Author: ChelS

Pollyanna.  A word that we have learned to associate with someone who is constantly happy, who seems to never actually see the bad in people or circumstances, dangerously naive.  Ideas that, in this modern world of social conflict, seem almost ridiculous.  You might even get killed if you just walk around thinking everyone is nice and honest! 

But Pollyanna isn’t who you think she is.  I encourage you to read this short children’s book written before WW1.   What I remember the most from reading this with my kids is “The Glad Game”.  It’s probably what gave her the modern reputation we think of.  Pollyanna does not fail to see the pain, the deception, the unfairness of the world she lives in.  She sees loneliness and anger in others and her empathy lets her realize how that feels.   So perhaps, what I will tell you will make you think of all the times you were caught in depression or grief or all kinds of pain and some fool walks up and says “cheer up, what have you got to be sad about? At least you’re alive”. Your lips tighten, you hand clenches at the insensitivity.  In some ways the Glad Game might feel like that to you, at first, even when it’s you saying it to yourself.  Because the Glad Game started like that. 

Pollyanna was expecting to get a doll in the mail.  A mistake was made and instead the box held crutches.  She was crushed.  But her father taught her that she could, if she wanted to, try to find something “glad” in every situation.  So Pollyanna, somewhat like the fool in the above example, decided that having the crutches but not needing them was something to be glad of. The difference is, she saw this for herself and decided to accept the idea.  It wasn’t forced upon her by a “well meaning” stranger. 

After that, she made a game of it, a challenge to herself, to find just one thing, no matter how small, to be glad about in any given situation.  Sometimes it seems that no one could be glad in some of the situations she finds herself in and she would be the first to tell you that, yes, it’s a stretch and yes, it is a really foul situation. She is now an orphan living with a strange relative in a new place, afterall.  But it’s her personal challenge.  She doesn’t say it’s easy.  She says that you might have to look long and hard to find the glad thing.  She calls it a game but really, it’s a challenge she has set upon herself.  She can choose to not find what is glad, if she wants to.  

But you know how it is, when you get an idea in your head… especially if you are my Capricorn daughter, that you WILL DO IT no matter what anyone else says.  That’s what it means to be Pollyanna.  The courageous choice to find even the smallest thing in the darkest of times to be glad about.  Honestly, I have to admit, if it was me, even if I saw the tiny glad thing I’d probably just tell it to fork off, that it didn’t help the overall situation.   

As an adult, there’s more complexity to life and finding a glad thing is not always enough to get through the situation.  But perhaps it can be your good luck charm, your talisman, the little red bead you have tied on a slender tie around your wrist.  It is nothing.  It is not valuable but you wear it because it is a good luck charm for you.  The glad thing you find in your drive through Hades can be that, another red bead.  Maybe it doesn’t change a single thing, except maybe you, just a little, and you don’t even notice. 

Besides the Glad Game, the other thing you need to like about Pollyanna is she is an early pioneer in the art of self care. While you trudge through situations where the Glad Game feels like an absurd joke, it might be time to make quality time for yourself.  Aunt Polly is no mother.  She keeps Pollyanna busy doing chores all the time just to keep her from getting in the way.  But Pollyanna is having none of it and she tells her aunt so.  She tells her aunt that all that work doesn’t leave time for living.  Her aunt counters that such is nonsense because of course Pollyanna is living.  Pollyanna outlines for her aunt all the things she wants to be doing, from playing outside to being with friends, and reading.  You know, all those childish things we should all be making time for!  And then she says the thing that makes me glad, “That’s what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn’t living!”

Three things to remember about Pollyanna:
1. She is not naive. She sees all the negative things and realizes the pain they cause.
2. She works very hard on her “game”, to find that one glad thing in a day which is starting to feel perilously close to a day of “not living”.  
3. She asks for the time, makes the time, and takes the time to do the things that make her happy, that refresh her, so that she feels alive, not just breathing.  It is extra hard to play the Glad Game when you have overburdened yourself.  (of course, just breathing, as an intentional practice is definitely living!)

So when you play the Glad Game and tell someone that, even though the entire day sucks old bananas, there is this one good thing you found and they laugh and say “You are such a Pollyanna.”  You can reply, “Thanks for the compliment.”

Blessings,
Chel

(“Pollyanna” by Eleanor H. Porter, c.1913)

Okay, I’m a few days from mid-week, but I thought of what to write and jumped right in!

With my Milagro Box craft coming up, I’ve been thinking about the word “miracle” and all the ways we use it in our culture and what it really means in a more sacred way.  A Milagro, as an object, is from the cultures of Mexico and in Spanish “milagro” means “miracle” or “surprise”.  No pun intended but I was surprised to read that. But when you think about it, a lot of things we call miracles ARE pretty surprising.  The physical “milagros” from Mexican culture, are small charms of many different objects. We will be using the charms to create boxes for purposes sacred, magical, or simply decorative.  The ways the Milagro charms are used in Mexico, that I have read about, are varied and seem pretty magical in my mind. Placing some kind of intention in the charm and carrying it for healing or protection or offering it to a saint in the hopes of answered prayers reminds me of my magical practices.  After all, a spell does seem pretty miraculous when it works, and a lot like prayer when I am crafting it.   

Miracle is a word that might seem to be only religious.  We hear it a lot from folks from certain religions who tell us that something they prayed for and then happened was a miracle of God. I can’t disagree. I think that the folks of these faiths are probably thinking that miracles can only come from God and perhaps that they are mostly spectacular events that seemed unlikely.  (surprise!) I think we limit ourselves and our own power when we give all the miracles to the supernatural.

With Imbolg right around the corner, I am of a mind that miracles are about to begin in earnest as the Universe’s powers of growth return or perhaps I might say, when the Goddess begins to awaken.  It’s not spring but neither is it full winter. Thankfully, we are past midwinter and if you go outside on Imbolg and look closely, you will see small bits of green beginning to return and maybe even crocus awakening.  Whether it is the grass you take for granted or the lovely bulbs who are here for such a short time, life is coming back to the earth.  This can be nothing short of a miracle.  These things have looked “dead” for months. 

If you don’t know me, I put my heart and soul into a pretty big garden every summer.  I feel like Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer’s apprentice waving my trowel like a magic wand, conducting the magic to grow the plants that make the neighbors say “how do you get it to do that?” “Miracle Grow?”  haha!   Well, I can’t say “magic” unless it sounds joking, but “it seems like a miracle, right?” is sometimes a good answer.   And it’s true.  Every flower is a miracle.  I don’t cure cancer but I do make lots of flowers, small and fleeting miracles. Miracles, big or small, from a big G god, a goddess, the Fae folk, the Universe, or just random surprises,  are all around us.  Put your hand on your chest.  You aren’t doing anything to cause it but your heart is beating and keeping you alive.  YOU are the best miracle.   You can create your own miracles with the miraculous spirit you have.  On Beltane my children used to leave May Baskets for the neighbors.  Surprise!  The neighbors got a happy miracle and so did we when we hid and watched their reaction.  

Magic, prayer, and focused thought are tools which can help us to intentionally create miracles for ourselves and for others.  Miracle Grow is actually well named – the surprising magic of watching plants say “oh my god, thank you for that!” and start to grow. I give them blue stuff, they grow.  Magic nitrogen potion. 

Go ahead, call a car crash that didn’t kill you a miracle.  It was. Recognize the miraculous when your sickness got better when the doctor told you it wouldn’t. Sometimes, with modern health care, we can take babies for granted. But a baby is pretty freaking miraculous.  But don’t forget the smiles you create, the plants that return when winter lets them go, every breath you take, and the comfort your breathing gives another person who loves you, when you ponder the meaning of miracle.  (Tuesday my youngest kid turns 26! Miracles abound!)

What are miracles? Certainly the surprises we were not expecting when we had given up hope. But it’s not just that, not just the big things and the surprised person screaming “It’s a miracle!!”. I think miracles are simply Life, and all the myriad of surprises we give and find as we walk life’s paths. 

Blessings (and miracles!),

Chel

I love the peacefulness of a dark night. I love the magic of the dark moon. And when midsummer rolls around I find myself kind of falling into a funk. It’s like a sunlight overdose.  I call it the “noon of the year”.  But interestingly, when midwinter (Yule) rolls around, the peace and the magic of the dark are not enough to keep me at peace.  Now there seems to be too much darkness.  I know, that sounds strange coming  from me.  But every afternoon the day leaves sooner but instead of the peaceful night rolling in to calm me, I somehow feel cheated.  It can’t be night at 5pm, but it is.  It’s interesting that my mind prefers the darkness and would like it if midsummer would pass over with less intensity.  But here, in the season of increasing darkness, I call out for just an hour or two more of light, please.  I think my body takes it kind of hard, no matter what my mind tells me about the beauty of the night. Deep down inside, no matter what we think, what we know, scientifically, the world seems to be dying and with it, our bodies suddenly fear that the darkness is not a calming night but a never ending descent into the darkness of the underworld. 

This slowly encroaching fear is  why our ancestors stoked up the fires and got the neighbors together for a party to remind each other that life is still bright and hope is not to be forgotten no matter how short the days.. It’s why we tell the tale of a young king fighting to bring the light to his kingdom and the tale of the old king yielding his time of dwindling light.  The Holly King is often depicted as a Santa Claus looking fellow and I like to imagine that the Holly King puts a gift of light in my stocking as he surrenders his throne.   The light has been fading so low but on Yule, it will begin to return and thus the hearty cheer that we made it to Yule when that night finally arrives..  Much winter lies ahead, but no matter the weather or how dark it still feels, in less than three weeks we will  know we are on the way back.  “It’s dark, but it’s not scary” (Jewish Wedding Band)

Blessings
Chel

Here it is a little past mid-week.  My mind has been swirling and filling and emptying again and taking all of me with it.  What to write, what to write? How to write when focus cannot be found?  For any of you who were at Samhain, you were able to meet my Goddess Oracle deck. I hoped that perhaps the cards could help me stop spinning and find focus and I think they did. 

I was given “Ecstasy” for my primary card, the absolute joy of living. Curious.  It is early November and darkness is enveloping us all like a peaceful blanket, a call to rest.  And most years my mood follows the light down into an unpleasant darkness that yearns for Yule to bring me back the light.  But not this year.  The swirling I mentioned at the start is very energetic.  I am thinking and getting things done. And I’m scared.  I’m bipolar.  When my mind and mood shift to a higher gear I fear I might be getting manic, a happy but dangerous place to be.  What does one do when energy, creativity,  and happiness cannot be trusted?.  

Perhaps the card means that having energy and creativity is just that.  I doesn’t have to be something to be afraid of. It can be used and enjoyed.  The next card, the one that tells what’s holding me back from achieving the first card is Kuan Yin, telling me that I must find compassion for myself.  Telling me that I can be happy and energetic without that meaning bipolar mania, and that it’s okay to enjoy it.

I take the next card and find Artemis on the card that tells me what to do. This card always means that I need to be true to myself when I draw it. And what will the cards offer for my experience, what I need to experience to be able to finally find or enjoy the positive aspects of the ecstasy card?  

Surprise – Sekhmet meets me with a burning rage and tells me I need that, too. Really? I need to experience rage to feel ecstasy?  But rage  feels so dangerous. Could it be that before anyone can seize pure joy for even a moment, the true wrongs that make us angry must be addressed. Perhaps enjoying ecstasy without fear, can only come when what needs to be burned away is gone, leaving space for something positive.. The cards always seem to know  just what I need to learn.  

Blessings

I do try to make my blog entries a bit related to what is going on at Covenant.  This week it’s about what’s NOT happening at Covenant, yet.   The Dark Moon group.  We had really started to get into a rhythm of sharing before Covid.  Candle rituals, tarot cards, wishes and spells sealed with flash paper, shared rituals and the grand Inanna Ereshkigal ritual made for interesting and shared spiritual gatherings.  I’ve been missing the purple lights and Heckate’s torches. I’ve been missing all of you. 

If you haven’t been here and you are thinking “Dark Moon”, I thought it was called New Moon.  For my practice, there is a time when the moon is completely dark, neither waning nor waxing.  It is a time of potential, it is the cusp, of what only you know.. And then, there is a tiny sliver of a moon, the New Moon, that signals the beginning of the new lunar cycle and the time to act. 

So let’s just do it.  November 4th at the Hall, the post Covid Dark Moon group will begin.  Let’s say 7:00pm.  If that’s too early or late, and you want to come/plan to come, let me know.  Helios runs behind the foothills earlier and earlier so we should have a nice amount of darkness.   If no one comes, I’ll light candles and continue my relationship with my divination cards and I’ll try again in December.  Come with ideas. Bring your own candle if you want.  We’ll figure out something.  It is the group’s Dark Moon, what’s left of the year is when we imagine our future. 

That said, I decided that perhaps I would try to tell you about how I became the keeper, the priestess, if you like, of the Dark Moon. There are so many ways to look at the Dark Moon, things to do or not do, Goddesses to get to know, or at least know about. And most of all, for me, the facing of fears in the Dark that has created me.  Probably a boring auto-biography but you will know more about me and how the Dark Moon became a strong part of my practice. I came to the Dark Moon slowly.  It is a little daunting to be a solitary practitioner in a small-lot suburban neighborhood of two story houses.  My backyard is visible to anyone who wants to look and a full moon shines so brightly that my various cats could join me because I could see them.  Without anyone to share the joy and energy of a full moon with, my life encouraged me to find Dark Moon power.

For most of my adult life I have dealt with undiagnosed Bipolar disorder. (Three cheers of Mountain Crest and Lithium)  Who knew why I was energetic and happy and suddenly in a paralyzing pit of despair.  The downs were far more intense than the short lived ups.  Too often I found myself in a place I came to call The Abyss, a lonely and deadly place of inescapable darkness.  And one day I thought to myself something along the lines, “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” by looking at living a new way.  

Stop trying to be the sun, stop being the day, stop doing rituals in the bright moon light that hampered my ability to relax.  “Turn and face the strange” as David Bowie once sang.  So I turned and I found the Dark Moon standing there waiting to embrace me and show me a different kind of darkness.  Because if you want to be there, in the Darkness,  it’s a whole different story.  Sure it still hurt but there was so much to do with the darkness.  If I was in it, I needed to understand how to live there, not just exist.  I started going on walks after 10pm at night.  And the first thing I felt was an enormous easing of my stress level.  There were less cars, less noise.  But more than that, I had not realized that without the people, the cloud of feelings and energy that bombard sensitive people would lessen. 

I found Lilith and she made me brave and strong.  My practice became stronger, my intentions clearer, and my faith in the powers of the universe intensified.  I had/have a miniature set of tools – a cauldron, a 2 inch athame, a chalice fit for a hamster, and stones a plenty.  This is great for anytime work and in the house work when it is cold or raining on Dark Moon night.  Spells brought results more frequently. I found more peace and learned to face fears and perhaps hide from them and feel good about being safe. 

I don’t mean I hid from the fear as in avoiding it or not looking at it.  I mean walking through the fear with enough protection to feel safe.  And here comes the black clothes.  When I walked at night away from my neighborhood I was constantly aware that I was a vulnerable prey animal.  I trusted the darkness to hide me but trust is something that asks something from you so I wore  black head to toe.  This meant being aware of not only potential threats, but that I was invisible and to stay away from cars. 

I liked it, the shield of darkness and I began to use the same powers of protection in my clothing to keep the emotional and psychological influences on me in a lesser state.  Shields up, so to speak.   Which helped me be more relaxed in casual situations. 

Now I have walked into the gentle darkness of the moon, a darkness more powerful and helpful than the darkness of the Abyss that I used to live in, against my will, in danger of death.  Going outside at night to sit or practice is a sensation like easing into a hot bath, like being held by the universe or a caring goddess of the night. 

My love of the Dark Moon and the Goddesses that call it home was sealed under a starry sky, during a shooting star night of the Perseid meteor shower in August 2018.  My mom used to get sick a lot and what she got always seemed to last forever.  I felt like she was always coming down with something, being sick, and making a slow recovery that impaired her life.  My mom can be a thorn in my side but I worried.  I began a project under the full moon (see, I live my lunar life backwards sometimes) of harvesting herbs or buying herbs associated with healing.  It seemed like a crazy idea.  I didn’t want to make her sick with some untested potion, I couldn’t let her know that what I made for her was laced with magic, so I decided on a candle.

The herbs dried, then I put them in wax and under the waning quarter moon I cast a circle and did a ritual as the wax and herbs boiled over a small fire. (I kinda felt like a MacBeth witch), all the while seeking Lilith’s power. And the wax potion, a small thing like starter sourdough, sat in it’s magic for a week.  At the Dark Moon, it was time.  I took it all outside, the wax, the jar, the wick, the herbal magic.  And I thought, “No offense Lilith, but this needs to be big, who else can come?  Hekate fell out of some book.  I guess she wasn’t worried that this was our first date.  I surely did not know what a regal and powerful queen I had summoned. 

And all the neighbors were outside.  Lanterns and fires and grills, and dogs.  But I realized they were all there to watch the meteor shower.  It’s funny but I think the energy those seekers of falling stars put out over the backyards perhaps joined the magic.  It took awhile to melt the wax which gave me time to do a longer ritual and then sit and watch the meteors. Lilith and Heckate, and you have to think that Perseus energy (slayed Medusa) was also there.  Melted wax mixes with  magic herbal wax.  Candle is poured into a used glass candle holder that had a silver cross on it.  And after all was said and done, I told my mom to light the candle and  pray for herself, not just other people, which was a novel idea for her.  I have often thought that there is a great deal in common between a prayer and a spell. So it burned sparsely and I think she got to a place of believing just having it lit was like a prayer for herself.   

My mom got sick this week.  She can’t seem to kick it.  But she never got Covid.  She never got sick again until this week. August 2018 to October 2021.   I do not doubt the incredible power of Hekate, keeper of the keys of the three realms, bearer of torches to protect and light the way.  The only person who travels even into the underworld and out again without the help of Zeus.  A goddess of the dark lower realms who visits Persephone but is powerful enough to leave.  She, I imagine, was the power in the darkness which welcomed me when I first turned and decided to find life in the darkness. 

I am not Morticia Adaams, but perhaps a grown up Wednesday, finding strange, dark things to be interesting and not frightening, who is curious why anyone would find the life which has a dark tinge to be weird.  It just is.  The darkness of the Abyss is often blotted out by the more powerful and positive darkness that, for me, is symbolized by all the things the Dark Moon has to offer.  So when you see me in black or watch me enjoy ritual under a dark sky you will know it is the most positive magic I have ever brought into my life. 

See you November 4th.  

In the meantime I’ll be collecting herbs and getting ready to make a candle with Hekate!

Blessings!

Ritual.  Perhaps it seems like a big word to you.  Perhaps you think it requires a priest in a robe or a Pagan priestess calling the quarters and the elements with great force and confidence.   But when it comes down to it, ritual is only what you need it to be and it never has to be more than that.  

What is a ritual? It’s something you define for yourself.  Perhaps it is the activity that brings you closer to the meaning of the Sabbat and the powers, if any, that you call upon.  Maybe it is when you help others to share these ideas with you.  It can be casual and intentional, spiritual and shared.  It is as formal as you need it to be.   Why is this time of year important to you, whatever time of year it is?  Is it gratitude? Is it honoring or celebrating? What matters is that it speaks to you. Ritual may feel hard to plan, but doing it should bring a kind of comfort to the participant(s). 

Mabon is next week and that brings me around to three. Three years with Covenant. And while we will do a ritual with each other on Sunday, I have my own Mabon ritual.  I make squash soup and bake bread.  It’s always the same recipes, the same methods.  My tradition.  The cup pours the flour, the knife chops the squash, while I remember what I am thankful for. My ritual.  I am grateful to find myself at Mabon again with my adult children drawn to the soup like a moth to flame.  My celebration and sharing. 

Here at Covenant, you will often hear members of the Council asking folks to share their rituals.  We really mean it.  As a group with many beliefs and styles it is interesting and it is a blessing to see someone else’s point of view. There is no “right way” to do a ritual, no set format, no requirements to light fires or call quarters or share cakes and ale.  Those are the rituals we find ourselves routinely using. And that can be comforting.  But it is also why we need you to help us step out into something new, to shake it up.  Maybe it will be just what I never thought of and needed.  Maybe it will be the same exciting discovery to someone else. 

Five months into my arrival at Covenant, I somehow ended up doing the Sabbat of Imbolg (or Brigid’s Day, or Candlemas, depending how you see it)  I was sure I would do it wrong. I didn’t think I understood Covenant, I hadn’t been here long enough to know what to use for comparison. I was sure there was a routine, an expectation but maybe it was good to do it without knowing.  I was free to be me and simply share what I saw as important for that Sabbat.  In the end, I thought it went well.   And I realized that “right” is only in the person who is doing the ritual for themselves. And sometimes it doesn’t matter what the ritual leader does other than provide a framework to honor the Sabbat or the Moon that the others fit their beliefs on.  The circle was not a created circle, it was us, the people sharing the ritual. 

Interestingly, what I saw as important that first early spring was what I find important in the cross Sabbat of Lughnasadh – the hope in the seeds, the strength of the earth.  The holy that comes in the tiniest of seeds and in the way the earth wakes it to its purpose. 

I sat in my backyard with a table and then a stump, doing solo work for over 20 years.  Watching the moon, starting little fires, doing what I pleased, what I thought was appropriate for the moment, what I felt called to do.  Reading books to help me understand, learning about Goddesses I wanted to help me find my way.  So perhaps I was prepared to share something of what I had learned.  What else could I do but be myself? It was all I knew. To bring my stump into the Hall (Figuratively).

My favorite ritual I have led at Covenant was the Full Moon when I turned everyone into children and the elements were represented by toys like pinwheels and bubbles.  We danced under the Moon/Goddess and found a different way to honor her.  It didn’t seem very “sacred” but what is more sacred than joy? (The first rune I drew at Covenant, by the way)  My first Full Moon with Covenant was a quiet, peaceful, small circle led by Pat with gentle bells and soft voices.  I still have the quarter he gave me, although I can’t remember what it stood for in the ritual.  It stood for Pat welcoming me into the circle.

So I am here to welcome you into the circle, whether you’ve been here 15 years or three Mabons, or you just found us today. I encourage you to step outside your comfort zone and share yourself with us.  Create a ritual to help us understand things as they look through your eyes.  Help us to feel the world and each other in a new way.  Teach us, dance with us, light candles, sit quietly.  Whatever works for your beliefs or practice.  Or write a ritual and ask others to lead it for you. We are not Wiccan or Druid, or Asatru, or any other Pagan group.  We are Covenant of the River and we are kind of like my kitchen Mabon ritual.  We are a mix of colors and textures becoming warm and full flavored together. We rise up with each other, and we nourish each other.  This Mabon, find gratitude.  Realize that, at Covenant, you are safe and welcomed.   You do you.  We will follow you earnestly, wherever you want to lead. 

Mabon Blessings, 
Chel 

When I go out to the garden these days there are more yellow leaves, more flowers gone to seed.  The temperature is fooling me about where we are in the cycle of the seasons.  My plants worship the sun and the path of Helios takes him past their garden less than it did just a few weeks ago.  The heat feels like July.  The plants know it’s September. 

When we get to know the ways of the earth, of the plants in the garden, of the trees in our areas and in the mountains, when buds will open, when leaves will fall, we find the earth teaching us to take life as it comes.  Life in the garden is right here, right now.  Every day is different.  Something got bigger, a flower finished and dropped off, another Morning Glory leaf turned yellow.   Don’t move! A tiny yellow bird is on the birdbath drinking.  Three sips and he’s gone.  Just like life – we have to be aware and we have to appreciate the things that bloom and grow and fly through our lives.  We enjoy the flower that is today.  And we feel the passage of time. 

This is that bittersweet moment in the garden.  It was so glorious!  But now the leaves are turning yellow and water cannot change that.  It’s time to start thinking about the next season.  Time to start saving the last of the seeds. Time to dig and share plants with friends.  Soon it will be time to cut the plants to the ground and take down all the dying vines.  The Crone is walking through my garden, gently getting it ready for the winter.   Perhaps this is why September is always so glorious.  We sit on the line between the beauty that was summer and the coming rest period of winter, and here in the “in-between” it is orange and yellow, it is crunchy and prickly. The harvest is coming in to sustain us through winter with sweet apples and colorful squash.  The work is different. It’s taking away, it’s harvesting in, it’s burning the unneeded.  Like all the seasons and all the days, the Earth reminds us that this day is the one I have available to use and enjoy. 

The plants are the small, easily noticed parts of our world that we can rely on to keep our minds grounded in the present.  We watch the moon wax and wane to mark time. But I think that being Pagan is a strong part of what keeps me grounded as well.  Most religions have a rotation of holidays that they use to tell the tales of their faith.  But my religion is an old religion.  My Sabbats belong to the earth, not to a collection of myths.  My old religion has myths to celebrate the turning of the Wheel but the stories do not define it.   The Earth defines it.  The Sea, the Moon, the Sun.  The Earth turns, the Moon turns and tugs the Sea, the Galaxy turns, and the Sun gives life.  These are the changing seasons, the life and death of all things.  That is my religion. The myths and stories that help me celebrate these great powers are my Sabbats.

Give yourself the gift of getting in touch with the turning of the year.  Find yourself in the cycle of the seasons.  Touch the great Wheel of the Year as it moves through your life, a touchstone in the passing of the days that spin out faster each year.   Crunchy, brown, yellow days will bring us Mabon.  I can’t wait to harvest the pumpkins.  Where is that squash soup recipe?

The Sabbat of Mabon is just around the corner! Don’t miss it. Eight special Sabbats a year to come together with community and mark the passage of time. May your coming days be filled with the power of the changing season, the Earth, and the love of those you hold dear.