For Artemis

The Archer

I noticed that your hand was trembling
last night when I held it in circle.
And it seemed to me
that you were wound as tense and tightly
as a bow string.

I knew then
that you were working so hard to
hold and care for all of our energy
and your own.

And I thank you for that.

But you are not a bow,
you are a beautiful archer
who must use that energy
to shoot the arrows of your divinity
into the sky and let them
fall where they must land.

 

Image: The Archer card from the Wildwood Tarot.

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Eclipsing

Milkweed pod

The milkweed pod splits in my hands.
And silky white seed tails scatter through my fingers and across the meadow.
Floating.
I watch as they are caught by a gust
and carried above the quivering yellow goldenrod spires,
Around the dusty green seeded nettles,
And over the chokecherry bushes along the Jock River’s edge,
Branches drooping, heavy with purple berries.

Yes, I have been eating them.
For six or seven weeks now,
haven’t got sick once.
Probably keep us both alive. 

Did the needle on the album skip?
What is that slightly off-center sense of second guessing?
What is that high-pitched buzz?
Is it the menacing whine of the wasps that hover around the white sweet clover
Like tiny little drones that threaten the innocent white blossoms?
Is it the incessant sound of the bluebottle flies
Swirling stupidly and endlessly around a discarded blue poopbag
plopped on the ground at the edge of the path?
Or is it the harmonic hum of suburban air conditioners in the distance
that makes me feel that the roots of my upper back molars are pushing up through my cheekbones?

There is a retrograde.
And an eclipse is coming.
In Leo, no less . . .
(the ego–
dear gods that ego–
is so hot; it shines down on me,
burning my skin
and makes me want to flatten myself face down on the dry hard dirt path of this long hot summer.)

And everything is veering slightly off center again.
My neurons are clicking, but
There is no steady beat to hold on to.
The edges of my thoughts are sharp
and the shrill sound behind my eardrums is piercing.

What is normal?
What is safe and sound and will anchor me to the ground?
What is that tension circling my heart,
and that sinking feeling in my stomach?
What is that steady strident ache behind my eyes?

Is it the eclipse effect?
Am I stationed between the silent dark black moon
and the massive burning summer sun,
pressed from both sides as the dark and the light slowly advance
towards me and
through me and
then swirl together as the planet Mercury dives into retrograde?

I turn my face up to the sky.
I try to look away but I cannot help but watch the black moon move across the face of the blinding sun.

The dark and the light merge.

And in that split second everything changes.
My electrifying ego lets me go
and I am able to escape.
And ride with the tiny wisps of the milkweed seeds
Down the steep river bank and into the cool flowing river.

Milkweed pod image source: unknown

A cry for Gwyl Awst: The harvest time has come

Demeter by InertiaK

Children of the Star Goddess
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
The heated days of August are upon us
and though much of the earth is dry and parched,
It is time to reap the seeds that we have sown.

I call on you my sacred sisters and my magical brothers;
It is time to stand tall in the ripe and rippling wheat fields
and gaze into the infinite blue sky above.
It is time to absorb the warm caress of sun on your skin
and gather strength from the solid earth beneath your feet.

And when you gasp at the breeze’s kiss
and thrill to the currents of air that flow through your waving hair,
It is time to harness the passion in your heart
and call upon the spirits of your allies.

I call on you to go deep within and heal your spirit.
I beg you to open your heart.
Face north and harness the earth’s mighty power;
Face east and capture the wail of the raging winds;
Face south and seize the heat of the core and the passion of the sun.
Face west and catch the deep dark depths of the ocean’s waters.
Face center and manifest the magic and infinite spark of spirit.

And when you have gathered the elements to you
Stand strong with us all in the center of the Axis Mundi–the tree of life.
Together we will channel the power from our mother earth below.
Together we will swirl our spirals of energy to harness the vitality of the Stars above.
And we will sing in harmony as that divine magic surges up and through us
and showers down and upon us.

Sharpen your scythes
and ride your wagons into the fields my darling ones.

The harvest time has come.

Image credit: Demeter, source unknown.

 

 

 

Crone Mother at Calan Mai

Ode to LiminalityNow Summer is calling her.
And she is leaning into that liminal space.
Not spinning, not weaving, not wondering.
Standing sentient, on this holy day.

She stares at the limitless light ahead.
Squinting her sensitive winter eyes.
Pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

She reluctantly raises her tiny foot to take a step forward,
Not sure if she wants to let go of the comforting depths of winter.
Not ready to walk through the fire
before she leaps into the dizzying height and heat of summer.
She feels helpless; heavy and weak.
Her bones crack; her joints creak; her muscles ache.
She stands old and alone.

And so, taking a deep breath,
She pauses to seek the blessing of her Gods and ancestors.
She whispers a prayer for increased fertility and good health for her land and her tribe.
She blesses and purifies herself.

And she allows herself to consider the possibilities that still lie ahead.

She awkwardly kneels down and begins to rub two oak branches together
until the sparks fly
and catch in the kindling of nine sacred woods.
Her breath feeds the flame;
Her fire begins to burn.
And she can feel the music play within her witch’s soul.

She struggles to stand, and looking ahead
She can see the space between the dark and the light.
No,
She IS the space between the dark and the light.

She steps cautiously and moves forward through the flames.
Remembering a time when her muscles were strong and lean
And she raced faster and faster,
Chasing her seed.
Swishing through the dry grasses — a greyhound chasing a hare;
Slipping and sailing through the waters — an otter chasing a fish;
Soaring boundless though the air — a hawk chasing a sparrow.

She is riding the edges of her dreams and goals;
She is navigating the world between normal and no man’s land.
And so she steps into the light
Her mind pregnant with possibilities.

Inspired by: http://paganbloggers.com/breathofninemaidens/blog/2017/05/01/beltane-portal-of-transformation/

Image source: http://www.durgabernhard.com/item.php?type=poster&id=37

Six crows swirling

Six Crows Swirling

Six crows swirling. Seven songs.
The meaning is in the movement.
Eight brings me to the double balance.
And I pause to receive the message.

The crows swoop to check a possible treasure on the pavement.
They touch down quickly, in crowded curiosity,
Hopping and cawing, poking and pecking,
Their curiosity overcomes caution during this one instant in time.

In my mind I sense the Feri,
In my bones I feel the flow.

And then,
They rise up quickly, a swirl of black wings and madness,
Bringing me a message of movement and mayhem.
I hear their caw, caw, cawing fade into the distance,
Leaving me to scan my brain for clues to further meaning.

Invoking air

girl birds

We are wings;
We are feathers;
We are feathered earrings;
We are arrows.

We drink the air, we taste the air;
we are floating
on currents of air.

Our breathing is in waves; air flows in, air flows out;
It becomes the oxygen in our blood.

Our breath is everywhere;
Our air is everywhere;
We breathe each other’s air;
We pass our air in and among, around and between us.
We breathe each other’s spirit.

We inspire, we aspire, we are spires.
We are delphiniums.

We are expanding in the air;
We are open to every possibility of the air;
We are carrying hope and healing on the air.

We are the music that flows on the air;
We are the air in the space between the notes;
We beat our rhythm on the air,
We are jammin’ witches;
Playin’ strange and beautiful music of the soul.

Welcome Air.
Welcome East.

Snowflake meditation

dancing-snowflake

Imagine you find yourself on the coldest night of winter suddenly floating free from your warm bed. You are a tiny speck of dust, so very small that you can slip through the crack between the frame and the pane of your frost-covered window into the black and frozen air. You are so light that you rise up; up and up, above the roof of your home, over the tops of the trees, rising higher and higher in the dark night until the lights of the world below you flicker like stars.

Still you rise, higher and higher floating through the light low clouds, passing through frosty glistening crystals of mist. Further and further, up and up until you find yourself within a small cloud.  As you move through the mist of the cloud you begin to feel a light tug and you notice that you feel drawn to the minuscule molecules of water vapor that surround you.  You affinity to them grows deeper and you begin to feel a longing to unite with the tiny water particles.  This desire grows and fills you completely.  You want nothing more than to join with the water, to have it hold you and surround you completely.

You have become the seed from which a snowflake will grow and you are poised on the edge of a fantastically beautiful winter journey.  You want nothing more than to begin the journey, but you also know that you must wait until you are ready to give yourself over completely.

And so you begin to let go.  You let go of all the cares and worries that you have brought with you from the earth below.  You let go of your sadness. You let go of your anxiety.  You let go of the pain in your bones and muscles.  You let go of your fears and even your concerns about the others that you love.  You let go of trying to constantly fit the puzzle pieces of your life together and you let go of that overwhelming feeling that you must constantly make everything work.

Breathe

And as you let go you become lighter and lighter and you begin to see that the shining crystal water molecules have begun to dance and sway around you. You sigh with pleasure as they come closer to you, teasing you and then moving away, again and again. You are ready, oh so ready to join with them, but you must do more than simply let go.  And so you dig deeper into the depths of your unconscious mind and release all that is holding you back.  You release the guilt.  You release the anger and the sorrow.  You release your obligation to do what you think others want you to do and simply do this thing that is right for you and you alone.

Breathe

And when you realize that you are ready, the clear and shining water molecules come closer and they begin to swirl and naturally curve themselves around you in a stunning and glorious syncopated dance. Your delight increases even more and you suddenly feel their chill take hold and you experience the sharp edges of pure freezing begin to fill you.  You delight in the clean coldness. You shiver with pleasure as the water molecules begin to hum and attach themselves around you.

You feel totally clear and free.  You feel pure and pristine and poised to transform.  And at that very moment when you finally surrender, it happens. Icy crystal slivers shoot in six identical arms out from your center.

You sigh with deep pleasure as each of your six arms form fractal shoots that end in crispy crystalline edges in perfect formation around you. You tingle with joy as each perfectly pointed arrow strains to stretch further and further in a clear a crystal line that points multiple paths to infinity.

You can feel the cold. You can taste the cold.  You ARE the cold. You absorb the clean and bitter frozenness that you have become, the icy light and the exquisite being that is you, a stunningly beautiful, totally unique snowflake that bears witness to the climax of a love that was born from the union of water with a tiny fleck of dust that strayed from the earth.

You are suddenly filled with pure joy!  You stretch your crystal arms and you spin and you dance and you float and you fly.  You join with the others of your kind.  Each utterly different than you and yet so very much the same.  You join in a magical community of snow.

And at that moment, you realize that your life is really nothing more than a delightful dance of ice and sharp edges and exquisitely glittering crystal that can float and rise and fall and flow freely in the air.

Now listen to this amazing song by Kate Bush.

Thank you.

Dancing Snowflake image source: http://www.panoramio.com/photo/73129962