PaganSquare.com - WitchesAndPagans.com

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.

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.

A Ritual for Thanksgiving:

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.

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.)

And, my new book, In the Temple of the Ordinary is now available for pre-order!

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.