my heart. A reminder- seasons of cycles in nature. This is what I know to be true, what I always return to when sadness is strong. When all else is unsure, questionable with no guarantees, the earth and her seasons are strength below my boots.

My apple trees are a place of Spirit. I placed a bench under the middle tree a few years back. I find myself there sometimes at night. When the wind blows, I sit and speak. The stars peek out of the branches. Each season under the canopy has a different feel. Spring with blossoms, summer with buzzing, fall with heaviness and now winter with bare bark. All beauty with different appeal. I have told this tree many stories, shed tears and buried a few needs.

My dogs are getting hungry and it is time to move back up the hill. Rufus as always has a prize carried in his mouth, Bodhi slowly finding his was with nose to the ground sniffing his path and Beck, by my side guiding me to the door. My last stop before going in was putting away a garden tool.

 

My Nana always said that I had keen eyes. I helped her find a dime once that rolled away and her kind compliment always stayed with me.

 I spotted a small bit of hornet or wasp’s egg chamber. It struck me and gave me the closure that I needed.

 In my work, I associate these little beasties as angry energy.

 Sometimes it is needed in a working.

Today, it was a message.

A little bit of anger is needed. As a lesson and a reminder. This is a truth.

Nature is not always sunshine and green grass.

We each need to have our feelings.

We each need our words. We need to be heard and understood.

We need forgiveness and the time to find it.

Forgiveness is also a truth.

My cluttered outdoor altar.I placed the morn's gifts here

Recipe for Karma

Karma is not about being a bitch as we so often hear.

Karma is about bits of our past that we have left unfinished, unresolved, tucked away in the cupboard for future reference.

Like a recipe that we saved for someday when we need something to bake. The problem is that like all things pushed to the back, they resurface. We think that it is all under control until guess what or who has found you on Facebook, the phonebook or the yearbook.

 It happens to all of us. In my book, Karma is the unfinished, ignored and occasional chaos of this life and its lessons.

Sometimes you are in the crossfire because of a current relationship and sometimes it is you directing the monkeys in the circus. I feel that Karma is much like death and taxes… and sometimes the Ferry Man.

As a society that is bombarded with bad shit constantly, we have fallen into the mindset that Karma is going to swing around and punch the offender in the nose. This could be a coping mechanism as we try to filter the broth; it may happen but don’t count on it.

Where is this diatribe headed? Well, sometimes the Universe will throw in a bit of a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.

For me, that spoon came in the form of Venus retrograde.

If you are a naysayer of cosmic events and the effect on our lives, you can stop reading this now; otherwise, continue on.

My experience of this rarer event (Compared to Mercury retro) was one of deep emotional upheaval. I was forced to deal head on with a situation that I had chosen to sit on for a few years (and it still has bits that may resurface) as well as a decades old drama that came to the forefront that I played a part in but not the main character. Take these 2 and sprinkle health, job, family stress and what should be leisure lodge (that I have worked my ass off for) and I have a new recipe in the cosmic oven.

Many folks that I know and associate with, have themselves been served a plate full of the Karma recipe during the VR (Venus Retro… Clever, right?)

What does all of this mean? How do we survive? What candle should I burn? What spirit do I call on?

This is what defines our practice as a seasoned worker and the immense life lessons that are brought to the table. The 18 month internet Priest/ess certificate of a 25 year old, dripping in Wiccan jewels and a black corset cannot have in their cookbook the abilities to counsel and do the workings for others that come with a life lived in the practice and lessons from choices, good, bad, ugly and grotesque. (Yes…. I said it. No apology) I respect what their journey currently may be and the talents of being able to call down the moon and release the quarters.( this may be a good help in the future if they stay with the work) I am not condemning or judging, we all need to start somewhere. My thought is this; when you are offered the gift of knowledge from a seasoned worker, invited to the celebrations, into their homestead, heed it just a bit. The lessons of our Mothers, Grandmothers and Aunties are laced with their Karma soup and this is what is shared when you are invited in.  Realizing the Karma bits that they have lived with will only give you the advantage when it is your turn to eat from the plate. 

My choice to share these thoughts, comes from a decade of mostly young women asking me to share my knowledge and teach them everything I know. When I start to cut the meat of it to stew size pieces, teaching them from my kitchen, I never hear from them again. They can get there quicker at the drive thru. (Society Truth)

As I reach the end of my 50^th year, so much understanding has opened up to me from loss, lessons, more loss, love, being loved and loving. (I have so much more to say about this year, but it would go on and on……) My stove top is full of different dishes simmering. I know from my dreams, omens and divination that change for me is on the horizon. I had to find my way to the dinner table, take a seat and clean up my leftovers that many times were served cold.

This is what your relationship with your spirits (land and home) your Ancestors (named and unnamed, known and unknown) are about. They support you. Daily mediations and offerings are the first step in building this relationship. Sounds like a lot of work? Any relationship is. The rewards, protection and knowledge comes back to you over and over…… A bit like Karma.