By the end of May, Spring is definitely in full swing and might even be tipping into Summer. It is always a luscious sensation to be feeling the Earth wake up, feel the welcome and optimism in the growing light, the warmer air, the green haze in the trees and the slight sweet hum of things growing. The Goddess has ascended from the Underworld, the Earth rejoices and blossoms. May encourages us all to play, to feel, to flirt and luxuriate. To pursue pleasure.

It's ironic that, despite loving May's sensory pleasures as much as I do, I really don't much care for Beltane. Yes it's a shocking confession, and I don’t enjoy sounding like such an anti-hedonist. I'm too much of an introvert to truly enjoy the enormous crowds of public Pagan events. I have had, more than once, the experience of being quite pregnant at Beltane. The very sight of the Maypole made me queasy and as for the Love-chase, oh forget that. What felt particularly isolating about being at a Beltane gathering while pregnant was how I felt somehow excluded, as if being already engaged in reproducing, I wasn't someone who would respond to touch, comfort, and attention. As if all the sensory pleasures of the day were off limits to me, either redundant or inappropriate. That struck me as being woefully anti-erotic.

Beltane has always held the energies of union and re-union, the alchemical magick that is present in the core of every star exploding into being as well as in the collision of 2 distinct cells creating new life. May Day reminds us all of the power we have when we envision a brighter future and better world. It is a hinge upon which the World shifts from the time of Darkness to that of Light, a moment when the Veil between the worlds is thin. As we cast into past to remember at Samhain, we cast into the future at Beltane, and throw our wishes, intentions, dreams and goals into the webs of Fate deliberately. This is magick that can be done by jumping over fires in ecstatic fellowship with the community, or alone in your temple.

April gets a really bad rap, for such a beautiful month. Spring is officially on, and every day brings another example of the Earth's awakening. In my neighborhood, the first bulbs are popping out—hyacinth, grape hyacinth, snowdrop and crocus. The dandelions are showing up, of course, and suddenly the robins and wrens are joined by woodpeckers and blackbirds. Every day the clouds dapple a brilliant blue sky, and bring in a sorely needed sleety rain. But there are daily reminders of why TS Eliot once wrote, “April is the cruelest month.” He was referring to Easter, to the sacrifice of the Christian God and his resurrection. April has been the time of tragedies, of uprisings, assassinations and shootings. It is tax season and therefore makes us account for ourselves (and who enjoys that, really?). In many ways, April compels us toward hard paths and tough choices, to make sacrifices and commitments. April pushes us out of our comfort zones, in order that we may grow and aspire.

One of the best known April traditions is that of the April Fool, a tradition of misrule where pranks and practical jokes are tolerated. In France, “le poisson d'Avril” or April fish, was a gullible person sent upon a fool's errand. Much like the Fool of the Tarot card, representing pure potential and possibility, all things are contained in that moment of setting out. Courage necessary to take that first step, to step out of the safety of what we have known, and venture forth. It is a leap of faith, a deliberate giving up of control and surrendering to the Universe. The Fool card often depicts the Fool about to go off a cliff to represent the free fall of surrender. This movement, out of what's familiar and comfortable, into the unknown, can be as scary and jarring as a fall, but it can bring about tremendous growth and profound transformation. Sometimes this movement is precipitated by a Fool's errand—we follow an intuition, against all logic, or circumstances around us force us to change, or we find ourselves swept along by powers we cannot control. When everything around us is “going crazy,” we fight to regain control and resist the letting go that is called for. That loss of control is maddening; it feels dangerous and threatening to us. And so it is! It is threatening to the old patterns and systems of our lives. It is threatening to our masks and facades, to the games we play, to all our ego attachments. Departing from the safety of the known path is “crazy.” It flies in the face of logic to deliberately embrace risk when we have achieved safety. But we are often driven to choose risk. And in that irrational movement, incredible amounts of energy is released. That energy is what renews the Earth in Spring, and what renews us as well.

April begins with the Sun firmly in the sign of Aries, the first sign of the Zodiac, the cardinal sign which ushers in the Zodiacal year. Ruled by Mars, Aries embodies the intensity of Earth energy as the land wakes up to Spring. That push that drives the seeds to rise out of the soil, that drives the trees to put out leaves and the birds to begin nesting requires a lot of energy, and Aries ignites the fuse. Whether it's getting dirty in the garden, or making progress on creative projects, or committing to our work in a deeper way, right now the Earth is humming with drive to go forward. What is it that you truly want to do? What goals seem out of reach, what behaviors seem too ingrained to ever change? As we begin the new astrological year, and welcome the opportunities for renewal and cleansing, what new possibility can we dream and actually make manifest in the world? Part of April's discomfort is sitting with these questions and trying to listen for the answers.

When I was a child growing up in Michigan, the seasonal adage of March coming in like lion and going out like a lamb was taught to us as a divination. IF March came in like a lion, cold and stormy, it would leave with lamb-like warmth and gentleness, perfect for Easter time. And year after year, I saw that March 1 was often a stormy sleety mess but by March 31 the cherry blossoms were about ready to pop.

But the reverse was also true: if March came in like a lamb, it would leave like a lion. And some years, we would have a sudden inexplicable warm snap towards the end of winter. There would be warmer air and clear skies when there should still be storms, and March would come in Springlike and inviting. And sure enough, March 31 would be wracked with tornadoes and electrical storms, going out very much like a lion.

The transition from Winter to Spring is a dynamic one, with lots of pulling and pushing as the weather goes from one extreme to the other. In this dance between two opposing forces, we can see the Earth’s changes at their most dramatic. There is increasing light, but the rain-heavy clouds are much darker and gloomier than the bright icy snow clouds of a month ago. As we celebrate Ostara, and honor the divine balance it represents—the balance as night and day, life and death are both equal—we are reminded this balance is hard won. Perhaps we see this transition as a movement away from the hardships and struggles of Winter, to the greater ease and gentleness of Spring. Or we feel the movement from the repose and introspection of Winter to the increasing noise and activity of Spring. While we may welcome the arrival of spring, it's not uncommon to feel irritable or restless and dissatisfied this time of year. Waking up to the waxing year, whether the month of March begins as a lamb or lion, we feel the energies of the Vernal Equinox calling us to balance, a place where light and dark are equal. This balance is never easy to achieve.

Outside it is Winter. There's a fierce wind whipping up from the Southwest and more snow is due tonight. Imbolc is a few weeks past, March is around the corner, and signs of the shift into Spring are already happening. Despite the cold temperatures, there are some trees showing tiny swells of buds on the tips of their branches. Despite snow in the forecast, there is more light in the sky. All signs are pointing towards the Waxing Year, the growing light, and the energies of the burgeoning Spring.

We start to feel the stirrings despite the calender, despite the weather: a certain restlessness, or irritation, or pops of energy out of nowhere. The garden catalogs start coming in the mail and we realize the year is in full swing.

I don't make New Year's resolutions. I never really have. As a kid I was intrigued with all the lip service this idea got, but I noticed that no one ever discussed what actually became of the resolutions they made at the beginning of the year. And then it was never a surprise how quickly people joked that they had broken them. Making resolutions seemed, quite frankly, futile. So I never make any resolutions. Nor do I panic about making all kinds of plans and commitments right on New Years Eve and Day. A New Year needs a few weeks to start unfolding itself and revealing what it is.

Traditions abound about how New Year's Eve and Day should be best spent, to ensure a new year's worth of blessings and prosperity. Special foods are prepared to ensure prosperity (black eyed peas & collards, grapes, baked fish, are a few examples), and folk magic spells are still passed down through the generations. In my own family, right after we watched the ball drop in Time Square, we'd throw a big pot of water out the front door onto the lawn, to carry all the past year’s ills and troubles with it. The innate sense of freshness, renewal and change that is associated with the Winter Solstice and its different iterations , is also reflected in the magic of the turning of the calendar year.

At New Year's we get an opportunity to move forward and let go of what weighs us down, and to bring into our lives greater joy and fulfillment. Like any act of magick, we prepare the space by cleansing it, and then invite our desired “guests” into the space we have cleared. It's a good idea to clear one' space psychically from time to time, and New Years is an excellent time to do energetic and psychic housekeeping in your home space. After cleaning the house, you clean away psychic junk by smudging your space with sage, sweet grass or incense. You can charge salt water and flick it all around to dispel negativity lingering in the space. Rooms can be cleared sonically as well, thru chanting, singing or by ringing temple bells. And of course, by stating your intention: I clear this space of all negative and unwelcome energies. Keeping that thought in mind as well as saying it aloud while you smudge or asperge amplifies the intention.

Our planet is powered by the Sun, and the constant ebb and flow of light and darkness is the engine for the dynamic forces that shape our world and all life on it. When we begin to awaken to Earth-centered spirituality, we are often called to come into a more intimate relationship with the natural world. The day to day and season to season changes our planet goes through that are visible in the composition of the earth's physical body, in the weather, in the migrations of animals, in the blooming and fruiting of plants—all of these phenomena are the signs by which the Universe reveals itself to us. This is the material reality that is the basis of all we do, all we dream of and aspire to. We can in no way “liberate” ourselves from these cycles and rhythms and events, and indeed this is where the oldest human societies looked to find answers to their deepest questions. Religious celebrations the world over reflect these natural cycles, as they reflect times of seeding, growing, harvesting and decay.

At our deepest core, we can feel these shifts in the world around us. They reside in a million moments of grace and beauty, only some of which we can ever perceive with our senses. But they are all round us. All magickal traditions encourage developing the skills to perceive these cycles and forces, and to understand their meanings. This is where so many wisdom traditions are grounded. For millenia, our ancestors' awareness of these forces and cycles was not an abstract process. Their very survival depended on it!

October 30, 2011.The night before Samhain, and I was getting into bed: exhausted, restless and ungrounded. Thinking about the next day was stressing me out even further. I realized I was starting to dislike Halloween in the same the way many devout Christians dislike the “holiday season” of Christmas. Yup: Halloween was starting to interfere with my Samhain.

Hallowe’en has always been my favorite holiday. But these days Halloween has become hectic and hyper-commercial. Throughout late October, I was so busy I could barely stop for breath: taking my kids to parties, decorating the house, and preparing my altar. I was also reading Tarot cards at a local haunted house, which meant that I was spending my weekends listening to screaming teenagers and a constant loop of ghastly sound effects. On top of work and family responsibilities, Hallowe’en was getting to be pretty tiring, even before Samhain Eve itself rolled around.