May we nourish seeds of possibility and joy. May we tend to seeds of connection and seeds of ideas. May we nurture seeds of genius and sparks of change. May we gather up what we’ve created and hold it lovingly and then open our hands and let go. May we plant what we can, savor what we can, harvest what we need to thrive, and love where we are now, hearts alive and hopes extended. May we be as full of promise as a nestled seed, lying in darkness at the fiercest edge of cracking open, ready to see what grows.
Ostara blessings to all! May you nurture tender seeds of possibility.
Imbolc brings an invitation into change, to step into the forge of transformation, to sink into the holy well of healing, to open ourselves up to an evolving path of growth and discovery. It is now that we remember we are our own seeds of promise and while there is time yet to stay in the waiting place biding our time and strengthening our resources so we have what we need to grow, soon we will feel the wheel urging us onward, the call to set forth becoming unmistakable and strong. Let us settle ourselves into center, nestle into trust and determination, and extend outward from here feeling the sweet wind caress us and the fiery forge beckon us as we heed the summons to roll on, the path opening up before us as we move.
May the warm sun remind you that you are nourished. May the solid earth remind you that you are held. May the swift hum of blood through your veins remind you that you are connected. May the sweet breeze in your chest and across your face, remind you that you are loved. May you remember that you are carried by the elements, your life its own kind of magic.
Reminder: our ongoing daily practice, #30DaysofGoddess, is updated monthly with prompts, prayers, printables, and practices.
Take a walk. Find a pretty rock. Don’t take it. Go home. Keep your promise.
This is an excerpt from my essay forthcoming this week at Feminism and Religion, reflections on colonization, war, and who invented jelly.
I will be taking a break from posting here for a couple of weeks to focus on finishing things up in the shop as we prepare for our winter holiday break. December's free practice update for #30DaysofGoddess will be ready for you this weekend--a new video + printable sampler pack of prayercards and resources.
May you know the warmth of connection and the hearth of community. May you breathe in great breaths of gratitude and breathe out great breaths of peace.
May you let your shoulders soften, the knots loosen and unbind. May you feel the light touch of the ancestors across your brow, their lives leading right up to now. May you savor a moment of silence, of quiet space-keeping and spark-tending. May you take a deep breath of gratitude, a deep breath of satisfaction, and a deep breath of peace. May you weave new stories from the bones of old and forgotten things, mixing them with care into the golden seeds of possibility and the flares of inspiration, that touch this moment of you. May you harvest blessings beyond count from the threads of time.
I found two tiny brown feathers on the sidewalk and a puff of raptor down caught on the grasses. I picked some berries off the autumn olives that line the sidewalk and ate them, careful not to spit the seeds where they might grow. The plants are aggressive and invasive, but also edible, a friend has called them “sweetarts of the forest” and this is indeed how they taste. We watched our shadows precede us and talked of dreams and desires, wondering and wishes. As we neared the car, a gust of wind swirled into the walnut tree ahead of us and a cascade of yellow leaves began to dance and twirl through the air. I’ve written before of being in an autumn snowglobe and though I try to think of another way to describe it, that is truly how it feels to stand with your head tilted back laughing into the blue sky as the leaves come drifting down around your shoulders. This time, as I looked up, a hawk, previously unseen, tilted down out of the walnut branches and slid away into the trees above my head. We all need time for restoration and replenishment, time to stand laughing in the leaves with the sweet-tart flavor of October on our tongues.
(Side note: red fruits actually pictured are on a crabapple tree, not an autumn olive.)
This morning I sat with the black cat on my lap and breathed the first breaths of October. The sky is gray-white and sunless, filled with crowcall and the sharp cries of hawk. If I squint, I can almost see steam lifting from a cauldron in the forest and smell change drifting through the air. I am looking at the shards of the year, some new-broken, some re-collected, some shining with possibility, and I feel the call, the urge, the promise, to tip them all into that bubbling vat and see what She will steep me into next. We are invited each day into newness, into breathing the very breath of the World Spirit herself. We are invited into presence, into the commonplace magic that keeps the world turning and our hearts beating. Here we are in the temple of the ordinary, watching the sky. May we settle into our bones and feel our pulse in our wrists. May we accept the invitation to sit with joy and create our lives.
Mark Green
Absolutely, it has.It has confirmed my values and strengthened them. Deepened my love for the Earth and Cosmos. Sustained my activism. And encouraged ...
Jamie
Molly,Nicely done as always. It brings back all the memories of the warm fires and the crystal clear, starry sky. No Milky Way that I can ever see, bu...