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.

 

 

In the Pines

The seasonal search of Yule/ Solstice have a bit of conflict for many devoted at this intense occasion of Christian beliefs.

We have come down the path of Samhain; the exhilaration and the solemn experience that is claimed and embraced by the Pagan community. I have no catchy phrase of putting a God form back in the season, but what I can do is remember, breath deep the cold air into my lungs and step forward in my path. Much of the holidays practices come from another time that with deep roots to cultural beliefs and the truths of those times. Decorating a tree is usually the first thought in everyone’s mind.

My tree reflects the history of the my life to this point. Ornaments for celebration of my marriage, birth of children, grandchildren and beloved pets. It reflects my heart.

I put candle like lights in my windows for the homecoming of those who are now gone from my life.

I burn my bayberry candles and a Yule log for luck, prosperity and light in the new season. I make and give gifts that come from the depths of my soul.

When the wind blows through the pines in the evening, I go outside and listen to the screeching of the trees. My homestead is surrounded by pines. The tall thin White Pines that cover my ridge move with the wind in an ancient dance of winter. Sometimes I get the distinct impression that Cailleach is swinging from branches and tree tops. I see her long grey hair blowing wildly in the bitter wind and if I did not know better, I would say she was bare, much like the Maple,Oak and Apple. 

My pines protect me and my way of life. They give shelter to the small creatures that I welcome to my acreage.

They ground me, listen to me, bring me the vibration of the Mother and all her wild Spirits that visit my Ridge in this season and the next.

As I strew the outside of my home with branches and bough of the eternal green, I know that I am working the ways and bringing protection of the pine spirit into my life and that of my loves. I ask it to hold us close as we trudge the path of Yule and winter beyond.

Was this the actions of my Ancestors as they celebrated and embraced the season of dark? I only know what my soul depth tells me and I listen to my truths.

~Folk Ways on the ridge~: Talking Bear

~Folk Ways on the ridge~: Talking Bear: Flying over Kansas, I could see the wanning moon of day. I am on my way to see Momma. She seems to be in her last stage of life. Lung can...

Talking Bear

Flying over Kansas, I could see the wanning moon of day. I am on my way to see Momma. She seems to be in her last stage of life. Lung cancer is a beast and my other sisters need respite so I am doing my part. I have been filled with much anxiety the last few days. My place in this story, my ability to be of service and the amount of time I will be spending away from home. My meditations have been deep as I find my way in this situation of death but also, I am sensing other spirits close. I had ritual at my homestead on the ridge Saturday night to celebrate the first harvest. During the set up I kept getting glimpses of something close. The evening was beautiful with drumming, crafts, collective energy work, feasting and sharing of life, love and challenges. I pulled out a tarot deck for quick readings and a focus for our mental magic.

 

 It gave me a chance to practice my skills and to solidify the group collective.

 

I felt this evening was a perfect setting  for heightening our work-to tap in to a deeper place of spirit.

I have purchased a variety of ointments from Sarah Anne Lawless. I love to share them with my inner circle community, as well as using them on a solitary level.  Soma seemed to be the group favorite of the night. I also enjoy the benefits of the pain relief and passed this along to one of my sisters who was suffering from a stiff neck. I have moderate Osteo and Psoriatic arthritis and my pain can be intense at times. I am always looking for secondary pain relief, particularly at bedtime . The Soma is very helpful for drifting to sleep and at times ushering talking bear to my bedroom window.

Strength he says.

That is what bear is about.

 Standing up straight

 being fierce

 and over the top protective when threat is presented.

So I am.

 

Sarah's Forest Spirit salve led me to my place in the woods where the buck left his signature. I needed his commanding ability to move forward.

 

So I left him apple cider.

 

These are the things that are on my mind as I wind my way to Texas. My lovely community of sister friends, my belief in the Ancient Mother and her many spirits that recognize an obliging and compelling relationship and how to ease my Momma's passage- for her and my siblings that will feel as orphans do.

Ancient Mother I hear you calling, Ancient Mother I hear your song.

Now that Imbolc has come to pass, I am able to put my understanding of this fire festival in to words. As I age, my awareness of deeper meaning of the cross quarter days seems to deepen. Samhain and Beltaine are exciting times of celebration with great fires, dancing and mischief. But the subtle influence that the “lesser” events have and recognizing them is a sure sign of my seasoned soul. When I  began to plan and day dream of what I will do for Imbolc, My mind went immediately to candles, sacred wells, waters and Brighid. What I discovered this year, was the complete immersion of healing, hearth and home. When I invited my sisters over for the evening I was in a quandary of what direction the ritual would take. I had 2 scenerios that I played out in my mind. I love to use music and dance to create  energy to send out to the pulse of the earth and I have done this with great success in the past. This year was different. I had those around me (including me) that needed to be helped by the flame of herself.  As a group we worked on a sewing project . We sat in a circle on the floor and we each took turns stitching in our own hand love, peace and acceptance of  what we could not change and the need for release of the pain emotionally and physically. We laughed, sat in silent contemplation and let the words and music of  our Ancestors sink into our being. We worked as our Mothers, Grandmothers, Aunties and kin did before us. We came together on this cold night and understood just a bit of what our sister kith lived.

We took our work into the “Witches room” (as my daughters named it) and began our mental magic. I love this part of the rituals that I facilitate. The building of energy or force that surrounds us, directing it toward out goal and the release.  This type of group work is very rewarding but exhausting. When you choose to do this it comes with the disclaimer of taking the next day for rest. As we pushed our pulse down to the earth, she pushed back and gave us a jolt. We took this and pulled the gift from our spirits and shaped it into the force that was directed toward our intent of the hearth. With the release came the peace and contentment of a lover spent. We did our work well –the seasoned ladies of the hearth.

~Folk Ways on the ridge~: Silver Thread and the River

~Folk Ways on the ridge~: Silver Thread and the River: What a year….. I have found that I use the year in holidays as markers in my life. The progress or regression, lessons and losses. W...