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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.

Cast yourself down
at the feet of mystery.
Fling your heart wide
and let all your dreams
cascade out onto the
welcoming earth.
Match your breath
with the heartbeat
beneath you.
Let everything you
no longer need,
seep away.
Discover life is simpler
than you thought.
Let go of worry,
release your fear.
Feel tension roll away
like an slow ebbing tide.
Rise,
scoured,
and stripped bare,
soft and renewed.
Gather up those
dream fragments
that sparkle around you,
but only those that
still beat to your rhythm
and that sing your song.
Nestle them back beneath
your breastbone,
keep them safe and warm
and breathing
as they prepare to fly.

   Our world has changed, as it does, and as it must, though no one could have anticipated such a catalyst. I have been away from these boards for so long, I hardly know where to begin. At the onset of the pandemic, I was working in elder care, a terribly vulnerable population to face COVID. Through sheer tenacity we were able to keep the residents in the facility safe and health, much to our surprise. My own family fared well; it was only a few months ago that my adult daughter came down with COVID. She lives on her own and was able to isolate. Fortunately, she had a mild case and was back on her feet in a week. 

    COVID hit my household three weeks ago when my adult son tested positive. It knocked him flat, and he is still recovering from the aftereffects, though he is certainly much better. Amid all the uncertainty of the ongoing pandemic I did not expect to face a health crisis of a different nature, one isolation and rest couldn't resolve. In February I received an unexpected and utterly surprising cancer diagnosis; in May it was determined to be stage three, necessitating twelve weeks of chemotherapy. 

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.

A chill is in the air
and Winter’s Queen
has spread her grey cloak
across the land,
has stilled the leaves
and frosted the hills,
has quieted the scurrying
and placed her fingers firmly
on the pause.
In this waiting place,
hushed and chilled,
we remember how precious
the light of renewal,
how essential the warmth
of connection.
Let us, too,
lay aside what is unnecessary
and draw close to one another
once more,
rekindling the fire of community,
offering one another
what nourishment
we can.
Let us enter a time
of deep restoration
with intention.
Let us listen to the call
of contemplation
that twinkles in these dusky hours
of replenishment and renewal.
Let us pause
and wait with grace. 

I must apologize, it's been way too long and when I got the mail today and saw the latest issue of SageWoman, and realized that I can't remember the last time I had received the magazine, well, let's just say that I was sad.

Where do I start?